Rest Stop by Nat Cassidy
Shortwave Media (October 2024)
Reviewed by Haley Newlin
I read Nat Cassidy’s novel Mary: An Awakening of Terror last summer and can’t shake how it made me feel more than a year later. Carpeted in historical and generational trauma, Mary was about women, especially “women who are only invisible until somebody needs to be blamed.”
Above the novel’s intricate weavings of religious fanaticism and Cassidy’s protagonist’s unsettling behavior, Mary is about power and the tendency to mythologize those who claim it like some god. Given the political climate, it’s a haunting reminder that this narrative has long existed in the real world and feels all the more suffocating.
Rest Stop, Cassidy’s latest release, a horror novella about a troubled musician, Abe, traveling to visit a dying relative who tormented him through childhood with spats of disapproval and disappointment, dissects the ghosts of historical trauma.
Brian McAuley, the author of Candy Cain Kills, says Rest Stop is “Cassidy at his most unhinged.”
McAuley has a point. Rest Stop is Cassidy’s most extreme tale of terror yet; it’s a locked room fight for survival not only against a deranged killer who views violence as creation, His godly wrath, but the creepy crawlers raining from the ceiling. Cassidy uses Abe’s panic and moments of defeat to unveil the prevalent but often ignored traces of historical trauma, making an otherwise “unhinged” novella among the most thought-provoking I’ve ever read. It scared me, broke my heart, and achieved the most remarkable feat for every author, demanding empathy.
We’re all in this mess together. Things like religion, like nationalities, are just trivia.
Readers can’t begin to understand the fearsomeness of Rest Stop until they place themselves in the shoes of characters who can’t simply look away when they see antisemitism, who must dilute their traditions and culture in exchange for a momentary sense of safety. This is where Cassidy shattered my heart, just as he’d done in Mary.
Rest Stop is a clever, not-all-is-as-it-seems, heart-pounding read that will linger long after turning the final page. It’s horror literature at its most compelling: imprinting an unlived experience for many readers beyond the photos, statistics, and ignorance about some of the world’s greatest evils, blending horrific with horror.
The man in the googly-eyed mask believes himself to be almighty, a creator, himself. Cassidy asks, “Is that what it takes to be so cruel?”
Once again, Cassidy shows readers how grim his writing can be but never shies away from the opportunity to spotlight the power of hate, but above all, the power of understanding, compassion, and unity. He’s done it again, that master of horror.
I can’t wait to see what Cassidy conjures next.
