“It’s a curse sloe women bear, we’re receptors, absorbing the pain of our children, but if need be, we have learned to dish out pain, as well.” – Marc Ruvolo, Sloe
HAVING read much of the author’s work, I can firmly attest that Marc Ruvolo further establishes himself as a compelling voice in contemporary horror literature with his captivating novella, Sloe. The prose unfolds masterfully, weaving an intricate plot filled with unexpected twists and nuanced layers.
Each piece of dialogue shines with regional authenticity, drawing readers deeper into the emotional currents of the story set in rural Kentucky in the Appalachian Mountains. The characters are vividly brought to life, each thoughtfully crafted with distinctive motivations and arcs. The culmination of these elements results in a satisfying reading experience.
In a tale steeped in mystery, three spirited children—two siblings and their cousin—embark on a journey to a long-abandoned mountain enclave, said to have once been the home to a peculiar race of blue-skinned people. As they explore the crumbling remnants of this forgotten world, they encounter a sorrowful woman with haunting eyes who speaks of her infant daughter, a child cruelly taken away and buried in a place where she was never meant to rest.
As the years unfold and the children grow into adulthood, they slowly unravel the dark truth: their fateful meeting with the grieving woman has cast a long, ominous shadow over their lives, binding them to a curse that threatens to unravel everything they hold dear.
With each passing day, the stakes become increasingly dire, for unless they can unearth the baby’s remains and return them to their rightful resting place, the very lives of everyone they cherish hang precariously in the balance, ensnared in a tragic destiny that demands to be rewritten.
The narrative shifts seamlessly between the protagonists’ childhood and the complexities of their adulthood, capturing how their lives intertwine across different stages of time and tragedy.
Additionally, the blue-skinned people, known as the Sloe, face(d) racism, injustice, and ostracism—apparently inspired by an actual historical family, the Blue Fugates, who lived in the hills of Kentucky. They were known for having a rare genetic condition called methemoglobinemia, which caused their skin to appear blue.
While the plot unfolds with straightforward clarity, the author deftly delves into deeper themes that resonate on a more profound psychological level. The curse manifests as various symptoms of mental illness, illustrating struggles such as obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) and haunting auditory hallucinations.
The pressure of dealing with the curse leads the three adults to toxic habits and choices, including reliance on pills and alcohol, making several elements of the story especially relatable to those who suffer from self-destructive behaviour and addiction. There’s even a component of suicide. Again, these may be triggering narrative elements to some, but this is horror; Ruvolo writes thoughtfully, but never with kid gloves.
I’ve always found Ruvolo’s work deeply resonant, thanks to his skill in creating richly developed, achingly flawed, and emotionally complex (even tortured) characters. He’s also a master of crafting atmospheric and detailed environments, which I appreciate as a reader and fellow author. Sloe definitely exemplifies these strengths.
The character of Veronica, for example, haunted by the profound loss of one of her children, navigates a labyrinth of family conflicts that intensify her already overwhelming grief. She is beautifully formed and layered with emotional depth. Each character within Sloe, in fact, possesses a unique voice, contributing to a tapestry of human experiences that are compelling and poignant, tragic and horrifying.
A recurring theme in Ruvolo’s work that consistently punches me in the gut is the concept of fairness and how malediction can be misdirected. Consider Andrew (and even his mother) in Pieties, most of the human characters in Waste Ground (poor Dorothea!), and the children in Sloe who are suffering for the sins of others long into adulthood. Seeing characters made to endure punishment and abuse, to bear penance for things they shouldn’t have to, always boils my blood—in any media form, from film to fiction.
However, that’s what horror is all about; fairness is seldom a moral principle that is truly practiced. Sloe is not a story that invokes feel-good emotions, and it’s not meant to. Ruvolo writes compelling narratives that capture the depths of grief and trauma, full-stop. Why do I feel he may even be smirking when he writes these harrowing narrative elements?!
Do I still have some questions after the tale is told? A few. Did it leave me wanting more? Absolutely—but that’s what good fiction does, it’s not always about tying up every loose end. Sometimes, part of the mystery and some horror exists beyond the final page, and I find that rather exciting because I feel perfectly free to use my imagination to finish things. Why not? And if the author provides a continuation at some point in the future, well, no harm done!
Sloe is an extraordinarily captivating narrative that incorporates themes of profound loss, sinister atonement, spirituality, and ghosts. As the story unfolds, the latter half veers into increasingly chaotic territory, delivering a rollercoaster of unexpected twists that push the boundaries of reality and sanity. It’s a great read!
