From 2021 American Fiction Awards Finalist Jim Christopher
Hawk’s existence is a secret. He hides from his past with his Farm Family—a group whose life choices have forced them into secluded servitude on a marijuana plantation in the Texas hill country. But their crimes pale against those of the farm: vile and miraculous atrocities they must protect if they want to survive.
When a worker’s sister arrives with a powerful stranger, preternatural forces erupt in a bloody standoff. As the dark interloper hunts his prey, the deeper shadows of the farm are revealed—a crop flourishing in the years-long drought, and the dead not staying dead while the living struggle to survive.
Betraying the farm’s secrets will cost Hawk his freedom. Keeping them will cost the lives of those he loves. The decisions that lead him to the farm press Hawk once more: save himself, or save his family.
From 2021 American Fiction Awards Finalist Jim Christopher
Hawk’s existence is a secret. He hides from his past with his Farm Family—a group whose life choices have forced them into secluded servitude on a marijuana plantation in the Texas hill country. But their crimes pale against those of the farm: vile and miraculous atrocities they must protect if they want to survive.
When a worker’s sister arrives with a powerful stranger, preternatural forces erupt in a bloody standoff. As the dark interloper hunts his prey, the deeper shadows of the farm are revealed—a crop flourishing in the years-long drought, and the dead not staying dead while the living struggle to survive.
Betraying the farm’s secrets will cost Hawk his freedom. Keeping them will cost the lives of those he loves. The decisions that lead him to the farm press Hawk once more: save himself, or save his family.
Find him, Starlight.
Irene didn’t hear the words. They arrived in her head, a thought or compulsion carried in the air she breathed, through her lungs and into her blood. The waxing moon watched her. A yellow pupil on the universe, focused on her alone. The light sliced through the row of trees, illuminating the uneven path.
Save him.
She stumbled forward, propelled by the words. Gravel should have shifted under her feet, and the night must have hummed with sounds of living things—insects and coyotes that lived in the darkness. But she sensed nothing. As her body cut a wake in that stillness, Irene experienced only the echo of the words.
Her father’s words reaching through everything. The ground, the air, her skin and bones and guts, all quaking from the volume of his voice in her head.
Find him.
The moon’s spotlight dragged across the scrabble and dirt ahead. She floated, following the shifting yellow beam as it passed over the flats between the dark hills. The light slowed, centering on two figures. A man and a child.
Her heart raced. The man was someone she sought. Needed to find. Her brother, Wes. A yearning knotted in her, a need to run to him. Grab hold of him before he could disappear again. But her body would not cooperate.
Save him, Starlight.
She followed them into a corridor of plants—a strait of aridity cutting through the sea of lush and spindly leaves tickling her skin. Wes and the child disappeared in the shadow of a stout tower squatted over the field. She waited in the thick miasma of flavors seeping out of the vast sprawl of vegetation—skunk and pine and rust that pinched her sinuses.
Through the thick shield of leaves, she could see the platform above. Her brother reappeared there. The boy followed moments later, his small face peering over the railing and down. Wes patted the child’s back and stepped away.
An unfamiliar sensation took her. Not the words rattling her bones. Something more coherent and focused. A warmth that tickled her scalp. Cascaded down her nerves. Into her stomach. Pressing against her from the inside.
A bloom of joy warmed her cheeks, her arms light and hands tingling as bliss came. The field reacted with her—the tang on her tongue thickening, thin fronds creeping deeper into her personal space.
Something split in her face. Her fingers floated to her mouth as a crunch echoed through her skull and into her ears. A sharp welt swelled under her right ear as her jaw cracked in two.
The terror lasted a moment—a fraction of a breath of that tainted air in the field. Yet her heart slammed against her ribs. Irene’s vision shook, watery with tears.
A new sound rose. A rumble in her chest that gurgled up her throat and erupted in a scream as her body tore itself apart.
And it felt wonderful.
Jim Christopher returns with his second novel and things have changed.
Two years following the events of Season of Waiting, our story picks up with characters in entirely new situations. Irene Allard never left Texas after her father’s death, because of her brother's disappearance. In her search for Wes, and answers about their father’s death, Irene becomes the tenant to Finch, a recluse whose entire body is covered in third-degree burns.
Meanwhile, Emerson, our mystical healer child lives with his mother, her boyfriend, and a man named Hawk. Using Emerson’s budding abilities, they build a compound to capitalize on growing legal marijuana. The operation appears legit, but what lies beneath the farm is a mystery capable of shaking characters to their core. Questions will be asked. Trust will be broken. And secrets will be unearthed.
Once again, Christopher’s characters teem with individuality in vibrantly descriptive settings. Suspense builds with ease, as POVs switch from one character to the next. Yet, the book knows where it’s going while remaining mysterious enough to keep everyone guessing. Most importantly, we get to see more of Emerson’s abilities in this novel as he comes to grip with the possibilities.
Sick As Our Secrets puts Christopher’s abilities as a wordsmith on display. However, the novel, much like its predecessor, is a bit verbose. Having only an advanced digital copy, it’s difficult to find an exact word count, but an educated guess puts it around the 90K mark. Some plot points from the start of the book and the predecessor don’t receive much acknowledgment. Namely “the voice.” Though, more resolution may come in the next novel(s). Lastly, there is the unorthodox change of no longer formatting chapters with the Character’s POV. It has little to no effect on the narrative, but poses an interesting stylistic change for a series.
Sick As Our Secrets is fast paced with plenty of twists and turns. The supernatural element, and the story in general, feel original, making for great mystery and suspense in an otherwise contemporary setting. Readers who enjoy Stephen King characters that “shine” will enjoy Emerson’s journey as he copes with familial secrets, dark entities, and a world craving to take advantage of his abilities.
Sick as Our Secrets is well deserving of four stars, as it sets up the next installment in the Utopian Testament saga.