One of the great joys of any horror story is settling into a tale of well-worn tropes and scenarios and finding that they still have something to offer after decades of exploration. I’ve often said that there’s nothing wrong with a formulaic story if the formula is sound and the storyteller knows what they’re doing. But with some stories, that’s just the beginning, a portal to one of the genre’s other great joys: When you think you know where the story’s going, and only to find, just a few dozen pages later, that you’ve arrived somewhere entirely different.
Sarafina, the new historical horror novel from genre mainstay Philip Fracassi, is an example of this latter joy. It begins somewhere familiar, even predictable, and nestles the reader happily into a sense of cozy familiarity. Then, just when you think you’ve arrived at the place you always expected, the story takes flight, and you’re left breathlessly turning pages to see where it goes next.
Set in 1862 in the midst of heavy fighting during the American Civil War, the book follows three brothers – Ethan, Mason, and Archie – as they desert the Confederate Army right in the middle of the Battle of Shiloh. Determined to survive rather than die fighting someone else’s war, the men flee through the wilderness, starving, wounded, and filthy, until they miraculously happen upon a house on the other side of an idyllic creek. There, a kind woman named Sarafina offers to care for them, even shield them from the Confederate Home Guard, which hopes to arrest them. But this house, with its massive guard dogs and stream that seems to run in all directions at once, is more than a simple refuge, and Sarafina’s hiding secrets threaten the brothers’ hopes of ever seeing their family again.
There are a lot of narrative risks cleverly nestled in this propulsive narrative. Much of the early pages are devoted to the trio of brothers simply fighting to survive through confrontations, starvation, and the elements, putting us as readers in the position of empathizing with men on the losing side of a treasonous war. Fracassi deals with this by, quite smartly, placing us in Ethan’s head, framing the narrative as an extended letter home to his twin sister, Ellie. Ellie also makes appearances along the way, writing letters of her own to her lost brother, waiting for word of survival or death. Their struggle becomes universal, particularly as Ethan reckons with the possibility that he and his brothers may not actually be good people, and may in fact be on the path to something worse.
When Sarafina enters the picture, you get the sense that Fracassi is playing in some kind of demented, historical fiction Hansel & Gretel territory, and he is, but not in the way you think. The formula is there, but through careful plotting and evocative first-person prose, Sarafina evades easy classification the deeper you get into the narrative. Yes, this is the story of a group of lost people taking refuge in a mysterious, almost otherworldly house in the middle of the woods, but it’s not going to go the way you think.
The longer the brothers stay, the more Ethan sees his siblings changing, and the more Sarafina and her mysterious surrogate son Titus start to trust him with their own secrets. Soon, it’s no longer a simple matter of survival horror. It’s about more than just remaining intact. It’s about what happens when the world you know starts to change, and the makeup of your own soul changes along with it. It would be easy for the Civil War narrative, particularly the Confederate perspective, to serve as mere window dressing, a layer of intrigue to get readers in the door, but Fracassi refuses to stop there. What begins as an act of desertion from a lost cause soon evolves into a meditation on good, evil, and our place in a world that’s packed with secrets we cannot fully understand without risking our own sanity.
With Sarafina, Philip Fracassi has joined the ranks of fellow authors like Daniel Kraus, Isabel Canas, and Silvia Moreno-Garcia as a first-rate practitioner of historical horror, blending in dark fairy tales and even religious mythology along the way. This is a transportive, vivid book that’s very hard to put down, and reaffirms Fracassi’s place as one of horror’s essential modern storytellers.
Sarafina is available now from CLASH Books.
