Twisted Branches is a dark domestic noir on familial love, poisoned loyalty and how we knowingly and unknowingly mess up – and light up – each other’s lives.
Artist and matriarch Effie clings to the house five generations of her family called home. But are its ghosts haunting her or is she summoning them? With Effie’s death, daughter-in-law Veronica and rejected protégé Kerry-Alice fight to lay her influence to rest in their own lives, but who is truly haunted and who is doing the haunting?
Dark bleatings my beloveds. This week I’m here to talk to you about Rachel Knightley’s recently released short story cycle, Twisted Branches. Dr. Knightley is someone I have a lot of respect for. Not only is she intelligent and interesting (and humble with it), but I also know her to be a very kind person and she’s a pleasure to talk to. I bring this up because her personality is reflected in her work, which in this case is a collection of peculiar fiction with horror leanings, told beautifully. I also bring it up because it’s Christmas month and I’m permanently in a great mood, and I just wanted to tell you that she’s lovely because she is. I’ll stop reviewing Rachel now and start reviewing her book.
One of the notes I made during reading the book was, “this reads like a Mike Flanagan series”. By that I mean that Knightley weaves these interlacing stories with precision and clear intention, though her intention won’t become clear to you until you reach the end. I know from experience that writing a book of connected stories that also work as standalones is no easy feat – it takes a tremendous amount of thought and one oversight can tank the concept. Twisted Branches absolutely pulls this off (be sure to read the stories in the order they’re presented, rather than dipping in out of sequence, to get the full effect).
So, what did I think of the stories? Some I liked, and some I loved. Almost all were confusing to me initially, but in a pleasant way. There are things to discover and the revelations come in a satisfying way, sort of like pulling a thread and watching a garment unravel. We start with a letter left to be read by someone who has passed. It’s sad and a little spooky, but also strangely lovely. Then, in the next story, shit gets dark. From there, we journey past the faces of clocks, through complicated familial anxieties, and get a voyeuristic view of some arguably illicit sexual and romantic relationships.
I have two favourite stories and they’re Part One and Part Two of ‘The Moth’. I wish I could deep dive into this so I could sufficiently rave about the genius and weirdness of it, but I won’t give spoilers. Just trust me when I tell you that these particular entries are both baffling, genius, and totally out of the box in the most wonderful way. Before we even hit the weirdness, I was in love with Part One because of how familiar one of the characters felt to me. A lecturer is involved with a student (both adults), and he (the lecturer) is such a pretentious, disingenuous, condescending arsehole that it made me feel weirdly seen. It was like Knightley had reached inside my memory banks and plucked out a particular ex, who happened to be a lecturer with a superiority complex. It wasn’t my best six months but reading a character that, I swear, was a carbon copy of the real guy made me feel really connected to the writing, and retroactively take the guy’s behaviour less personally. That might sound weird, but reading great writing has a therapeutic effect sometimes.
Overall, if you enjoy quiet horror, weird fiction, and impassioned reflections of people and relationships, you’ll probably enjoy this. If you’d like to get your own copy or check out the author, there are some links for you below:
Happy Goat Horror 
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