I have recently remarked on how my reading brain seems to have pivoted away from classic/cozy murder mysteries to punchy short horror stories as a sort of mental palate cleanser between books, likely due to the shift of my literary consumption to a minimum of three mystery novels per week. So Eric LaRocca’s This Skin Was Once Mine came at the perfect time to help my brain reset, especially with the nip of fall entering the air as spooky season slinks into view.
First, I have to say how deeply grateful I am to the way this book is written. A collection of four stories of varying lengths, they almost all go by as smoothly and ominously as the serpent on the cover. Slick, absorbing page-turners with vivid imagery and weirdly recognizable — if sometimes more alluded to than spoken — emotions, these are bracing tales of madness and murder told in such a way that they seem outside the realm of the natural… even tho any student of the human condition knows that people can be exactly as damaged and depraved and awful as the characters that inhabit these pages.
The title story, which opens the book, is the strongest of the bunch, in my opinion. I was actually startled to realize how the stories are essentially ordered from my favorite to least. TSWOM tells the tale of Jillian, a young woman finally allowed to return home after the death of her father. Her exile has been unhappy, and one she blames entirely on her mother, who is now dying herself. But her homecoming unearths more than one secret, as she confronts the woman she believed sent her away out of hatred and fear.








