A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER From USA TODAY bestselling author Stephen Graham Jones comes a “masterpiece” (Locus Magazine) of a novel about revenge, cultural identity, and the cost of breaking from tradition. Labeled “one of 2020’s buzziest horror novels” (Entertainment Weekly), this is a remarkable horror story that “will give you nightmares—the good kind of course” (BuzzFeed).From New York Times … horror story that “will give you nightmares—the good kind of course” (BuzzFeed).
From New York Times bestselling author Stephen Graham Jones comes a novel that is equal parts psychological horror and cutting social commentary on identity politics and the American Indian experience. Fans of Jordan Peele and Tommy Orange will love this story as it follows the lives of four American Indian men and their families, all haunted by a disturbing, deadly event that took place in their youth. Years later, they find themselves tracked by an entity bent on revenge, totally helpless as the culture and traditions they left behind catch up to them in a violent, vengeful way.
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The Only Good Indians is about old bones. Stephen Graham Jones’ biggest splash into the horror scene is all about the past: how it comes back to haunt us, the generational divide, and the trauma that colonizers have inflicted on populations and land in centuries past. There’s been an uptick in horror that engages critically in the experiences of marginalized populations, Mexican Gothic and Ring Shout, to name a few, and The Only Good Indians takes its place among the best of them.
In their youth, four indigenous Native American men take their rifles and venture onto the elders’ land for a hunt. While they may have gotten away with one dead elk, they can’t help themselves when they stumble across a herd of them with nowhere to run. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, and the massacre that follows disobeys not only the laws of hunting on elder land, but the laws of hunting in general: there’s no way for them to bring all the elk bodies back to camp, much less use every part of their bodies. They’re kicked off elder land, banned from the hunt, and two of them leave the reservation for good not long after. Years later, all of them have developed their own lives: married, had children, have careers. But none of them have forgotten all those dead elk, and the land hasn’t forgotten them either.
Told in three chronological but technically standalone stories, The Only Good Indians chronicles the lives of each of these men as they attempt to move on with their lives, both on and off the reservation. Two of the men decide to leave the “rez”, attempting in some capacity to distance themselves from their pasts and identities, although that’s easier said than done when the outside world you enter is racist and unforgiving. The other two remain, trying to carve out a good life in the chronically underfunded reservation, where colonization has left the population struggling to stay healthy and well. The Only Good Indians does what I think is an excellent job depicting the effects of colonization on the indigenous populations of America; the horror of genocide was only the beginning. Jones depicts the reservation as a place forgotten by federal funding and the American population as a whole: children traveling to local schools only to endure racist screaming to their faces, lack of health and mental health services leading to illness and alcoholism, and poverty driving many out and away from their communities. Part of the horror of the novel is that these men and their families want so desperately to escape the cycle of trauma and oppression that’s been forced upon them for generations: they’re trying to build nest eggs, begin careers, teach their children to leave the area and get out, only for their hopes to be dashed. The horror is rooted just as much in the history as it is in the supernatural.
While horror tends to be more plot-driven (almost by nature, horror is centered around an outside force acting on the characters), The Only Good Indians excels at creating compelling characters that, regardless of your actual feelings on them, you’re sorry to see go. By giving each character their own chapters, in some cases entire sections, you get to know them intimately before the horror kicks in. They’re not objects to be terrorized or people to be picked off, so unlike the caricatures of characterization that often plague the horror narrative. While each of the men want very similar things, acceptance, money, a family, they each have distinct voices and motivations that set them apart easily from one another. In a story where they’re all being haunted by the same thing, share similar childhoods, and ultimately have the same desires, it would’ve been easy for Jones to have them all blur together. I always want to see this kind of characterization in horror; it’s hard to have any kind of emotional reaction to unfortunate happenings to characters when they’re cardboard cutouts.
The one thing I don’t think Jones balances well is the structure and pacing of the stories. Because The Only Good Indians is spread across three sections, the tension is rather oddly structured: immediate action, extremely long build up with one chapter of action, domestic setting, quick action, more domesticity… The structure pays off big time in terms of character development, but I was stuck feeling like the book was never rooted entirely in the horror genre, with some chapters of true terror but also many chapters of just domestic life with no tension whatsoever. When the horror is there, it’s good. But there’s definitely some tone issues happening here, and the big lulls in the narrative made this a slow read for me.
The Only Good Indians is a thrilling novel and Jones has done a fantastic job in bringing the literary world a little closer to the horror one. It’s not remotely a surprise that this book got the hype that it did, and regardless of my minor issues, it’s all much deserved. While it’s never a good thing that the experiences of marginalized populations map so cleanly onto terror, Jones does a brilliant job of bringing the life and struggles of the indigenous population to the forefront of the horror genre. The only good Indians I ever saw were dead, said Union General Philip, and Jones’ novel brings the cruelty and callousness of the book’s namesake quote brutally to life.
review blog
We seldom get a realistic look at reservation life. Sherman Alexie uses humor, but there was no humor in this book and Stephen Graham Jones uses the metaphor of how the Native American lives often become like the elk, hunted and sought after for their skins. It was a good read into a life I never knew existed.
I love horror that reaches beyond the traditional tropes of the genre. The Only Good Indians did just that by building on Native American legends and real-life hardships. The only reason I gave it four stars instead of five is due to the almost stream of consciousness writing which was difficult to read at times. The upside is that the writing puts the reader directly into each character’s head. Highly recommend.
How am I supposed to ever think of elk the same way again, haha! This is a great book with multiple POVs that each have a unique voice. The style is also candid, sort of train-of-thought, which I found interesting. I’m glad I bought the paperback, as I do with most books I think I will love. The textures on the cover are to die for, make my designer heart sing.
At any rate, plenty scary. A few twists I was not expecting, and the foreshadowing was great.
I can’t say it any better than Paul Tremblay did: it’s a masterpiece.
My Favorite horror novel of 2020
I loved this book. I’m not usually a horror reader. That said, the horror is intense and had me gasping at a few surprises. The deeper cultural meaning behind the story did not disappoint either. Stephen Graham Jones delivers evocative social commentary with a lot of gore, and I loved every word of it.
Thank you to NetGalley and Gallery Books for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!
The Only Good Indians is the story of four friends and Blackfeet Indians –Ricky, Lewis, Cassidy, and Gabriel– who decided to hunt elk in a section of the reservation reserved for elders without permission, ignoring Blackfeet customs and laws in the process. They knew at the time they were doing wrong, but gave themselves the excuse that they were doing this for the good of tribe, so everyone would eat well that winter. They tried to be heroic Indians instead of good ones. The hunt (of course) goes horribly wrong and, ten years later, something comes for each of them to dole out the consequences of their actions: blood for blood.
Immediately after I finished this book, I knew that it would take days for me to process what I had read, to fully understand the complexities of the story with all its focus on identity, history, violence, and sadness. I’ll attempt to make some sense of my feelings now.
There is no question this book was written by an indigenous man. Though it’s certainly a horror novel, it’s also entirely about native identities. Ricky, Lewis, Cassidy, and Gabriel (and the younger generation, in Shaney, Nathan, and Denorah) are constantly asking themselves what it means to be Indian. What does it mean to be a ‘good’ Indian or a ‘bad’ one? Should they lean into their heritage and life on the reservation or should they try to get out and make a new life elsewhere? There are many answers and all of them are both right and wrong.
Nathan “hates being from here. He loves it, but he also hates it so much” and that conflict is driving him to cause trouble. He doesn’t know how to resolve these ideas clashing in his head, so he lashes out at the world instead, much like Ricky, Lewis, Cassidy, and Gabe used to when they were young. He comes into the story because his father thinks time in a sweat lodge can help straighten him out, that participating in this ritual can make him better.
On the other hand, Denorah wants to use her talent on the basketball court to get a scholarship to college, to find a way out, but at the same time, she’s empowered by the racism she encounters on the court. People chant “Kill the Indian, save the man. Bury the hatchet. Off the reservation,” and, most importantly, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.” But this is fuel for her: “Bring it, Denorah says in her head, and drops another through the net. If the only good Indian is a dead one, then she’s going to be the worst Indian ever.”
These adverse ideas of how to be better are all linked to history: personal history, tribal history, the history you inherit. Ricky, Lewis, Cassidy, and Gabe reflect on their ‘Indian-ness’ in different ways, but their fates are sealed by the illegal elk hunt, their personal history. Nathan, Shaney, and Denorah have their own concepts of tribal history, but it’s been diluted through their heritage: who their parents are, what they value, how ‘Indian’ they want their kids to be, and what each of them think about that.
Still identity politics never drowns out each character’s identity. They may be conflicted about who they are in relation to their tribe, but the idea of who they are and want to be is much larger than that and more complex. There is no moralizing here, just people grappling with their lives and with real terrror.
Because this is a horror novel after all. There is something coming to kill each and every one of them, and damn if it isn’t creepy, disturbing, angry, relentless, and almost vindicated in doing so. The inevitability of contact with this force constantly delivers punches to the gut:
“You look right back at her, your hair lifting all around your shoulders. She doesn’t know you yet, no. She will.”
“Names are stupid though. Pretty soon he won’t even need his.”
“The night is almost here. It’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”
“The boy keeps looking at the camper, like considering how to take it apart. Or–he can’t see you in the reflection in a window, can he? Just your shape, your silhouette, your shadow? Your true face?…But it’s better nobody sees you. Yet.”
“You’re no dog either. Also: There are no dogs. Not anymore.”
It’s like watching Halloween for the first time, seeing Laurie run in panic, and Michael Myers following unhurriedly, step by awful step. What’s come to punish these men doesn’t have to hurry and refuses to. It wants to take its time, savor the pain, enjoy watching lives and bodies fall apart. Reading about patiently waiting brutality that can strike at any moment builds the perfect sort of tension: You get to know these characters intimately, care about their lives, believe that they can be better men…! and then watch as things turn for the worst.
“The worst” is gruesome, that’s for sure. If you can’t handle visceral, at times disgusting descriptions, I would skip this book. Normally, I’d say skip over those parts, but they’re crucial to the book’s success. Without such ferocity, the story would suffer. It’d lose it’s credulity.
One thing I never expected, though, was a gorgeous, sad ending. Without giving details, we’re prepared for a one-on-one fight to the death, each side representing more than just themselves, and for a time, that’s where the story goes, followed by the classic run-for-your-life. But once both sides are almost dead with tiredness and vulnerable, there is a chance to stop hunting each other, to let go of “your anger, your hate, it was coursing through your, and you got lost in it, and–”
That’s where I’ll stop. You deserve the ending as Stephen Graham Jones tells it, not me.
Not for the squeamish! And definitely not for reading at bedtime. But it’s elegantly written, flawlessly constructed, and deeply satisfying. Especially for horror fans, highly recommended.
This is probably one of my most anticipated books this year!
Overall, The Only Good Indians was a satisfying read. It’s not without its faults (as all books are), but knowing how difficult it can be to write good horror, I think Stephen Graham Jones really pulled this one off.
The true achievement in this tale is in Lewis’ story—one of four friends to face a vengeful entity from the past and who we spend most of the first third of the novel with. The tension and dread that builds in these chapters was just *chef’s kiss*, and I was really left wondering what was real and what wasn’t even at its conclusion.
Coming off that, the rest of the novel falls into acts that are good but weren’t necessarily the same level of *chef’s kiss*. The pacing was a bit slower, and with the POV split between several new characters, there wasn’t as impactful a buildup to the final climax. I still enjoyed it very much, but I have to admit, it didn’t stick with me as much as that first part did.
In the end it’s hard to say this book didn’t live up to the hype I gave it. It’s a story about a vengeful spirit hell-bent on destroying those who have wronged it while taking out everyone and everything they love in the process. It’s gruesome and chilling and everything I wanted in a spooky October read.
What the hell did I just read? I was lost from the very beginning. I bought this book because it had great reviews. It was supposed to be so scary. It was just horrible. Don’t waste your money on it.
Hypnotic prose and deeply unsettling. Very fun ride!
A gritty, modern horror, bringing an awareness that past wrongs can never be forgotten or out-run, that grief and sorrow are capable of haunting an individual as much as any spectral figure. Gothic folklore, modern horror at its best. A must-read!
just this minute finished an almost straight through read of this outstanding novel. extremely well written and entertaining.
Freaking Frightening Stuff. A wonderful mix of Native Culture and Karma Nightmares. I tell you what I’m so happy to be a vegetarian who has never killed an animal. This wicked is not playing games, it’s pissed and has no fear and hides in plain sight. Gods what a wonderful novel. I love a get what you give story 😛 Karma baby. Audiobook (perfect narrator)
A very popular book that just wasn’t for me.
I’m not a fan of hunting, motorcycles or basketball…so right away I’m operating from a deficit.
There were also times I had absolutely no idea what I was reading but just kept pushing through.
Having said that, if you like horror, then give it a try…perhaps it’s your cup of tea.
This book is NOT for the faint of heart. This isn’t to say that this book is overly horrifying or anything of that nature.
What Stephen Graham Jones does in this book is crafts a raw and gritty novel that gives a truly terrifying insight into the internalized racism and left over anger and animosity to the indigenous people who managed to survive genocide. This book is hurt like hell. As someone who spent decades getting over my own internalized racism, I was angry all over again, because I have had these exact same feelings.
This story also dives deep within the depths of psychological horror and intrigue. Four men of the Blackfeet tribe (Ricky, Lewis, Gabe, and Cass) took part in a hunt ten years prior that resulted in the slaughter of a herd of Elk that never should’ve happened. In doing so, they unleashed the wrath of the Elk Head Woman whose revenge will only be satiated with their blood.
This book is definitely graphic at times when it comes to hunting and animal slaughter, so if that is something that is triggering, please keep that in mind.
That being said, this is one of those stories that really forces us to push the boundaries of our own comforts and preconceived notions about indigenous communities. Yes, this book is utterly heartbreaking but it isn’t without hope. It really is a great read.
Thank you to Simon & Schuster Audio for providing a review copy through Librofm. This did not influence my review. All opinions are my own.
3.5 stars? There are certain parts of this book that I can’t get out of my head.
I like stories where nobody escapes their pasts because it’s what I fear most.
Stephen Graham Jones is one of our greatest treasures. His prose here pops and sings, hard-boiled poetry conspiring with heartbreakingly-alive characters.