I have mixed feelings about We Like It Cherry, by Jacy Morris. It’s a well crafted novel of horror, persistence, and love, with a great male-male romantic relationship and some other deftly sketched characters; it’s also a novel featuring a fictional Arctic indigenous tribe that’s key to the plot and that may be seen as contributing to harmful stereotypes. The author is Native American (a registered member of the Confederated Tribes of Siletz), so it’s not really my place to criticize those choices, but some readers may find those elements distasteful. There are also some very gory passages as hunters butcher and feast upon prey.
From the publisher: Ezra Montbanc is burned out. The reality series he hosts—immersing himself into the cultures and celebrations of Indigenous tribes—borders on pure exploitation and has been relegated to tax write-off status by the network; this was not the prestigious journalism career he had long envisioned.
Everything changes when Ezra receives an invitation to document the rites of a mysterious, hitherto unknown tribe: the Winoquin, who reside in the harrowing, inhospitable Arctic. Ezra and his crew depart immediately for the home of the Winoquin, only to find themselves in a bloody battle for survival against a mythical horror with a serious grudge against modern man.
So, I enjoyed the character of Ezra quite a lot. As a print journalist, I’ve had a mix of idealists, careerists, and burnouts as colleagues; I’ve never worked in TV or film (except as an extra), but the documentary elements here ring true with what I’ve read and watched about that side of the media. Ezra feels like he’s seen it all, with all his interview subjects blending into stock characters and all the fry bread at all the powwows tasting the same, so when he receives an invitation to visit an isolated Arctic tribe for a celebration they haven’t held in years, he naturally jumps at the chance to see something new (and old).
Ezra’s life is also complicated by trying to keep his relationship with cameraman Stu a secret, because of network anti-fraternization rules and because he believes his ratings will fall further due to homophobia (following terrible experiences as a young man). Stu is patient with Ezra’s fears and flaws (such as smoking), and he turns out to be an incredible source of strength when Ezra finds out it’s not just his own life he’s fighting to save. There are some really lovely moments in their romance.
Soundman Jonesy (I wonder if that’s a reference to the character in The Hunt for Red October) is crude but seems to mean well, and I have to respect his focused determination. Producer Scott is pompous in Ezra’s view (and what good DOES it do to lecture people about layering after they’ve already arrived in the Arctic?), but actually he does care more about the crew’s safety than the documentary’s success; he just doesn’t see the warning signs until too late.
To be fair, although the crew should have asked more questions before setting out, none of them has any reason to suspect the doom hanging over them, before they were already isolated and vulnerable. And once they realize they’re in a serious situation, they hang together admirably; it’s nice to see group of co-workers doing that instead of falling apart and backbiting each other.
I can’t quote from the book because it’s an ARC, set for publication by Tenebrous Press on Aug. 5, but rest assured that I highlighted quite a few passages of powerful prose. Morris has a strong talent for depicting the ominous majesty of a glacier, punctuated by its creaking cries, along with the peer pressure of attending a communal festivity and being expected to participate, and the strong yet tender love between Stu and Ezra.
Although there are viewpoint passages from all the crew, and one other, the story is mostly told from Ezra’s point of view. Although the village’s elder and Maq, who invited the documentarians, do explain themselves and their culture somewhat, we’re never looking at the action through their eyes. (Also, there are no named female characters and no women get any lines.)
SPOILER TERRITORY: So far I haven’t given any real spoilers, just expanded a bit on the publisher’s description. But I think there are a couple of additional points that I need to make, that will give away important parts of the plot.
The fictional Winoquin tribe knows that the climate is shifting and its way of life is under threat. They explain to the documentary crew that they want their rites recorded in case they’re never held again. But those rites entail killing and feasting upon outsiders, a practice that began long ago when visitors to the tribe behaved badly. Ancestral spirits inhabit members of the tribe and pilot them like automatons, but even when they’re themselves again, Maq and the elder reject the argument that murder is wrong, and just say that they’re doing what is necessary to appease their ancestors and maybe turn the tide of global warming.
Cannibalism did take place in parts of the U.S. Southwest and Mesoamerica, but Inuits who saw European explorers practicing starvation cannibalism were reportedly shocked and repulsed. Although numerous Northern American indigenous groups were accused of cannibalism, for instance in The 1913 Handbook of Indians of Canada, many scholars are skeptical and say those reports are probably exaggerated, at least, as such claims helped justify oppression and exploitation of Native Americans. Given all that, the presence of indigenous religious cannibalism as the major plot driver in this book does make me uneasy.
Anyway, Ezra is told that if he can out-trek the tribe to a certain sacred site, he’ll save both himself and his lover. I would have found his dogged persistence unbelievable, except that a curious spirit inhabits him, too, and helps him keep going over the difficult terrain. Stu pursues the pursuers, trying to sabotage them while filming the deadly race. Eventually, there’s an avalanche, and most of the Winoquin men die, conveniently for the surviving documentarians, for the plot, and maybe for themselves.
The Winoquin (at least the adult men involved in the rites) refuse to change, and if they can’t survive in the changing world, they’re resigned to that. That’s their choice, or rather the writer’s choice for them, I suppose. Personally, I find it hard to empathize with fatalism; I think it’s generally preferable to adapt than to accept extinction.
We Like It Cherry was very gripping while I read it, and for anyone who wants to read a thriller uncritically, this is fine (if a bit gory). But although I really appreciated certain sections, I doubt I’ll be rereading it.
Content Warnings: Gory descriptions of butchery; body horror; eating raw meat; cannibalism; behavior of a fictional Arctic indigenous tribe; flashbacks to anti-homosexual bigotry; some abusive language and other cursing.
Comps: The Wendigo, by Algernon Blackwood (this is a very deliberate choice, given the controversy over how the story misappropriates the legend); The Wicker Man (1973).
Disclaimers: I received a free e-ARC of this book from the publisher for review.
