Introduction:

Hello, listeners! Welcome to Odds and Ends, a horror book club podcast hosted by yours
truly where we explore the creepy, the silly, and the downright bizarre. Today I was meant
to be joined by my sister, Destiny, but unfortunately, she has since fallen asleep.

Destiny was supposed to introduce herself here.

- I really did want to ask her on her feelings on being forced to come on to the podcast
by way of blackmailing

Today we’ll be taking a serious delve into the world of Man Made Monsters by Andrea L.
Rogers, exploring its themes, stories, and the importance of bringing indiginous voices
further into the limelight.

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Mention my feelings on the experience preparing for the podcast

Hook:

Allude to my final ranking of every one of the eighteen short stories, which will be revealed
at the end of the episode.

Bridge:

Bring up one of the main themes:

- the importance of community, especially for indigenous folks

First story: An Old-Fashioned Girl

Talk about real world connections, and expressions of humanity in the book.

- One great point I was able to find mentioned in an essay online that I hadn’t given
much thought to before is that – really – the various monsters and ghouls are
treated within the book as stand-ins for the true-to-life evils of the word beyond the
page.
- The example of this that jumped out at me the most was the juxtaposition of the real
evil committed by the Texas Rangers – which to the indigenous of the time caused
so much senseless pain and destruction – with the extreme, supernatural evil that
takes shape in Herr Dokter.

*Although beyond all possibilities of the natural world, he causes the exact same type of
harm, destroying a family, cornering an unknowing Ama and her family while they are
fleeing from the destructive, compassionless evil he embodies.

(Real, violent group men formed in 1830s Texas, meant to “protect against Native
American attack” and defend the Texas Mexico border.)
(Interesting little fact: Although by 1836 it declared itself a part of the US, until that
point, Texas had been a part of Mexico. That would explain Herr Doktor and Ama’s
speaking in Spanish.)

Mention all that was stolen from Ama:

- Life
- Family
- Choice
*As Braidon said, “sexually assaulted into becoming a vampire.”

Discuss interesting reading-group interpretations

If you find yourself worried, don’t be; this is only the beginning for Ama

-She gets much more awesome as the book progresses.

Mildly sidetrack to mention how cute I find the nickname “Chooch” to be, where it comes
from (achuja).
The absurdity of loss

What really got to me was the senselessness of it all. When Herr Dokter whispers “Ahora
seras como yo” to Ama I was just left wondering why. Why would he do this, why would he
steal baby Suzanna (or even baseline let her live)? The most upsetting thing is that
sometimes when people in power do awful, deplorable things, there is no reason. There is
no proper explanation; there is no real reason. I think that also speaks to the absurdity of
evil, especially in this story.

Man Made Monsters:

Another short story that deals with ideas of morality, although in a much simpler way, is
the story that (if reading in order) immediately follows, Man Made Monsters, this short-
story collection’s namesake.

My overarching personal thoughts

It ignited only a smidgen of interest in me. That’s not to say it was bad, per say (trust me,
we’ve got worse coming up), but I just found immediately that I really disliked the
formatting. Letters? Really? A story needs to have a certain je ne sais quoi to be able to
maintain an intriguing narrative even through this story-telling medium, and whatever that
is, this story does not have it.

Enough on personal thoughts, now on plot

Okay, so, this story opens with Suzanna (baby Suzanna, the one and only!), a teenage girl
living in 1856, Raven Hollow, Indian Territory, writing to her friend, Georgia about all the
happenings at her (very large) home, escalating from the strange to the downright freaky.
Throughout, we never once see Georgia respond, which prompts the reader to feel that
desperation and pain alongside Suzanna’s own anxieties and fears over all the seriously
messed up stuff that happens to her little brother, Charlie.
The part of the story that emotionally affected me the most - well, besides spazzed-out
half-dead Charlie killing his mom – was the very final scene, when Charlie is holding that
half-dead, revived bunny with the broken neck, and Suzanna hears him whispering into the
darkness: “jisdu gyveyui Suzanna gyvgeyui Jisdu gyvgeyui Suzanna gyvgeyui”,
which...creepy! It freaked me out, but at least it lets us know Charlie doesn't harbor any ill
will against Suzanna.

• Can’t say the same for his now dead mother, but, I mean, she's the one who
overdosed him on “sleeping medication” in the first place! Hashtag deserved.

Connection to another, better known literary work

According to the author, Andrea L. Rogers, this story is her love letter to Mary Shelley’s
beloved horror classic Frankenstein, but personally I would say it reminded me much more
of another beloved horror classic: Stephen King’s Pet Semetary, baby!

- Young boy dies suddenly and tragically.

- His caretaker is distraught.
- A potential revival method that should be off-limits tempts the child’s caretaker in
its very existence.
- Caretaker invokes this method...
- In both instances, they come back not quite...right.

Background information on characters

Suzanna’s mother had died, and her (adoptive?) father has since remarried, and had
Charlie, whom Suzanna loves with all her heart. That new wife is white and from a well-off
family, which is a key point.

This story does some zeroing in on class's intersection with race and how that informs
discrimination and identity, which comes up again in the next story we’re talking about.

An Un-fairy Story

Personal thoughts

I really did just think this story was supremely boring, although it wasn’t nearly as much of
a struggle to get through as some of what was to come. Simply put, it felt rushed, and just
could not hold my attention. In my opinion it isn’t all that integral to the plot of the book as
a whole (if that can even be applied here), so I won’t be doing a full plot synopsis.

Things to know

At all of ten Edgar runs away due to his unwillingness to allow himself to be shipped off by
his white grandmother to a boarding school to get a “proper” education.

- That’s what happened to his brother, and it upset Edgar greatly

Jisdu/Rabbits are becoming an established motif by this point! A rabbit leads Edgar to the
weird gnome man

It seems there is magic in this universe, which prompts speculation as it comes to later
events.

- Edgar runs away and finds this weird gnome man, stays for the night, but upon
waking finds five months have passed.
(Ask co-host what their reaction would be if their grade-schooler disappeared and
then four months later, on a random date, just...reappeared? How do you even
contend with that?)

Ah! I believe it’s Edgar telling his own story.

- One of the rare first person point of views we get.

One detail that I missed in my boredom, but that my real-life mom brought up was that in
the text Edgar mentions – per the creepy gnome-man's orders - having not been able to talk
about what all happened for seven years.

Most importantly, though, this is Ama’s second appearance out of five!

- She is the closest thing we get to a main character, and I’ve got to say, not a half-bad
decision. More on that in a minute. For now, I’m going to bring up the second story in
this book that personally reminded me of another, better story;

Hell Hound in No Mans Land

I’m mostly skipping over it since it really is so short and relatively inconsequential.

Not quite a disappointment, but I feel like it tried to do what John Ajvide Lindqvist’s Paper
Walls did so much better with the enclosed space, mounting anxiety, and unseen monster
trying to force its way in.
6/10.

I guess the subtle reveal of the monster’s identity at the end was a nice touch.

- Mention Rougarou myth.

And still, it just could not get me to care, and I think that that is a massive failure on any
book’s part. However, it gets much, much, worse as it comes to boredom with:

Homecoming:

I could not care less. Next!

Kidding.

The story is about a kid who is playing with his cousins, is late for dinner for mildly
supernatural reasons, and then listens in on a conversation while half asleep.

I’m pretty sure the author really wants you to pay attention to the description of a snake as
a “baby uktena” (Cherokee mythological water monster figure), but I swear it was
scrubbed cleanly away by the intense ennui this single story triggered within me. It was
unbelievable.

Rogers seems to be trying to author a warm cozy story tying together family, and culture,
and comfort, and about how strong bonds stretch beyond the confines of being physically
near, and how beautiful it is that because of this Edgar’s brother returns from years at war
(during WWII) and is still welcomed with warm, out-stretched arms, like nothing has
changed...and I get that. I really do. The effort is admirable, the boredom just wouldn’t let
me get into it.

I was literally just left with one question that I don’t even care enough to try to get
answered: what is a skilly? As far as I can surmise, a friendly ghost? Never finding that one
out.

Next! And thank goodness this is a good one. So much to say, for once.

Maria Most Likely

Folks, we have arrived. When I tell you this story blew me away, I mean it. It is the only one
that in my humble opinion – besides “American Predators”, of course – can really hold its
own as a stand-alone story.
This is one of the few in the book where Rogers trusts the reader (probably a fifteen-year-
old) enough to interpret subtlety, which is so unfortunate, as she uses it superbly here. I
really do wish she would have run with it more.

We first meet Maria in the in-take office for the Absolver 2000, filling out the necessary
paperwork. It is here that we are introduced to an idea in passing; the fact that she, a girl of
roughly eighteen, living in 1968: well, “passes” (she – by her own admission – is very
obviously “not quite white” in her complexion or features, but she is able to get by allowing
others to assume her race as one less persecuted than native Americans.) Part of it is the
name. Maria.

The dynamic between her and her husband adds another layer of complexity to the story.
According to her, he is older than her, and “takes care of [her].” I really latched onto this
detail after the fact that Maria has a mother wound is revealed while she sorts through
what she is getting absolved with the nurse. It leaves you wondering, what sorts of holes is
Joe filling?

The story follows Maria, a young woman of roughly eighteen, as attempt to sort through the
aftermath of an assault that, through the page, it seems she has great difficulty contending
with even just as something that really happened. Worse yet, it resulted in a pregnancy.

On my initial read, I totally skimmed over Lucas’ strange comments, Maria’s stating that
the last thing she thought she remembered hearing while drifting out of consciousness
being, “Children are the hope of the world”, and even Maria's last thought before blacking
out being that she thinks someone drugged her soda. And then piecing it all together I
began to realize: I think...I think Lucas hurt her. I’m certain he drugged and then assaulted
her. Jesus Christ.

For once, instead of introducing exposition in the form of a sledgehammer, Rogers lets the
reader piece together for themselves what happened. The alludes to the incident that
caused Maria (really Mary) to fall pregnant, and her not knowing really lend a human aspect
to her character, which makes her all the more intriguing.

I will say, although “Maria Most Likely” isn’t painful to read in the way that some of the
other stories in the book are, by the end you’re left feeling connected to this character. And
to her pain, and guilt, especially if you’re intimately familiar with those feelings yourself.
And the shame. Oh, God, the shame. It radiates off of her. You can feel it through the page.
She obviously carries a lot of religious guilt generally, but it seems like the whole
experience really did a number on her self-perception and exacerbated her anxiety
incredibly. It really is so sad to see her suffer so much with all the shame she has over
something that was done to her, although I am aware that that is an experience common
among sexual assault survivors. It just reads like this poor girl is suffering (which she is!).

Throughout the story - which isn’t that long, I’m genuinely amazed it was able to pack such
a punch - we get a near-constant view into Maria’s self-image, which is informed almost
entirely by other people’s perceptions of her, be they God, her husband, or generally the
world. The text pulls this off perfectly. What is Maria if not “most likely to...”? By the end
even the reader is left wondering.

- Although with the way the story closes, it seems that she will be able to comfortably
adjust back into her roles freshly free of trauma and the fetus. The Absolver 2000
took care of that...

The whole concept of “Maria Most Likely” was just so...novel? And then there’s “Shame on
the Moon”.

Shame on the Moon

The most important thing that gets brought up in “Shame on the Moon" – well, besides the
fact that Janie has an annoying preppy vampire boyfriend - is, in my opinion, the fact that
Janie really does show up for her brother at the peak of the whole ordeal.

- When Mark goes after her brother, she gets rid of him, no questions asked. And by
“gets rid of” I do mean hack him to pieces with an axe.
- Another cool thing is the allude to a wider vampire world, one with rules, and
treaties, one of which Mark (the boyfriend) broke by turning her. Reminded me,
interestingly enough, of Twilight’s Volturi.
- Bring up how Mark falls into the rich vampire trope (Dracula, Twilight, the Vampire
Chronicles)

So, uh, family stick together through thick, thin, and vampirism. Gotta love that :)

American Predators:
So much happens here. I have to say, I absolutely loved it. Between this story and “Maria
Most Likely”, I absolutely cannot decide on a favorite. While “Snow Day” very aptly brings
up the intersection of race and class, and all the ways that informs lived experience and
discriminatory systems, American Predators tackles the misrepresentation of indigenous
peoples in media, and how ignorance can harm.

The second person perspective is such a trip. It really does beg the question: who’s
watching?

The story took me a step beyond simply caring and instead got me to vehemently despise
ephebophile douchebag television commentator Whit, his sidekick Billy, and all of their
ignorant, exploitative crap. That “Indian Medicine Man” fortune teller machine that so
excited Whit? Burn it.

I feel like between this story and “Maria Most Likely” Andrea L. Rogers just...did all she
hoped to perfectly.

The fact that neither of these creeps respect the inherent dignity of any of the spaces
they’re allowed entrance into...it genuinely boils my blood. After everything Darla, the store
attendant, had to go through regarding these two idiots...I swear, I wanted them gone. Off
the page, now. Oh, and honorary mention to this line Whit spits out at her: “I think you
might be a little too serious for this shoot, sweetheart. I think we better shoot that again
without Pocahontas.”

Freaking Whit.

And this was in response to Darla’s attempts to simultaneously defend both her culture
and the women of her people against this very garbage!

Who knows why, but presumably under some pressure from the white guy who own’s the
joint (the Genuine Indian-Made Crafts place), Darla agrees to let them check out the
stickball artifacts and memorabilia taking up residence at her grandparents’ house, which,
as you probably couldn’t tell based on how those buffoons were acting, was the entire
reason they were there. Also...why? Those guys suck?

Upon landing at the front door, in a grand display of this very sucky-ness, the trio’s first
action is an attempt at disrespecting Darla’s grandparents’ wishes to not be filmed. And
she still invites them into the basement to wait! But, on the bright side, guess who is
promptly locked in the cellar and eaten by a hungry werewolf? This very three-person
television crew!
Although I didn’t quite like the ending, I think it pulled off what it was aiming to superbly. At
the end you’re left with the feeling that with the monster’s consumption of them, tokenism,
racism, and western evils are gobbled up alongside, well...the film crew unfortunate
enough to end up being used as a symbolic representation of this wider issue.

Also, sidenote: the call-backs to earlier media in this story were so cool. I, as a Stephen
King fan, took note of the mention of The Stand, but the two references to The Hunger (the
80s lesbian vampire novel/film) completely escaped me until my second readthrough.

Literally the one thing I wanted out of this story but didn’t get was Darla and Jamie
becoming a couple. That conversation they had about The Hunger? *eee*
During the entire finale, I guess I would call it, deep down I was hoping that Darla would
come back and save just Jamie. I mean, come on. Shes nineteen, gay, and her life has
completely fallen apart. Let her catch a break!

Deer Women

So, the next story begins, ends, and just exists on a heavier note. “Deer Women”, while not
depressing as all hell like the last story, made me quite uncomfortable, which I think was
the point. Well, one of them anyway. Emotion prompts action.

I tell you; this story made me think of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women – whose
cases are often under-reported and under investigated, as in the case of Quanah’s cousin,
Lili - even before it was explicitly brought up in the story. Our story opens and closes with
the framing of school violence as a jumping off point for investigating other issues.

Now, let me say that even as someone that didn't love the story it stays with you. I really
enjoyed the media references in this book. I hadn't thought about Stanley Kubrick since
forever ago, after learning about the horribly failed adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita
he headed back in the fifties. Well, as it turns out, he went on to create a few, much better
adaptations of other mid-century literary works, including A Clockwork Orange by Anthony
Burgess.

The novel and film’s cultural relevance resulted in this actual excerpt from “Deer Women”:
“Now that’s real horrorshow, my droogie”. This is an actual response to Lisa's Deer
Woman drawing, written to her by her attempted murderer. I am not explaining A
Clockwork Orange to you, but I will say it is a disturbing, downright bizarre novel made into
a cool 70s film, both of which you can check out at your own discretion. Learn some
Nadsat.
This is relevant in that Sali and Quanah simply do not share Lisa’s A Clockwork Orange
obsession, in fact the story makes them a little uncomfortable. But you know who does
appear to share her obsession? Richard Armstrong, well-liked, popular jock, and soon-to-
be failed murderer! I honestly have no idea how any of the girls were able to withstand the
entire ordeal. They really went from meeting at Cherokee Summercamp to tracking your
friend down in the woods moments after her attempted murder. What friends.

On Richard Armstrong, his character arc reminds me of a similar storyline in another book:
Moxie, by Jennifer Mathieu. In both, a rich, sporty, well-liked white guy almost gets away
with committing horrible crimes against a girl (or girls) at his school by way of being a rich,
well-liked guy. However, in both instances the literal violent criminal sees his
comeuppance. In this case Armstrong is torn to shreds by the doe, the myth, the legend,
Deer Woman.

I quite liked her representation as a sort of modern mythological figure, a protector of

young girls and women from the monstrosities of male violence. I dig it.

My one critisism of the story is probably the secondary focus on school shootings. It just
felt so forced, and I understand it’s cultural relevance, and how the last three decades as it
comes to this have weighed on the American consciousness, but I don’t think this was the
story to talk about it in. It’s not that it didn’t fit, but that it didn’t fit well. In any case, that’s
my two cents.

My Question: was Armstrong potentially also responsible for the disappearance of

Quannah’s cousin, Lily? I wonder if the book wants you to wonder.

I Come from the Water

There is roughly one other story in this book with a gay character. And we’re going to talk
about it.

- One of only two stories set in this universe to take place in the future (2029, to be exact.)

It deals heavily with themes of environmental justice, as well as humans’ place in the
natural world and that same world’s destruction.

There are three Point of View characters, and I swear the only reason I could stomach that
is because most of it was in the third person. Plus, one of the perspectives is only with us
for about three paragraphs or so, just long enough to describe the crashing of Sakionage’s
biological pod.

*Ask listeners about how they imagined the pod looking.

- For me it looked like those weird orb cars on that nature ride in Jurassic World.

Mostly the story ends up centered around a Tsalagi family grieving over the loss of their
beloved husband and father. We also learn that Walela is... *drumroll please* a teenage
gay, and that has been shunned at school ever since confessing her feelings to a female
friend. That friend abandoned her. That friend sucks. Walela even throws a sad line in
about how after her Edoda died, her friend and her friend’s family didn’t come to the
hospital or anything, because, as she puts it: “I guess they figured a gay kid didn’t deserve
their in-person support”. Ouch.

What matters the most though, is the overall message that it is much better to reach out
than to suffer in silence, and especially to family, even when you’re anxious to, which is so
true, and so important, especially, as I’ve learned, for indigenous people. You don’t need
to withstand the worst of it alone, and I’m quite glad the book’s overarching themes are so
positive.

In the wake of the death of Walela’s Edoda, Walela, her mother, and her little sister are all
struggling. It all comes to a head when Sakionage saves six-year-old Anne from drowning
in the family’s saltwater pool after Etsi Dani fails to properly attend to her in her
depression. It is at this moment the family realizes two things:

- They need to help get Sakionage back home through the Ocean
- They really need family support during these trying times. They are genuinely
struggling to stay afloat on their own, and they know just who to call, no questions
asked: Etlogi Ama to the rescue!

The rest of the story progresses as you would expect: Ama is awesome and helps with
everything. They’re able to get Sakionage to the ocean, and we learn something about
Walela’s Etsi: she’s also a shade of queer. Suddenly, Walela finds she isn’t alone, and in
her youth, her mom went through a plight identical to that of Walela. Go figure. In any case,
mission success.

For Ama fans, we see even more of her sheer awesomeness in the eighteenth and final
story in this collection:

The Zombies Attack the Drive-In!

*Trigger warning:

This segment is going to deal with domestic abuse and abuse against children. If you have
to sit this one out, get yourself a cup of tea and enjoy the rest of your day. You are always
welcome to join us again next week.
Now, I feel this story played into a lot of the zombie television tropes of the last decade or
so. Heavily reminiscent of The Walking Dead. Have a character with a tragic backstory?
Make it even more tragic by further complicating their trauma with an apocalypse and loss
beyond comprehension!

I will say, though, although “Maria Most Likely” isn’t painful to read in the way that some of
the other stories in the book are, by the end you’re left feeling connected to this character.
And to her pain, and guilt, especially if you’re intimately familiar with those feelings
yourself. And the shame. Oh, God, the shame. It radiates off her. You can feel it through
the page. She obviously carries a lot of religious guilt generally, but it seems like the whole
experience really did a number on her self-perception and worsened her anxiety incredibly.
It really is so sad to see her suffer so much with all the shame she has over something that
was done to her, although I am aware that that is an experience common among sexual
assault survivors, however unfortunate.

- Maybe add in anecdote about childhood fear of “the ‘Z’ word”.

In our early teen protagonist, Charlotte’s case, she certainly fell victim to the trend; she,
her mother and her sister had to endure years of abuse at the hands of her narcissistic,
impossibly dangerous father. They had only been free for two years before the gosh dang
apocalypse struck. Just about the most suffocating scene in the story was Charlotte’s little
sister Ruth passing away from an asthma attack while Charlotte and her Etsi stand
powerless to do anything but hold her while she gasps for air. It... actually hurts to read.
Christ, I was not expecting that level of emotion from the book that brought us “I fell in Love
with a Goat Boy”.

In my opinion it was heavily reminiscent of a similar story beat from the Young Adult sci-fi
novel The Fifth Wave by Rick Yancey. In that book, I do remember there being a very similar
situation; the apocalypse is in full swing, and a little girl's older brother is forced to watch
his little sister (as a result of the apoca-virus) choke to death on her own blood, beyond
help, in their childhood home. Wouldn’t you know it, that also sucked to read.

In that book, like in “The Zombies Attack the Drive-In", that little girl’s sibling takes a part in
her burial. Thankfully, though, unlike Charlotte he doesn’t have to first contend with his
mother and dead sister both becoming zombified within the confines of the family home
and having to thereafter wait outside in his dead neighbor's truck, presumably for days,
until his aunt is able to come “take care of things”. It does help that Etlogi Ama is
awesome, though.

Beyond all the utterly traumatizing nightmare garbage I would hope to never go through,
things see a major improvement after Charlotte and Ama are able to head to that super
cool student-led Cherokee-focused apocalypse drive-in commune. And it’s surrounded by
scaffolding turrets. What a nifty concept.

However, things get not so nifty when, after the two have been living there for months, from
a scaffolding tower, Charlotte catches a glimpse of possibly the worst sight she could
have: her father. He’s still wearing the leather jacket her late Etsi gave him, and he has a
pretty, young woman and a baby in tow. The woman has a black eye. Wonder who gave it to
her.

Charlotte’s first instinct is to send a bullet right into his smug, grinning face. She positions
her rifle. She aims. And right as she pulls the trigger Ama knocks the gun out of her hand.

I love the reasoning Ama gives Charlotte for this. The quote is: ‘“Never give up everything
you love for a man.”, she snarled. “If you kill him, you will have to leave your people.”’

Well, Charlotte certainly can’t exactly take matters into her own, not very large hands, so
you know what Ama does? In one fell swoop she, like the absolute rockstar she is, eats the
damn bastard, ushers new mom and baby to safety in the Drive-In, and gets the hell out of
there.

It hurts Charlotte to see seemingly the only remaining piece of family she has left
scattered to the wind like all the others. But the beautiful thing is that, for once, Charlotte
has a lovely community to lean on. She’s no longer alone.

Exit:

And now, the finale you have all been waiting for! Or, at least, the few of you that stuck it
out until the end.

My ranking:

1. American Predators
2. Maria Most Likely
3. Ama’s Boys
 4. The Zombies Attack the Drive-In
5. Shame on the Moon
6. An Old-Fashioned Girl
7. Manifesting Joy
8. Deer Women
9. Happily Ever After
10. Ghost Cat
11. I Come from the Water
12. Man Made Monsters
13. Me & My Monster
14. Snow Day
15. Hell Hound in No-Man's Land
16. Lens
17. An Un-Fairy Story
18. Homecoming – comes in dead last.

Thank you so much for tuning in! Join us next week when we discuss John Ajvide Lindqvist’s
exploration of identity in Let the Right One In. That’s all for now, listeners. Goodbye.