Title: Grave's Daughters
Author: S.E. Lindberg
Publication Date: October 22, 2026
Genres: Dark Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Female
Some books just stick with you, no matter how long ago you read them. They infect your brain and worm their way into your psyche, leaving these Eldritch seeds of memory, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. S.E. Lindberg's Dyscrasia Fiction is just such a series. It's been 9 years since I read Helen's Daimones, and yet within the first few pages of Grave's Daughters, it all came flooding back.
Dyscrasia is a world of living stone, monstrous insects, and slithering slugs that seem to have crawled out of a pulp horror fever dream. At the heart of the story is Doktor Grave, a golem alchemist (and occult mad scientist) who fashions three elemental daughters to carry on his legacy. There's both magic and art to his act of creation, just as there's both horror and wonder to be found in his creations. Comprised of new chapters and previously published stories, the book is a gloriously strange mixture of dark fantasy, Gothic horror, and dysfunctional family drama. I love books that dare to be different, and the entire Dyscrasia saga is very much its own beast.
What makes the story work is the relationship between Grave and his daughters. Melanie, Leech, and Ember are wonderfully peculiar creations, each with her own personality, ambitions, and decidedly questionable ideas about how the world should work. Although created to be a part of the world, they are well aware that they stand outside it, and their disdain (or, rather, disregard) for much of it leads them to have very different interactions with humanity. One treats them as erotic playthings, one works to save them, and one severs herself from them, preferring the company of monsters. Ember started as my favorite of the three, but by the end, it was Melanie who I wanted to see thrive the most.
Their rivalries and clashes give the book much of its dramatic momentum, but Grave’s struggle is what holds it all together. Here we have a golem who wants a family, who seems to care deeply about his daughters, yet who knows nothing of how to raise them. There’s a sad sort of humor in watching him struggle with mundane problems of supernatural children. Beneath blood, sorcery, and the grotesque lurks a surprisingly thoughtful exploration of family, independence, and legacy.
Lindberg’s worldbuilding is a major reason this book stands out. Although there are familiar elements to it, the whole is something genuinely unique. Medicine, biology, mythology, and sorcery are woven together into a setting that's as intriguing as it is bizarre (albeit with a convincing internal logic). And then there’s the writing, which Lindberg imbues with a distinctive voice, making Dyscrasia such a memorable place to visit. His descriptions are rich, his imagery often startling, and his command of language gives even the most disturbing scenes a bizarre kind of beauty.
As I've said about the others in this series, this is not a book I would recommend rushing through. The prose rewards attention, and some of its best pleasures come from lingering over an image, appreciating an unusual turn of phrase, or realizing how a seemingly bizarre detail fits into the larger mythology. Unapologetically strange, richly imagined, beautifully written, and unconcerned with fitting neatly into a familiar genre, Grave's Daughters doesn’t rely on weirdness for its own sake. For readers who enjoy exploring the stranger corners of speculative fiction, Lindberg’s wonderfully warped universe is well worth visiting.
Rating: ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀
I received a free copy of this book and am voluntarily leaving a review.
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