Editorial Content for The Caretaker

Marcus Kliewer, whose debut, WE USED TO LIVE HERE, announced him as a startling new voice in horror fiction, returns with THE CARETAKER. In this eerie, atmospheric work, a desperate young woman accepts a job as a caretaker to a house with strict, rigid protocols known as the Rites. “Follow the Rites,” her directions begin, “Nothing less than the survival of humanity is at stake.”

So far, Macy Mullins’ 22 years on this earth has been nothing short of a downward plummet to rock bottom. Her life of tragedy and upheaval began when her mother walked out on their family when she was only five. It was soon followed by the dissolution of her father’s landscaping, then his death, and, finally, the eviction notice taped aggressively across the door to the studio that she shares with her 17-year-old sister, Jemma.

A mostly unparented teen, Jemma dabbles in kleptomania to avoid the truth: she and Macy are one bill from being forced to leave their home and join a tent city. Luxuries and extravagances --- you know, like the inhaler she needs to survive --- are off the table. Add to that the fact that both girls are not exactly customer-service friendly (a lifetime of trauma will do that to you), and you have the perfect recipe for the kind of desperation that finds Macy searching Craigslist postings at three in the morning. Soon, an entry catches her eye: EXCITING OPPORTUNITY: Caretaker urgently needed. Three days of work. Competitive pay. Serious applicants ONLY.

"When Kliewer crafts a world and fills it with all things dark and spooky, the answers are never the point. It’s about how his characters will move and change you. Love her or hate her, Macy will remind you of the meaning of purpose."

The subsequent reply leads Macy to the remote, winding streets of Brooksview Heights, a place of manicured lawns, three-story mega-mansions, and plenty of luxury vehicles hidden behind ornate gates. But Macy’s interview is to take place at the very furthest house, which she comes to find is a modest two-story building of wood-slat walls painted olive green surrounded by a dense thicket of woods. When the owner, Grace Carnswel, greets her, she tells her that the job is not exactly as advertised. Rather than caring for Grace’s aging husband, David (who we soon learn is already dead anyway), Grace is looking for someone to care for the house --- a house sitter, if you will --- but one who functions much more like a caretaker.

The quaint little wooden house that Macy has just entered comes with a whole list of rules. Should she accept, she will be compensated handsomely for only three days of work (if you could even call it that). After all, David was in the not-so-early stages of dementia when he made her promise to keep the house to his guidelines. Although she found his mutterings to be amusing and even crazy, she is dedicated to keeping her final promise to him. When Macy hears the staggering payment, she agrees, returning home with a VHS recorded by David that will fill her in on the house’s particular needs. It is labeled “Do not watch unless permitted by Ward of the House.”

The rules are as follows. First, make sure that all the main- and second-floor lights are off between 3am and 4am. They will turn on by themselves, and you will need to remain vigilant. But as long as none of them stay on for three minutes, you will keep the entity at bay. Second, the property is infested with rabbits, but should you see one within a 50-foot radius of the house, lock all the doors immediately. If one gets inside (and they will), remove it within 10 minutes. Third, the house is prone to Visitors, apparitions wearing yellow raincoats and with cold blue eyes. If they show up between 6pm and 6am, do NOT interact.

If you fail at performing any of these Rites, the phone will ring, and a voice will tell you what to do. It is imperative that you follow the voice’s instructions, even if they contradict the Rites. At the end of the harrowing video, David remarks that the Rites should be simple to maintain, and belief in their power is not necessary. But ignoring them will turn the sun red, casting humanity in an evil glow and making unwilling believers out of everyone.

While unusual, the requests are simple enough, and Macy is not exactly in a position to turn down money. When she arrives to take her post for the weekend, Grace tells her that she likely will never see or hear anything like what her husband mentions in the video. But Macy is in for an entirely different experience. On her first night, she fails to turn off a light after three minutes, resulting in a domino effect of disasters. A rabbit roams the house, and a visitor with a familiar face lures Macy into the woods. Before long, strange compulsions have begun to take over her mind, filling it with pummeling intrusive thoughts, including harrowing memories of a traumatic past that she only barely has revealed to the reader…or herself.

With the Rites falling apart around her, Macy must adhere to the house’s rules…or else. To quote her, “This belief, no matter how ridiculous, no matter how contrived, had dug its teeth into my psyche and refused to let me go. Try as I might, I could not rationalize the unholy revelation away. I only prayed I hadn’t f*cked things up beyond repair.” And what’s worse, the longer the Visitors taunt her and the more rabbits you see hopping between the pages, the more you believe in it too.

Marcus Kliewer already has established himself as a stunning builder of worlds and crafter of immersive settings with the release of WE USED TO LIVE HERE. He builds upon that natural talent once again in THE CARETAKER, which immerses readers not just in the spooky setting, but also in the psyches of its characters. Grumbly and gruff, and mostly unlikable, Macy’s down-on-her-luck narrative is countered by vivid flashes into her nightmares and memories, which expose a seriously traumatic past. Placed into the pressure cooker of a house tasked with preventing the apocalypse, her already delicate psyche begins to fracture, forcing readers to question what is real and what is in her head.

When it comes to the plot, I fear that some readers may balk at Kliewer’s steadfast hold on answers and explanations. You’ll find no neat, tidy bow here. But that would be a disservice to his immaculate control of his setting; his no-holds-barred approach to terrifying, near-cinematic imagery; and, perhaps most powerful of all, his tender yet clear-eyed exploration of grief, mental illness and suicidal ideation. The house’s needs mirror the intrusive thoughts of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which may prove difficult for some, particularly without the promise of a concrete ending. But believe me when I say that the payoff is still more than worth it.

When Kliewer crafts a world and fills it with all things dark and spooky, the answers are never the point. It’s about how his characters will move and change you. Love her or hate her, Macy will remind you of the meaning of purpose.