THE SALT GROWS HEAVY by Cassandra Khaw
My Quip: The Feral Feminine
Today’s Topic: The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw
From the Top: Within 24,000 words, Cassandra Khaw delivers a fever-dream novella that feels like it was ripped from the blood-soaked pages of a dark fairytale. It’s a siren story at its core, but not the sexy kind–this is a visceral, grotesque reclamation of the monstrous feminine, cranked up to the max. The premise is simple: a mermaid and a plague doctor are on the run after the collapse of a kingdom. The execution? Chaotic brilliance.
Khaw’s prose doesn’t care if the reader can’t keep up. Sentences hit like jagged waves, rolling over each other in dense, poetic heaps. At times, readers will find themselves gasping, not for breath, but for clarity. Therein lies the beauty: the story’s feral energy mirrors its subject matter—a world where bodies are dismembered and reassembled, where femininity is unhinged and brutal, where survival isn’t guaranteed but violence certainly is.
My Quip: The feral feminine—Khaw doesn’t just let it loose; they glorify it, bathing it in viscera and tragedy. There’s a sick joy in watching these characters carve a path through their horrific world, refusing to apologize for what they are. The bond between the mermaid and the plague doctor is particularly fascinating—a tender dynamic that feels like the eye of the storm amidst the carnage. And for horror audiences who are They/Them romantic, they will particularly feel indulged.
Tie it Off: This is for all fans of horror and extreme gore who don’t want to spend too much time reading. If you’re alright with drowning in chaotic prose, then go on baby. Get sunk.