BITE-SIZED REVIEW: The Resurrectionist by A. Rae Dunlap
"Our motivation is not the value of the bodies we steal, but in the second life we give them; each acts as a post-mortem Prometheus, bringing fire to mankind."
Kensington Publishing Corp: January 2025
Why, hello there.
Coming back to Books that Bite after a year-long maternity leave feels like putting on a pair of shoes that no longer fit—wobbly and unsure of my footing. Admittedly, after the birth of my son I was unable to digest any of the new horror reads that I stocked up on in anticipation of some free time. I suddenly became overly sensitive to gore and anxiety-inducing situations. I needed to take a break. But now I’m back, schatze.
Upon reading a rather sunny review of this novel in the library magazine BookPage, I figured The Resurrectionist would be my foray back into proper Horror. Indeed, the reviewer used the terms gothic and bone-chilling to describe this novel about the age-old trade of body snatching. One simply cannot miss…
…right?
This novel appears to be A. Rae Dunlap’s first work of published anything. Her website boasts the description “historical fiction, true crime, and dark academia collide,” along with Amazon’s Best Book of the Month badge (if you’re so inclined). Her author bio tells us she works for Disney and has a refreshing lack of an MFA. Seriously, you’re hard-pressed to find even most horror novelists without one these days.
The story follows a lesser nobleman named James Willoughby (Jane Austen nod?). The Englishman scandalizes his family by following his dreams of becoming a surgeon and makes the trek from the idyllic town of Bath to the underbelly of 1820s Edinburgh, Scotland. Suddenly starved for rent and tuition money, he does what any able-bodied man would do—join a gang of unsavory types who dig up bodies to sell to surgical theater proprietors around the city.
Honestly, who hasn’t had a worse job than that?
It would seem that being a body snatcher is more romantic than one might think, as we see our protagonist fall into the arms of his (male) Morticia-esque accomplice, Nye. Trials and tribulations abound, and James finds himself at odds with legendary murderers Burke and Hare.
Will this former gentleman of leisure outfox these career criminals? Or will he lose everything in the process?
The Resurrectionist is a thrilling, enjoyable read for someone who likes to spend every waking moment watching or listening to true crime. It’s fast-paced and is bursting with anatomical esoterica. I also welcome the queer subplot, which is another legal conundrum for our James, as sodomy was a hangable crime during this era. (The last hanging for sodomy in the U.K. took place in 1835.) James’ romance with the brooding Nye is presented in an irreverent fashion, which I didn’t mind as it’s not the focus of the story. Some of the more intimate scenes just could’ve used a little more attention. As for the plot structure itself, the writing seems formulaic, which one could argue reflects the protagonist’s scientific nature. And I’ve got to say, having such a structured narrative is helpful when one’s attention span is fractured at every take.
What the story is not, though, is gothic horror. True, 19th-century Edinburgh is the perfect gothic setting, but that’s where the dark atmosphere stays. The protagonist is just too perfect—blonde, privileged, articulate, and capable. His status as the main character nearly removes the anxiety aspect integral to horror/dark fiction. It could be that this story simply wasn’t written for me, as it reads almost like a YA thriller (not that there’s anything wrong with that). The novel just serves as a reminder that it’s good to dampen expectations once in a while.