A Book of Tongues

Title: A Book of Tongues
Author: Gemma Files
Published: 2010by ChiZine Publications
Genre: Weird Weird West!
Pages: 274


I know it's early days yet, but I'm gonna go ahead and say that this is my favourite book for 2015. Pretty darn confident of that. Kind of sad, what with all the rest not having a chance, but such is life.


A Book of Tongues (xmas/bday present #3) is the first book in the Hexslinger series, set in the weird West soon after the Civil War. Pinkerton agent Ed Morrow has been sent to infiltrate the outlaw gang of infamous 'Reverend' Asher Rook, hanged preacher turned hexslinger. Morrow's task is to map Rook's power, better to understand magic, but the outlaw life, and especially Rook's lieutenant (and lover) Chess Pargeter, are not without their charms. Rook is powerful but still inexperienced as a hexslinger, using the Bible verses he so well knows as his 'spells'. He is also haunted by a dead goddess, looking to walk the world again, and promising her 'little king' a place on her side in return for his help.

I bought the Kindle Omnibus version when I was about halfway through, and jumped straight to the second book after finishing. This was such a hooking ride, I was pulled in by the time the first corpse hit the floor. I can see how it won't be everyone's cup of tea, this book, with strange and scary goddesses and gods, bible verses flying around, and the very graphic gay sex and violence. But(t) fuck it, this is so very much just my cup of dark tea with a spot of milk and Bailey's. A wild ride with surprises behind every corner. As I write this, I'm well into Book Three already.


   "Sheriff Love believes in a good God, no doubt." Chess didn't answer. "Okay, then how's this: I find I might still believe in the Lord myself, Chess, down deep. Hate to disappoint."
   Did he, though? The Lord, yes, but a good God? A forgiving one? 
   God is always good, Brother Rook, the old preacher in his home town had once told him, so long ago. And He always wants to forgive. It's just that we so seldom allow Him that opportunity.

   Rook felt a vague knot form in his chest, right where his heart should be. Didn't want to think too hard on that, though, so he looked over at Chess, instead, smiling at the thought of his pocket-sized Satan ever begging forgiveness--and the knot swelled up even higher, bruising his lungs, making his stomach clench. 
   "As for God," Chess said, "you choose t'believe in him, that's all well 'n' good, I s'pose. Does he believe in you, though? My personal bet would be--not like I do."
   But to that, of course, there was nothing to say.