Discover this creepy, charming monster-slaying fantasy romance—from the perspective of the monster—by Nebula Award-winning debut author John Wiswell

Shesheshen has made a mistake fatal to all monsters: she’s fallen in love.

Shesheshen is a shapeshifter, who happily resides as an amorphous lump at the bottom of a ruined manor. When her rest is interrupted by hunters intent on murdering her, she constructs a body from the remains of past meals: a metal chain for a backbone, borrowed bones for limbs, and a bear trap as an extra mouth.

However, the hunters chase Shesheshen out of her home and off a cliff. Badly hurt, she’s found and nursed back to health by Homily, a warm-hearted human, who has mistaken Shesheshen as a fellow human. Homily is kind and nurturing and would make an excellent co-parent: an ideal place to lay Shesheshen’s eggs so their young could devour Homily from the inside out. But as they grow close, she realizes humans don’t think about love that way.

Shesheshen hates keeping her identity secret from Homily, but just as she’s about to confess, Homily reveals why she’s in the area: she’s hunting a shapeshifting monster that supposedly cursed her family. Has Shesheshen seen it anywhere?

Eating her girlfriend isn’t an option. Shesheshen didn’t curse anyone, but to give herself and Homily a chance at happiness, she has to figure out why Homily’s twisted family thinks she did. As the hunt for the monster becomes increasingly deadly, Shesheshen must unearth the truth quickly, or soon both of their lives will be at risk.

And the bigger challenge remains: surviving her toxic in-laws long enough to learn to build a life with, rather than in, the love of her life.

This icky, squicky, plain old weird fantasy/horror novel has won a ton of awards, is gushed over by many authors who I admire, and yet… it left me cold and basically speeding through the 2nd half just for the sake of being done.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In starts off strong, with a fascinating narrative voice that randomly throws in something gross to cap off a paragraph or passage in an unexpected way.

Her father’s ribs, rich in marrow, cracking delicately in their mouths, and providing the first feast of their lives. His fat deposits were generous, and his entrails sheltered them from the cruel winter elements.

Shesheshen (what a name!) is some ill-defined creature, mostly slime that can form itself into different shapes, and can build itself a body by absorbing raw materials (iron chains, sticks, animal bones) into itself and forming itself a skeletal structure. Shesheshen has early memories of how delicious it was to consume the father in whose body she developed from an egg, loving how much nutrition he provided, and later eating the siblings growing alongside her as well.

When Shesheshen’s hibernation is rudely interrupted by a trio of monster hunters seeking the infamous Wyrm of Underlook, she fights back, fends them off, and realizes she’d better construct herself a body to defend herself with and figure out what’s behind this newest human attack. As she learns, the hunters were sent by the Baroness of Underlook, a brutal woman whose children have been raised with the sole purpose of slaying the wyrm and ending its curse on their family. (Shesheshen is confused — sure, you could call her a wyrm if that works for you, but there’s no such thing as curses, and she certainly hasn’t cursed anyone).

The one exception to the Baroness’s cruel pack of offspring is her daughter Homily, who seems torn between carrying out her mother’s orders and following her inner sense of compassion. When Homily stumbles across a severely injured Shesheshen (in human disguise), she tends her wounds, comforts her, and stirs up something unusual for Shesheshen: feelings, possibly even affection.

Of course, Shesheshen has a hard time understanding her attraction at the start:

She had a husky, stuffy-sounding voice, like her sinuses were packed. Yet her tone was accustomed and comfortable with itself, so this clearly wasn’t allergic irritation. It gave the woman’s words a bawdy rasp, which enticed Shesheshen. People who sounded like that had the most delicious-tasting heads.

But over time, it’s clear that there’s much more between these two:

True love was a woman sinking up to her elbows in her viscera, delicately removing hooks from her rigid tissues.