Sandwich Joe
My Heart Is a Chainsaw is both a love letter to and an autopsy of the slasher genre. Stephen Graham Jones takes every trope (the Final Girl, the caretaker, the small-town curse, etc.) and makes them feel alive, uncomfortable, and personal.
Jade, the narrator, is one of the most compelling voices I’ve read in horror. She’s unreliable, but not because she’s dishonest. Her world is filtered through slasher logic because it’s the only framework that makes sense to her.
Jones pulls off something remarkable: horror that’s both “elevated” and defiantly not ashamed of its roots. The violence and pulp are still there, but so is heart, empathy, and social commentary. Jade’s awkwardness, her low self-worth, her obsession—all of it makes her painful to watch and impossible not to root for.
At its core, My Heart Is a Chainsaw isn’t just a slasher story; it’s about what it means to love a genre that doesn’t love you back, and to find a sense of self in its rules anyway.
My Heart Is a Chainsaw is both a love letter to and an autopsy of the slasher genre. Stephen Graham Jones takes every trope (the Final Girl, the caretaker, the small-town curse, etc.) and makes them feel alive, uncomfortable, and personal.
Jade, the narrator, is one of the most compelling voices I’ve read in horror. She’s unreliable, but not because she’s dishonest. Her world is filtered through slasher logic because it’s the only framework that makes sense to her.
Jones pulls off something remarkable: horror that’s both “elevated” and defiantly not ashamed of its roots. The violence and pulp are still there, but so is heart, empathy, and social commentary. Jade’s awkwardness, her low self-worth, her obsession—all of it makes her painful to watch and impossible not to root for.
At its core, My Heart Is a Chainsaw isn’t just a slasher story; it’s about what it means to love a genre that doesn’t love you back, and to find a sense of self in its rules anyway.