31 Reads of Terror: 'The Last Girls Standing' by Jennifer Dugan

A couple of years back, I stumbled upon The Last Girls Standing by Jennifer Dugan, and let me tell you, it was one of those impulsive buys you make on a bookstore whim. I didn’t know a single thing about the author, her background, or her previous work. What drew me in? For starters, the title screamed horror—perhaps a slasher flick waiting to spill onto the pages. And honestly, the cover didn’t just catch my eye; it practically clawed its way into my cart with its allure and promise of doom. It didn’t hit me until later that this was a young adult novel, although I had my suspicions lurking in the shadows. Why wait two long years to read it? Good question! You know how it is—timing, the fickle mood of a reader, and all those little excuses piling up like old newspapers.

So, what’s the book about? Picture this: Sloan and Cherry. Two souls woven together by trauma after a nightmare at the summer camp where they both worked. Just days after their fateful meeting, masked maniacs armed with machetes crashed their summer, leaving a bloody trail in their wake and claiming the lives of their fellow counselors. Fast forward a few months, and these two are practically glued at the hip, their shared horror bonding them in a way only they can understand.

But as new revelations come to light like shadows in the dark, Sloan starts to unravel some unsettling truths about her girlfriend’s past. Perhaps Cherry isn’t just a survivor but could be a cog in the very sinister machine that ratcheted up their terror. Cherry’s reassurances fall flat as doubt gnaws at Sloan. Is this just a case of gaslighting, or are we witnessing the harsh glare of reality? Is Cherry a victim, or has she danced with the darkness? What’s more puzzling is that Sloan is simply confused, or is she finally seeing the truth behind the pretty façade? Against all odds, she may have survived that sweltering summer night, but can she navigate the chilling depths of what comes next?

Now, let me digress a moment. I have a serious aversion to marketing gimmicks. The paperback release—trust me, I’m clutching the hardcover, and it boasts a different cover altogether—is boldly labeled with the tagline: “This queer YA psychological thriller from the author of Some Girls Do is now in paperback, featuring a glow-in-the-dark cover!” Seriously? Did they really need to slap “queer” on there to jolt interest? It feels less like clever marketing and more like a desperate attempt to shock readers into submission. It's a YA novel, and let’s be real—most parents, the ones dishing out cash for these books, might just cringe at that word; I’ve seen it more times than I can count. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I reside in the realm of tangible reality, not some fabricated Hollywood fantasy.

As I mentioned earlier, I was utterly oblivious to Dugan’s life outside her writing, her lifestyle, or who she kisses under the moonlight—and frankly, I don’t care. As long as you’re not a psycho-killer (or worse), your personal life is irrelevant; what matters are the stories you weave and the worlds you create.

So, a horror novel about the aftermath of a killing spree? It’s nothing new, really; we’ve seen this tale retold in various forms. The twist here lies in the fact that our “final girls” are a lesbian couple trying to piece together their shattered reality. The eerie echoes of Friday the 13th resonate in the background, complete with multiple machete-wielding maniacs. Sloan’s growing suspicion that Cherry might have been involved in the mayhem brings enough drama to make your head spin. Unfortunately, I found both characters frustratingly one-dimensional—this had nothing to do with their sexuality; I just wished they were given more depth. While the narrative style itself was engaging enough to keep me thumbing through the pages, the ultimate reveal was predictable, almost embarrassingly so. It trudged down a well-worn path I had anticipated from the get-go.

In the end, The Last Girls Standing stands as a testament to the old adage that a stunning cover doesn't guarantee a thrilling read. Sure, there were moments that flickered like candlelight in a drafty room, but as a whole? I was left more disenchanted than enchanted. Maybe I’m a lone voice in the wilderness on this one—what doesn't tickle my fancy could very well be adored by others. But read at your own risk! You might just find a treasure or a horror show worth keeping under your bed. ╌★★½✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess