Parker’s Pages: Schrader’s Chord

The Evergreen Echo

I don’t normally read horror literature, but I made an exception for Schrader’s Chord, and thank goodness I did. It was a delightful read, just scary enough to keep you on your toes, but with writing so wonderful that it kept your attention and the pages turning. While I must call out that this book deals with some heavy topics and themes, like suicide, body horror, and parental death, I must admit there is something truly delightful about it—a sense of coziness like a dark day in the middle of fall. 

Author Scott Leeds lives in the Pacific Northwest, and just like many of the other authors I have covered before, his work perfectly encapsulated what it feels like to live and be in Seattle and its neighboring cities. There’s a certain way that writers from the PNW write about the rain, the fog, and the dark. Leeds is no different, and effortlessly brings Seattle to life. 

Schrader’s Chord begins with the death of the Remick family’s patriarch. Raymond Remick was the owner of a record store in Seattle, and after his death, his two daughters and son find themselves back in their old family home, planning a wake for their father. Charlie, Raymond’s son, is given four strange black vinyl records as part of his father’s last wishes. He, his sister, and new friends play them, not realizing that the action has opened a Pandora’s box, releasing an evil force and visions of death. With his sister, their friends, and the ghostly vision of their father, they race against the clock to close the terrifying door they’ve opened. This book mixes thriller, family drama, and the supernatural with exciting twists and some truly tender moments of familial love and care.

What I like about this novel—as someone who doesn’t tend to gravitate towards horror—is that while there is indeed an element of true terror and some major creepy crawly scenes that made my heart pick up speed, the main focus is on grief and its effect on families, both biological and chosen. The Remick kids learn to navigate their father’s death and the floodgates of death they have unwittingly unleashed, as do the left-behind employees of Raymond’s record store. In literal and metaphorical ways, each of the characters faces their grief head-on and with the help of their family and friends. This made for scenes equal parts terrifying and sweet, a combination I wasn’t expecting to enjoy as much as I did.

The Evergreen Echo

Because Raymond Remick is the owner of a record store, and the crux of the story begins with four evil vinyl records, music also becomes an important part of the story. In an interview, Scott Leeds shares that his experience in a record shop was part of the inspiration for a few of his characters. I was excited each time a songwriter or album I know got mentioned, and I think a listen-a-long to a few of the songs shared in this novel could be a real treat. The author even published the soundtrack! 

Another one of Reeds’ talents in this novel is pacing. While the book is about 430 pages long, it doesn’t feel like a dense novel; his words are easily digestible and the scenes move beautifully together. It almost felt like watching a film instead of reading—Reed is adept at bringing images and feelings to life in a way that is steady, realistic, and emotionally effective. As a writer myself, I know just how tough pacing can be. Balancing tension with exposition and relief is one of the hardest parts of putting together a novel or short narrative. But for me, Reed nailed this balance. Although the action and scary bits take some time to ramp up, there’s no shortage of tension to keep you invested. I found myself really rooting for this unlikely group, Ana especially, who acts not only as one half of our lead romance, but also as a kick-ass heroine on her own. These characters are charming but flawed, another beautiful balance that Reed strikes. 

If you find yourself missing the beauty and darkness of Seattle fall and winter, like I find myself doing during these early days of spring, then Schrader’s Chord will take you right back to a snow-covered city, slick pavement, and crunching leaves. This book feels like being steeped in an October tea, with horror, family tradition, and that patented Seattle atmosphere. 

The Evergreen Echo