Hydra by Matt Wesolowski

True Crime is all the rage these days and its popularity shows no sign of abating. Starting with with true crime podcasts such as Serial and Murdertown, then migrating to screen with such hits as the NetFlix series Making A Murderer, it appears that the public’s appetite is insatiable. It’s inevitable that this phenomena should make it into fiction and the author, Matt Wesolowski, did just that with his novel Six Stories (which I reviewed here: https://bit.ly/2S4vNmm). Hydra is the second novel in the series and once again we follow Scott King, the anonymous presenter of the Six Stories podcast, as he rakes over an old and infamous crime. King is not an investigative journalist as he is at pains to point out. He is not seeking to solve crimes or overturn miscarriages of justice. Rather he examines a case through six different perspectives to ask why the crime was committed and what lay behind the perpetrator’s actions. He does so as non-judgementally as possible, allowing his listeners to make up their own minds.

In Hydra. Scott King and his Six Stories podcast are examining the Macleod massacre of 2014. Arla McLeod, 21 years old at the time, bludgeoned her family to death - father, mother, and younger sister - with a hammer. Arla was found guilty of manslaughter, on the grounds of diminished responsibility, and has since been detained in Elmtree Manor Hospital, a medium security mental health facility. This is controversial in itself, some people believing she got off lightly. As often with notorious murder cases, the media were quick to latch onto the the aspects of Arla’s personality that would paint her in a bad light. She was an adherent of the musician, Skexxixx, who’s nihilistic lyrics and propensity for gothic makeup she emulated and thus provided the tabloids with many a lurid photo. As with the first book in the series, Hydra is split into six parts, each focused on Scott’s interviews with six different people who knew Arla or who can shed some light on her case.  As the narrative unveils we learn more and more about Arla, and as is so often the way in real life, we quickly discover that the tabloid tale is shallow to say the least. 

Hydra has a strong supernatural element, namely the Black Eyed Kids (BEKs). From the outset she labours under the belief that she committed her horrific crime because of their influence. Is this true or is this delusion? Did she commit her crime due to the damage caused to her personality by trauma, and if so, did this open the door to the supernatural? Or is that just the fantastical imaginings of a tortured psyche? 

A major strength of Hydra (and indeed of the other titles in the series) is that the reader is left to make up their own minds about the case as much as the imaginary listener of the imaginary Six Stories podcast. We rarely get to read more than Scott King broadcasts and so, like the listener, are left to decide what we believe. This is not to say there is no resolution. By the end of the novel we know some things for sure. But there is always an open ended element, such as just how much the supernatural came into play.

One thing I would say for certain is that Hydra is well and truly chilling. The BEKs really were creepy and I don’t mind admitting that at times this novel freaked me out. I would strongly advise not reading this book at night, especially if one’s all alone in the house. But it’s not just scares. Hydra, again like the other titles, subtly grapples with some issues - in this case the damage that can be caused by dysfunctional family life, the simplistic intrusiveness of the tabloid press, how youth culture and music can be portrayed negatively and become the focus of moral panic, and the power of urban myths and internet meme. This is all seamlessly interwoven into a tight plot and is a joy to read.

Hydra is a gripping and chilling read. Part supernatural suspense, part psychological chiller, this is a great book and a brilliant follow on from Six Stories.

5 out of 5 stars