The first novel I read by Stephen Graham Jones was Mongrels, and I remember thinking, damn, this guy is doing something nobody else in horror is doing. He’s got a unique viewpoint, and the writing chops to pull it off.

Everything I’ve read by him since then only confirms my initial view, from The Indian Lake Trilogy to The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, and a dozen others (the man is frighteningly prolific). Near the top of the stack for me is The Only Good Indians, the novel that truly cemented for me that Jones would from that moment on be a must read. There are scenes in that book (I’m looking at you, motorcycle scene) that have stayed with me for years.

Now comes Off the Reservation, a sequel of sorts to The Only Good Indians, and once again Jones knocks it out of the park.

Several years after the events of The Only Good Indians, Nate Yellow Tail is struggling to put his life back together. Still recovering from a devastating accident, and with his best friend Sebby clinging to life, Nate gets an unexpected opportunity to make things right. Alongside three older Blackfeet activists, he embarks on a journey to recover the remains of a young Blackfeet boy who died at the notorious Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania, where generations of Indigenous children were stripped of their identities, their families, and their futures. But bringing the boy’s bones back to Blackfeet country awakens something that should never have been disturbed. As the journey turns into a nightmare, Nate and his companions find themselves confronting a terror that reaches beyond the grave, and a legacy of violence that refuses to loosen its grip on the living.

Jones does something truly remarkable here. The first half of the novel is a fairly straightforward story, at least as straightforward as Jones gets. And then, somewhere around the 50% mark, Off the Reservation goes gloriously, bugfuckingly off the rails. It becomes a hallucinogenic fever dream—a possession story of sorts, blending visceral horror, supernatural suspense, and a deeply resonant exploration of identity, history, and belonging. It’s sometimes funny, in a shocking sort of way, and much like The Only Good Indians, there are scenes that will take up residence in your brain.

One final note: do not skip reading Jones’ afterword. It’s long, intimately honest, and absolutely fascinating.

For fans of horror, indigenous history, or just plain old excellent writing, Off the Reservation is a must-read.