In Kylie Lee Baker’s adult fiction debut, “Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng,” the author delivers a searing exploration of pandemic-era America through the eyes of a young Chinese American woman. The novel skillfully blends supernatural horror with the all-too-real horrors of racial violence, creating a narrative that is both timely and timeless in its examination of grief, trauma, and the monstrous capacity of humanity.
The Haunting Premise
Set against the backdrop of early 2020 as COVID-19 begins its devastating spread across the United States, the novel introduces us to Cora Zeng, a crime scene cleaner in New York City’s Chinatown who suffers from severe anxiety and compulsive behaviors. When her sister Delilah is pushed in front of a subway train by a stranger who shouts “bat eater” before fleeing, Cora’s already fragile world shatters completely.
As the pandemic intensifies, so does the anti-Asian sentiment across the city. Cora begins noticing disturbing patterns in her crime scene cleanup work:
- An increasing number of murdered Asian women
- Mutilated bat carcasses left at crime scenes
- Police indifference to what appears to be a serial killer targeting Asian women
- A city administration more concerned with maintaining its image than protecting its citizens
When Cora starts being haunted by what she believes is her sister’s hungry ghost—a concept from Chinese folklore representing spirits who suffered violent deaths and now wander the earth unsatisfied—the boundaries between supernatural horror and the horrors of everyday life begin to blur.
The Power of Baker’s Prose
Baker’s writing is unflinchingly visceral. Her descriptions of crime scenes are meticulously detailed, forcing readers to confront the brutality inflicted on the victims while never crossing into exploitation. The author demonstrates remarkable control in scenes that could easily become gratuitous in less skilled hands:
“All around them the other ghosts murmur, the kitchen cabinets shuddering open and shut, spices falling and bursting on the ground where the other ghosts lick them up.”
What makes Baker’s writing particularly effective is how she juxtaposes the supernatural horrors with mundane terrors. Cora’s fear of germs and contamination serves as both a character trait and a brilliant metaphor for the pandemic’s psychological impact. The way Baker renders Cora’s anxiety—the sting of hand sanitizer in paper cuts, the constant awareness of public surfaces, the ritualistic cleaning—creates a visceral experience for readers.
Characterization That Cuts Deep
Cora Zeng stands as one of horror fiction’s most compelling recent protagonists. Her character development follows a fascinating arc as she transforms from a passive observer of her own life to someone willing to take drastic action. What makes Cora particularly interesting is her complexity:
- She struggles with obsessive-compulsive behaviors and social anxiety
- Her relationship with her sister was fraught yet codependent
- She exists between cultures, neither fully embraced by American society nor fully connected to her Chinese heritage
- Her narration is unreliable in ways that keep readers constantly questioning what’s real
The supporting characters are equally well-drawn. Yifei and Harvey, Cora’s fellow crime scene cleaners, become unexpected friends whose own traumas and backgrounds are revealed with devastating clarity. Cora’s Auntie Zeng provides a crucial cultural anchor, while her Auntie Lois represents the complicated dynamics of assimilation and religion.
Thematic Depth That Haunts
Baker explores several interconnected themes that linger long after the final page:
- Systemic Racism and Violence The novel unflinchingly portrays how quickly society scapegoated Asian Americans during the pandemic, from microaggressions to outright violence. Baker demonstrates how this hatred was not merely isolated incidents but systematically enabled by institutions meant to protect.
- Grief and Trauma Cora’s response to her sister’s death reflects the messy, contradictory nature of grief. Baker portrays Cora’s trauma with psychological authenticity, showing how it fractures her perception of reality.
- Cultural Identity and Disconnection Cora’s tenuous connection to her Chinese heritage becomes both a source of pain and eventually, a pathway to understanding her sister’s death. Her inability to read Chinese becomes a poignant metaphor for cultural disconnection.
- Institutional Failure Perhaps most disturbing is Baker’s portrayal of institutional betrayal—police departments unwilling to investigate crimes against Asian victims, media refusing to report patterns of violence, and political leadership more concerned with optics than protecting citizens.
Structural Weaknesses
Despite its considerable strengths, “Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng” isn’t without flaws. The pacing occasionally suffers, particularly in the middle sections where the crime scene cleanups begin to feel repetitive. The supernatural elements, while effectively creepy, sometimes adhere to inconsistent rules that can confuse readers about the limitations and capabilities of the hungry ghosts.
The novel’s climactic revelation—that there is no single killer but rather a movement of copycat murderers inspired by online forums—is thematically powerful but narratively unsatisfying. It denies readers the catharsis of a single antagonist while making the scope of the horror almost too broad to comprehend fully.
Additionally, some readers may find the graphic violence and descriptions of mutilated bodies excessive, though these elements serve the narrative’s unflinching examination of hate crimes and their aftermath.
Comparisons and Context
“Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng” joins a growing body of horror fiction that addresses specific societal traumas through supernatural metaphors. It shares DNA with works like:
- Stephen Graham Jones’ “My Heart Is a Chainsaw,” which examines indigenous trauma through slasher tropes
- Gretchen Felker-Martin’s “Manhunt,” with its unflinching body horror and exploration of marginalized identities
- Toni Morrison’s “Beloved,” where supernatural elements embody historical trauma
The novel represents a departure from Baker’s previous YA fantasy works like “The Keeper of Night” duology and “The Scarlet Alchemist” series, demonstrating her versatility as a writer and willingness to engage with contemporary social issues through genre fiction.
Final Verdict: A Necessary Horror for Our Times
“Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng” is a challenging, occasionally uneven, but ultimately powerful work of horror fiction. Baker has crafted a novel that functions simultaneously as:
- A supernatural horror story with genuinely frightening moments
- A psychological portrait of trauma and grief
- A searing indictment of America’s response to both the pandemic and anti-Asian violence
- A meditation on cultural identity and disconnection
While the novel doesn’t always balance these elements perfectly, its ambition and unflinching gaze make it a significant contribution to contemporary horror literature. It’s a book that demands to be read, even when—perhaps especially when—it makes readers uncomfortable.
For readers willing to confront both supernatural terrors and the all-too-real monsters of our recent history, “Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng” offers a reading experience that will haunt long after the covers are closed.
Ghost Disclosure: Like Cora’s ritual of burning joss paper for hungry spirits, I received an advance reading copy of this novel through mysterious means (an ARC appeared on my doorstep when no delivery person was in sight). As with all offerings to the literary gods, this honest review represents my attempt to guide this book safely to readers who seek both entertainment and enlightenment about the monsters—supernatural and human—that lurk among us.