October Sign ‘22
Ryan Oliver Brandt
JournalStone Publishing (March 27, 2026)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers
Ryan Oliver Brandt’s October Sign ’22 is a moody, atmospheric horror-tinged romance that leans heavily into the uncanny rhythms of teenage longing and small-town dread. Set against a crisp autumn backdrop in what feels like a slightly off-kilter American suburb, the novel follows Conan, a grieving high school musician whose father has just died, as he becomes magnetically entangled with Snow, a pale, enigmatic girl from the elite Preston Academy who appears during a school visit.
Brandt wastes little time plunging the reader into a haze of déjà vu, intrusive lyrics that seem to write themselves, and a growing sense that reality is fraying at the edges. Conan’s impulsive decision to ditch school with Snow triggers ripples—his breakup with the fiercely loyal Brandi, band drama at Rufus’s Club Depression, and a cascade of omens: a mass exodus of rats, an unlikely earthquake, and whispers of missing girls from previous years. The prose has a raw, confessional quality, particularly in the way Brandt renders Conan’s song fragments as both prophetic and disorienting. These interludes give the narrative a pulsing, almost musical undercurrent that suits the story’s rock-band milieu.
What elevates the book beyond standard fare is its commitment to emotional messiness. These are all characters who feel real; you might even see resonances of yourself and your old high school gang in these pages—I know I did. Conan’s lovesick obsession with Snow is equal parts tender and self-destructive, while Brandi’s chapters offer a grounded, heartbroken counterpoint that keeps the story from floating entirely into dreamy supernatural territory. Rufus, the wise-cracking mentor figure running the club, brings welcome humor and grounded perspective without undermining the mounting weirdness. The central mystery around Snow’s family and the “October sign” itself simmers effectively, promising deeper revelations in the pages not excerpted here.
Brandt’s strength lies in atmosphere. The October setting is evoked with sensory precision—crunching leaves, low-hanging sun, the musk of decay—creating a liminal mood where love and loss blur. The supernatural elements feel organic rather than bolted on, emerging from grief and adolescent intensity in ways that recall early Poppy Z. Brite or certain strains of late ’90s/early 2000s emo-infused horror. Pacing occasionally drifts in the middle sections as characters circle the same intense feelings, but the emotional honesty and building sense of impending catastrophe compensate.
October Sign ’22 is sincere and evocative. It captures that specific autumnal melancholy where first love feels apocalyptic and the veil between worlds thins. Fans of character-driven horror with musical souls and coming-of-age unease meeting subtle cosmic folk horror will find much to sink into. Brandt shows real promise in weaving personal pain with the uncanny; one hopes future work continues sharpening that blade. A solid, haunting debut that lingers like a half-remembered song.
