C.J. Edmunds’ Dark District Primer is a strange, soulful, and genre-bending exploration of myth, memory, and magic rooted in the Philippines. It combines two novellas, Sojourn and Take Me Now, weaving personal identity with fantasy, Filipino folklore with urban life, and spiritual questions with surreal encounters. The main narrator, David Lansing, acts as our curious guide, relaying his disorienting journey through magical encounters, visions of cultural archetypes, and confrontations with hidden truths. These experiences are framed through a personal, at times confessional, lens as he is summoned by a supernatural Council to explain his strange awakening in the Dark District.

Reading this felt like peeling through layers of memory, myth, and grief. The writing style is introspective and poetic at times, with bursts of long, flowing paragraphs that spill over with emotion and insight. Edmunds has a real knack for setting scenes that feel alive. The haunting streets of Manila, the hidden halls of the Council, even the surreal blankness of the otherworldly realms. At its heart, though, what struck me most was how much Dark District Primer is about identity, especially queer identity, cultural identity, and spiritual reckoning. I could feel the author writing through pain and purpose, and while some parts meandered or repeated themselves, the raw honesty kept me hooked. The lore is fascinating, especially the blending of Filipino myths like the Tikbalang and Manananggal with modern, urban queer life.

The ending of Take Me Now leaves just enough unanswered that I found myself eager to dive into the next chapter of the story. That brings me to Take My Hand, the upcoming installment teased at the end of the book. The preview promises bigger stakes and deeper dives into the lore. Take My Hand promises to have more world-building and capitalize on the lore in the introspective tone that I enjoyed.

There were times when whole pages spiraled into inner monologue, and the pacing slowed in the second half of Sojourn, where narrative momentum gave way to philosophical reflection. Edmunds isn’t just telling a story, he’s sharing something personal and vulnerable. You can feel the care and love he has for the lore, the community, and the craft.

I’d recommend this book to readers who want something different. If you like urban fantasy with depth, or if you’re curious about queer stories grounded in Southeast Asian myth, this will hit home. It’s not a quick read, but it rewards with a haunting and heartfelt experience. Especially for queer readers, Filipino readers, or anyone feeling caught between two worlds.

Pages: 298 | ASIN : B0FDGS86JT