I really wanted to love this book, The Forbidden and The Sleep Room are both excellent but this isn't as good. The supernatural element didn't work for me it felt like it was shoehorned in amongst the many explosions, faulty equipment and mouldy food. I did love the character of Lorenz, definitely the best thing about the book.
Have to say I am not a big fan of short story collections. I always find that there are a couple of good stories and the rest seem like fillers. There are NO fillers in this book just 11 wonderfully twisted creepy tales from the mad mind of Mr Nevill. Standout stories for me are Original Occupant, Yellow Teeth, Doll Hands and the stomach churning League of Gentlemenesque Mothers Milk. If you like horror and you haven't read any of Adam Nevill's books you must.
An burial site containing a hideous statue is unearthed during a dig at the ancient city of Babylon in Iraq. The statue is transported back to London, unleashing a terrifying evil that threatens to engulf all of mankind.
This is a slight departure from Jonathan Aycliffe's normal gothic ghost story, this one is a blend of The Exorcist, The Omen and maybe Rosemary's Baby. Aycliffe (real name Denis MacEion) was a scholar in Islamic studies and those influences crop up in a lot his books, and this is no exception. The parts of the book set in Iraq are superb, you can almost taste the spices. The whole thing is supremely atmospheric and extremely creepy.
One slight blemish, it does feel a little incomplete. There is a real ramping up in tension towards the end, and then it does just that, it ends, very abruptly, almost like the author said “enough!! I've had enough”. I wanted a little more, but still, really really really good.
A book of three “bits”. The first bit, 265 or so pages, you are wading through treacle, its pleasant and unpleasant in equal measures, its an effort but there's just enough to keep you going. The second bit, 100 or so pages. free of treacle but covered from head to toe, you find yourself running down a road chased by Bees and you're shouting “OMG” “REALLY” “WHAT” “WHO” “WHY”. Then the third bit, the last 20 pages. you reach the door and close it behind you, free of bees, you are covered head to toe in treacle your favourite trainers are ruined your mum is waiting for you and throws a bag of desiccated coconut over you and you realise no amount of showering is ever going to rid you of the oogy mess.