John

3 of 5 is fair here, I think. The writing is good, and Ligotti's ability to turn every page into a nightmarish trance-like state is admirable. I really enjoyed a handful of the stories here, and "Gas Station Carnivals" is already on my list of favorite short stories ever.

However, I can't ignore the fact that the stories contained here get repetitive, and they are very much tools that Ligotti uses to push his philosophical position, at times, very heavy-handedly. I'm also fairly confused by how a person who (as I understand it) believes that nothing in life means anything can put together stories that people will later read and attempt to decipher the meaning of.

Maybe Ligotti would argue that his stories are also meaningless. Maybe he would argue that it was a waste of time for me to read the stories he wasted time in writing. It seems like a strange relationship between author and reader.

Would recommend: "Purity," "The Town Manager," and the aforementioned "Gas Station Carnivals."

The industry often overlooks genre fiction as being not "serious" work, while simultaneously continuing its tradition of selling literary fiction via misleading genre tags. This book is no exception.

It is not "an expertly-paced" "psychological thriller." It is a dense work of lit fic, examining the rippling effects of tragedy. And it is very. Very. Slow.

There's nothing wrong with that. For what it actually is, I give it 3 out of 5. I enjoyed the writing, and there were numerous times when I thought that it would make a good film, one which would evoke the same feelings as Mystic River, Three Billboards..., and Small Engine Repair. Netflix has announced that this will soon be a mini-series. And it will probably be good. For what it is.

For being a mystery novel, it is a 2. And as a thriller, it is simply not one. This book is being oversold. If you're looking for a female-forward character study told via dual timeliness, this book will probably be your jam.

But know that the crime-that-needs-solved hook of this novel takes a backseat fairly early on. Truly. The book opens with young Barbara going missing at a summer camp. And when that hook finally wraps up, it feels like an afterthought.

That is because plot is not driving this story. Again, that's completely fine, as long as you go into it with this understanding.

I'm unfamiliar with Liz Moore's other work, but this is being billed as her "most ambitious and wide-reaching novel" to date. To that, yes, it is quite ambitious. Not only do we have two timeliness, but we are jumping around within those timeliness, from the POVs of at least a half dozen recurring speakers. That's pretty damn ambitious, and I commend it.

But I can't deny that, frequently, it is jumping around so much that it's hard to keep track of everything. This seems to be a common critique of the book. My guess is that these unhappy reviewers were simply expecting the expertly-paced thriller they were repeatedly promised.

Truthfully, if it were 150 pages shorter, I think it might be the book the industry seems to think it is. This would not be something that I will recommend to anyone asking for a good read. But for certain people, I know this will hit the spot.

I imagine that there is a select group to whom this book is amazing. To me, it reads like what someone would write when they want to convey romance, but they've never themselves experienced romance. I can't decide if the ideal reader is one who wants spice, and is willing to accept a thin plot and low world-building, or someone who is looking for a paranormal Gothic tale, and is willing to accept an annoyingly stunted protagonist banging the most beautiful man who ever existed. There is not one character in this book whose death I would mourn.

This feels like playing dress-up, as opposed to role-playing. Need a spooky setting? New Orleans. Details? Unnecessary. Time period? Unclear. Because we are not role-playing; we are playing dress up. Add one part horse-cock and a dash of conflict. Stir to combine.

This was a breezy, quick-reading story with twists and turns galore--some good, some bad. Overall, I liked it. This was my first Freida McFadden novel, and I would honestly recommend it. It's the perfect take-along book; grab it and go, read it throughout the day.

That being said, Millie is one of the dumbest people on the planet. She simply lacks the street smarts that a person who has spent the last decade in prison would have. She's truly an idiot, in that regard. She allows Nina to manipulate her into killing Andrew, and she goes from telling the reader that she's basically swearing off romance for the time being, to trying to sleep with Enzo and also actually sleeping with Andrew--which only makes her fall more in love with a man who is obviously more sinister than he lets on.

She should have seen it. Matter of fact, she DID see it. She saw the scratch marks on the door. She openly questioned all sorts of things. She knew something was going on. Supposedly tough chick immediately goes gaga over who can only be described as the most handsome man who ever lived, only to show her true self (which is sort of the opposite of who she's been throughout) at the climax. Maybe the author was trying to paint her as more of an observant, talk-less-smile-more type. That did not come through for me at all.

And again, Nina did manipulate her into killing Andrew. Quite easily.

I was excited for a lot of the twists in this book. I'd heard McFadden writes great twists. And when the book shifts to Nina, that is a great turn. But it wasn't necessarily the most surprising. It was fairly obvious that she had orchestrated the NYC trip on purpose, even after establishing that she often does not remember what she tells Millie. And it was obvious that Millie should have been more concerned about the phone Nina gave her--especially when Nina starts to treat her like shit. Which is almost immediately.

Twice in this story, Millie puts an unnamed object into her pocket. It is made clear that she is putting an unnamed object into her pocket. And she later brings out this object at the appropriate time. To me, this always feels cheap. It feels like the story unfolded in the writing process, and the character needs a thing now, so let's just edit them putting it into their pocket early on.

And the second time, she uses the thing almost immediately. There was no need to go back into that well. Just have her pick up the pliers that the reader knows are pliers, so we can think about the thing that we know she's about to ask him to do with them. It's a torture scene, after all. She's been actively torturing him--or, forcing him to torture himself?--for eight pages. It just felt very unnecessary.

The reveal from Andrew's mother at the funeral didn't really hit so hard, either, because I thought that it was pretty well-established that he was a mama's boy, from almost the beginning of the novel.

This feels weird to say, as a man, but this book feels like it was written by a man: two separate women fall into the web of a sadistic madman who is also extremely handsome. One of the women acts contrary to how you would expect someone in her position to act, and ignores all red flags and falls in love with said sadistic madman. While the other woman sacrifices the first woman to the madman, knowing that he will make her life a living hell.

Lastly, if Cece knew that acting out could get Nina punished, why was she such an asshole to Millie? She would have been on her best behavior at all times.

Feels weird to have this many gripes about a book I'm rating 4/5 and would recommend, but I had a blast.

Being so familiar with the 1989 film, I wanted to see why this was repeatedly ranked as one of King's best novels. I can see it. This is old-school King, working through a bunch of personal shit and writing a story fully inspired by actual events from King's own life--he took a teaching job and found out that there was a pet cemetery behind the house that he'd moved into, which also happened to be situated on a way-too-busy road where his daughter was almost killed by a passing truck.

Through that, King gives us this slow-burn meditation on the power of grief, and the unthinkable things that we will do to cope with that grief.

Without giving too much away, we spend a lot of time with Louis and really get to live with him, and watch him work his way through some of the biggest moral dilemmas ever put to paper (and there is some truly disturbing stuff along the way). I found this to be quite enjoyable, but also found myself to be done with the story about 50 pages out. One of his shortest, but still felt like it could have been cut down a bit.

I listened to the audiobook while I did some office work, and I really think that I may have done myself a disservice. I've heard this novella described as more of a creepy character study than an outright horror story, and that the author weaves sort of a grotesque poetry into their sentences.

Both of these things are true. The author clearly enjoys playing with language, and they are in their bag here. Sentences, entire passages, that had me rewinding and re-listening, were frequent. And it does seem like the scares are secondary to the interpersonal relationships between the characters. I probably missed out on some of this stuff by not giving the story my sole focus.

Very interested in seeing what else this author has to offer.

Creepy, atmospheric read, with an ending twist that I'm not sure if I like.

I'll keep this as spoiler-free as I can at this point. This thing is 200 pages, and man, does it do a lot in those pages. In a good way. As the story unfolds, there are more and more events that are simply....off-putting. It does a very good job with keeping tension and creating atmosphere. I read along with the audiobook at about 1.5 (for some reason, these audiobooks are always slow). However, about 80 pages out, I slowed down and really took in those pages. It was great. Beginning with our lovers pulling up to the school, until the end of the story, is among one of my favorite reading experiences.

The last few lines of the novel seem to be instructions to the reader, to read it again, with all of this newfound information regarding life, love, philosophy, psychology, etc. And I love that. This is one that has stayed with me.

The twist, I'm just not sure that I like it, to be honest. I'm mulling it over.

"I am a dead Playboy bunny and I am a fly and I am a wolf, and I am any wise man's worst nightmare."

I loved this. The final 15 pages were sort of underwhelming (but frankly fitting), and I agree with other reviewers that the first 80 pages or so are a bit of a drag at times, but my few gripes are overcome by the pure (perverse?) joy I had while reading certain passages, accompanied by the songs referenced in those passages (I'm looking at you, Rob Zombie).

And the dark humor, sign me up twice. This thing is funny. And poignant. And at times, both funny and poignant. A bit of a spoiler, but for example, there is a scene in which Maeve is at a fancy party, and there's a guy there who is uttetly fascinated by the videos that he and his buddies send to each other, of themselves defacating into the toilet.

He starts to show the videos (over the futile-protest-turned-begrudging-acquiescence of his girlfriend), and Maeve ups the ante, telling him that she has a cool video of a botched c-section, before pontificating briefly about consuming the placenta. And THIS is what brings the conversation to a screeching halt. THIS was too far.

This is simply an illustration of an idea that is plainly stated throughout the novel: Men are expected to be gross, to have dark parts, to be brash and powerful and unflinching. It is understood. But such standards do not apply to women, and certainly not to Disney princesses, even the most popular one, even the one who would be the ice queen (the film's original intended villain).

I had a blast with this. Just read it already.

Not gonna lie: Picked this up more or less blindly, didn't realize it was for 15-year-olds. That being said, it wasn't half bad.

It's a PG-13 'Saw,' in a lot of ways. Something in between 'Goosebumps' and 'Fear Street,' with one use of the f-word, if you're counting. Melodramatic, obsessive, neurotic characters that probably would have been relatable a few decades ago.

For what it was, it was fine. Something I flipped through for a few hours last night. Can't say that I wouldn't flip through another one.

My only gripe is that the character with the most interesting possibilities--cousin Tess--is used like a prop throughout the entire thing, when it is clear that she is the true hero of the novel. #TeamTess

Trigger warnings for mental health / suicide.

This was my first Riley Sager novel. I've heard you either love him or hate him. I did not love him.

I agree with most of the criticisms I've seen for this book: slow, boring at times, a flat hero, almost DNF'd, etc. That's all true. And more.

I'm willing to forgive all that.

But, when you deliver two major reveals, back-to-back on the same page nonetheless, they'd better be tight. When you go where Sager does here--dead husband is actually the serial killer the cops are looking for, and he's dead because our hero killed him, and he's a ghost who just possessed the missing girl--it needs to be believable.

I'm not talking about suspending disbelief. Okay, this guy's a ghost now. Also, our hero killed him. Fine. Tell me he was actually in outer space the whole time. I don't really care.

But this story is told in first-person. We are inside Casey's head the entire time. Which means that we have access to her thoughts, and there's no way that this wouldn't have crossed her mind on page 7.

The reveal cannot be something that has been inside of the hero's head the entire time, when I've also been inside the hero's head the entire time. There is a difference between being mislead for fun and being lied to for convenience.

It's a cheap trick, and it's a gaping hole in an otherwise weird, fairly enjoyable if sometimes boring story about an obsessive alcoholic woman and the ghost husband she killed last summer.

I like the fact that this thing turned and went somewhere I didn't think it would go. I like how it was actually a different story than the one I thought I was reading. But the whole thing pivots on a huge reveal that just feels underhanded. An unreliable narrator, I can accept. But I have to draw the line at an unreliable author.

To be fair, I am now seeing that this appears to be one of his worst-liked books, and I would honestly give him another shot. But this one is not recommended.

I don't generally read fantasy, and I am clearly older than the target audience for this, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't the best, either. Multiple times, I found myself surpised/intrigued/pleased with some turn of event, but it could have been 50 to 75 pages shorter. It sags a bit during the bulk of the narrative, although the POV switching does generally move the story along nicely.

Credit to the author, there were a few big surprises in here that I wanted to call bs on, but she laid the foundation for these things earlier and they were basically airtight. I never felt like any of them was merely for convenience, although they were convenient.

I'll probably read the next one, but I don't see myself digging into this world any deeper than that, aside from maybe giving the Shadow and Bone Netflix series a try.