New York : Ember, 2014.
289 p. ; 22 cm.
I wish I could say I liked this book - I really do. It's supposed to be a devilishly good Midwestern Gothic tale. It is an intense, twisted, psychological horror story of human depravity and domestic violence - which just didn't move or captivate me.
It's an odd tale of a 19 year old young man who at age ten survived his father's attempts to kill him after beating and torturing his wife. Unfortunately for us and for the young man, his psyche is a twisted bin of delusions, violence, sexual frustration and anger - embodied in his three vividly imagined "living" playthings - a bear, a little Jesus, and a toothy, vile looking toy with very sharp edges - yep, Scowler. All of this comes exploding to the fore when there are the surreal impacts of several small meteorites in rural Iowa where this tale takes place. This cosmic event breaks open the prison where his father is being held - setting him free to come after the family again, and plants a weirdly magnetic and never cooling meteorite on the farm where the family lives.
There were times as I read it that it just felt sordid and creepy. I'm okay with dark and violence, but for me it has to have more than the goal of just entertainment or creating the "ick" factor (which this book definitely does). However, I think I'm in the minority in my lack of enthusiasm for Scowler. The book has received many rave reviews (check out the book's official page), and is popular with those wanting mature and gruesome horror tales.
It's not a book I'll be pushing, but if someone finds it and likes it, that's okay with me.
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