Justification for why I always hesitated at the door of the “Fun House” and, ultimately, never entered. No justification needed for avoiding clowns, though; they’re scary, period.

Here’s the skinny:

Amy, eleven years old, and her sister, eight-year-old Jodi, are sent to spend the summer with their father, Russel. No big deal except they haven’t seen or talked to him in eight years; neither girl knows what Russel will be like. And Amy is pretty sure their mother doesn’t want them anymore. After all, their mom has a new husband, a new baby, and a step-son to love.

But once Russel picks them up and tells them about his job – he owns a “grab joint” (aka hot dog stand) that travels with the carnival – Amy and Jodi begin to feel better about their summer. That is, until strange things start to happen around the carnival. Jodi finds a necklace that was missing for over six decades when its owner also disappeared. Next, Jody and Amy see someone – or something – moving in the shadows outside their trailer at night. Then the carnival’s owner, India, hears someone sneaking into her trailer at night even though her door and windows were locked.

And then there’s a murder … one so vicious and shocking no one can believe their eyes. Except India. She’s seen a body like that before. An identical murder happened sixty years before in the same carnival — a murder rumored to involve the owner of that special necklace. So the police get involved, the carnival workers are scared, and all the while the killer is out there, waiting.

Here are my two cents:

This was my first time reading anything by Ruby Jean Jensen. I discovered Jensen after I’d researched stories with haunted dolls (and similar themes) on Goodreads; there were several people who recommended her books. Sadly, since most of her work was published in the 80s, it’s been difficult to obtain copies.

House of Illusions was a frightening, fun experience! But then, just the image of a “happy” clown gives me nightmares, so this book was pretty much guaranteed to give me the willies. Plus, Jensen knew how to work the shadows and show just enough to kick imagination into overdrive.

Then, with her face in the opened window, she at last felt the first stirrings of sleep.

The sound of a tiny bell brought her awake with a jolt and she stared out of the window into the darkness, where only the shapes of the trailers and the peaks of tents caught the light from the carnival midway. She stared. Something had moved in the alley making a faint sound, a tiny jingle, like the bells she had worn on her shoelaces when she was still little. Like the bells she had seen on some toy clowns’ suits.

Then, slowly, as she stared, she began to make out a face in the dark. It seemed to have a white mouth, a blur that was ghostly and unformed, with a suggestion of a head and the body invisible. Like a head suspended in the darkness at the side of the tent… (p. 39).

All carnival creepiness aside, the dialogue was iffy in a few places – stiff at first, and in the first few chapters the girls sounded more like adults than eight and eleven years old – as was some of the characterization, but the majority was believable and engaging. Blane, for instance, jumped off the page and made me laugh out loud with some of his antics. Also, the plot held my attention while the main characters developed. There were a few times when Jensen repeated information which felt a bit like stalling. That could just be my impatience; I really wanted to find out what was going to happen next!

Here’s what you might not like:

• Profanity
• Sexual situations
• Violence involving children
• Graphic violence and murder
• The ending doesn’t explain what “it” is, not exactly

Final thoughts

Jensen explores a world with which most of us are familiar – a carnival – using characters with whom we can all identify, and knows which “fear” button she wants to push and just when to push it. If clowns don’t frighten you, then 90% of this book will fall flat. However, if the mere description of a clown sends chills down your spine, then you should read this … during the day.

A well-written novel with a multi-layered plot that features King’s trademark descriptions – wordy and vivid – and seamless integration of the paranormal into everyday life.

Here is Stephen King’s most gripping and unforgettable novel — a tale of grief and lost love’s enduring bonds, of haunting secrets of the past, and of an innocent child caught in a terrible crossfire. (Source: book cover)

Here’s the gist:

Thirty-something author, Mike Noonan, hasn’t been able to write anything since the sudden death of his wife four years earlier. Unable to beat his severe case of writer’s block, Mike decides to pack up and spend the summer at his lakeside home, Sara Laughs. Upon arrival he discovers two things: the house may be haunted; and, during the last year of her life his wife, Johanna, hid something from him – something that involved Sara Laughs and its community. Mike’s path soon crosses with that of another young widow, Mattie, and her three-year-old daughter, Kyra. He learns Kyra’s grandfather, Max Devore, is a man who stops at nothing to get what he wants, and what he wants is custody of Kyra. So Mike feels compelled to help Mattie and Kyra. But his decision to help only makes matters worse. And what should’ve been a battle for custody turns into a battle for their lives.

Here are my two cents:

For the first 100+ pages (of a 732-page paperback), I was deep inside the grieving main character, Mike Noonan; I don’t think I needed *that* much development of Mike’s mental state, personality and relationships. But King knew just how much not to tell in order to keep me turning the page against the relentless exposition.

Once Mike arrived at Sara Laughs the pace picked up significantly, and the paranormal aspects were intriguing and eerie. During those scenes I felt a little antsy in my chair. However, I didn’t feel a constant pressure or even a consistent tension. There’d be a really juicy scene and then a quick resolution. Not necessarily in the form of an answer but an end to the supsense that had been building. (I prefer stories mimic the beginning of a rollercoaster: when you slowly creep, inch by inch, to the top until BAM! You race toward the bottom and then rip through the middle and arrive mostly unscathed at the end.)

Probably the biggest problem was I just didn’t connect with Mike or his relationship with Johanna. Or his relationship with Mattie and Kyra, for that matter. But that’s me, and I have a hard time with lengthy exposition when from a character I don’t care much for.

Here’s what you might not like:

* It takes between 200-300 pages for the deeper mystery to reveal itself

* It takes even longer for the paranormal activity to kick into high gear

* Racism

* Graphic violence and sexual assault

Final thoughts

I probably won’t read Bag of Bones again anytime soon, if ever, but that’s based more on personal preference than the novel’s quality or content. I would recommend it to readers looking for a slow-paced paranormal mystery built around a town’s dirty secret, with a love story at its core, and topped off with moderate “horror” elements.

Hell House is built on a classic framework and then filled with modern sensibilities and indulgences; it’s basically an R-rated version of the Haunting of Hill House.

Here’s the lowdown:

Dr. Lionel Barrett, a physicist who’s studied parapsychology for twenty years, doesn’t believe in ghosts. He just needs the chance – and the financial support – to show the world what he already knows. Enter Rolf Rudolph Deutsch, a dying millionaire, who offers Dr. Barrett $100,000 if he can provide definitive evidence about survival after death. Obviously it is an offer Barrett cannot refuse.

Also along for the investigation are Dr. Barrett’s wife, Edith; Reverend Florence Tanner, a spiritualist and mental medium; and Ben Fischer, who was once considered the country’s most powerful physical medium. The object of their investigation? Why, the world’s most infamous haunted house, of course. The Belasco house, named after its owner, Emeric Belasco, came to be known as Hell House because Belasco “created a private hell there.” Previous investigations were unsuccessful, to say the least, resulting in eight people’s deaths, suicide or insanity.

The house’s history and notoriety only encourages Dr. Barrett. He is determined to debunk Hell House as haunted and he means to rid the house of its disturbances using science. Meanwhile, Florence intends to set free the spirits she knows are trapped there; Ben Fischer just wants to make it to the $100,000 payday; and Edith, well, she believes in her husband and supports him as best she can.

But once they enter Hell House their focus should only be on one thing:

Getting back out … sane and alive.

Here are my two cents:

Right away there was a strong Hill House vibe. There were also the typical haunted house devices: dying rich person, dense fog, a tarn, an abandoned mansion in a secluded location, no electricity despite newly repaired wiring and a generator.

The story was structured around the investigation’s timeline, which created a sense of doom from the get-go. A clock counting down to their deadline but also, perhaps, to their ruin. The plot was fast-paced with little filler. The scientific explanations felt somewhat dated and dry, but those weren’t prominent enough to distract from the story. Additionally, any lack in character development was more than made up for with atmosphere, tension, and suspense.

Florence turned her head. The door to the corridor had just been opened. She looked across the darkness of the room. The door closed quietly.

Footsteps started toward her.

“Yes?” she said.

The footsteps kept approaching, muffled on the rug. Florence started reaching for the candle, then withdrew her hand, knowing it was not one of the other three. “All right,” she murmured.

The footsteps halted…[t]here was a sound of breathing at the foot of the bed (pp. 72-73).

There was a considerable amount of disturbing imagery, though. And Matheson didn’t have to describe every detail for my imagination to pick up what he was laying down.

The figures vanished as she reached the chapel door. A man was crouched in front of it. His face was white, his expression drugged. He held a severed human hand to his lips, sucking on one of the fingers. She bit into her hand. The figure vanished (p. 244).

The overarching mystery surrounding the “truth” of Hell House was expertly written. Barrett and Tanner’s back and forth debates throughout the investigation were presented in such a way that both theories seemed plausible. Plus, I wasn’t 100% sure what was really going on until close to the big reveal

When the story ended, it felt rushed. The whole “Reversor” thingy a bit too convenient. And I couldn’t quite suspend my disbelief for the character’s decisions in those final hours.

Here’s what you might not like:

• Plot-focused with minimal character development
• Graphic violence with blood and/or gore
• Sexual situations including sexual assault
• Science-y discussions and descriptions

Final thoughts

Touted on numerous lists as a “must read” for all horror fans, I was pleasantly surprised Hell House lived up to its hype. As soon as I finished, I rated it 5 stars. Only after further evaluation did I recognize that it wasn’t a flawless book. But those flaws are few and forgivable, especially considering how much I was scared whilst reading. I’d definitely recommend you give it a read if you’re into haunted house stories with a moderate amount of violence and blood.

[Side note: I watched the movie adaptation, The Legend of Hell House, on April 20th, and it was just meh for me. I can't believe Matheson wrote the screenplay because it seemed so ... watered down and, well, boring. The atmosphere and underlying tension that I loved in the book were completely absent from the movie.]

Everyone knows the saying, “Behind every great man, there’s a great woman.” Well, in Conjure Wife, the great woman is a witch, and her great man doesn’t know that. And it’s worldwide: all women are witches, and they either know of or practice witchcraft.

Here’s the gist:

One day, feeling good and taking a moment to reflect on his life, Norman Saylor, a professor of sociology at Hempnell College, begins to ponder his successes, one of which he considers his wife, Tansy. How did I get so lucky? Norman wonders. How did Tansy fare so well as a professor’s wife? Those questions prompt Norman to snoop through his wife’s closet and drawers. And what should he discover? The tell-tale signs of someone dabbling in “conjure magic.” He’s shocked!

If he had ever wondered about Tansy and superstitions at all, it had only been to decide, with a touch of self-congratulation, that for a woman she was almost oddly free from irrationality (p. 22).

A confrontation with Tansy ensues, turns into a nearly four-hour long discussion, at the end of which Norman demands Tansy stop her “neurotic” behavior at once. Tansy reluctantly agrees; after all, she was only ever doing magic to protect Norman.

That’s when the unlucky “coincidences” begin piling up on Norman: threats from an expelled student; charges of a sexual relationship with a female student; scrutiny of his personal life and friends by the college’s trustees, and on and on. The “coincidences” culminate with the disappearance of his wife.

But to rescue Tansy, Norman will have to practice a little conjure magic himself. The problem is, of course, he finds the whole idea ridiculous. Will Norman save Tansy? If he does, what will be the implications? The consequences?

Here are my two cents:

The sexism, oh the sexism. Because Conjure Wife is told in a limited third-person narrative, Norman Saylor could make or break the story. After reading a couple chapters of his thoughts, I feared I may not be able to finish. In fact, I forced myself to remember the setting – 40s/50s – and cut Norman some slack for his stereotypical, insensitive, often laughable assessments of people, especially women. (For example, see the above quote from page 22 in addition to the below.)

…(in a similar situation would he have dared try reasoned argument on any other woman?)(p. 31).

Once I decided to ignore that part of Norman’s personality, I realized he still wasn’t very likeable. But it was interesting to see the world through Norman’s eyes, especially when he filtered everything through the rules of science. Although, I’ll admit, it did get a tad annoying to have him go back and forth, back and forth. And even to go so far as to see if there was a mathematical formula for spells.

I liked Tansy, though, and the premise was an interesting one.

But it’s not really new, is it? Men throughout history have feared “woman.” Suspected her of being connected to some secret force, nature, even the Devil. Possibly in a conspiratorial capacity with other women. Wondered about her intuition. Faulted her for being more emotional than man. It’s inherent for most, fearing what we do not understand.

However, I don’t think fear of witchcraft or even a secret alliance among women was Norman’s deepest fear. I think what he most feared was not really knowing his wife. That he could live with someone for so many years – I believe it was 15 years they’d been together – trust her, think he had her all figured out, only to discover she wasn’t exactly who he imagined. Hell, that’s scary for anyone in a relationship.

He looked at her, trying to comprehend it. It was almost impossible to take at one gulp the realization that in the mind of this trim modern creature he had known in completest intimacy, there was a whole great area he had never dreamed of…

Once I saw that Norman did, in fact, love his wife and respect her, it was easier for me to sit back and enjoy the story. He used science the way many people use religion: a way to make sense of (or cope with) all the craziness, all the chaos, that is life. A constant in the ever shifting variables. And, for most, it’s an unshakeable, unchangeable belief system.

Here’s what you might not like about Conjure Wife:

• Sexism
• Racism
• The protagonist (Norman)
• Norman’s always-on scientific filter
• Not “urban fantasy” as boasted on this edition’s cover
• Falls under psychological or literary horror; there’s nothing overtly scary or gory

Final thoughts

While its horror elements are mild and slow-building, Conjure Wife is most frightening for what’s going on below the surface rather than its stated premise. I recommend it to fans of the slow burn style of supernatural horror, who are willing to overlook the (hopefully) outdated viewpoints and plan to take the time to think about the story once they close the book.

An enchanting fairy tale guaranteed to capture the hearts of fantasy readers, especially those who love stories of good versus evil, sibling rivalry, and prison breaks.

A tale of archetypal heroes and sweeping adventures, of dragons ad princes and evil wizards – as only Stephen King can tell it!

The passage through the castle is dim, sensed by few and walked by only one. Flagg knows the way well. In four hundred years, he has walked it many times, in many guises, but now the passage serves its true purpose. Through the spyhole it conceals, the court magician observes King Roland — old, weak, yet still a king. Roland’s time is nearly over, though, and young Prince Peter, tall and handsome, the measure of a king in all ways, stands to inherit the realm.

Yet a tiny mouse is enough to bring him down, a mouse that chances upon a grain of Dragon Sand behind Peter’s shelves and dies crying tears of fire and belching gray smoke, A mouse that dies as King Roland does. Flagg saw it all and smiled, for now Prince Thomas, a young easily swayed to Flagg’s own purposes, would rule the kingdom, But Thomas has a secret that has turned his days into nightmares and his nights into prayed-for oblivion. The last bastion of hope lies at the top of the Needle, the royal prison where Peter plans a daring escape…(Source: book jacket)

Intriguing, right? Though, that synopsis only touches the surface of the story’s themes and characters.

The Eyes of the Dragon is my favorite of Stephen King’s work. When I first read it, almost 20 years ago, I was captivated. (In awe, too, that a “master of horror” could write a true fairy tale!) And every time I read Dragon I’m transported to the kingdom of Delain: I cry when Peter’s locked away; I rage at Flagg’s deceit and trickery; I loathe Thomas for his betrayals.

It’s a short read, around 300 pages. The story flows smoothly at a steady pace, with nary an info dump in sight, and the suspense of whether good will outsmart and overcome evil is present throughout. Prince Peter will charm you with his loving heart and devotion; Flagg will mesmerize you with his black magic and lust for power. And there are a couple surprising twists in the plot.

If you enjoy fairy tales or fantasies, you will most likely enjoy the Eyes of the Dragon.

Do you prefer “good” to always beat “evil”?

Or do you enjoy stories where the bad guy wins?

Now, that may not seem excitin’ to most folks but, for geeky me, it is. Partly because I’ve wanted to reorganize and revamp my site’s layout, categories, and overall user-friendliness for about three years; and, partly because teaching myself how to build a child theme is progress on another big change planned for the next two years. (I’ll share more about that at some point this year.)

So, if you’re curious, click on the picture (left) and a larger version will open up. That’s a sneak preview of my new site. It’s a working model and it’s not to scale; in general, it captures what I’m going for.

The goal is for this site to function as movie reviewer, book reviewer and paid author. I want the navigation simple and easy to use; the topics quickly identifiable; clean, uncluttered layout; everything works as it should.

My inspiration was the Critical Child Theme. After I downloaded and installed the theme, and its parent, I didn’t really understand how to make it work. (And I didn’t want to pay for support when I could, and wanted to, teach myself.) Plus, I was hoping for a framework like Twenty Eleven with its built-in features like post formats.

The decision to create my own child theme has required hours and hours of reading about custom post types (CPT), custom taxonomies, post formats, custom loops and queries. Finally, yesterday, I created my first CPT on the first go. My site didn’t break, pages showed up like they should, pretty permalinks worked. Yay!

Unfortunately, for the new layout I want, permalinks had to be re-structured and categories reorganized, renamed, or deleted, which means I may lose traffic and page rank. We’ll see. Those were my lowest priorities at this point, though. Also, there are design elements I want changed; namely, the header. My aunt is in graphic design so I’m hoping she’ll be able to help me create what I see in my head whenever I say, “Unleash the Flying Monkeys!”

Ewwww, I can’t wait!

Okay, sorry, I won’t geek out on you. I’ll save that for when the site’s finished.

How’s 2012 treating you? Any breakthroughs or progress you wanna share?

Vampirism at its blood-thirsty best: no angsty teenagers; no forbidden love; and, most certainly, no effin sparkles.

Here’s the gist:

Ben Mears, a widowed author, returns to his childhood home – the rural town of Jerusalem’s Lot, known by the locals simply as ‘salem’s Lot – planning to write his latest novel while living in the town’s infamous, some speculate haunted, Marsten House. But upon arrival he learns the house was recently sold. So, instead, Ben rents a room in the town’s boarding house and soon after meets, and falls for, a local woman, Susan Norton.

Meanwhile, the new owners of the Marsten House – Barlow and Straker – have plans of their own; first, open an antique store in town; second, convert the Lot’s residents, every single one of them. Before anyone realizes the truth behind recent disappearances, deaths, and a contagious illness, the infestation consumes the town. Ben, along with a handful of others who understand what’s really happening in ‘salem’s Lot, must fight for their lives and the town’s survival, or join Barlow’s ranks.

Here are my two cents:

First, full disclosure, I love ‘Salem’s Lot. It’s a 5-star book in my eyes and no one can tell me otherwise. This was the third time I’d read it and still, when I left the safety of my well lit bedroom for a drink or restroom break, I had to cut on lights before entering or passing through each room on the way. Nearly forty years after publication and it hasn’t lost its creepy-crawly grip on my imagination; King’s talent for description and atmosphere being major factors, I’m sure.

The run up the hallway, the horrible scream of the door as he pulled it open, the dangling figure suddenly opening its hideous puffed eyes, himself turning to the door in the slow, sludgy panic of dreams–

And finding it locked (p. 33).

The first time I read ‘Salem’s Lost, in my early teens, Mark Petrie was my favorite character; he remains so after this, my third reading. There’s something deeply affecting about a kid being stronger and smarter than the adults. And all because Mark hadn’t lost the ability to believe in every possibility, not just those seen or proved conclusively. (Okay, his slight obsession with monsters and horror fiction might’ve helped, too.)

Before drifting away entirely, he found himself reflecting…on the peculiarity of adults. They took…sleeping pills to drive away their terrors…and their terrors were so tame and domestic. They were pallid compared to the fears every child lies cheek and jowl with in his dark bed, with no one to confess to in hope of perfect understanding but another child (p.242).

And, perhaps more importantly than strong heroes, the villains were ruthless and cunning. Straker, as the obedient slave, freaked me out almost as much as his master. But nothing surpassed Barlow – old, powerful, and pure evil. He was neither ashamed nor fought against his nature; he accepted and relished being vampire. There was nothing sexy or romantic about Barlow, or his minions.

A shuddering groan escaped him, and he put his hands over his face.

I can’t. I am afraid.

He could not have risen even if the brass knob on his own door had begun to turn. He was paralyzed with fear and wished crazily that he had never gone out to Dell’s that night.

I am afraid.

And in the awful heavy silence of the house, as he sat impotently on his bed with his face in his hands, he heard the high, sweet, evil laugh of a child –

–and then the sucking sounds (p. 165).

Here’s what you might not like about ‘Salem’s Lot:

* No one is safe; every character is vulnerable.

* There is animal violence; first a dog and later rats.

* There are a couple scenes of child abuse.

* Most of the story is told in close third person; however, in certain chapters, King does zoom out to provide a broader view of the town as a whole.

* The novel’s structure. It’s not told in typical linear format. From a chronological view, it starts around the three-quarter mark, flashes back to the beginning (where we’re at for 90% of the story), flashes forward to where we began, and ends at the end (of this story).

* The climax – the direct confrontation of Barlow – happens pretty fast. It may feel rushed to some readers.

* The ending may come too soon for those readers emotionally invested in Ben and Mark.

Final thoughts

For anyone who read Stoker’s Dracula and hungered for more along those lines, I recommend ‘Salem’s Lot. For diehard fans of sexy vampires or sparkly vampires, you should probably skip ‘Salem’s Lot.

[Please don't misinterpret the above. I'm a sucker (HA!) for certain sexy vamps; an addiction to the Sookie Stackhouse series and HBO's True Blood are well known to my peeps. But I draw the line at Twilight; vampires should never, ever, sparkle in daylight.]

Silly tourists, always traipsing into jungles, unprepared and under-dressed, ignoring the locals’ warnings to turn back. Unlucky for these tourists, what lives in this jungle is not a family of cannibals or a crazed surgeon after their organs.

Here’s the lowdown:

While vacationing in Mexico, four American twenty-somethings – Jeff, Amy, Stacy and Eric – agree to help Mathias, a German tourist they befriended, locate his brother who went missing after an expedition into the jungle. Accompanied by another recent acquaintance, a Greek who calls himself Pablo, they set off on what they believe will be an uneventful hike into the jungle.

Along the way, the six vacationers meet a shady taxi driver who tells them to turn back, and Mayan villagers who ignore their request for directions. Soon after leaving the village, the group uncovers the hidden trail that will (finally) lead them to their destination when, suddenly, they have the Mayans’ full attention. And once they reach the ruins, their hike plummets into a nightmare they could never have imagined, not in their wildest dreams.

Here are my two cents:

Unfortunately I watched the 2008 film adaptation before I read the book, so I knew the secret of The Ruins from the get-go. Knowing didn’t spoil the enjoyment, though; the book was 110 times scarier, and more thought-provoking, than the movie. (Having said that, the characters in the movie were more…vibrant and real.)

Smith placed his characters in situations rife with conflict. He used the setting to its fullest and created an atmosphere of despair and inevitable doom. His descriptions burrowed into my brain, incubated, and later hatched to startling realizations the characters had not yet made for themselves.

It must’ve been a dream, then, though Amy couldn’t remember any details of it; there was simply that instant sense of panic as she sat up, her blood feeling too thick for her veins, moving too fast…But she was awake now…and thirsty, too, her lips sticking together with a gummy, crusty feeling, a foul, cottony taste in her mouth (p. 139).

This wasn’t an action-packed horror novel, per se. Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of thrills and suspense. It’s just that, it wasn’t scene after scene of in-your-face “Boo!” and gore. It hinted at danger, teased readers, and then something bad would happen. Then something worse. And so on until the end.

Pablo couldn’t understand a single word of this, of course. He moaned and muttered. Occasionally, he’d lift the arm Eric wasn’t holding and seem to reach for something at his side, though Eric couldn’t guess what, since there was nothing there but darkness (p. 96).

Here’s what you might not like about The Ruins:

* The book doesn’t have chapters.

* Most scenes are told from one of the four American’s POV in the third person. And most scenes alternate the POV so it’s a different character each scene/section. However, you’re never inside Mathias’ head which, I assume, is because he’s German; thus; his thoughts would be in German.

* While there are two characters – Mathias and Jeff – I consider fairly developed, the other four lack characterization and are pretty much stereotypes with splashes of individuality. Amy, the whiny smart chick; Stacy, the ditzy slut; Eric, the apathetic optimist; and Pablo, the sacrificial lamb.

* There are graphic scenes of violence.

* You won’t learn the history behind the ruins or the Mayan village.

Final thoughts

I recommend The Ruins to fans of sci-fi horror who can overlook somewhat under-developed characters to enjoy a fast-paced plot with an unconventional antagonist.

(The notion that not choosing, not making a decision, is still a choice was yummy food for thought; one which I’m still chewin’ on.)

Visit the official website

A dreary parable readers will either embrace for its horror and beauty or reject as an atrocity.

Winner of the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction

Synposis

A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don’t know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food — and each other.

The Road is the profoundly moving story of a journey. It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains, but in which the father and his son, “each the other’s world entire,” are sustained by love. Awesome in the totality of its vision, it is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of: ultimate destructiveness, desperate tenacity, and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastation. (Source: Back of the book)

Cormac McCarthy’s The Road will haunt you. It did me; I had nightmares for weeks. The premise is, after all, pure horror: “living” with your child in a post-apocalyptic world. Where “living” is survival by any means necessary. All the time, in the back of your mind, wondering if this new “life” is even worth the effort. Knowing that if you die, your child will be on his own. That’s downright terrifying!

They picked their way among the mummied figures. The black skin stretched upon the bones and their faces split and shrunken on their skulls. Like victims of some ghastly envacuuming. Passing them in silence down that silent corridor through the drifting ash where they struggled forever in the road’s cold coagulate (p. 191).

And it wasn’t only the novel’s powerful themes and shocking antagonists that affected me, it was the prose, too; the way McCarthy used language…it was captivating, to say the least.

The blackness he woke to on those nights was sightless and impenetrable. A blackness to hurt your ears with listening. Often he had to get up. No sound but the wind in the bare and blackened trees. (p. 15).

However, some readers will hate the lack of “normal” dialogue and structure. But, for me, those elements re-enforced the story’s setting and characters.

They squatted in the road and ate cold rice and cold beans that they’d cooked days ago. Already beginning to ferment. No place to make a fire that would not be seen. They slept huddled together in the rank quilts in the dark and the cold. He held the boy close to him. So thin. My heart, he said. My heart. But he knew that if he were a good father still it might well be as she had said. That the boy was all that stood between him and death (p.29).

Everything worked together to paint a vivid, frightening image of the novel’s world and its inhabitants. The father’s and son’s devotion to one another illustrated the potency of love; its ability to feed a starving mind, body and soul.

Ultimately, despite its depressing portrayal of “humanity” in the aftermath of catastrophe, The Road showed me why I must always push forward and never give up.

What you might not like about The Road:

* McCarthy’s prose

* Its tone which is, appropriately so, depressing

* Graphic scenes of cannibalism

* No backstory on what caused the world to end; it is inferred. (Read this interview with McCarthy for a bit more info.)

Final thoughts

While The Road disturbed me a great deal, it also made me feel, think and wonder — the holy trinity of reading, for me anyway. This, my first experience with McCarthy, made me wish I hadn’t waited years to read his work.

In recent months, I’ve re-discovered how much I absolutely LOVE ghost stories, specifically those written in the spirit of the classics. That love might render this “review” somewhat biased.

I could not put down The Woman in Black, literally; I ate lunch whilst devouring page after page. And while it was short and easily read in one sitting – two or three for the more patient reader – it packed quite a psychological punch. The ending hit especially hard. Hill’s prose, setting, characters: superb. And the descriptions were spot on, not too much but more than enough to evoke vivid images.

Whereas the bed had been made up neatly, now the clothes were pulled off anyhow and bundled up or trailing onto the floor. The wardrobe door and the drawers of the small chest were pulled open and all the clothes they contained half-dragged out, and left hanging like entrails from a wounded body (p. 118).

The pace was just right, teasing readers with hints, revealing bit by bit the truth behind the whispers, building steadily to a tense climax, but even then not letting go until the very last page.

Highly recommended to anyone – all ages – who enjoys classic ghost stories.

P.S. It’s hard to believe the soon-to-be released movie, starring Daniel Radcliffe, will be able to capture the true essence of this story, namely the setting and atmosphere. But my hopes remain high.

[Test post of Goodreads' auto-publish feature. Edited on 2/26/12 to replace image and repetitive links.]