When I started reading this book, I was, for some reason, under the impression that it was a YA horror novel. I got over that very quickly. Maybe it is “new adult,” the new term for readers 18-to-25-year-olds, the age group right above young adult. The New York Times said that some in publishing as describe this genre as Harry Potter meets 50 Shades of Grey.
I haven’t read, nor do I plan to read 50 Shades of Grey. Don’t misunderstand me; I read The Story of O a few years ago and even dabbled in A. N. Roquelaure’s (aka Anne Rice) Sleeping Beauty books. However, I may be too old for this kind of thing now. Maybe there needs to be a “old adult” genre for us aging baby boomers.
Not really a “ghost” story, there is too much paranormal, even H. P. Lovecraftian in the plot. Besides the bi-species offspring, there is the sex. Lots of sex. Kinky, perverse, masochistic-sadistic sex. Many readers don’t believe that Lovecraft’s work contains any sex. Go back and reread his stories.
A twisting brutal tale, it offers plenty of horror for anyone. Told in the first person, Johnny Breede slowly (very slowly, allowing more than adequate time for the sex scenes) learns the truth behind the death of his best friend and that friend’s suicide. Shocked, confused, and disturbed, Johnny becomes overwhelmed (and quite distracted) by his lust for the woman who holds the key to it all. Johnny finally understands the horrid secrets of his friend, perverse secrets buried deep in the cellar, ghastly memories of sin and murder, and the mystery contained within the long black coffin.
Recommended for those seeking the sick and perverse.