Oh god, I don't know what to say. I honestly think that this is the scariest book I've ever read in my life. Toward the end, I had to cover the page with my hand to keep my eyes from jumping ahead and relieving my anxiety.

Scary is a subjective thing, and I know that there are people for whom this book doesn't work, and I mean, whatever. That's fine. But I don't quite understand it. Because for me, at least, Josh Malerman has crafted a horror novel that's terrifying (and sad) on all levels, permeated by a deep sense of wrongness that's hard to describe without sounding hyperbolic.

I read and watch a lot of horror. It's where my mind likes to hang out. And typically I approach the genre from an intellectualized place, where I kind of float over the scenes and take them apart and feel fascinated by how they work (or disappointed by how they don't work). Usually I have a lot of empathy for monsters.

But this time, I felt like I was right down in it with the characters, wanting to leave my light on at bedtime like a little kid.

And Other Mommy? She can fuck right off.