A very difficult (at times, excruciatingly so) book to read, largely due to its absolute unwillingness to let up for even a brief moment at any point. It is essentially one wicked, nightmarish fever dream of depravity, populated with loathsome ghosts of humanity at every turn.

But for all that, a remarkably well-written tale of some of the worst horror imaginable. Though most of the blurbs for the book promise a gritty tale of revenge, there is really far more to the work than a standard vengeance tale with abundant perversion and visceral gore thrown in for good measure. Taken at its surface level, one could certainly find a fatiguing barrage of vignettes couched as a semi-cogent narrative , each one twisting the knife in a little deeper in an apparent contest of one-upmanship that McBean is having with himself from chapter to chapter.

Fortunately, the author's skilled craftsmanship elevates the work well beyond that. It is still nothing profound or sublime, by any means, but as a harrowing vision of the downward spiral and the cathartic potential in self-destructive abandonment of Self, it really hits home.

I don't suspect I'll ever read this book again. I'm not entirely sure my soul could take a second read-through. But I will certainly be seeking out and reading more of Brett McBean. I would tentatively advise that you do the same, though please exercise some caution and steel yourself. This is not pleasant material for humans. But it is well-written, well-conceived, chilling, and potent. ( )

Hart, ordinär, schmutzig, böse - so ließe sich der Inhalt des Romans beschreiben.

Eine unheimlich packende Geschichte einer Mutter, die auf der Suche nach ihrer verschwundenen Tochter durch die Hölle geht, indem sie all die Facetten des menschlichen Bösen kennen lernt.

Schwer zu ertragen, dafür um so spannender. ( )