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A review by justinkhchen
Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky
4.0
4 stars
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.