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A review by labunnywtf
N0S4A2 by Joe Hill
5.0
Jesus Christ tap dancing on a cracker.
I can't remember the last time a book scared me this badly. I think it was Something Wicked This Way Comes. And that's Beverly Cleary in comparison to this.
I had to take continuous breaks to get through this. I read it at home, and at work. Never after the sun went down. Not that it helped.
Manx. Dear god, I can't even talk about Charlie Manx. I could hear his voice so crisply in my head. He's British, if you're wondering. Although when he was talking to Wayne in the car, he sounded more like a TV announcer. Actually, he sounded like...who was that guy from SNL who died who was not Chris Farley? Phil...Phil something. He sounded like him. ETA: Hartman. Phil Hartman. He sounded like him.
Ma[n]xwell's Silver Hammer was all I could think every time it came up. God, he was a vicious motherfucker, and my skin crawled with every scene he was in. Just so gentlemanly, even during the moments when he lost his mind. Well, until the end, anyway.
Bing. God, I can't even discuss Bing because his character was 100% human, there was nothing supernatural about him, which probably makes him the worst of the lot. I'm getting the skin crawlies just thinking about him.
EDIT! OH MY GOD, I didn't even mention Maggie Leigh. Can we talk about the injustice that is Maggie Leigh only being in the book for such a short period of time? Love her. I need a pair of FU Scrabble tile earrings. Love her. Love her. Love her.
AND THE BUFFY AND FIREFLY REFERENCES. Holy fuckballs, the term Browncoat is in here at least twice.
God, this book was so fucking amazing.
I said from page one that I was worried I was going to make too many unfair comparisons to Joe Hill's father. And for the first 10 or so pages, I did. But this book...Joe Hill kicked his father's ass with this book. All love and respect to Stephen King, but your kid's wiping the floor with you. If all of his books are as amazing as this, you're not the king anymore. And I swear to god, I did not intend for that to be a pun.
I keep imagining a kid growing up in the King household. Growing up with stories. Stories of cars that run on their own, and kill people. A man who promises the world, both to adults and children, for his own greedy pleasures, his own need, if you will. The scariest clown every invented in any universe. Little children with weapons who kill adults gleefully.
And then he grows up, and this is what he writes.
Amazing. Absolutely incredible.
I can't wait to see the "prequel" story, Wraith. And I really want to know the story behind Walking Backwards Man. Seriously, the thought of him has taken over my brain.
Now I must go and read, like, Babysitter's Club or something. I need a palate cleanser.
I can't remember the last time a book scared me this badly. I think it was Something Wicked This Way Comes. And that's Beverly Cleary in comparison to this.
I had to take continuous breaks to get through this. I read it at home, and at work. Never after the sun went down. Not that it helped.
Spoiler
Vic McQueen is fantastic. Beyond fantastic. I'm sort of known for seeking out strong female heroines, the Buffys and the Katnisses. But Vic is not that. She's severely flawed, damaged. Vic is Faith. And the more I read, the more I adored her. I felt what she felt, including feeling a little insane at times. The thought of the phone ringing and ringing with creepy fucking murderous vampire children made me want to turn my cell phone off. And I was reading this while receptionisting, where the phone rings constantly. You want to talk about mind fucking.Manx. Dear god, I can't even talk about Charlie Manx. I could hear his voice so crisply in my head. He's British, if you're wondering. Although when he was talking to Wayne in the car, he sounded more like a TV announcer. Actually, he sounded like...who was that guy from SNL who died who was not Chris Farley? Phil...Phil something. He sounded like him. ETA: Hartman. Phil Hartman. He sounded like him.
Ma[n]xwell's Silver Hammer was all I could think every time it came up. God, he was a vicious motherfucker, and my skin crawled with every scene he was in. Just so gentlemanly, even during the moments when he lost his mind. Well, until the end, anyway.
Bing. God, I can't even discuss Bing because his character was 100% human, there was nothing supernatural about him, which probably makes him the worst of the lot. I'm getting the skin crawlies just thinking about him.
EDIT! OH MY GOD, I didn't even mention Maggie Leigh. Can we talk about the injustice that is Maggie Leigh only being in the book for such a short period of time? Love her. I need a pair of FU Scrabble tile earrings. Love her. Love her. Love her.
AND THE BUFFY AND FIREFLY REFERENCES. Holy fuckballs, the term Browncoat is in here at least twice.
God, this book was so fucking amazing.
I said from page one that I was worried I was going to make too many unfair comparisons to Joe Hill's father. And for the first 10 or so pages, I did. But this book...Joe Hill kicked his father's ass with this book. All love and respect to Stephen King, but your kid's wiping the floor with you. If all of his books are as amazing as this, you're not the king anymore. And I swear to god, I did not intend for that to be a pun.
I keep imagining a kid growing up in the King household. Growing up with stories. Stories of cars that run on their own, and kill people. A man who promises the world, both to adults and children, for his own greedy pleasures, his own need, if you will. The scariest clown every invented in any universe. Little children with weapons who kill adults gleefully.
And then he grows up, and this is what he writes.
Amazing. Absolutely incredible.
I can't wait to see the "prequel" story, Wraith. And I really want to know the story behind Walking Backwards Man. Seriously, the thought of him has taken over my brain.
Now I must go and read, like, Babysitter's Club or something. I need a palate cleanser.