At 207 pages I was very aware that nothing scary had happened yet - this is a slow start. Also, reading Laymon always feels seedy, even when nothing sexual is happening. It always feels like the setup for cheap porn. Can't put my finger on exactly why, but the constant references to rumps and bosoms and how wet clothing sticks to them are definitely part of it.

Ultimately, this turned out to be exactly what Laymon's books always do - a sequence of horrible things happening to absolutely vile people that Laymon seems to want us to like. This one stood out only because it was oddly female-centred, so all the rape and hypersexualisation was coming from women. It all still reads like a fantasy of the author's; it's creepy in all the wrong ways. And this one especially has a pretty limp ending. Overall, what you'd expect from Laymon, if (blessedly) a little tamer than what he usually writes.