Things I’m thankful for today:

  1. I’m very fascinated by and engrossed in this year’s best documentary feature, O.J.: Made in America, on Hulu. It’s the longest film ever to be nominated for an Oscar (nearly 8 hours running time), and were it not for logistics, I could watch it all in one sitting. It’s that good.
  2. I ran farther than usual today and don’t feel the worse for wear.
  3. Our dog, Ginny, has a growing inoperable tumor and will need to be put down eventually, but for the moment, there’s life in her. She’s slowed down and aged considerably lately, but there’s still a puppy within. She carried off my work gloves to chew on repeatedly today, and she thought the leaves piled up in the fire-pit would make a comfortable bed.

Now, on to a disappointingly short review, copied from my Goodreads account. Visit that site for a plot synopsis. I’m still not sure I could really tell you what in the heck this thing’s about:

I’m usually very patient with Peter Straub, but I couldn’t hold on to this book. I finished it but was really disappointed. It failed to spook me. The problem with Straub sometimes is that you really have to hang in there before his stories begin to make sense. He neglects to bring you along and leaves the plot a complete mystery. Fortunately, much of the time when the true nature of things is revealed, you’re thankful he made you wait, as the revelations can be pretty terrifying. That wasn’t the case for me here. There were so many characters that were not developed enough to seem important, and yet plot details relied heavily on these characters and what we remember of them from way earlier in the book, such as Parker Gillespie, Grenville Milton, and many others. It’s really a shame. The final paragraph of the book is a gem and deserves to be in a book more worthy of it.

Rating: 2/5

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