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First published April 7, 2020
Then she got in her Volvo and hoped Grace was right and this was all just a product of the overactive imagination of a stupid little housewife with too much free time on her hands. If it was, she promised herself, tomorrow she would vacuum her curtains.
In every book we read, no one ever thought anything bad was happening until it was too late. This is where we live, it’s where our children live, it’s our home. Don’t you want to do absolutely everything you can to keep it safe?”
“How’s your ear?”
“She swallowed part of it,” Patricia said.
“I’m so sorry,” Slick said. “Those really were nice earrings.”
Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy
In the woods
Grabbed a little boy
'Cause he taste so good
Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy
In the sheets
Sucking all your blood
'Cause it taste so sweet
Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy
One, two, threes
Sneaking in my window
And sucking on me
Patricia Campbell remembers what life was like before she gave into motherhood - she was an amazing nurse and strong-willed.
"I am not sure what the appropriate gesture is to make toward the family of the woman who bit off your ear, but if you felt absolutely compelled, I certainly wouldn’t take food.”
”We just read a wonderful book about life in a small Guyanese town in the 1970s.”
She didn’t mention that it was Raven: The Untold Story of the Rev. Jim Jones and His People.
This is also a book about vampires. They’re that iconic American archetype of the rambling man, wearing denim, wandering from town to town with no past and no ties. Think Jack Kerouac, think Shane, think Woody Guthrie. Think Ted Bundy.
Because vampires are the original serial killers, stripped of everything that makes us human—they have no friends, no family, no roots, no children. All they have is hunger. They eat and eat but they’re never full. With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom.
As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight
“I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom.I admit: this book tricked me. After the first few chapters I had it pegged as a lighthearted and delightful mildly satirical story about prim and proper Southern ladies banding together to defeat a supernatural evil over sweet tea and peach pie and something equally stereotypically Southern.
As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.”
“This story ends in blood.It turned dark really quickly. Really dark. And not just rats-gnawing-on-people-to-death kind of dark. No, more mundane and therefore scarier dark: like child abuse, emotional and physical domestic abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, sexual assault and death kind of dark, punctuated at times by bright glimpses of strong female friendships and solidarity, finding common ground despite betrayals and prejudices and even dejected cowardice.
Every story begins in blood: a squalling baby yanked from the womb, bathed in mucus and half a quart of their mother’s blood. But not many stories end in blood these days.”
“You can’t stop me from going to the police,” Patricia said.The humor and laughs of the first few chapters get slowly replaced by anxiety, unsettling discomfort and frequently almost helpless anger. Yes, some humor stays, but it also becomes dark, matching the absurd horror of the situation these women find themselves in.
“I can’t stop you, Patty,” Carter said. “But I can inform them that I believe my wife is not in her right mind. Because the first person they’ll call isn’t a judge to get a search warrant; it’ll be your husband. Ed’s made sure of that.”
“He lives in the Old Village. With us. There isn’t anything wrong with him because people who have something wrong with them don’t live here.”Patricia Campbell and a few of her fellow middle-class suburban housewives form a book club where they pour over true crime stories until danger comes close to their sheltered manicured neighborhood. A mysterious new next-door neighbor’s arrival coincides with some strange happenings - including strange behavior and disappearances, especially children. But the newcomer has swiftly formed business and friendship ties with the women’s husbands, and the children affected are mostly from the wrong side of the tracks, and propriety, complacency and conformity impose their strict demands.
“We are men of standing in this community,” Bennett said. His voice carried extra weight because he hadn’t spoken yet. “Our children go to school here, we have spent our lives building our reputations, and y’all were going to make us laughingstocks because you’re a bunch of crazy housewives with too much time on your hands.”My reaction to so many parts of this book was quite visceral. The mundanity and pervasiveness of everyday horrors as a backdrop to the supernatural horror managed to really deliver a gut punch - a bunch of gut punches, actually - and the empathy and frustration were painfully real. And isn’t it a point of books - to make you really feel?
“You protected yourself, but you didn’t do a thing for the children of Six Mile because they weren’t worthwhile to you. Well, now he’s coming after your children.”It’s a pleasure to read a book that has both a compelling and engrossing story and a wonderful execution. The plot is tight, the storytelling is crisp, the pacing is consistent, the loose ends get tied up neatly. The characters are drawn perfectly, complex, life-like and very real, and avoid becoming caricaturish - something that a less skilled writer could have easily succumbed to. The setting is vivid and atmospheric and draws you in slowly and surely.
“A child is being hurt,” Patricia said. “Don’t any of you care?”Well, sometimes you just need to do what needs to be done. Because, as we learn, in the end, “there’s nothing nice about Southern ladies.”
“Of course we care,” Kitty said. “But we’re a book club, not the police. What are we supposed to do?”