Not as good as Redemption Road, but still excellent southern gothic writing.
I kind of felt this book would have been far better as a short story or novella. It does drag in parts and yet there is also lack of character development a wired combination but there it is.
Still a good book. ( )

Loved, loved, loved it. Writing is spare and clean but conveys so much. Several passages I was so wowed by that I read them over and over, marveling at how the author communicated a half a dozen different emotions in two or three lean, understated paragraphs. The kudzu was perhaps the tiniest bit heavy handed as a metaphor but this book still simply defines atmosphere. Tremendous talent. ( )

Michael Farris Smith put my heart in my throat in the first chapter of this book and it stayed there even after I had closed the last page. It is difficult to describe the atmosphere of threat and foreboding this book carries, the way you feel the lurking evil in your bones, the way the kudzu takes on a life of its own and sucks the air out of your lungs. It recalled for me a twilight when I entered an old deserted house on a dare, and the goosebumps I felt travel down my spine when the wind made a sound in the rafters that mimicked footsteps overhead. There is no wind at all here, and the footsteps are real. As with most things that are truly frightening to me, this fright arises from the absolute feeling that it could happen, that the characters are flesh and blood and that they are much scarier than anything you might conjure up from the supernatural world of imagination.

Underneath all that dark, oppressive frightfulness, however, is a story of loneliness, alienation and desperation; lost souls that you wish could be saved, that you fear for. Each of the characters is a person just a little outside the norm or living on the edge of society, either ignored or harassed because of their differences and strangers to everyone, even themselves. Even the sheriff, who is a good and diligent man, is at odds to understand what is really going on beneath the dirty surfaces and strained minds that surround him. The town of Red Bluff, Mississippi is itself a dying place, and seems to invite the kinds of derelict souls who wander in and cannot resolve to leave. The kudzu that engulfs the town physically echoes the evil that invades its spirit. Life itself is being strangled.

I fell in love with [a:Michael Farris Smith|4309584|Michael Farris Smith|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1559765635p2/4309584.jpg] when I read [b:Rivers|16130400|Rivers|Michael Farris Smith|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1374595954l/16130400._SY75_.jpg|21955410]. He has a raw, unflinching eye. He is Southern Gothic at its best. This book is a dangerous joy ride; but don’t be too afraid, just make sure you buckle up before the journey begins.


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DNF. P.135. Was there a plot to this? I have no idea. I'm surprised I made it that far. Guess I'm just not into gothic. Or whatever this was. ( )

I was tired and bored by the end of the book. I struggled to get through it. Sad thing. It started out really good. Hopefully other readers will enjoy this better than me. ( )