I'm fickle. I'll tell you that right up front. I go through phases where all I want is one particular kind of thing, and lots of it. Maybe that's single-ply wool yarn for knitting, maybe that's coconut oil, maybe that's pumpkin pie flavors, or maybe little cartoonish owls. That's how I am, and it's how I am about books, too. For a long while, the only thing I really wanted to read was non-fiction. And then I decided to test the murky waters of books my friends were reading which turned out to be, largely, fiction. Waaahmpires, and so on.
Sidebar: I bought a copy of Devil's Hand because I follow the author, M.E. Patterson, on Twitter (@mepatterson). Which is to say that because I read what he tweets I was eventually exposed to enough information about this book to form the following opinion: This books is probably my kind of book. The aforementioned information was in front of me frequently, because the author has a very solid grasp on the use of social media. As a person with very low tolerance for tedium, I was never even a little bit annoyed with the promotional tweets. He shared relevant information, quotes from reviews, comparisons to familiar authors, and whether it was actual salesmanship or just the power of suggestion in the face of repeated exposure: I bought his book. I'm a converted sale, and so thus I am evidence that he's Doing It Right. Further, Mr. Patterson is actively and attentively engaged with his readers - he answers our questions and he shares information and he Gets It: without the 'social' part, 'social media' is pointless.
On to the review: I started reading with a little bit of trepidation. I didn't want to hate this book. I was a worried I WOULD hate this book - in part because of the social media stuff I just wrote. It would suck a lot to be all "hey, @mepatterson, I uh.. read your book. Wow. And I mean WOW. So, um, do you have a day job?"
Alas! I was saved from that unpleasant imagined interaction because dude can actually write a book! A good book, I mean. I was taken up into the story right away, and immediately grossed out - the right way - by the Incident With The Fish. Not so much that there were fish, which: yeah, no thank you, because that's just awful, but more because of the descriptions of said fish... arriving. The adjectives chosen by the author conveyed the scene really well, and the whole thing came off as Guh-ROSS. And then it went from icky to creepy. When I have to stop reading a book at night because I'm alone in the house in the dark; when I have to stop reading because the book is gripping enough to move past 'icky' in The Incident With The Fish and move into 'creepy', and then I still have trouble going to sleep? The book is doing its job.
The characters were written in such a fashion that they are authentic and distinct. I found some segues to be a bit jarring - I had to go back to make sure I hadn't zoned out on something crucial between points A and B - but only once or twice, and early on. These scene changes are almost Tarantino-esque, that way, making me go "ruh?" and then weaving back together to form the fabric of crucial characters and how they are intertwined.
In explaining this book to my husband, I used words like "John Constantine", and "Kevin Smith's Dogma", and "Boondock Saints". None of those are exactly right, but they express the general flavor. What's awesome about none of those being exactly right, I've decided, is that it's because this book has managed to rework the whole God/Satan/Angel/Fallen/Demon/Monster/Holy War thing in a unique enough way. I like that. I'm an (actual, literal, card-carrying - it's in my wallet as I type) atheist, and (maybe because of the atheism, or maybe the atheism is because) I go all fight or flight from the uncanny valley when I'm faced with people having religious experiences. And yet, I totally love stories with supernatural good v. evil implications. Angels? Demons? Monsters? A flawed "human" Chaotic Neutral protagonist who rolls to disbelieve and then charges ahead before the dice even land?
Hell. Yes.
I liked this book. It was engaging, creepy, and well-written. The story is solid, and I found myself thinking about it when I wasn't reading it. It is full of themes and ideas and actual things that were seemingly designed specifically from a list of things that I hate (again, in a good way). This imaginary list starts somewhere around slimy wet thwacking noises, meanders through Las Vegas, tells me all about terrifying you-know-whats (s-p-i-d-e-r-s), and then turns out all the lights. But that's not all! Airplanes are awful! And snow. And kids in trouble! Bad guys! CHERUBIM! (That last one, "cherubim", is a word I did not know before reading this book. I love that word! TMYK!) When I started to fear that the poker metaphors were going to go too far, they stopped. When I began to suspect that everything was going to wrap up way too neatly, it didn't.
What it comes down to is this: I'm looking forward to buying the next book in this series. I think that says it all.