Ahh Bentley Little. An old friend, sort of like a snowman you build but you don’t realize the temperature is gradually rising while you build it so that, when you near completion, it all falls apart and your wife is leaving you and you are suddenly questioning your masculinity. Wait, what we talkin’ about, Willis? Oh oops, City Hall by Little. Or rather, every novel by Little because the good ones are all like this. I criticize him for trying something new like Gloria because it was absolute horrid garbage, but I feel bad for ragging on him for sticking to his formula as well like City Hall, which is not garbage at all, hence 3*. It definitely follows the same pattern of most of his books lately though of starting great, building through the meat of the book, and then fizzling once he hits word count. I mean, is this really that different from The Bank, The Town, The City, The Organization, The Country, The Clinic, The Building, The Hedgehog, The Flacid, The Labia, The Spork, The Kerplunk, or The Super Mario 64 Butt-Bob-omb Extravaganza? Is it really? We know the formula. But also, when he does something different, we all seem to dislike it with a couple exceptions like Dispatch, The Ignored, His Father’s Son, Death Instinct, The Burning, Watermelon Jizz, Coconut Brain, The Sinking, The Floating, The Stationary, or Toiletseat Dance Party. I liked City Hall, but I am also tired of the routine of a story like this trying and failing to not have a routine. I also don’t want more things like Behind, Dominion, The Return, The Vanishing… This “review” sucks. I don’t know what I want from Little anymore exactly, but this was a 3.5 out 5. I always round up. I think what I am saying is that I like his formula of current societal satire drenched in horror, but I want more and I want it done better. His best novels are The Store, The Policy, The Mailman (that I am not convinced King didn’t rip off two years later for Needful Things), The Ignored, The Association, and Dispatch. Most of those were a long time ago. Little has Big ideas, but, like me in bed with your mom, can’t seem to bring them home anymore. Most of his latest works feel like trying to hit that sweet spot of 107-110 thousand words regardless of whether or not the book needs it or is fully completed when he gets there. Sort of like Megadeth, or my stepdad, I know he is capable of great things, but he doesn’t seem to want to do it any longer. The ideas are there, the writing is, well, blah as it always has been, but the third act of his good books just destroy their potential for being something other than basic, dumb, horror satire slop, and I know Bentley, Phillip, is not in any way dumb. Please dude, reread your own novel The Store, understand why that worked, and apply it to other tropes, at least if you insist on doing so. Even The Store goes a Little bonkers in the end, but it wasn’t a third of the book and the build-up was so damn perfect. Like King, he can’t seem to stick the landing. Maybe like King, he should transition into pretty standard mystery novels with a bunch of stupid political shit thrown in that no one wants or asked for, especially because it is two years after it was relevant, but we will put up with it because we love him, and, shockingly, if the story is actually good! Like listening to a scratched up Beatles record, or admiring that adult film I made back in the 2010s where the angle was wide enough to make me feel like a big kid now, people will appreciate the effort if they have the allusion of you trying, but when you seem to just be going through the motions to meet a deadline or make a stranger express half-hearted joy on camera, they will eventually lose patience and stop coming back for more of the same disappointment, even if they think they are satisfied in the moment.