Dominic Crowe likes his work at the hospital. Taking vitals, collecting razors, pretending the lights aren't too bright. But when his body starts to stutter-headaches, hallucinations, sleepless nights-it's clear something deeper is unraveling. The patients aren't the only ones losing touch.
As Dominic slips from well-meaning professional to self-medicating wreck, the hospital around him transforms into a surreal, jazz-haunted nightmare. Palm trees sway outside the barred windows, poppies bloom against stucco, and somewhere between the linen and the blood, he starts to see what's really sick.
A fever dream of burnout, obsession, and decay-and inspired by the real Camarillo State Hospital before it closed-Sike is a confession told from the inside of a nervous breakdown. Skin-crawling, darkly funny, and psychologically honest, it's transgressive horror for anyone who's ever wondered how far the mind can go before it breaks.
Fans of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis will find themselves right at home.
The main character is Dominic—a troubled yet hard-working psychiatric nurse. We follow him through his routine in the dark and depressing psychiatric unit, where he ponders about his secret desires.
It becomes apparent that he's sick with something (a neurological disorder?), but he refuses to seek help throughout the book. The sickness blurs Dominic's reality with intense pain and vivid hallucinations. Nightmares manifest his life struggles—jawbreakers and heroin only provide temporary relief. As his sanity begins to slip further, I wonder if his relationship with people is real or imagined. With his health deteriorating, he also has no intention to find a cure and only seeks to make the pain bearable. It's like he sees no meaning in healing himself (and in life?), despite being a nurse who cares about his patients' wellbeing. But the way I see it, he doesn't think he deserves it. His dark, sad childhood has made him who he is.
His remaining motivations for life are propped by love and whatever's left of his pride. As his sickness continues to dictate his actions and cloud his mind, the reader has no choice but succumb to Dom's madness.
The setting is very well-established. Green is a genius in cinematic scene-setting. I enjoyed Dominic's dark voice, especially during insightful moments, where he's either observing people or deeply in pain. The overall build-up is a well-planned timebomb, leaving the end ever more macabre.
I was very intrigued by the nature of Dom's sickness that when I learned more about it—it had such a solid fictional feel to it. But that sickness exists.