It’s no secret that I’m a Nick Harper fanboy. His first book, THIS LONELY CARCASS SONG, is among my favorite horror short story collections, and its follow-up, BLOOD FOR A CAMBIUM HEART, shows startling growth in an author in such a short amount of time. I read all of his SKITTERS chapbooks as soon as they release, and I’m constantly going full Barnie Stinson with all my “Haaaaaaaaave you read Nick?”
But I’d never read a longer story from him, so I was both excited and hesitant to finally dig into his debut novel, HIDE.
And I loved it.
This is the most pulpy, edge-of-your-seat story Nick Harper has written so far. We’re immediately thrown into a lot of mystery, a lot of carnage, and a lot of characters and timelines centered around the tiny island that is Cain’s End, its Black River asylum, the new inmate Edward Drake, a mysterious abomination known only as the Yellow-Faced Man, and the detective who has to sort all this out and keep his daughter safe, Matthew Kramer.
First, Harper’s writing style: it still blows me away that apparently he wrote this novel at only 17 years old. His voice is fully realized, his characters have surprising depth, the dialogue follows the tropes without making you roll your eyes at the clichés, and the horror is real and breathtaking.
Next, the story: as I’ve said, this is pulp at its best. Harper plays with a few genres here almost effortlessly. The plot moved with break-neck complexity. I’ve seen several reviews where that particular reader was turned off by the sheer amount of story elements introduced in just one book, but for me, personally, that constant mystery was perhaps my favorite part.
I will say that reader expectations are a real thing. I think this book could have been served by even just a “Book One of the Cain’s End Trilogy” on the title page or in the description so that readers know that not all threads will be closed, not all questions will be answered by the end of it.
That being said, I am *dying* for the sequel.
All in all, highly recommended to fans of fast-paced, visceral horror.