If I say that the scariest scenes in this book made me laugh out loud, please don't get the wrong idea.
The laughter arose from both shock and sheer delight at Luke Smitherd's masterful handling of moments of horror, and of his superb descriptions of the sights, sounds and even smells associated with his freak-show of ghastly characters.
And what a cast he's conjured up. His monsters are atavistic, familiar to us all, because they lurk in the darkest crevices of our lizard brain, fed by the grimmest fairy stories of our childhoods and nurtured throughout our youth and adulthood by the finest horror writers and filmmakers. Think hunchback goblins, hideous people-eating behemoths, and - best of all - a sinister main villain whose Rumplestiltskin-esque demeanour and unspeakable nostrils (trust me, never was there a nose so horrifying) make the toes curl with terror. However, Luke's supernatural characters (and the ancient rules they live by) are archetypes, not stereotypes, and so his story - as with all his writing - is marvellously original, delivering fresh horrors throughout. His introduction of the unsettling and somehow deeply-offensive home-made trinkets is inspired, tapping in to our age-old belief in, and fear of, the power of the talisman.
Luke lets loose this creep-fest of traditional terrors into the contemporary world of laptops, mobile phones, clickbait and social media, and the nightmarish outcome is far from predictable.
This is much more than a thrilling chiller. The horror is also humane: it's shocking, but it's never gratuitous, and the non-supernatural characters are written from a deep understanding of and compassion for flawed humanity and the unintended tragedies that can arise from our self-interested behaviours.
To that end, I put Luke Smitherd right up there alongside Stephen King and Dean Koontz as one of the best horror writers of our time.