So this is was a bit of a tough one. There is no question that this is a real achievement of a debut for the writer, but my god it’s hard work. As others have said, it is mind bogglingly over written and could easily be halved with a bit of fine tuning and exposition pruning. There are parts that really are unbearable, especially when Mock spends a page and a half discussing a family breakfast as if it’s integral to the story - it isn’t. It’s almost as if he’s enjoying the process so much that he’s cramming every innocuous detail with information, and then rounding it off with a metaphor, to make sure we get it. It’s not condescending in any way, but it is annoying. This means that he has a tendency to overuse words like “tendrils”, and keeps repeating the act of characters throwing up pustulant bile, which is described assiduously every time, a trait that just becomes comical by the end.
The narrative itself has no idea what it wants to be. Is it a possession story? A religious commentary? A coming of age tale? Or, with some truly bizarre masturbation scenes popping up out of nowhere, is it meant to be a comedy? The names were also baffling considering it was set in Pennsylvania: Diane, Andrew, Ian and Bryan. They sounded more like a roll call of the presenters of Countryfile. And we know what they like to eat, and how their blood flows around their body when they are either nervous or scared, but there’s not really much character development underneath the tissue and haemoglobin descriptions that we are constantly presented with.
The action only really finds it’s feet in the final act, but by then I was pretty exhausted. And just when you think it’s over, it carries on for yet another furlong.
That said, when this tale about two brothers who are experiencing nightmarish visions of some childhood tragedy, eighteen years on, gets its footing, I was actually quite into it.
I just think there was far too much thrown at it, confusing the plot and baffling the reader.
But despite the misgivings of The Little Woods, I do think there is a brilliance in Mock as a horror writer, because his use of description is competent, if not a little over played. However, with a good editor and a touch more focus, he could just have a belter on his hands.