Edward Lee, Slither (Leisure, 2006)
Every once in a while, when you're crushed by multiple heavy tomes where every page takes five minutes to digest, you need something light, easy, and quick. There may not be a better, more satisfying press for that sort of thing these days than Leisure Books. I've read a whole lot of Leisure novels, from the very early days of the press right up to the present, and I've found very few to be less than I expect: good, solid, quick, escapist reads. And that's about as good a definition of Slither as I can find.
Premise: various groups of folks converge on a supposedly deserted island in the Gulf of Mexico, a couple of miles from St. Petersburg, that used to be an old army base. Problem is, some other paramilitary types have turned it into an experimental breeding ground for really, really nasty things. I wouldn't tell you what, but the big spoiler is in the first three words of the back matter, so I won't beat around the bush: worms. Big, ugly worms. Worms that like to infect things like sea life. And possums. And partying college students. Needless to say, if nematodes squick you out, stay far, far away form this book; I'm still poking and scratching and obsessively checking myself for parasites.
In any case, I finished the novel last night, and I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about the OMG BIG PLOT TWIST. It's generic and silly (and the kind of thing that, when sprung on a reader, usually destroys a book for me), but Lee integrates it so well into the story that I have to admit I'm grudgingly impressed; this is the most fun I've had reading Ed Lee's stuff since “Doing Colfax” back in the mid-eighties. Decent characters, tight plot, some great descriptive writing (even if it does go over the top now and again). It's not deathless literature, but you don't go to Leisure for deathless literature. You turn to Leisure for books that will gross you out. And Slither delivers mightily. ***