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The Companion
Lovely, young, and seemingly harmless, Jillian Cole seems to be the ideal candidate to take care of older adults, but beauty and supposed innocence can only protect Jillian from her crimes for so long in this thrilling novel from the author of Baxter and Childgrave.
Town after town, Jillian Cole has sought out the sick, the despairing, the old. Time after time, they welcome the lovely young woman into their hearts without a second thought. And day after day, she comforts them, cares for them, and loves them…to death.
Now, in quiet, tree-lined Serena, the voice again whispers, “This is your new home.”
Jillian knows someone is waiting—someone who deserves her dark devotion. At the bedside of an ancient and declining matriarch, she sets about her ghoulish game. Preying on fear, destroying desire, and shattering dreams until, at last, dying seems the only joy…the final salvation.
Some might call Jillian Cole mad, deadly, evil…but she is only doing her duty. She is, after all, The Companion.
Town after town, Jillian Cole has sought out the sick, the despairing, the old. Time after time, they welcome the lovely young woman into their hearts without a second thought. And day after day, she comforts them, cares for them, and loves them…to death.
Now, in quiet, tree-lined Serena, the voice again whispers, “This is your new home.”
Jillian knows someone is waiting—someone who deserves her dark devotion. At the bedside of an ancient and declining matriarch, she sets about her ghoulish game. Preying on fear, destroying desire, and shattering dreams until, at last, dying seems the only joy…the final salvation.
Some might call Jillian Cole mad, deadly, evil…but she is only doing her duty. She is, after all, The Companion.
223 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1988
About the author
Ken Greenhall
8 books89 followersKen Greenhall was born in Detroit in 1928, the son of immigrants from England. He graduated from high school at age 15, worked at a record store for a time, and was drafted into the military, serving in Germany. He earned his degree from Wayne State University and moved to New York, where he worked as an editor of reference books, first on the staff of the Encyclopedia Americana and later for the New Columbia Encyclopedia. Greenhall had a longtime interest in the supernatural and took leave from his job to write his first novel, Elizabeth (1976), a tale of witchcraft published under his mother’s maiden name, Jessica Hamilton. Several more novels followed, including Hell Hound (1977), which was published abroad as Baxter and adapted for a critically acclaimed 1989 French film under that title. Greenhall died in 2014.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
December 23, 2021
Moody, dreamy, playful, mordant, creepy, soulful, sublime. If this musing on the nature of life and death had been written by a French existentialist writer, it would be a cult classic. It certainly has the style, ambiguity, and themes of such novels, while also bringing a deep compassion for the human condition, for people wrestling not just with the questions of life but also with their feelings about transition and death. But instead Companion was mismarketed as some kind of thriller about a deadly caregiver. One can only sigh and roll eyes, alas. Greenhall was a sorely misused writer.
Do 5 stars require a lengthy review? A long-winded review seems to be ignoring the example set by this book, which packs so much into so little. Still, 5 stars to me means this is now a favorite book and I want to explain why I love it.
Things that made The Companion one of my favorites:
- the restrained tone and the elegant prose. despite the potential drama of the narrative, the book is decidedly not melodramatic. it is nonchalant, sly, and subtle. Greenhall writes with an irony that shows a bemused appreciation while analying the trials and tribulations of fallible but still mysterious human beings.
- the interesting characterization. this is a story about a death-dealing caregiver lacking affect, having no allegiance to social norms and a supreme disinterest in shallow interactions, and who barely bothers pretending to be anything other than what she is. she travels with her blind father, a musician and former faith-healer, blinded by the wife he abandoned. the two find themselves mixed into the tense relations that exist within a rich and very divided family, a group that is dominated and often manipulated by one of two twins. the bad twin himself is a striking creation in his malice and mixed motivations. Greenhall dissects proscribed gender roles, misguided parental focus on the gender identity of their kids, and how gender essentialism can create a kind of sickness, a toxic mental state that can control how a person perceives other people and the world itself, a toxicity in the mind that can reshape the body itself.
- the dialogue. it is by turns polished and witty, surreal and absurdist, prosaic and realistic, sharp and acerbic, and best of all, at times quite stylized and layered with meaning - as if the speakers were players on a stage discussing the vicissitudes of existence with the remoteness of aliens discussing the human species. the dialogue is often surprising and always fascinating. dialogue to reread.
- the heart of the story. namely, its contemplation of death. this is a topic of particular personal and professional importance to me, as I work in a field where many of my agency's clients wrestle with the possibility of death coming soon (elders, people with life-threatening illness). I found this book to be a thoughtful meditation on how death can come as a release and as a blessing. something not to always be feared or fought against; something that can be sought out, even embraced. the old women who find themselves in this companion's care are women who are making decisions for themselves - decisions that will end their pain, decisions that actually empower them. their companion is a partner in this journey. I've felt and thought many of the things that this companion feels and thinks when hearing the stories (and wishes) of those in her care; I've been a witness to the lives of those who wanted to make this decision for themselves. despite the ambiguity and strangeness of this not-really-a-pulp novel, its story is one that is very much grounded in my reality. it resonated deeply with me.
Do 5 stars require a lengthy review? A long-winded review seems to be ignoring the example set by this book, which packs so much into so little. Still, 5 stars to me means this is now a favorite book and I want to explain why I love it.
Things that made The Companion one of my favorites:
- the restrained tone and the elegant prose. despite the potential drama of the narrative, the book is decidedly not melodramatic. it is nonchalant, sly, and subtle. Greenhall writes with an irony that shows a bemused appreciation while analying the trials and tribulations of fallible but still mysterious human beings.
- the interesting characterization. this is a story about a death-dealing caregiver lacking affect, having no allegiance to social norms and a supreme disinterest in shallow interactions, and who barely bothers pretending to be anything other than what she is. she travels with her blind father, a musician and former faith-healer, blinded by the wife he abandoned. the two find themselves mixed into the tense relations that exist within a rich and very divided family, a group that is dominated and often manipulated by one of two twins. the bad twin himself is a striking creation in his malice and mixed motivations. Greenhall dissects proscribed gender roles, misguided parental focus on the gender identity of their kids, and how gender essentialism can create a kind of sickness, a toxic mental state that can control how a person perceives other people and the world itself, a toxicity in the mind that can reshape the body itself.
- the dialogue. it is by turns polished and witty, surreal and absurdist, prosaic and realistic, sharp and acerbic, and best of all, at times quite stylized and layered with meaning - as if the speakers were players on a stage discussing the vicissitudes of existence with the remoteness of aliens discussing the human species. the dialogue is often surprising and always fascinating. dialogue to reread.
- the heart of the story. namely, its contemplation of death. this is a topic of particular personal and professional importance to me, as I work in a field where many of my agency's clients wrestle with the possibility of death coming soon (elders, people with life-threatening illness). I found this book to be a thoughtful meditation on how death can come as a release and as a blessing. something not to always be feared or fought against; something that can be sought out, even embraced. the old women who find themselves in this companion's care are women who are making decisions for themselves - decisions that will end their pain, decisions that actually empower them. their companion is a partner in this journey. I've felt and thought many of the things that this companion feels and thinks when hearing the stories (and wishes) of those in her care; I've been a witness to the lives of those who wanted to make this decision for themselves. despite the ambiguity and strangeness of this not-really-a-pulp novel, its story is one that is very much grounded in my reality. it resonated deeply with me.
September 1, 2019
After reading Baxter and Elizabeth I began to wonder if Greenhall might have been the best writer no one has ever heard of. His talent seemed almost supernatural and his tool set seemed inexhaustible. Then I read The Companion and the illusion was shattered. It turns out Greenhall was human after all.
July 31, 2018
After reading Ken Greenhall’s “Baxter,” “Elizabeth,” and “Childgrave,” I was excited to dig into “The Companion.” However, it lacks the immediacy and creepiness of the others; Greenhall’s writing shines through, but the plot should have been tightened.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews