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Thirty-year-old George Davies can't bring himself to hold his newborn son. After months of accepting his lame excuses and strange behavior, his wife demands that he see a therapist, and George, desperate to save his unraveling marriage and redeem himself as a father and husband, reluctantly agrees.As he delves into his childhood memories, he begins to recall things he hasn't thought of in twenty years. The odd, rambling letters his father sent home before he died. The jovial mother who started dating too soon after his father's death. A boy who appeared one night when George was lonely, then told him secrets he didn't want to know. How no one believed this new friend was real and that he was responsible for the bad things that were happening.Terrified by all that he has forgotten, George struggles to remember what really happened in the months following his father's death. And when a mysterious murder is revealed, remembering the past becomes the only way George can protect himself--and his young family.A psychological thriller in the tradition of Donna Tartt's "The Secret History"--with shades of "The Exorcist"--the smart and suspenseful A GOOD AND HAPPY CHILD leaves you questioning the things you remember and frightened of the things you've forgotten
369 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2007
149 people are currently reading
3162 people want to read
About the author
Justin Evans
24 books156 followersJustin Evans is a digital media executive based in New York City where he lives with his family. He received a BA in English from Columbia University and a MBA in Finance from NYU Stern. His first novel, A Good and Happy Child, was named a Best Book of 2007 by the Washington Post, was translated into six languages, and optioned by a major film studio. Justin attended Harrow School for one year at the end of the eighties.
Write to Justin at justin@justinevans.com.
Write to Justin at justin@justinevans.com.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 607 reviews
February 21, 2011
This is an excellent book that teases the reader into wondering if it is a psychological thriller or a supernatural horror novel. How you interpret it will depend on what psychological baggage you bring into this book with you. The narrator is a young man who goes to a therapist because he cannot bring himself to hold his own newborn child. His journaling reveals a childhood past in which he was either very disturbed, possessed by a demon, or perhaps both. The narrator is very unreliable as is the information he receives from the adults in his life. The author walks a tightrope and never falls. This is a very tense book and, while having its terrifying moments, succeeds many because of the subtle nuances throughout this tale. The ending is perfectly vague and leaves you pleasantly uncomfortable. Four and a half stars.
June 23, 2025
This is one I read in 2011, so I can't recall the details, but I remember it being a decent novel about exorcism. While it did have its creepy parts, I remember it more for being more of a character study of someone who may or may not be mentally ill. It was a very compassionate and moving portrayal, so it may not appeal to someone looking for the scares of William Peter Blatty's "The Exorcist" or movies like "The Last Exorcism".
Justin Evans's "A Good and Happy Child" is a remarkable achievement for two reasons, the first being that it is his debut novel.
For a first novel, Evans demonstrates a level of literary sophistication that many authors strive to reach after many years.
The second achievement is that he has written the first truly thought-provoking and moving novel about demonic possession. It's not a hokey and melodramatic passion play, nor is it a dry and clinical approach. It's a pretty straightforward "Here's a fictional case of someone who may or may not be demonically possessed: you decide."
The demon in question could be a real supernatural demon, or it could be a purely psychological demon. Evans keeps the reader guessing up until the very end, and even then, we are not sure.
Evans plays upon the reader's preconceptions about faith and science. The alleged possessed isn't merely a victim of the "demon" but is also victimized by two conflicting schools of thought: Christianity (at least, a very hard-core fundamentalist Christianity), with its mythos of God, Satan, heaven, and hell, and the Religion of Freud, a psychoanalytical approach of deconstruction.
Both views may have value and merit, but to the protagonist in the novel, a young boy who may or may not be possessed by a demon, they are simply two very different means to the same end. He simply wants to lead a normal life, and he doesn't really care if it comes about through Jesus or a psychotherapist.
Justin Evans's "A Good and Happy Child" is a remarkable achievement for two reasons, the first being that it is his debut novel.
For a first novel, Evans demonstrates a level of literary sophistication that many authors strive to reach after many years.
The second achievement is that he has written the first truly thought-provoking and moving novel about demonic possession. It's not a hokey and melodramatic passion play, nor is it a dry and clinical approach. It's a pretty straightforward "Here's a fictional case of someone who may or may not be demonically possessed: you decide."
The demon in question could be a real supernatural demon, or it could be a purely psychological demon. Evans keeps the reader guessing up until the very end, and even then, we are not sure.
Evans plays upon the reader's preconceptions about faith and science. The alleged possessed isn't merely a victim of the "demon" but is also victimized by two conflicting schools of thought: Christianity (at least, a very hard-core fundamentalist Christianity), with its mythos of God, Satan, heaven, and hell, and the Religion of Freud, a psychoanalytical approach of deconstruction.
Both views may have value and merit, but to the protagonist in the novel, a young boy who may or may not be possessed by a demon, they are simply two very different means to the same end. He simply wants to lead a normal life, and he doesn't really care if it comes about through Jesus or a psychotherapist.
July 23, 2008
This is one of those reads that make me slap myself for judging books by their covers. The demonic sketches, the swirling red and orange - you have to admit the cover seems scintillating.
Believe me, it lies. Must be the Satanic influence?
George Davies has an issue that makes him freak out every time he gets near his newborn son, so he starts to see a shrink to find out what the hell happened to him (I'm sorry, the puns are just too easy). Of course, it all goes back to his childhood and fault of his parents/an imaginary friend-type character, which he reencounters as he writes journals for his therapy sessions. 'Child' jumps back and forth between the present time and the past through these journal entries, which I found a bit disconcerting if I didn't read the title before each new chapter began.
This was one of my biggest issues with the book. Each journal entry is written as if it is happening in present time - not as a reflection upon the day's events. It is also written from the perspective of the child George, although it is actually penned by the adult. The author, Justin Evans, makes a point throughout the book to help readers realize what a child genius George was. The eleven year-old's vocabulary is extremely advanced, even coming across a bit ostentatious at times. Unfortunately, this also made the whole novel that more ridiculous, since the adult George just sucks. He seems stupid and immature, which I don't think reflects what the boy genius would have grown up to be like. I found myself thinking about these problems so much that they eventually overshadowed the plot, which wasn't half-bad.
This is Evans' first novel, and it is a good attempt at a thriller. Unfortunately, I was never thrilled to be reading this book. He spends too much time emphasizing the Southern rhetoric and speaking style, which I don't need every other sentence. All right. You're in the South. Get over it. I never understood why Evans found this relevant, since I felt this novel could have been set anywhere in America. The southern region has no importance in the advancement of the plot, so it became just an unnecessary distraction. Unfortunately, I have no desire whatsoever to pick up the next Evans novel. This was too poorly written and not nearly entertaining enough for me to seek his next work out again.
By the way, this book is not the least bit scary. Why were so many people creeped out?
Believe me, it lies. Must be the Satanic influence?
George Davies has an issue that makes him freak out every time he gets near his newborn son, so he starts to see a shrink to find out what the hell happened to him (I'm sorry, the puns are just too easy). Of course, it all goes back to his childhood and fault of his parents/an imaginary friend-type character, which he reencounters as he writes journals for his therapy sessions. 'Child' jumps back and forth between the present time and the past through these journal entries, which I found a bit disconcerting if I didn't read the title before each new chapter began.
This was one of my biggest issues with the book. Each journal entry is written as if it is happening in present time - not as a reflection upon the day's events. It is also written from the perspective of the child George, although it is actually penned by the adult. The author, Justin Evans, makes a point throughout the book to help readers realize what a child genius George was. The eleven year-old's vocabulary is extremely advanced, even coming across a bit ostentatious at times. Unfortunately, this also made the whole novel that more ridiculous, since the adult George just sucks. He seems stupid and immature, which I don't think reflects what the boy genius would have grown up to be like. I found myself thinking about these problems so much that they eventually overshadowed the plot, which wasn't half-bad.
This is Evans' first novel, and it is a good attempt at a thriller. Unfortunately, I was never thrilled to be reading this book. He spends too much time emphasizing the Southern rhetoric and speaking style, which I don't need every other sentence. All right. You're in the South. Get over it. I never understood why Evans found this relevant, since I felt this novel could have been set anywhere in America. The southern region has no importance in the advancement of the plot, so it became just an unnecessary distraction. Unfortunately, I have no desire whatsoever to pick up the next Evans novel. This was too poorly written and not nearly entertaining enough for me to seek his next work out again.
By the way, this book is not the least bit scary. Why were so many people creeped out?
Read
September 5, 2007This is the first book I ever returned to the bookstore on account of overwhelming suckiness. Usually with an especially crappy book--Labyrinth, Special Topics in Calamity Physics, and The Librarian are some recent examples--I'll just scribble a curse on the title page and leave the book next to a trashcan on the street. But this book is so aggressively bad that it wasn’t enough to simply discard it--no, I wanted my money back. Whatever made me buy a first novel by “a strategy and business development executive in New York City” anyway? What the hell was I thinking?
May 5, 2012
If you read through reviews you'll find that people complain about this book being vague on some things, slowly paced, the "unresolved" ending, insufficiently scary, no horror, no impact, no bigger picture, too "intellectual", etc.
I'm going to go ahead and say that I can understand all those criticisms but don't think they're valid. It's meant to be a slow burn, it's not meant to be terrifying, and I think the big picture is the discussion about mental health afflictions versus spiritual ones: whether or not the two are considered the same or distinct, dovetailed together or oil and water. To come out at the end of the book with a clear resolution would destroy everything that Evans worked so hard to set up throughout the novel. Maybe some of the reviewers need more of that in their lives (quote from a 2-star review: "maybe i'm a lazy reader, but i feel like if an author has a story to tell they need to just tell it- don't leave us guessing at the end what they meant.") but I feel it would have done a disservice to the story.
Evans did a great job with the language in the same way that Peter Watts does - albeit less so than Watts - in that he'll feed you a phrase and not worry about whether or not you got it. There's no character in the book playing Exposition to our Audience. I'm not saying that this is high literature, it's still just a story about demonic possession, but at least it's not pulp, you know? I loved the language, the descriptions; Evans has the ability to sink me right into the place. His sets were well dressed without being overdone and gave me just as much desire to be in that small Virginia town in the dead of winter as some beautiful photographs would have done.
There was more character development here than I expected (which is to say anything greater than zero) so that was a pleasant surprise. If there was anything I didn't care for it was the shift at the end from past tense to present tense narration but I understand why he chose that route. I can understand why some people think the 11-year-old's tone is too intelligent or precious. He's a smart kid, though, and grows up to be a smart adult, and it's his mid-30s self that's writing these journal entries, so I think he can be forgiven for not writing like an 11-year-old.
It's a good read and a smart read, or as smart as one can get in this particular genre. I enjoyed every page and though the premise of Evans's second novel doesn't really appeal to me I might pick it up anyway just because I loved his descriptive language so much.
I'm going to go ahead and say that I can understand all those criticisms but don't think they're valid. It's meant to be a slow burn, it's not meant to be terrifying, and I think the big picture is the discussion about mental health afflictions versus spiritual ones: whether or not the two are considered the same or distinct, dovetailed together or oil and water. To come out at the end of the book with a clear resolution would destroy everything that Evans worked so hard to set up throughout the novel. Maybe some of the reviewers need more of that in their lives (quote from a 2-star review: "maybe i'm a lazy reader, but i feel like if an author has a story to tell they need to just tell it- don't leave us guessing at the end what they meant.") but I feel it would have done a disservice to the story.
Evans did a great job with the language in the same way that Peter Watts does - albeit less so than Watts - in that he'll feed you a phrase and not worry about whether or not you got it. There's no character in the book playing Exposition to our Audience. I'm not saying that this is high literature, it's still just a story about demonic possession, but at least it's not pulp, you know? I loved the language, the descriptions; Evans has the ability to sink me right into the place. His sets were well dressed without being overdone and gave me just as much desire to be in that small Virginia town in the dead of winter as some beautiful photographs would have done.
There was more character development here than I expected (which is to say anything greater than zero) so that was a pleasant surprise. If there was anything I didn't care for it was the shift at the end from past tense to present tense narration but I understand why he chose that route. I can understand why some people think the 11-year-old's tone is too intelligent or precious. He's a smart kid, though, and grows up to be a smart adult, and it's his mid-30s self that's writing these journal entries, so I think he can be forgiven for not writing like an 11-year-old.
It's a good read and a smart read, or as smart as one can get in this particular genre. I enjoyed every page and though the premise of Evans's second novel doesn't really appeal to me I might pick it up anyway just because I loved his descriptive language so much.
September 13, 2011
This is the book equivalent of a PG-13, big studio horror movie. There are little moments here and there to make you think, Huh. Maybe this is going new places. But then it ends up being as sanitized and predictable as every other PG-13 horror movie you've ever seen, because there's only so much you can do creatively within the constraints of this certain type of storytelling.
And there's only so much you can do with a modern-day possession story.
I mean, there's a reason most of the blurbs for this book compare it to The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby. I'm going to be so bold as to compare it to Legion and The Exorcism of Emily Rose too because really, confusing demonic possession with psychiatric disturbance is nothing new and fresh and having your characters be academics instead of blindsided schmoes does nothing to change that this is a story that has been told eight hundred and fifty times. Evans' contribution is serviceable and enjoyable while you read, but about 100 pages from the end I knew where it was going to go and wasn't surprised when it got there.
Next.
And there's only so much you can do with a modern-day possession story.
I mean, there's a reason most of the blurbs for this book compare it to The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby. I'm going to be so bold as to compare it to Legion and The Exorcism of Emily Rose too because really, confusing demonic possession with psychiatric disturbance is nothing new and fresh and having your characters be academics instead of blindsided schmoes does nothing to change that this is a story that has been told eight hundred and fifty times. Evans' contribution is serviceable and enjoyable while you read, but about 100 pages from the end I knew where it was going to go and wasn't surprised when it got there.
Next.
August 11, 2010
A very good novel by first time author Justin Evans, A Good and Happy Child is not scary like The Exorcist is, although it reminds the reader of that novel, with its main theme of demonic possession. The suspense in this is the quieter kind, the creepiness slower to build but just as effective. The central character, George Davies, is an adult with a newborn. He finds himself unable to hold his child and seeks psychiatric help. His doctor instructs him to begin writing in journals about his childhood, which leads George to recall all that happened surrounding his 'possession.' As I said, not necessarily to everyone's taste, as the story takes its time to build suspense but the book was so engrossing, the characters so likeable, that I read the last 200 pages in one sitting, not something I normally do. I look forward to reading a second novel by Evans.
August 10, 2023
A story about grief, mental health, religion and possession. Lots to like but also lots to dislike. Older George, a pretentious narrator resulting in a general lack of empathy for him both as a child and grown up. The whole thing pretty much saved by the last 60 or so pages. Would recommend if you like possession stories, this one is a bit different and keeps you thinking.
March 16, 2024
Oh boy, I have to lower my rating on this reread because I definitely struggled to get through it, and I even contemplated DNFing since I read it already. But since I forgot how it ended, I decided to see it through.
Before I continue, I must give this warning. If you’re sensitive to racism, offensive language, etc… This isn’t the book for you. The author holds no punches. Everybody is disrespected and I’m going to insert two direct quotes for you to see:
There’s a lot more but it looks like I accidentally deleted my notes and I’m not skimming through the book to find them. You get the point.
Now on to the review:
George can’t bring himself to touch his newborn baby and his wife is starting to get disgusted with him. To save his marriage, he reluctantly goes to see a therapist. During his first session, he confesses that he saw a therapist at the age of 11. So he’s encouraged to write about that experience. While journaling, George discovers that what happened to him as a child is the reason behind his fears for holding his baby.
The book switches back and forth between present and past but majority of it takes place in the past. George is writing his experiences as an 11-year-old but he’s an adult so the story doesn’t come off as from an authentic child’s POV, which I can see why it throws a lot of people off. Plus, it doesn’t read like a real journal either. It’s definitely written like a novel by a professional author.
Seeing as 98% of the story takes place in the past, I don’t see what was the point of there being a present. We really know nothing about grown up George except he has a wife and can’t touch his baby. The author could have just written the entire story from young George’s POV and it wouldn’t have changed anything.
The book is vaguely ambiguous and we never truly know if George is possessed by a demon or not. I’m leaning more towards the latter. To me it comes off as all psychological, but you may have a different opinion. This is also a slow burner so don’t expect a lot of action. Even with the lower star rating, (cause every reread so far has me changing my mind) I’d still recommend.
Before I continue, I must give this warning. If you’re sensitive to racism, offensive language, etc… This isn’t the book for you. The author holds no punches. Everybody is disrespected and I’m going to insert two direct quotes for you to see:
Because of the misspelling I knew it was not Dean, but more likely one of the hicks—the ominous Tex with the patch over one eye from a firewood-chopping accident, or his sidekick, the malnourished, scrawny J. J. Sweet, a pale boy in the ill-fitting clothes of the dirt poor who walked his phlegmatic, retarded sister to school every day.
“And your school?" he asked.
"I hate school."
"Of course you do," he said. "The school system has been ruined.
Full of blacks and little inbred creatures from the county."
My eyes widened.
"Well, isn't it?" he said.
"I guess so."
"Of course it is," he said. "The civil rights movement destroyed education in this country. They had to chaaange the curriculum so that the little blacks would be able to get As, and they ruined it for everybody. The intelligent students fled for private schools, and the teachers they brought in were more ignorant blacks. And now it's just a godawful mess."
There’s a lot more but it looks like I accidentally deleted my notes and I’m not skimming through the book to find them. You get the point.
Now on to the review:
George can’t bring himself to touch his newborn baby and his wife is starting to get disgusted with him. To save his marriage, he reluctantly goes to see a therapist. During his first session, he confesses that he saw a therapist at the age of 11. So he’s encouraged to write about that experience. While journaling, George discovers that what happened to him as a child is the reason behind his fears for holding his baby.
The book switches back and forth between present and past but majority of it takes place in the past. George is writing his experiences as an 11-year-old but he’s an adult so the story doesn’t come off as from an authentic child’s POV, which I can see why it throws a lot of people off. Plus, it doesn’t read like a real journal either. It’s definitely written like a novel by a professional author.
Seeing as 98% of the story takes place in the past, I don’t see what was the point of there being a present. We really know nothing about grown up George except he has a wife and can’t touch his baby. The author could have just written the entire story from young George’s POV and it wouldn’t have changed anything.
The book is vaguely ambiguous and we never truly know if George is possessed by a demon or not. I’m leaning more towards the latter. To me it comes off as all psychological, but you may have a different opinion. This is also a slow burner so don’t expect a lot of action. Even with the lower star rating, (cause every reread so far has me changing my mind) I’d still recommend.
July 31, 2015
Um...I've been an atheist for a few years now and it's made for many great strides forward for me in many aspects of my adult life.
Perhaps the only downside to atheism is that "spooky" stuff just isn't scary anymore.
This is a book about demon possession and general devilry! YIKES!
It is well written and interesting...and if exorcisms and naughty demons still have some hold on you, it'll probably be pretty scary.
If you don't believe in devils or angels...this will be as scary as a book about dragons...or Hobbits.
Perhaps the only downside to atheism is that "spooky" stuff just isn't scary anymore.
This is a book about demon possession and general devilry! YIKES!
It is well written and interesting...and if exorcisms and naughty demons still have some hold on you, it'll probably be pretty scary.
If you don't believe in devils or angels...this will be as scary as a book about dragons...or Hobbits.
February 11, 2012
Probably 4.5 stars. Just not 5 because it's too scary and creepy for everyone, and I'd rather keep 5s for books that I'd recommend to ANYONE. In fact, I think this book was too creepy for me! It was so well written and what a plot. Twists and turns... it was one wild ride. I couldn't put it down, and when I had to, late at night after everyone was asleep except me and the baby, I was freaked out. When I finished it this morning, I felt dizzy, like I had just gotten off a roller coaster. i can't stop thinking about it, but I want to. For anyone that loves a 'good read' and can stomach scary, you will love it.
I don't want to spoil it describing the plot, in case anyone wants to read it. But I want to add the caveat that for anyone who actually does believe in evil, like I do, but doesn't really want to dwell on it, like I don't, then probably don't read this. I got about half way through and thought I should probably quit but I was already sucked in.
But if you do read it, call me, cause I've got to talk about it with someone!!y
I don't want to spoil it describing the plot, in case anyone wants to read it. But I want to add the caveat that for anyone who actually does believe in evil, like I do, but doesn't really want to dwell on it, like I don't, then probably don't read this. I got about half way through and thought I should probably quit but I was already sucked in.
But if you do read it, call me, cause I've got to talk about it with someone!!y
October 4, 2007
I absolutely could not finish this book. Made it to page 100 and had to put it down. I dreaded picking it back up. It was disjointed, could careless about the characters. It had no feeling or rhythm. I bought this book based on countless good reviews,which usually steer me right, but not this time. Is this a psychological book or a book about possession of demons? That's the question. The answer: Who even cares?
September 5, 2007
Maybe a 3.5, actually. This book got creepier as it went along. I started out kind of luke-warm about it, as the child protagonist just did not have a believable voice, to me. But I did get dragged into the story. It begins with George as an adult, who goes to a psychiatrist to deal with the issues he is having with an inability to interact with his baby son. The psychiatrist gets him to fill notebooks with stories from his childhood, each notebook revealing a more disturbing portrait of our protagonist. Young George used to see an invisible "friend", but whereas many children have imaginary companions, George comes to believe that his friend is really a demon bent on taking over his soul. While this sounds overwrought, I think the thing that disturbed me most is the matter-of-factness of the whole thing. The ending especially was chilling and awful, but the whole build up in the last 100 pages will have you fascinated and appalled.
March 27, 2011
Like The Body in the Ivy, which I read just before, this novel simply ended too soon. It was almost as though the author got bored around page 288 (out of 320) and said "All right, let's wrap this up. I have no idea what a good ending would be, so let's kill off __________ , work in a hysterical run through Manhattan at night and end up ____________________." Don't worry, no spoilers. Spoilers would mean the story had a conclusion that revealed something. This one has a conclusion. Sort of.
Some parts of this novel were incomprehensible -- the author sets them up as earth-shaking revelations, but once he moves on to the next point in the narrative, I'm thinking "What was that?" Pages 92 to 318 (!) have us wondering whether George will be remanded to the dreaded Forest Glen mental asylum, or even worse, a juvenile detention facility. The threat follows George and his mother like a stalker-cloud, and resolves, but again, sort of. This book contains heroes and villains, but all seem to bear a "Lite" modifier. Justin Evans (as George) clearly doesn't have much respect for the psychiatric profession, whether it's the sympathetic Richard in his cardigan, the cold and autocratic Dr. Gilloon, or the therapist he turns to as an adult, addressed throughout in the second person.
It's clear that the author's objective is to make the reader think. What's your take on the unexplainable? he's asking, followed by Is there an "unexplainable?". We are naturally sympathetic to 11-year-old George, and find ourselves firmly in his corner throughout all his trials. We want to believe his story. But if George were testifying in court as a defendant, what would we think of this same narrative if we were on the jury or reading about it in the paper?
In this respect, Justin Evans does a bang-up job. His prose is excellent. My favorite quote:
"This is how things happen -- summertime and excitement and play and then you come home to the shock and the lightning bolt, and find your life has become an undesirable story, the one people hear about and feel glad they're not in, and you never realize how lucky you'd been the moment before."
Mr. Evans has a second novel coming out in May, called The White Devil, and I will certainly read it. I hope one day he will follow in Stephen King's footsteps and re-publish A Good and Happy Child with 100 or more "lost" pages added back in.
Some parts of this novel were incomprehensible -- the author sets them up as earth-shaking revelations, but once he moves on to the next point in the narrative, I'm thinking "What was that?" Pages 92 to 318 (!) have us wondering whether George will be remanded to the dreaded Forest Glen mental asylum, or even worse, a juvenile detention facility. The threat follows George and his mother like a stalker-cloud, and resolves, but again, sort of. This book contains heroes and villains, but all seem to bear a "Lite" modifier. Justin Evans (as George) clearly doesn't have much respect for the psychiatric profession, whether it's the sympathetic Richard in his cardigan, the cold and autocratic Dr. Gilloon, or the therapist he turns to as an adult, addressed throughout in the second person.
It's clear that the author's objective is to make the reader think. What's your take on the unexplainable? he's asking, followed by Is there an "unexplainable?". We are naturally sympathetic to 11-year-old George, and find ourselves firmly in his corner throughout all his trials. We want to believe his story. But if George were testifying in court as a defendant, what would we think of this same narrative if we were on the jury or reading about it in the paper?
In this respect, Justin Evans does a bang-up job. His prose is excellent. My favorite quote:
"This is how things happen -- summertime and excitement and play and then you come home to the shock and the lightning bolt, and find your life has become an undesirable story, the one people hear about and feel glad they're not in, and you never realize how lucky you'd been the moment before."
Mr. Evans has a second novel coming out in May, called The White Devil, and I will certainly read it. I hope one day he will follow in Stephen King's footsteps and re-publish A Good and Happy Child with 100 or more "lost" pages added back in.
January 4, 2010
Yeah, I could just sum up the book by saying that the narrator was possessed by a demon as a boy, but after finishing the book I realize its not that simple. This book could have gone capital S Spooky and explained the strange incidents of George, the narrator's, boyhood with some remarkable evidence proving the demon in question existed, but the author decided to leave it as a big question mark. This book brought up some interesting questions: Do humans create Evil or does Evil exist outside of people? Where exactly is the line between Innocent by reason of insanity and a crime commited by passion? Is evil in humans nature or nurture? Are we too quick to turn off when someone is spouting a bunch of crazy?
Hmm. Should be a good book group conversation. I liked the narrative arc; I liked how layered the subject matter remained. I did not find myself going back and rereading passages to enjoy how they were written though, and that's usually how I determine good writing. Good solid storytelling, not great in my opinion.
Hmm. Should be a good book group conversation. I liked the narrative arc; I liked how layered the subject matter remained. I did not find myself going back and rereading passages to enjoy how they were written though, and that's usually how I determine good writing. Good solid storytelling, not great in my opinion.
November 7, 2010
I picked up this book because I'd heard it described as "a modern Rosemary's Baby", but quickly discovered that it's so much more than that. The author immediately sets a tone of dread and tension, and you know in the first few pages that some seriously bad sh*t is going to go down, but are filled with tension speculating on the details... The story that ultimately unfolds was not quite what I expected, which I view as a positive - I was constantly torn between putting the book down because I was so creeped out, and picking it up again because I needed to know what happened next. Aside from being a great story, "A Good And Happy Child" is a fascinating and provocative exploration of the concept of demonic possession in the age of self-awareness and psychiatry. Is evil real? Are we in control? The questions (and lack of clear answers) are almost more frightening than the story itself - and they will linger with you long after you close the book...
August 3, 2011
I guess I don't think demon possession, especially maybe-demon possession is all that scary. Clearly, George's mom could've used the Are You Possessed? test from Sara Gran's book. I am highly confused, also, as to why - if George showed up at the rectory where the exorcism was supposed to take place, didn't they just exorcise him then? Especially if they thought he'd already killed someone?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 2, 2022
I'm really torn between rating this 3 or 4 stars. It's a good psychological thriller, and I'm still not sure if he's crazy or right about there being a demon.
June 8, 2020
I wanted to like this. The premise sounds great - a man named George is reluctant to hold his baby son because he's afraid he might pass on a sort of family curse. In order to remember what it is he's afraid of, George goes to therapy and delves into his childhood. He discovers he was probably haunted by some manner of demon, a demon that may have also had something to do with his father's death.
Cool.
Unfortunately, this did not deliver for a variety of reasons:
-- With this sort of story, going back and forth between the present George as an adult and past George as a child is a good device, and I don't mind at all jumping about in time if it is handled well and is pulled together at the end. However, it did not work here. We spend so much time in the past that we have no full picture of George as an adult. I know nothing about him or his intervening years between his 11 year old self and his grown up self. All I know is he's got a partner and a baby and lives in New York (I think). He's concerned about something. That's it. He's like a blank piece of paper. I didn't care about him at all.
-- There was no flow for me. The book goes between George talking to his therapist as an adult, George describing his life as an adult, and George describing his life as a child. In the adult and child narratives, George speaks as if he is telling a tale ('I did this' 'they did that' 'such and such happened' etc). But in the therapy chapters George addresses the reader as if they are the therapist ('you look at me' 'you seem to think' etc) ... which is incredibly jarring when interspersed with the other chapters. If you use that device all the way through (as in Caroline Kepnes' book 'You') it can work. But if you only use it a couple chapters its like argh.
Not only that, but George tells the story of his childhood as an adult, so we don't hear his true 11 year old self very much, and there's a lot of adult dialogue which doesn't really work. I never caught any rhythm in this book. Every time I started to slip into it I was jolted out of it.
-- It was hard to relate to or like most of the characters.
Kurt was okay, he was pretty game, and I liked George's mother, as she was the only one who seemed like a real human being with genuine conflicted feelings and a true personality.
George is confused to me. The author goes to great pains to show us how intellectual and precocious he is, but it means he doesn't come across as a genuine 11 year old.
The author also goes on about how his parents and their friends are oh-so-academic. George's father's friends form the bulk of other main characters in the story so they're quite important, and they're made out to be 'the good guys' who want to help. But the way they're described puts a wall up against them. None of these incredibly learned people seem to give a shit about regular people just trying to get by. The south and its many unwashed hillbillies are continually berated for not being good enough. The teachers discuss how pedestrian their students are. There is one character, who is meant to be genuinely helping George, who goes on a racist rant. This is never corrected, questioned or addressed. How can I like a group of people who are so self important and up their own asses that they even speak to George, a small boy, a child of their friend (and in one case, their godchild) in such a nasty, overblown, aggravated way? They are forever expostulating, getting annoyed, telling him to be quiet, telling him he doesn't understand, or brushing him aside. These are his allies!
-- If I read a story about a possession I want to see the possession. I want it to be in every chapter. It doesn't have to be projectile vomiting and screaming obscenities, it could be understated and insidious, something small but slowly growing, threatening, a sense of dread, even things that may at first seem normal ... in A Good and Happy Child, the demon shows up at some point (can't even remember when), appearing as a young child whom George thinks of as 'friend'. Friend never really gains any threatening momentum, never does anything too terrifying, and when he's not physically 'on screen' as it were, you kind of forget he exists. There are a few times he gets George to do some horrific things, but they're not used to their most terrifying advantage and have little comeuppance (apart from one scene involving beating the shit out his mother, that's pretty scary). Oh, and the shower door moves by itself. SpOOOooOoOOOoOOKyy...
-- Possession/demon tales work so much better when they're visceral and concentrate on emotions and actions. When they start seriously delving into psychiatry and the spiritual aspects the story can get really, really bogged down. It happened in The Exorcist and it happens here. Keep it simple, keep it smart, keep it scary.
-- The ending isn't really an ending. We finish George's childhood story, and then adult George resolves he isn't going to let his son go the same way. Erm. That's it. Nothing actually happens and its open and because I know sweet F all about adult George and his son I just don't care...
There are some parts of this story which are compelling, and if these things were explored more it might have made a bigger impact on me. For example, the demons themselves reside in a kind of bleak, dark space, where people who are 'open' (i.e, susceptible to possession and manipulation) shine like beacons. They are holes into the real world, where the demon can come through. The imagery used when George is shown this world is really top notch. But it is used so seldom and so briefly I was just left underwhelmed.
It was a struggle to finish. I got through it all in the end but I'm not going to lie, I skimmed some of it. Some great ideas, just not well executed. Will be selling on.
Cool.
Unfortunately, this did not deliver for a variety of reasons:
-- With this sort of story, going back and forth between the present George as an adult and past George as a child is a good device, and I don't mind at all jumping about in time if it is handled well and is pulled together at the end. However, it did not work here. We spend so much time in the past that we have no full picture of George as an adult. I know nothing about him or his intervening years between his 11 year old self and his grown up self. All I know is he's got a partner and a baby and lives in New York (I think). He's concerned about something. That's it. He's like a blank piece of paper. I didn't care about him at all.
-- There was no flow for me. The book goes between George talking to his therapist as an adult, George describing his life as an adult, and George describing his life as a child. In the adult and child narratives, George speaks as if he is telling a tale ('I did this' 'they did that' 'such and such happened' etc). But in the therapy chapters George addresses the reader as if they are the therapist ('you look at me' 'you seem to think' etc) ... which is incredibly jarring when interspersed with the other chapters. If you use that device all the way through (as in Caroline Kepnes' book 'You') it can work. But if you only use it a couple chapters its like argh.
Not only that, but George tells the story of his childhood as an adult, so we don't hear his true 11 year old self very much, and there's a lot of adult dialogue which doesn't really work. I never caught any rhythm in this book. Every time I started to slip into it I was jolted out of it.
-- It was hard to relate to or like most of the characters.
Kurt was okay, he was pretty game, and I liked George's mother, as she was the only one who seemed like a real human being with genuine conflicted feelings and a true personality.
George is confused to me. The author goes to great pains to show us how intellectual and precocious he is, but it means he doesn't come across as a genuine 11 year old.
The author also goes on about how his parents and their friends are oh-so-academic. George's father's friends form the bulk of other main characters in the story so they're quite important, and they're made out to be 'the good guys' who want to help. But the way they're described puts a wall up against them. None of these incredibly learned people seem to give a shit about regular people just trying to get by. The south and its many unwashed hillbillies are continually berated for not being good enough. The teachers discuss how pedestrian their students are. There is one character, who is meant to be genuinely helping George, who goes on a racist rant. This is never corrected, questioned or addressed. How can I like a group of people who are so self important and up their own asses that they even speak to George, a small boy, a child of their friend (and in one case, their godchild) in such a nasty, overblown, aggravated way? They are forever expostulating, getting annoyed, telling him to be quiet, telling him he doesn't understand, or brushing him aside. These are his allies!
-- If I read a story about a possession I want to see the possession. I want it to be in every chapter. It doesn't have to be projectile vomiting and screaming obscenities, it could be understated and insidious, something small but slowly growing, threatening, a sense of dread, even things that may at first seem normal ... in A Good and Happy Child, the demon shows up at some point (can't even remember when), appearing as a young child whom George thinks of as 'friend'. Friend never really gains any threatening momentum, never does anything too terrifying, and when he's not physically 'on screen' as it were, you kind of forget he exists. There are a few times he gets George to do some horrific things, but they're not used to their most terrifying advantage and have little comeuppance (apart from one scene involving beating the shit out his mother, that's pretty scary). Oh, and the shower door moves by itself. SpOOOooOoOOOoOOKyy...
-- Possession/demon tales work so much better when they're visceral and concentrate on emotions and actions. When they start seriously delving into psychiatry and the spiritual aspects the story can get really, really bogged down. It happened in The Exorcist and it happens here. Keep it simple, keep it smart, keep it scary.
-- The ending isn't really an ending. We finish George's childhood story, and then adult George resolves he isn't going to let his son go the same way. Erm. That's it. Nothing actually happens and its open and because I know sweet F all about adult George and his son I just don't care...
There are some parts of this story which are compelling, and if these things were explored more it might have made a bigger impact on me. For example, the demons themselves reside in a kind of bleak, dark space, where people who are 'open' (i.e, susceptible to possession and manipulation) shine like beacons. They are holes into the real world, where the demon can come through. The imagery used when George is shown this world is really top notch. But it is used so seldom and so briefly I was just left underwhelmed.
It was a struggle to finish. I got through it all in the end but I'm not going to lie, I skimmed some of it. Some great ideas, just not well executed. Will be selling on.
October 30, 2024
Creepy!! Deliciously creepy! A man can’t bring himself to touch his newborn son but can’t say why. His wife is not one bit happy with this development and files for divorce, which prompts the man to seek psychological help. And this leads to exploring the guy’s scary past as an eleven year old plagued by demons. And school bullies and a dead father. I’m not going say anymore but it was pretty darn, well, creepy.
February 5, 2012
George Davies has been having some issues since the birth of his first child. Unlike the doting parent he was when his wife was pregnant, he has become almost afraid to be around his infant son. Much to his wife’s dismay he won’t even touch the child thus he agrees to seek counseling and within the first session the therapist discovers that George’s father died when he was eleven. Thinking that this is significant, since George confesses that he was in therapy for a while afterwards, his psychotherapist suggests writing a journal about his current sessions and what he remembers from when he was a boy.
Soon George starts to recall how he was a social outcast and how the mysterious death of his father after a visit to Honduras made him even more of a social pariah. It was around this time when he needed a friend when suddenly a Huck Finn prototype appears outside his bedroom window looking very much like George himself. At first this friend makes George happy and then things start to change and the friend starts to tell George things about his father and about his father’s friend – about letters and secret longings.
‘A Good and Happy Child’ is Justin Evan’s debut novel, and wow, does it work on all levels. The writing is impeccable and the psychological thriller spooks – a perfect marriage of style and substance. Even the book cover and insides help get the reader into the mood. The bulk of the story takes place in a college town in Virginia in the early 80’s. George’s mother is a feminist who has had to take lesser teaching jobs than her diplomas indicate she is capable, while his father was a professor more enamored with tradition and the status quo. Of course, this all comes to a head once George is in the mental health system and his mother refuses to believe that her husband may have been a powerful mystic before his death.
The only tiny complaint I have about this novel is that there was never any mention of the movie or book ‘The Exorcist’ which considering the time period would have been something brought up when George asked questions about demon procession. As I said, it was a tiny complaint and if I were a Hollywood producer type I would snap up the book rights to this novel pronto because I think there is a lot to work with for a screen version.
If you aren’t a fan of things that bump in the night or the idea that evil may exist, attack, and transform a loved one then this ‘A Good and Happy Child’ probably isn’t up your alley. If you do like this genre then check this book out.
Here is an example of the Evans’ excellent writing. I hope you have a night light on.
Grace, in her pajama and bare feet, stretched her spine with a yogalike movement – hands on the mattress, fists clenched, back arching – but the movement took on a strange, languorous quality. As we watched, she extended herself to an unnatural length, as if she were suddenly capable of adding inches of space between her vertebrae. We stared transfixed, even Reval silenced by the unnaturalness of what we saw, as Grace’s back and neck coiled into an S shape. Her face slack, her eyes unfocused, her physiognomy seemed entirely bent on the transformation at hand, until her torso hovered in the air at a seemingly impossible forty-degree angle, scarcely supported by her knees resting on the bed. Her head then swiveled menacingly. Her eyes refocused. They beamed at us, fiercely. Cold and hateful. I recognized what I was looking at and felt a trickle of urine warm um underpants. It was a thirty-year-old woman in the shape of a snake. (page 193-194)
Maybe it is just me, but one of the most spine tingling bits for me was finishing the book on page 322 and then I read the ‘About the Author’ on page 323. Just saying.
Apparently, a movie treatment of this book might be coming down the pike. Let’s hope so.
Soon George starts to recall how he was a social outcast and how the mysterious death of his father after a visit to Honduras made him even more of a social pariah. It was around this time when he needed a friend when suddenly a Huck Finn prototype appears outside his bedroom window looking very much like George himself. At first this friend makes George happy and then things start to change and the friend starts to tell George things about his father and about his father’s friend – about letters and secret longings.
‘A Good and Happy Child’ is Justin Evan’s debut novel, and wow, does it work on all levels. The writing is impeccable and the psychological thriller spooks – a perfect marriage of style and substance. Even the book cover and insides help get the reader into the mood. The bulk of the story takes place in a college town in Virginia in the early 80’s. George’s mother is a feminist who has had to take lesser teaching jobs than her diplomas indicate she is capable, while his father was a professor more enamored with tradition and the status quo. Of course, this all comes to a head once George is in the mental health system and his mother refuses to believe that her husband may have been a powerful mystic before his death.
The only tiny complaint I have about this novel is that there was never any mention of the movie or book ‘The Exorcist’ which considering the time period would have been something brought up when George asked questions about demon procession. As I said, it was a tiny complaint and if I were a Hollywood producer type I would snap up the book rights to this novel pronto because I think there is a lot to work with for a screen version.
If you aren’t a fan of things that bump in the night or the idea that evil may exist, attack, and transform a loved one then this ‘A Good and Happy Child’ probably isn’t up your alley. If you do like this genre then check this book out.
Here is an example of the Evans’ excellent writing. I hope you have a night light on.
Grace, in her pajama and bare feet, stretched her spine with a yogalike movement – hands on the mattress, fists clenched, back arching – but the movement took on a strange, languorous quality. As we watched, she extended herself to an unnatural length, as if she were suddenly capable of adding inches of space between her vertebrae. We stared transfixed, even Reval silenced by the unnaturalness of what we saw, as Grace’s back and neck coiled into an S shape. Her face slack, her eyes unfocused, her physiognomy seemed entirely bent on the transformation at hand, until her torso hovered in the air at a seemingly impossible forty-degree angle, scarcely supported by her knees resting on the bed. Her head then swiveled menacingly. Her eyes refocused. They beamed at us, fiercely. Cold and hateful. I recognized what I was looking at and felt a trickle of urine warm um underpants. It was a thirty-year-old woman in the shape of a snake. (page 193-194)
Maybe it is just me, but one of the most spine tingling bits for me was finishing the book on page 322 and then I read the ‘About the Author’ on page 323. Just saying.
Apparently, a movie treatment of this book might be coming down the pike. Let’s hope so.
October 14, 2014
Debut author Evans decided to write a book mostly told from the point-of-view of an eleven-year-old boy who seems to suffer from some kind of mental illness. George has an imaginary 'friend' who is very real to him, and he listens to his compelling voice in his head, what the psychologists call a 'command auditory hallucination.' His mother and psychiatrist believe that his neurosis has been brought on by his father's recent death. But his father was a Medievalist who believed that the world had declined since the Church lost its dominant position in the society. The father actually believed in demonic possession, exorcism, and all the concomitant mumbo-jumbo. Some of his father's friends try to convince our young hero that he is not delusional, rather he is in the possession of the very same demon responsible for his father's death.
It is easy to see why this book is over-hyped: a child torn between radical secularism and religious zealotry, and unable to decide if he is a 'chosen' one bestowed with the power to see and fight the devil's agents, or simply a child unable to cope with the trauma of losing his father.
It is easy to see where Evans was going with this book, or, at least, where he wanted it to go. He wanted to write a book which was open to interpretation of the reader. The kind of book which would have an open ending subject to heated debates among the raving readers who all had their own points-of-view and reasons to support them. Some readers would vehemently support the demonic possession theory, and others would swear that our young hero was simply 'disturbed.'
Sadly, Evans fails to accomplish this. A big chunk of the book is devoted to our young protagonist being dragged around by his father's friends to exorcisms, being put in a trance by Church Deacons to flush out his demon, and being introduced to Christian artifacts to ward off the devil. The triteness of the subject quickly becomes exasperating.
And if we had been sure that the author did not actually want us to believe this hocus-pocus, rather, this was what our young hero 'believed' to be true, we could have lived with it. But the author has put in a couple of paranormal incidents in the story which were witnessed by people besides our neurotic young protagonist. These incidents fairly close the case in favour of the fantastical explanation of the events.
Evans had a great idea, but he could not successfully execute it in the book. An abrupt, weak, and easy-way-out ending doesn't help him, either. The author definitely has a fresh voice and his language is superior to what we usually come across in most genre-fiction. Hopefully, his second book would be much better executed and would reflect his considerable talents as a story-teller more successfully.
It is easy to see why this book is over-hyped: a child torn between radical secularism and religious zealotry, and unable to decide if he is a 'chosen' one bestowed with the power to see and fight the devil's agents, or simply a child unable to cope with the trauma of losing his father.
It is easy to see where Evans was going with this book, or, at least, where he wanted it to go. He wanted to write a book which was open to interpretation of the reader. The kind of book which would have an open ending subject to heated debates among the raving readers who all had their own points-of-view and reasons to support them. Some readers would vehemently support the demonic possession theory, and others would swear that our young hero was simply 'disturbed.'
Sadly, Evans fails to accomplish this. A big chunk of the book is devoted to our young protagonist being dragged around by his father's friends to exorcisms, being put in a trance by Church Deacons to flush out his demon, and being introduced to Christian artifacts to ward off the devil. The triteness of the subject quickly becomes exasperating.
And if we had been sure that the author did not actually want us to believe this hocus-pocus, rather, this was what our young hero 'believed' to be true, we could have lived with it. But the author has put in a couple of paranormal incidents in the story which were witnessed by people besides our neurotic young protagonist. These incidents fairly close the case in favour of the fantastical explanation of the events.
Evans had a great idea, but he could not successfully execute it in the book. An abrupt, weak, and easy-way-out ending doesn't help him, either. The author definitely has a fresh voice and his language is superior to what we usually come across in most genre-fiction. Hopefully, his second book would be much better executed and would reflect his considerable talents as a story-teller more successfully.
May 9, 2009
It's amazing the way one good sentence can give a book momentum. Early in the novel "A Good and Happy Child" by Justin Evans, there is a description of the way the main character's family lives:
"It was a house halfway between this and that, between upper-middle-class luxuries and absentminded squalor."
This is how we live. It made me feel like our mail-covered dining room table and the books and Gatorade bottles next to the bed aren't the mark of lazy gross people. It is interesting and intellectual. And it's that sentence I kept going back to, reading and rereading and chuckling.
"A Good and Happy Child" is the story of George Davies. A 30-something man who goes to his therapist because he is concerned about his inability to hold his newborn son. It's causing a strain in his relationship with his wife. In his first session, George confesses that he was in therapy as a tween, and the doctor suggests he fill notebooks with the story of what happened 20 years ago -- an era he has buried in his mind.
Back in the day, George was an awkward and unpopular child who's father had recently died. He begins "seeing" an apparition of a little boy, who tells him things about how his father died and instructs him on how to act. His mother, a skeptic, considers these hallucinations. His father's intellectual friends from the local university tell him that he is possessed by a demon. George begins investigating his father's life and finds that he was considered a mystic, and that he also had visions.
There is a standoff: After George, or rather "other George," cuts the brakes on the car of a family friend, he is sent to the psyche ward for evaluation. The doctors want to commit him. His father's friends want to perform an exorcism. George is in the latter camp, and when his mother forbids him to see his father's friends, things turn desperate -- both in the stories that fill the notebooks, and in the adult George's life.
This novel is written in a really quiet and precise Edgar Allen Poe voice. It's one of those "But nobody believes me" stories that are so stressful to read. And George's father's friends are a collection of fanatics that resemble a hooded cult in a 1990s made-for-TV movie. There are parts that drag -- where revisiting that early, favorite sentence kept me going. But the final third of the book is so satisfyingly creepy. And the ending is so terrific that a book I would ordinarily give three stars pushed itself to four.
"It was a house halfway between this and that, between upper-middle-class luxuries and absentminded squalor."
This is how we live. It made me feel like our mail-covered dining room table and the books and Gatorade bottles next to the bed aren't the mark of lazy gross people. It is interesting and intellectual. And it's that sentence I kept going back to, reading and rereading and chuckling.
"A Good and Happy Child" is the story of George Davies. A 30-something man who goes to his therapist because he is concerned about his inability to hold his newborn son. It's causing a strain in his relationship with his wife. In his first session, George confesses that he was in therapy as a tween, and the doctor suggests he fill notebooks with the story of what happened 20 years ago -- an era he has buried in his mind.
Back in the day, George was an awkward and unpopular child who's father had recently died. He begins "seeing" an apparition of a little boy, who tells him things about how his father died and instructs him on how to act. His mother, a skeptic, considers these hallucinations. His father's intellectual friends from the local university tell him that he is possessed by a demon. George begins investigating his father's life and finds that he was considered a mystic, and that he also had visions.
There is a standoff: After George, or rather "other George," cuts the brakes on the car of a family friend, he is sent to the psyche ward for evaluation. The doctors want to commit him. His father's friends want to perform an exorcism. George is in the latter camp, and when his mother forbids him to see his father's friends, things turn desperate -- both in the stories that fill the notebooks, and in the adult George's life.
This novel is written in a really quiet and precise Edgar Allen Poe voice. It's one of those "But nobody believes me" stories that are so stressful to read. And George's father's friends are a collection of fanatics that resemble a hooded cult in a 1990s made-for-TV movie. There are parts that drag -- where revisiting that early, favorite sentence kept me going. But the final third of the book is so satisfyingly creepy. And the ending is so terrific that a book I would ordinarily give three stars pushed itself to four.
July 12, 2020
Tutto inziò con un booktrailer, al seguente indirizzo,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkmykS...
...che mi presentò questo libro in maniera quasi più angosciante ed agghiacciante di quanto potesse fare il trailer di un film. E la scelta definitiva di comprarlo e leggerlo subito l'ha decretata il bel commento di un anobiano, che mi ha indirizzata verso la lettura giusta e mi ha aiutato a non crearmi false aspettative, quelle di trovare un tipico horror tutto demoni e brividi, come la trama e il trailer stesso potevano far presagire. O meglio, questa macabra vena demoniaca nel romanzo c'è, ma è la falsa e apparente componente attorno alla quale esso si costruisce.
Torbido, disturbante, dal fascino morboso, ”Il bambino che parlava con il diavolo” è principalmente la storia di un trauma psicologico infantile, quello del piccolo George, che, sconvolto dalla misteriosa e prematura morte del padre, comincia ad avere strane visioni e comportamenti inspiegabili. E' l'analisi di un dramma, la ricerca di una verità, la vicenda di un'ossessione, una storia di vendetta, odio e amore, soprattutto amore, quello nostalgico e rimpianto che lega George al padre morto e quello morboso e totalizzante che lo lega invece alla madre, la quale, nonostante il precipitare degli eventi e le diagnosi di amici esperti, è decisa a tenere il piccolo con sè. E onnipresente è l'ombra di questo amichetto cattivo e misterioso che sembra non lasciare libero George...sta al lettore, nelle ultime pagine, interpretare liberamente di cosa si tratta, io una mia interpretazione l'ho fatta ma non è detto sia quella che l'autore avesse in mente.
Così va letto questo romanzo, in bilico tra il thriller-horror visionario e il dramma psicologico (e in effetti credo che i lettori psicologi ne potrebbero trarre delle ottime riflessioni, basti pensare che il romanzo stesso è frutto di conversazioni tra il George adulto e uno psicologo, nonchè di "quaderni" da lui scritti sul suo trauma infantile).
Un po' noiosa e decisamente banale una breve parte a metà romanzo in cui Evans tenta la descrizione di un esorcismo al fine di spettacolarizzare e incupire il lettore...scontata e banale, appunto. Ma quanto al resto la lettura scorre piacevolmente e si arriva al finale curiosi di capire, anzi, di interpretare, la realtà dei fatti.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkmykS...
...che mi presentò questo libro in maniera quasi più angosciante ed agghiacciante di quanto potesse fare il trailer di un film. E la scelta definitiva di comprarlo e leggerlo subito l'ha decretata il bel commento di un anobiano, che mi ha indirizzata verso la lettura giusta e mi ha aiutato a non crearmi false aspettative, quelle di trovare un tipico horror tutto demoni e brividi, come la trama e il trailer stesso potevano far presagire. O meglio, questa macabra vena demoniaca nel romanzo c'è, ma è la falsa e apparente componente attorno alla quale esso si costruisce.
Torbido, disturbante, dal fascino morboso, ”Il bambino che parlava con il diavolo” è principalmente la storia di un trauma psicologico infantile, quello del piccolo George, che, sconvolto dalla misteriosa e prematura morte del padre, comincia ad avere strane visioni e comportamenti inspiegabili. E' l'analisi di un dramma, la ricerca di una verità, la vicenda di un'ossessione, una storia di vendetta, odio e amore, soprattutto amore, quello nostalgico e rimpianto che lega George al padre morto e quello morboso e totalizzante che lo lega invece alla madre, la quale, nonostante il precipitare degli eventi e le diagnosi di amici esperti, è decisa a tenere il piccolo con sè. E onnipresente è l'ombra di questo amichetto cattivo e misterioso che sembra non lasciare libero George...sta al lettore, nelle ultime pagine, interpretare liberamente di cosa si tratta, io una mia interpretazione l'ho fatta ma non è detto sia quella che l'autore avesse in mente.
Così va letto questo romanzo, in bilico tra il thriller-horror visionario e il dramma psicologico (e in effetti credo che i lettori psicologi ne potrebbero trarre delle ottime riflessioni, basti pensare che il romanzo stesso è frutto di conversazioni tra il George adulto e uno psicologo, nonchè di "quaderni" da lui scritti sul suo trauma infantile).
Un po' noiosa e decisamente banale una breve parte a metà romanzo in cui Evans tenta la descrizione di un esorcismo al fine di spettacolarizzare e incupire il lettore...scontata e banale, appunto. Ma quanto al resto la lettura scorre piacevolmente e si arriva al finale curiosi di capire, anzi, di interpretare, la realtà dei fatti.
November 3, 2009
Creeeeepy book. Raises some really good questions about modern psychology, mental health, religion, and the existence of demons in our world. It forces you to evaluate your ideas about logic/reason and emotion/faith.
Being the nerd that I am, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe--two female medieval mystics who both claimed to receive visions from God. So, the element of mysticism in this book really piqued my interest. I especially liked the idea that mysticism travels from parent to child.
This book really leaves you wondering and second guessing yourself. The fact that it is so very well researched leaves you wondering: What's really going on with George? Where does reality stop and imagination/mental illness begin? As we see this through George's blurry, adult lense, we are forced to decide for ourselves what is real. (Did I mention that I'm a big fan of authors who trust their readers to draw their own conclusions?)
Really, really good. 4.5 stars. Creepy as hell though. Not a feel-good-curl-up-with-a-mug-of-hot-chocolate book. More like a bite-your-nails-to-the-quick-and-leave-on-the-night-light kind of read.
Being the nerd that I am, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe--two female medieval mystics who both claimed to receive visions from God. So, the element of mysticism in this book really piqued my interest. I especially liked the idea that mysticism travels from parent to child.
This book really leaves you wondering and second guessing yourself. The fact that it is so very well researched leaves you wondering: What's really going on with George? Where does reality stop and imagination/mental illness begin? As we see this through George's blurry, adult lense, we are forced to decide for ourselves what is real. (Did I mention that I'm a big fan of authors who trust their readers to draw their own conclusions?)
Really, really good. 4.5 stars. Creepy as hell though. Not a feel-good-curl-up-with-a-mug-of-hot-chocolate book. More like a bite-your-nails-to-the-quick-and-leave-on-the-night-light kind of read.
August 16, 2007
A terrific read. Asks lots of questions about the validity of demonic possesion v/s modern psychology. Whether you get into the deeper metaphysical questions or not, it's still a pretty thrilling, spooky story. George, and his wife Maggie have just had a baby. George finds that he is incapable of picking the child up. He goes to a psychologist who asks him to start journalling. Through George's journals, we get the story of his father's death, and the aftermath. George is eleven when his father dies, and he begins having visions of a "Friend." The visions get weirder and spookier as the book goes on. His child psychiatrist wants to put him in long term care, his father's best friends want to perform an exorcism. Eleven year old George doesn't know what to think. The book flashes between the journals and the present day, and is written in a very matter of fact kind of way. Really good and very interesting.
January 4, 2024
I finished this book within a 24 hour period. I. was. hooked.
It is unknown whether the narrators childhood was dictated by madness, or demons. I found that the ambiguity of the sanity of the protagonist was a really effective way of keeping the reader engaged. The story unravelled at such a pace that I was genuinely anxious to put the book down.
As a fan of psychological thriller / gothic horror, I couldn’t recommend this book enough. It really is unlike anything I’ve read so far.
I will be looking at other novels by this author. Very impressed.
It is unknown whether the narrators childhood was dictated by madness, or demons. I found that the ambiguity of the sanity of the protagonist was a really effective way of keeping the reader engaged. The story unravelled at such a pace that I was genuinely anxious to put the book down.
As a fan of psychological thriller / gothic horror, I couldn’t recommend this book enough. It really is unlike anything I’ve read so far.
I will be looking at other novels by this author. Very impressed.
May 31, 2021
Thrilling and disturbing. The story keeps you guessing, and has an insidious creepiness that gets under your skin and lingers. Brrr.
November 27, 2023
3,5/5
Ufa! Terminei! Foram 15 dias de viagens de comboio entre casa e trabalho que entrei à descoberta deste "O Rapaz que falava com o Diabo". Foi também esta a minha primeira interação literária com Justin Evans e termino com a sensação de que foi uma boa leitura ainda que sentisse que poderia ter sido mais memorável.
George Davis não imaginaria que quando tivesse um filho não o conseguisse pegar ao colo. É esta a base de toda a ação. Inicia-se um processo de descoberta pelo passado de George, através das suas consultas com a sua psicoterapeuta, no sentido de conseguir entender as motivações desta dificuldade de aproximação ao filho, bem como da origem de todo o processo traumático que amedronta este comportamento paternalista. Esta busca por soluções é a cada instância mais urgente dado que coloca um relacionamento amoroso em risco de ruir.
Evans leva-nos ao passado de Davis, nomeadamente até à sua adolescência, marcada pela perda do seu pai, professor universitário e escritor de um livro que terá muita relevância para a história. Este jovem, no seu processo difícil de luta, começa a experienciar episódios místicos - nomeadamente o vislumbre de um ser que nos é apresentado como o Diabo - com o qual tem as mais diversas conversas. A história ruma num sentido em que estas alucinações assumem um caráter patológico para uma parte da sua família e um caráter medieval-religioso para amigos da família.
Considero que o mais interessante de todo o livro é a dúvida que a todo o momento nos colocamos: por um lado, toda a espiritualidade dos acontecimentos vividos por George; por outro o lado científico e a noção de que lemos episódios meramente psicóticos.
Acho que há, ainda assim, algumas falhas no livro: uma delas é... de que forma é que a história pode avançar tão pouco entre "surtos" ou "conexões místicas" de George numa fase inicial e, de repente, somos transportados para George já adulto e a lembrar do seu último episódio como sendo aquele que teve com o novo namorado da mãe.
Por outro lado gostaria de entender como cresceu este adolescente e como superou todo o processo traumático.
Ainda assim valeu a pena ter lido!
Ufa! Terminei! Foram 15 dias de viagens de comboio entre casa e trabalho que entrei à descoberta deste "O Rapaz que falava com o Diabo". Foi também esta a minha primeira interação literária com Justin Evans e termino com a sensação de que foi uma boa leitura ainda que sentisse que poderia ter sido mais memorável.
George Davis não imaginaria que quando tivesse um filho não o conseguisse pegar ao colo. É esta a base de toda a ação. Inicia-se um processo de descoberta pelo passado de George, através das suas consultas com a sua psicoterapeuta, no sentido de conseguir entender as motivações desta dificuldade de aproximação ao filho, bem como da origem de todo o processo traumático que amedronta este comportamento paternalista. Esta busca por soluções é a cada instância mais urgente dado que coloca um relacionamento amoroso em risco de ruir.
Evans leva-nos ao passado de Davis, nomeadamente até à sua adolescência, marcada pela perda do seu pai, professor universitário e escritor de um livro que terá muita relevância para a história. Este jovem, no seu processo difícil de luta, começa a experienciar episódios místicos - nomeadamente o vislumbre de um ser que nos é apresentado como o Diabo - com o qual tem as mais diversas conversas. A história ruma num sentido em que estas alucinações assumem um caráter patológico para uma parte da sua família e um caráter medieval-religioso para amigos da família.
Considero que o mais interessante de todo o livro é a dúvida que a todo o momento nos colocamos: por um lado, toda a espiritualidade dos acontecimentos vividos por George; por outro o lado científico e a noção de que lemos episódios meramente psicóticos.
Acho que há, ainda assim, algumas falhas no livro: uma delas é... de que forma é que a história pode avançar tão pouco entre "surtos" ou "conexões místicas" de George numa fase inicial e, de repente, somos transportados para George já adulto e a lembrar do seu último episódio como sendo aquele que teve com o novo namorado da mãe.
Por outro lado gostaria de entender como cresceu este adolescente e como superou todo o processo traumático.
Ainda assim valeu a pena ter lido!
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