I read this book in the summer of 2022, the summer of the Uvalde massacre and the overturning of Roe v. Wade, because I wanted to understand the minds of child abusers and in turn the minds of those who abused me as a child. I feel like I've read the darkest diaries of the sweaty, bald guy with bifocals and a mustache who stared too long when I'd play with the other kids in the street. No book has ever drained and disturbed me like this one; none after this ever will. I don't recommend it to any casual reader. Anyone who takes pleasure in it can sod off. Those who seek to overcome trauma by poking at it with a rusty knife and getting inside the heads of the demons themselves will find a valuable "anatomy of hell," and it's a potent work of 90s hauntology for those who remember names like JonBenet Ramsey and Adam Walsh. Still, no way I can give something this depraved more than 1 star.
Edit: in just over two weeks, it will be a year since Uvalde shook me to the core and introduced me to a writer so brilliant at describing evil that he could be the Devil himself. I am writing a term paper on Peter Sotos, and having lost a professor to cancer, almost losing my mother to a heart attack, and having made serious but positive progress in therapy, I'm curious to revisit Proxy - I won't force myself to read it like last time, but will read casually when I have time. I promise to write an updated review when done.