What? A book review???
Yes. Because I love this book. It’s been a long time since I found a book I actually didn’t want to put down. A long time. For some reason I’ve recently become horrendously picky about everything I read to the point I throw even Jim Butcher across the room. (For good reason. But that’s another rant.)
Anyway, I’ll be brief. Here’s the book in question:
I don’t think it’s released in the U.S. yet, but Nathan got a copy and I borrowed it from him and I loved it and I wish I owned it now. Mr. Monster is the second book in Dan Wells’s Serial Killer trilogy (is that even what it’s called?) and it was gripping from page one to the last word in the BEST ENDING the book could have had. Really. The ending of this book was the best thing of my literature year. Beautiful.
The first book is called I Am NOT a Serial Killer, and the third, which isn’t released yet, will be titled, I Don’t Want to Kill You. The first book is really good, the second is even better. I have high hopes for the third.
For those of you who haven’t heard of the series, it’s about 15-year-old John Cleaver, a sociopath with all the indicators of becoming a serial killer.* Not only that, he’s obsessed with serial killers—he’s a freaking Wikipedia on them. However, he has strict rules he forces himself to follow so he doesn’t become like the killers he reads about.
However, this all changes when a serial killer comes to his home town. Then things get awesome.
Should you read it? Yes. Even if you’re squeamish. (Some of the detailing in the morgue scenes made my stomach churn.) It’s a classified YA, but it really pushes the boundaries. Which I like.
Liked so much that I actually stalked the author on Facebook so I could tell him. He doesn’t have a reader comment section on his site. (Disclaimer: I do not recommend stalking authors, even if they’re nice ones.)
Excerpt of the day:
“Just think about it,” she breathed. “What if you’re more than you think you are? What if you really have divine potential? Think of all the people you could save. . .”
“All the people I could damn,” Esrov whispered, barely hearing himself. “Heaven, hell, afterlife? I don’t understand any of it. None of this makes sense!” he withdrew his hand, but Father Alrith did not stand.
The Raimos, chapter 24
*Pyromania, cruelty to animals, and bed-wetting.