Hunter Beaumont has led a sheltered life. When he was five years old, he witnessed his parents’ murders while on a camping trip, and was taken in by his grandmother to be raised. She protected Hunter from such horrors as long as she could, arranging for him to privately tutored and never leaving him alone. Now, she’s dead, and Hunter is forced to face life on his own, with all the wealth he’s inherited from her. She had only one request – for him to burn Beaumont House. He learns from her lawyer that it’s an abandoned family property in the middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin, but after viewing it, Hunter decides – in spite of the odd sensations of being watched and other occurrences while he’s there – that it’s perfect for him to live in, since he wants to leave Chicago. From that moment on, his life changes, and he starts to question his own sanity all too quickly.
I’ve known since I picked up my first Rick Reed novella that he wrote horror, but until this point, hadn’t read any of it. I’ve always been drawn to his vulnerable characters and vivid descriptions, and while those are definitely to be found in this, as a whole it never quite rose to the same level as other works I’ve read by him.
The fault doesn’t lie with the story itself. It starts out strong, with the reader introduced to Hunter as his grandmother is passing away from cancer. Right away, we know how protected he is. Ian, the lawyer, wants to take away all the responsibilities of the inheritance and just get Hunter set up in a nice Lake Shore property with a nice annual income to live out his life. Jay, the doctor, seems determined to introduce Hunter to what it means to have a social life, being there when he needs him only a little or a whole lot. Hunter is torn between two extremes. On one hand, he’s used to being taken care of. He doesn’t have a lot of exposure to the world without someone there to hold his hand, and having these crutches is both easy and helpful. On the other, he wants to assert his independence, and this same coddling can feel stifling more than once. It causes him to balk several times, especially with Ian and in regards to the Beaumont House. This dichotomy epitomizes Hunter’s actions throughout the entire novel. It creates a rather schizophrenic effect with him, making him appear flighty and capricious more than once when his conflicting drives struggle for dominance. At times, his reliability as a narrator – though not all of the book is told in his POV, the majority of it is – comes into question as a result. I found myself questioning whether or not I could trust his judgment at all, which only added to the tension the rest of the plot generated. You might think he’s fragile, and in some ways he is, but throughout it all, he surprises the reader with bursts of strength. It’s just not very inconsistent.
As for other characters, Beaumont House itself is the most driving force of the entire novel. Its creepy atmosphere and grotesqueries are on display from the prologue, into Hunter’s first visit, and then permeating every page and pore of the rest of the story. It slowly builds from the rather innocuous first encounter, to an explosive, horrifying ending. In many ways, it overshadows everyone else, including Michael, Hunter’s friendly neighbor. Michael suffers, not only because he’s a nice guy, but also because much of the reader’s perception of him is filtered through Hunter’s unreliable gaze. I’d like to say that he’s a fully rounded character, but I just can’t be sure, given the presentation.
My difficulties in rating this story as high as other work I’ve read by this author rests solely on the editing. Some of the most surefire ways to yank me out of a story are spelling mistakes, continuity errors, or typos. My brain trips on them, but if there’s only a couple, I can usually find my footing again and sink back into the experience. The more there are, the worse it gets, until I just can’t sink back in at all. Unfortunately, that was the case here. It started early. Mistakes like, "Hunter was moving up to kiss him, positioning himself between Hunter’s legs," and "I don’t thing I was all that standoffish," are typical, and happen too often. I didn’t find this with the author’s work at another publisher, so I’m assuming it has to do with whoever his editor is at MLR, but it effectively blunted my enjoyment of what could have been a really scary book. Other readers might not have the same problems with the errors as I did, especially those that might just skim. It’s still an incredibly atmospheric piece of work, and if you like graphic horror, this is definitely something to look at.
One word of warning. There is at least one scene of a sexual assault (I say at least, because I find myself waffling whether or not to include what happens with Hunter in his encounters at the house) that might disturb more sensitive readers. It is not carried through to completion, however, the psychological effects of it linger long into the book.