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NOS4A2 by Joe Hill
In 1980s New Hampshire, a little girl discovers that she has the ability to ride her bike across a covered bridge to find any lost thing, anywhere in the world - at a cost. Meanwhile, a serial killer who preys on children can also take himself in and out of the world in a similar kind of way in a Rolls Royce with the license plate NOS4A2. Inevitably they're going to crash into each other.
I bought this after being sold by the first few pages, and I found the first, oh, third or so of the book incredibly gripping, very twisty and mysterious with wonderful descriptions of 1980s/90s small-town childhood and people grappling with their powers, which come with both soaring highs and terrible lows. The climax was also very good. And in between, there is the middle. I remember thinking around the midpoint of the book that if we've hit this point in the plot already, what's going to happen in the rest of the book? Well, there sure is a lot of it, depressing to the point of feeling in places like misery porn. I read most of the book yesterday, but put it down in the middle of what should have been a gripping action sequence because I just couldn't handle the combination of the villain's absolutely awful viewpoint and the protagonist getting the shit kicked out of her physically and emotionally for the past 200 pages.
But then when I picked it up again this evening, once I slogged onward through a little more of that, the climax turned out to be very good and the ending actually made me cry a little. I feel like it could have stood to be about a third shorter, not necessarily because any specific part of the sequence of events wasn't potentially interesting on its own, but because the cumulative effect of all of it was really hard to take and started to feel repetitive after a while. I don't think we needed quite that much of serial killer POV, meeting interesting people only to have them die, and the heroine being in and out of mental hospitals, being a terrible mom, and getting beat up.
But I liked the ending enough that my overall feelings on the book are very positive! Just ... there was a lot of middle.
I also feel like I need to mention that my used copy of the book had a bookstore receipt (for this book) tucked into it from Bangor, Maine, which under the circumstances feels like it should be the start of another book in this one's genre.
I think part of my overall positive feeling about the book's ending was because I was 100% sure that Lou was going to die, and he didn't! He had a stealth role coming out of nowhere to be my side favorite despite seeming to be a throwaway character at first, while also being absolutely not the kind of person who typically ends up in a protagonist role in an action book (a morbidly obese, tenderhearted mechanic with an enormously nerdy side who frequently quotes comics, Star Wars, etc). But he's just so sweet and brave, and I love that a) he's the main love interest and this never really wavers, and b) part of his arc tends to involve everyone else in his life initially discounting him and then learning to appreciate him too. Also the sheer number of times the book had me convinced that he was going to die, or had just died, plus the generally high body count otherwise, made his eventual survival very much appreciated.
Also, this book makes excellent use of Chekhov's explosives, as well as Chekhov's (literal) gun.
The general concept of the powers taking a toll that specifically chips away at the core of a person's identity every time they're used was fantastically cool and creepy, and I really thought early on that the book was going to be more about a diverse group of people dealing with their powers and the corresponding side effects than it turned out to be. (I mean, it sort of is, but it's also focused extremely heavily on one character, and the toll that it takes isn't evidently connected to her powers; a lot of what happens could have happened anyway.) The one who was particularly affecting is Maggie, the wordsmith who loses a little of her verbal ability every time she uses Scrabble tiles to answer a question ("I didn't always stutter" is such a perfectly timed gut-punch), until she can barely talk at all. I'm far more deeply struck by that type of subtle horror than the gorier aspects of the serial killer plot, although the pocket-universe car was admittedly very creepy.
I bought this after being sold by the first few pages, and I found the first, oh, third or so of the book incredibly gripping, very twisty and mysterious with wonderful descriptions of 1980s/90s small-town childhood and people grappling with their powers, which come with both soaring highs and terrible lows. The climax was also very good. And in between, there is the middle. I remember thinking around the midpoint of the book that if we've hit this point in the plot already, what's going to happen in the rest of the book? Well, there sure is a lot of it, depressing to the point of feeling in places like misery porn. I read most of the book yesterday, but put it down in the middle of what should have been a gripping action sequence because I just couldn't handle the combination of the villain's absolutely awful viewpoint and the protagonist getting the shit kicked out of her physically and emotionally for the past 200 pages.
But then when I picked it up again this evening, once I slogged onward through a little more of that, the climax turned out to be very good and the ending actually made me cry a little. I feel like it could have stood to be about a third shorter, not necessarily because any specific part of the sequence of events wasn't potentially interesting on its own, but because the cumulative effect of all of it was really hard to take and started to feel repetitive after a while. I don't think we needed quite that much of serial killer POV, meeting interesting people only to have them die, and the heroine being in and out of mental hospitals, being a terrible mom, and getting beat up.
But I liked the ending enough that my overall feelings on the book are very positive! Just ... there was a lot of middle.
I also feel like I need to mention that my used copy of the book had a bookstore receipt (for this book) tucked into it from Bangor, Maine, which under the circumstances feels like it should be the start of another book in this one's genre.
I think part of my overall positive feeling about the book's ending was because I was 100% sure that Lou was going to die, and he didn't! He had a stealth role coming out of nowhere to be my side favorite despite seeming to be a throwaway character at first, while also being absolutely not the kind of person who typically ends up in a protagonist role in an action book (a morbidly obese, tenderhearted mechanic with an enormously nerdy side who frequently quotes comics, Star Wars, etc). But he's just so sweet and brave, and I love that a) he's the main love interest and this never really wavers, and b) part of his arc tends to involve everyone else in his life initially discounting him and then learning to appreciate him too. Also the sheer number of times the book had me convinced that he was going to die, or had just died, plus the generally high body count otherwise, made his eventual survival very much appreciated.
Also, this book makes excellent use of Chekhov's explosives, as well as Chekhov's (literal) gun.
The general concept of the powers taking a toll that specifically chips away at the core of a person's identity every time they're used was fantastically cool and creepy, and I really thought early on that the book was going to be more about a diverse group of people dealing with their powers and the corresponding side effects than it turned out to be. (I mean, it sort of is, but it's also focused extremely heavily on one character, and the toll that it takes isn't evidently connected to her powers; a lot of what happens could have happened anyway.) The one who was particularly affecting is Maggie, the wordsmith who loses a little of her verbal ability every time she uses Scrabble tiles to answer a question ("I didn't always stutter" is such a perfectly timed gut-punch), until she can barely talk at all. I'm far more deeply struck by that type of subtle horror than the gorier aspects of the serial killer plot, although the pocket-universe car was admittedly very creepy.
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too muchalmost any amount of time in the POV of the Truly Awful Villain falls into "No, thank you" territory.I'm currently reading Lonesome Dove for the first time, which is depressing in its own way. But so far the villain is mostly toxic masculinity, so...
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I really loved the Lonesome Dove miniseries, but never read the book!
NOS4A2
Re: NOS4A2
Who (or what) gets the little bit of the person's core each time, and are those bits somehow sustaining it?
We don't know. It seems to be more of a cosmic-scales-balancing kind of thing than something actually taking it, kind of a "you don't get something for nothing" situation. But there's no actual explanation given in the book for why people get powers or how it works; it just seems to be something that happens to people sometimes.
Re: NOS4A2
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eeeeek