I honestly thought I was going to utterly love this book. For several reasons.

First is, there are a couple of Bookstagrammers I know who count this either as their all-time favourite horror novel, or count it in their top reads.

The second reason was that I'd quite enjoyed meeting the author. Wonderful guy, and he's the primary reason I purchased the novel at the same time.

And the final reason is, because it started out very strong. Unfortunately—and I'm going to focus the blame solely on me here—is that the ongoing story didn't capture me as I thought it would as it progressed.

Overall, the story is an interesting one, with both some really well-drawn characters that I learned to care for, and some exceptionally creepy and well-written scenes of horror. The author also did a great job of tying the characters together in unexpected, yet meaningful ways. And, there's also the central mystery of the buried iron box as well.

So, all the elements are there for a really good horror novel. And, while some of the author interjections throughout the story and between the time jumps felt a bit jarring, again, he managed to tie it together toward the end. That being said, I did find that those sections really pulled me out of the main story, more than I should have been.

But if there's a central aspect to the story that limited my enjoyment, I believe it was the excessively large cast, and the minutiae to which we experienced every aspect of their lives, whether it fed the characterization or the plot, or not.

There was just...too much of the daily stuff, and I felt it slowed the story down two much or, at times, obscured it altogether. I guess you could say, between that and the author interjections, I found myself continually losing the plot.

I understand the story the author was telling and it's a good one, an important one, and it should be told. Again and again.

But for me, as well as understanding and experiencing the underlying thematic elements, I still want to be entertained, and unfortunately, as the novel progressed, I was less and less entertained.

Not a bad book, and one I'm quite glad I read, and obviously others get more out of it than I did. Which is good, because this novel actually does deserve to find its audience. ( )

As much a study of horror as a genre as it is a queer horror story. Demchuk goes Vonnegut and inserts himself and real historical events into the story. This left me with questions but I felt like that was done purposefully. It was graphic, gory, and creepy, but also highlighted the strength, resilience and interconnectedness of the queer community in a unique way. Just wow! ( )

There are some books which can only be described as 'being an experience'...and this is one of them. For me, reading this book felt more like living through something than sinking into a book, and I mean that in the best way possible, as well as the darkest.

I remember seeing the cover of this book and thinking it felt like a warning--kind of like the poison stickers you see on dangerous substances one might find around the average house, warning children/people away from being too careless. Now, having read the book, I'd say that's an apt impression, and one not to take too lightly. There's real trauma in this book--both lived and remembered, out of history as well as imagined--and it is, very simply, not an easy read. From the images, to the themes, to the very real attention to the trauma and difficulties endured by the LGBTQA community (especially during the HIV/AIDS crisis), Demchuk doesn't hesitate to explore the darkest corners of recent related history while weaving this tale, and the results are impressive. His integration of his own history/memoir into the work makes it all the more powerful and other-worldly, and is one of the key elements that elevates this book into an experience that has the power to affect a reader on a level which, at least for me, isn't often achieved. Not, at least, quite like this.

To Demchuk's credit, there's no shock value here, shocking as some of the events are. There's no wallowing in trauma, mystery, horror, or even the darkest images. All of these things simply *are*, existing as they must in the world of the book. As a result, the book has a certain reality to it--gorgeous as the writing it is, it often doesn't feel like fiction. And again, I mean that in the best, darkest way possible.

This isn't going to be a book for all readers, but all readers who are even remotely tempted by it should absolutely pick it up. I'll be reading everything Demchuk writes from here on out. ( )

This is a horror story about men mysteriously disappearing from Toronto's gay village, reflecting real-life events that happened in the city. I found this book deeply disturbing and provocative. I recommend it with reservations, as it's quite graphic and the format is unusual, but wow, Demchuk sure can write suspenseful scenes! Maybe that is not so surprising, as Demchuk is also a screenwriter for television and film.

This is one of the books nominated for the 2022 Aurora Best Novel novel, for Canadian SFF. ( )