Ghost Road Blues, by Jonathan Maberry

I’m beginning to think I just don’t like horror/thriller type books, because what I’ve read so far in the genre has been flat out terrible. But trust me, I love my horror.

Ghost Road Blues was a really bad book. It was cheesy, sexist, cliche, boring and didn’t even start until it set up a sequel a few chapters from the end. You could read any one sentence and immediately know this book was written by a man, making the author much too visible throughout the story.

The women like to faint and scream, and the men like to either beat the women or be the prince charming protector (Depending on whether they’re a good guy or not, and trust me, it’s easy to tell–because everyone is flatly, securely and obviously one or the other).

The setting is so flat, it made me cringe. 90% of the book takes place during a thunderstorm. The rest of the time the author can’t seem to decide if he is in a tourist town or a farming town. No reason it couldn’t be both, yet he doesn’t integrate these options and only refers to the town in terms of one or the other at a time.

The cliches, oh the cliches. “Night birds” fly around everywhere, omening evil (yup, just used omen as a verb). Every evil character has a raspy voice and dead eyes. At one point a characters falls to her knees in the mud after an emotional event, and, I kid you not, stares up into the aforementioned thunderstorm and yells, “Nooooooooo!”   The grand secret that is revealed far too late in the novel actually makes the story worse and more cliche.

I could go on, but to keep it brief and distill this review’s essence: There was nothing redeeming about this book.

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