Last Days
in a nutshell: An intelligent but mentally checked-out detective is kidnapped by a cult and taken to their compound, where it is demanded that he solve the mystery of their leader's murder, but the murder seems fishy, and this cult is nutso (moreso than most cults) and the detective's will to live was tenuous to begin with so he really doesn't need this shit right now but has no other option otherwise the cult will literally chop his head off. So.
the vibes: Fargo-ass villains who grow on you with their comedic bickering, meandering about their violent duties in an Ari Aster-approved cult that is steadily revealed to be creepier and creepier with every newfound bit of information, dragging along a true detective who is now so grizzled he may not even realize just how dangerous of a situation he's found himself in. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.
main themes: Sacrifice, absence being more substantial than presence, messianic bullshit, the power of higher callings, the lucidity one achieves once you are well and truly out of fucks to give, survival for survival's sake.
the writing: The intro to this book is penned by a professor who taught a writing course for Columbia's MFA program, and came upon Brian Evenson's work when his students repeatedly brought him up as a writer they admired. I mention that because, Evenson's style really does stand out: strikingly sparse yet evocative, quick-paced and efficient. He enters a scene and finishes it in a way that leaves no fat on the bone. Not to suggest this economic way of writing would leave the story lacking; if anything, it makes it that much more immersive. I picked this book up and it felt as though I were falling into step with brisk walkers who were already on their way, breathlessly telling me that I've arrived just in time, and c'mon pick up the pace we're in motion, babe!
Mr. Kline, our beleaguered hero of this tale, finds himself stolen by acolytes of a bizarre cult and ferried away to their isolated compound in the woods. He is more irritated than perturbed by this development. The cult makes demands of him, then obscures any attempts he makes at fulfilling his end of their bargain. What the heck. He begrudgingly makes pals with his doofus-ass captors, who both admittedly have taken a shine to him as well, and kinda surrenders to the flow of it all. This flow steadily picks up speed and soon enough he is awash in blood, mayhem, vengeance, more blood, backstabbing, and great balls of fire.
This tale is an absolute romp, if a romp can be gory and depraved as all hell. I don't want to give away details of the cult because the drip drop rhythm of revelations in this story are far more fun to experience blind. I did know before reading that Part 1 of the book was previously published as a stand-alone novella, and I feel that portion is deeply satisfying on its own. The subsequent part took me a little longer to get into, but once the ball was rolling I was invested and down for the ride, baby. I feel confident when I say, you will not see what is coming next.