There is the self-aware, post-modernist work in which a well-known anthologist gets savagely schooled by a contributor about what constitutes "The Best in Modern Horror," the unsettling tale about the effect of family disguises and games on a son ("My Father's Mask"), the powerful, sustained novella about an autistic brother who can construct marvelous, imprisoning labyrinths, a story which never loses its horror or its humanity ("Voluntary Committal"), or the masterpiece-I do not use the term lightly-about an "inflatable" childhood friend ("Pop Art") that has something to teach every reader about disability and transcendence. And then there are times when Hill's writing is so good that comparisons don't arise. Hill, the son of Stephen King, inherits his father's empathy for the ordeals of childhood as well as his artfulness in constructing a tale, but he also possesses a warmth and an elegance all his own.Īt times his stories are chilling and gripping like the horror fiction of King ("The Black Phone"), but at other times they are gentle and elegiac like Bradbury ("Better Than Home") or quirky and humorous like Vonnegut ("Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead").
Seldom does a collection of weird stories feature a style so accomplished, a range of tone and mood so broad, or a generosity so profound.
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