A 1991 paperback “horror” pot-boiler about sinister old women moving in next door in an apple-pie American town right out of May berry.
A 1991 paperback “horror” pot-boiler about sinister old women moving in next door in an apple-pie American town right out of May berry, bizarre and increasingly disturbing behavior occurring furtively, growing suspicions that no one else believes, rumors of violently sacrificed young children, erotically hypnotized husbands, increasingly incredulous wives, sad ghosts, depraved witches, evil butchery, satanic ceremonies, bloody sacrifices, lesbianism (non-bloody), ancient arcane rites. What are you doing in my bed in the middle of the night! And with no clothes on! And looking like you did in 1958!
Sorry, dozed off there for a minute. If that sounds like the ingredients to every other low-rent “horror” paperback pot-boiler you’ve read over the past 30 or more years, you’re right. “Neighbors” is not well written, the plot veers from illogical to absurd, the characters are one-dimensional stereotypes, and it’ll be something you’ve forgotten 10 minutes after you’ve read it, in spite of the blood and gore. If you get beyond the first chapter, that is. If you don’t get beyond the first chapter, you can forget about it even sooner.
Still, to be as positive about it as I can be, it actually wasn’t as boring as I’ve implied. I was able to finish the book with relatively little discomfort, it was…absurd and as silly as it definitely was…occasionally entertaining (in the way crummy horror comics from the early 1970’s were entertaining), and it was better than anything I’ve read by Dean Koontz.And Koontz is one of the most popular writers in America today, while Pusti is unknown. Which isn’t any kind of epic, cosmic tragedy, of course. I’d really be disturbed if Ms. Pusti (if she’s still writing) became one of America’s most popular writers. That Koontz is…well…it may not be a tragedy of epic, cosmic proportions, but as far as the state of American culture goes, it’s still a tragedy.