The Thief of Always by Clive Barker
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is my second read, but I'm doing it decades apart. It's really strange. I kinda feel like I'm Harvey.
Not bored. Definitely not as bored as him, or nearly as gullible or enticed by a house of holidays, myth, or changed children. But I do really feel the underscored notion that you really can't go home again.
But you sure can wish for it.
And if you can pay the price...
Ah, honestly, I was always really surprised by how this particular Clive Barker book subverted all my expectations. I mean, the guy gave me Pinhead. Books of Blood. Some of the best, most horrific monsters of the related horror genres. But out of the blue, here I am, reading a YA bursting with a mild but very creative mythos, lost children's souls, and such sweet promises.
I loved it back then, utterly shocked by the conflict I was faced with, and I loved it now, thinking fondly of all the most gorgeous epic coming-of-age horror novels of the '80s. You know, the big ones, the epic ones. Like It, or A Boy's Life. Or even better, and through a side-eye, at the space where Neil Gaiman would take in my heart with Sandman. And yes, the similarities are very much there. So lovely!
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