This isn’t a new review, though it is making its Substack debut. It was originally posted to my old Goodreads profile in February 22, 2020. I hope you enjoy it.
**
There have been a number of comparisons to The Exorcist. Those comparisons are certainly valid. But unlike the classic 1971 novel, Glenn Rolfe adamantly defied the norm. At the same time, he challenged--both himself and the audience-- what it meant to tell a possession story. In other words, how do you define the sub-genre? Clearly coming-of-age, the Maine native went on to explore the human condition. What does it actually mean to be a human being in our post-Y2K culture? Are we as obsessed with the Apocalypse and death; with malaise and brokenness, as we seem to be?
Essentially, it was a story intended for everyone. Yet, given its genre and graphic, unwholesome content, only a relative select few will probably ever read it. And I think that’s a shame. The Window shouldn’t just be read, it’s a captivating narrative to be EXPERIENCED.James imagined there being a tree at the center of town which had roots that led to each and every home surrounding it, giving nutrition to every citizen, young and old, in exchange for micro-fractions of their souls. The tree of life, giving and taking something day in and day out, leaving a change in its hosts. Maybe they were half-souls, people that couldn’t feel all the way, coming across almost alien, emotions off-center, like people trying too hard to be normal.
It was so much more than demonic possession, though that obviously played a big part. There were elements of love, regret, yearning, infidelity, religion, folklore, and the innocence of childhood. Or rather, the direct opposite of innocence. Trauma. There was more to it than all that, even.
In fact, the possession element itself was nearly secondary to the very heart of the tale, which was the kids: James, Carrie, Eric, and Kevin. They were atypical teenagers, fully intent on having fun and hanging out, making the most of every experience: going to the movies and sharing laughter, even the occasional shedding of tears. Or crashing your best friend’s pool party, dealing with neighborhood bullies, and getting around town on bicycles, as opposed to throwing a temper-tantrum about not being catered to. Or, lest we forget, ridiculing each other for something wholly beyond their control, which was a horror all its own. It was downright mortifying.She leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her like it was one of their last—long and sweet, and full of some sort of premonition. A premonition that each kiss was numbered. That each touch, each minute together, was counting down until they had none left. Summer was like that, especially in August. Edna was right. They should enjoy it and hold onto this as close and as tight as they could while they had it.
I hope this doesn’t give anyone the impression that they were wholly self-involved or apathetic toward others. They weren’t. That was my initial impression, but as time went on and I grew to know and adore these kids more and more, I realized that they had a lot of compassion for those they cared about. There was much depth and strength there. They would fight valiantly for them in any manner possible. There was an unspoken love and admiration for one another. I haven’t seen many authors pull this off with such ease and panache, for which Glenn Rolfe should be applauded, but I hope to discover similar author’s in the future. In their distinctive POV sections was a relatability and vulnerability that was very appealing, almost like the quartet he wrote about with such affection were based on real life people. I really got the sense that I knew them, as if I’d known them for years.
If the author ever writes a companion book, detailing their post-Window adventures, I’d totally be on board for it.
As I alluded to before, this wasn’t your ordinary possession story. It was sick and twisted and compulsively readable, all in the best ways possible. As such, the words flew by, further intensifying the creepy, disturbing, fun factors. I love this book so much.
And not to spoil too much, but there was a lot of sexual innuendo and other explicit scenes throughout. Please don’t misunderstand me. I totally get why Rolfe included them, which was effective; however, I don’t think the abundance of sex was entirely necessary. If I were writing a similar book, I might maybe use the tantalizing appeal of promiscuity as a starting point, but then move it in another direction, in ways that ensured a more significant escalation of plot. I think that’s what I wanted more of than anything else. I’d like to add that these constructive criticisms weren’t given because I’m a person of faith, or because I’m a prude. I’m not prudish, but I can see how others might take it that way. Rather, I was expecting Rolfe to defy the norm further, to present something that wasn’t such a cliché. Sex sells, I completely concede the point. I can’t fault the logic there, especially from the viewpoint of Sanikus and Domineus. Nevertheless, the perpetual reality of it eventually became too repetitive; even grating at times.
Said critiques notwithstanding, a fascinating folklore regarding their demonology was revealed, and I couldn’t have been more pleased. Even more interesting was its presentation, which further emphasized Rolfe’s already impressive use of pop-culture. The nod to Creepy Pasta was a nice touch. Their folklore, or mythology, was sufficient, no doubt about it. I wanted more, though. Much, much more. Furthermore, I’d love an accompanying story, detailing their immense history. Be it a short story, novella, or full-fledged novel, it doesn’t matter. As long as it does their story justice.The reflection that stared back, the boy, had no eyes.
Rolfe also managed to make me care about the antagonists, which I never would’ve believed possible. Yet somehow, he did. My heart broke, in fact, for Kyrus. My GOSH, that was agonizing. Like I said, I want more of their history. Scratch that, I need it.
Speaking of heartbreak, the culmination of Alison’s and Richie’s characters immensely saddened me. Particularly Alison’s, but Richie’s, too, for other reasons.
Other than the abundance of sex, minor typos here and there, and the denouement itself, there were very few flaws. In a unique turn of events, the ending was equally satisfying and inexplicably underwhelming. It felt too easy. The fact that it didn’t at all involve clerical intervention, as in The Exorcist, was quite refreshing. Where most possession stories revolve around special effects—in the written word as well as films and television—Rolfe’s concentrated on the emotional impact. That went a long way in showcasing the change in these characters. They showed a maturity and wisdom beyond their years.
I'm really eager to read the next Glenn Rolfe book.Rating: 4/5 stars
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Have you read this one, William?