My Pretties by Jeff Strand
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Jeff Strand’s My Pretties is awfully damn vile. It reminds me of, say, the early or middle period of Dean Koontz’s novels, which is a compliment because I love his novels The Vision and Intensity. Imagine those books with a slight dash of John Hughes movies. Like those books, there’s a sickness that seems to run through it, which will turn off most people who aren’t used to horror in the extreme, and it's told in a light, breezy tone, as John Hughes would. However, if you’re accustomed to subtler, eerie, atmospheric dread without all the details, letting your imagination fill in the blanks, then this is not the book for you. However, if you enjoy gore, POS characters who like to watch their victims suffer excruciating pain before they die…well, you hit the motherload here!
Strand’s book is fun and flippant about its subject, as he is in nearly all of his books. Even though the plot of My Pretties isn’t particularly original, with a character’s loved one snatched by a serial killer and who prioritizes finding the perpetrator, the way the story is told makes it interesting, even if it’s not always compelling. And boy, is it told, rather than shown, but if it works, then why use that shown writing advice?
One can and should break rules in certain situations and styles.
Now, there is not one killer in this book but three, of absolutely sick fucks: a whole damn family! And if you take away their propensity for murder and cruelty, they act like a damn family. These people aren’t stupid (okay, the kid is a little stupid, but kids can learn and grow, even if it’s about how to torture and kill someone). They plan their murders, taking every precaution not to get caught, using modern means to stalk their character and have a flair for manipulation.
The father, Ken, likes to kidnap women, hang them in cages, and watch them starve to death.
His wife, Vivian, is a reformed serial killer who likes to pick up men and stab them to death after sex, but she is jealous of Ken, not allowing him to have sex with any of his victims. She wants to pick up her old habits again.
Their son Jared likes pot, video games, hates school, and there are hints that he tortures animals. Also, he wants to learn the family business.
I will not be joining them for Thanksgiving dinner.
Now, the heroines of the novel are Gertie (yes, nicknamed after Drew Barrymore’s character in E.T.) and her coworker/new best friend Charlene. Gertie lost her cousin to Ken and has no hope of finding her alive.
Smart. Freaking sad but smart. Here, the old cliché—the cops aren’t finding the asshole—is displayed, and it’s often correct in real and imagined situations, so Gertie takes it upon herself to find the murderer.
Charlene, a good-hearted smartass who is brave as hell, helps Gertie look for her cousin.
Charlene is definitely the best character in the book. The events in the book indeed traumatized her, but she makes no complaints about it. It’s life, and it sucks, and she has to move on, and she always does the right thing, even if it annoys her.
Eventually, this all comes down to a showdown with The Family From Hell, and yes, there is a lot…A LOT OF GORE!
While Strand has been one of my favorite writers for a while now, especially with what I consider one of the best horror novels of the past 20 years, Dweller, this is just one of those just-off-the-printer-and-then-forgotten-about books. It’s not terrible, but it is pedestrian.
I finished My Pretties in under a week, and it didn’t impress me as much as it should. It did, however, entertain with its smart characters, both sickos and good people, and the blood, while I wouldn’t want to eat my spaghetti after reading it, seemed realistic even in its abundance.
I am happy to say Jeff Strand is still a brilliant writer. I just hope his next book leaves me with deeper clarity.
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