Scowler

A gripping horror-thriller that is evocative of some of Stephen King’s best work but has a voice and twisted perspective all its own. Daniel Kraus takes care in the opening chapters to establish a rich setting and complex characters, including pensive Ry, his endearing kid sister, and his troubled mother. A subtle and rising tension underlies these scenes and is amplified by chapter headings that count down to the impending impact of several small meteorites speeding toward their rural Iowa town. The arrival of an escaped prisoner with disturbing tales of Ry’s imprisoned father, Marvin, sets the enthralling central story into motion. Kraus’s plotting is masterful, with surprising twists, eerie parallels, and scenes of terror meted out for maximum effect. Marvin is a compelling and disturbing figure, prone to bouts of madness and grotesque violence (“Merchants and neighbors alike . . . suspected the man was a horror and they were right.”). Consequently, readers may find certain scenes challenging. However, Marvin’s actions—and Ry’s attempts to thwart them—raise vital questions regarding the nature of evil. Ry’s struggle against his demented father takes a mesmerizing psychological turn when the arrival of one of the meteorites upsets Ry’s delicate mental state. His psyche fragments into three parts, corresponding to a group of imaginary friends he used to survive his dad’s violence when he was much younger. Ry transforms as he listens to the sometimes conflicting counsels of kind Mr. Furrington, wise Jesus, and violent Scowler, and the result is a fascinating inner and outer battle for survival.