OFF SEASON & RED by Jack Ketchum

OFF SEASON. Thus began the literary career of Jack Ketchum, which evidently had the folks at Ballantine Books peeking over their cubicles to get a look at the guy who could write something so disturbing. I think it’s safe to say that this book can make readers’ brains quiver like poi at a luau during a volcanic eruption. Whisper when you point him out at Necon and say, “That’s the guy who wrote Off Season.” Then watch eyes glaze over as images from his books slither into focus. This man scares Stephen King.

Dallas once shared his coffee with me. Ain’t that nice? Sounds like he’s been having some fun with Lucky McKee and the movie biz, too. Congratulations to both of you. I can’t wait to see The Woman.

(Addendum: Becky, remember when you told me to warn you about certain topics? Jack Ketchum’s Red is not the book for you. Although I enjoyed it immensely. Delicious writing.)

(Scribble a whisper)

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