The House at the End of the World by Dean Koontz
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Dean Koontz always has this thing: easy-read style, apparently normal but unassumingly bad-ass unreliable narrators, and either a lovable dog (requisite!) or, in this case, a fox joining the heroes for a ride, and often either a supernatural or a SF insertion in what is, ostensibly, a long-standing mainstream horror/thriller.

I grew up seeing him everywhere on the shelves and for quite some time, he was always head-to-head against Stephen King.

Now, while I'll always die on the SK hill, Koontz DOES have a big place in my heart for consistency, comfort, and great quality writing that mostly never surprises, but always delivers what we readers always seem to want. Cliché stuff? Sure, but the GOOD stuff. Timelessly fun stuff.

Fast forward to just two years ago, when this book was published. It has all of what I mentioned, but a serious hate going on for fascism.

I approve.

But other than that, it's pretty much a B-movie SF horror designed for fun thrills--and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

My synesthesia thinks it just ate some fast food. A nice juicy burger with french fries.


Personal note:
If anyone reading my reviews might be interested in reading my own SF, I'm going to be open to requests. Just direct message me in goodreads or email me on my site. I'd love to get some eyes on my novels.

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