Slade House by David Mitchell

STATUS: Completed

Mitchell’s writing is phenomenal.  It’s envy-making that someone has the ability to write so vividly, to describe his imagination so coherently when depicting abstract plots and themes.  Slade House repeats its demonic curse once every nine years on the same date, the last Saturday in October.  Mitchell takes us through the events of each of those special, dire days.  The way he links the stories together is brilliant; it feels like we’re treading the same path, but the little differences are both surprising and reassuring – this time it’s different, but the same.  You’re never bored by the shared familiarities of the hexed Saturdays.  So, writing, plot and execution are all excellent.  It’s the word at the start of the review: abstract.  I simply cannot stand it.  Take out the abstractness, the conceptual stuff from this and, yes, you’ve got a slimmer book, but one that I, personally, would have liked better.  It’s a matter of taste.  Otherwise, Slade House is superb.  I just didn’t like it.

2.5 out of 5

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