Because we're forever on the lookout for tongue-in-cheek jokiness, we at first thought this might be some kind of meta gag........a novelization of a non-existent 1980's teen slasher movie.....the kind of films that used to so aggravate Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel, who despised these simple minded splatter-fests and their single minded mission to rack up massive body counts of dead teenagers, especially those in mid-orgasm.
Which begs the question.........why would anybody waste their time reading about a slasher carving up luckless high schoolers.......when they could just as soon sit back and watch any of hundreds of movies that display all the adolescent carnage in living color?
Author Perkins makes an enthusiastic attempt to compete with those movies in both her body count and the overly descriptive gore. But what a lame, low ambition she's set for herself......the book equivalent of that ludicrous Gus Van Sant attempt to do a shot-for-shot color carbon copy of "Psycho". Such a waste of time.
What's worse, she falls far short of even the worst of the slasher films when she arrives at the big reveal of the killer and the motive . The slasher's a minor nobody of a character and this loon's reason for killing is laughably pathetic. This book sets a bar so low, the bar's already on the ground.
The BQ's all for reading (after all, we raised a librarian).....but when it comes to this book, you're better off watching any old "Friday The 13th" entry......that way you'd only waste about 82 minutes of your life. 1 star (*).....rivers of blood, but a thin puddle of a novel.
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