Those are the first words in Peter Straub’s classic horror novel, which I read for the first time back in 1980. Back then, Stephen King was my favorite author (and he still is) — but I discovered something new with Straub. Straub digs deeper. Finds out where we really live, what our deepest fears are.
Four old men, friends for many years, meet periodically to tell each other ghost stories. They call themselves the Chowder Society. Their lives are ordinary, more or less – until one of them dies. Then the past rises slowly but surely out of its grave, and the remaining members of the Chowder Society are forced to acknowledge what they did many years ago… and pay the price for doing it.
Straub is a master of his craft. He unfolds his story not in a straightforward manner, but in bits and pieces. Time jumps around. Perspective changes. The whole time, the language is beautiful and evocative. “Time whittled down to a solid capsule encasing him as he sat helpless in a flying car. Then the texture of the moment changed, time broke and began to flow, and he knew, as passive as he’d ever been in his life, that the car had left the road: everything was happening with unbelievable slowness, almost lazily, and the Morgan was floating.”
A dead girl. Guilty consciences. Making amends for a long-ago mistake. It’s good stuff, beautifully told.