“‘And you, you would be what you came here to be.’
‘What is that?’
‘I don’t know. A father?’ Madame Lareau tilted her head. ‘A good man?'”
Holy shit, Todd. Where did this book come from? Everyone had warned me about how dark it was compared to your others, but I still could not have imagined this.
You peeled the skin off a man. Sure, Lucien may have held the “industrial-size vegetable peeler,” but you held the pen that nudged his hand down the skin of that body. I cannot unsee the mutilated corpse that you put in my head, and it will likely haunt my dreams tonight. So thank you, Todd, I guess is what I’m saying. (Oh, and bee tee dubs, isn’t it a little twisted to have a character describe different forms of torture while he’s torturing his victim? Or is this just a trope of thriller novels? “Hey reader, I heard you like torture, so I’m going to torture you by having a character torture someone while they talk about torture.”)
Besides the fact that this book has turned me into someone who swears at authors over the Internet, Come Barbarians is an awesome read. The French politics in it are rich and fascinating, the plot moves quickly, and the action forces you to keep turning pages. (I tried to write Christmas cards earlier tonight, but my mind kept returning to Kruse, who had just tied up a man and left him naked in a hotel room.) I will lend this book to my father–partly because he will enjoy it, and partly because he asked me to talk about him in my blogs.
Todd, you said that you began writing this book because you had a nightmare. And now that I have finished reading it, I will have a nightmare of my own.