Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands

Once in a while (or more often than I care to admit) I’ll zone out and start thinking about stuff that does me no good. Here is an example from when I was staring into space for five minutes in the produce section at Safeway:

They’re going to peel open my skull, take a peek around and be devastated by what they find. Or don’t find. I don’t know if they can tell this from an autopsy, but the way I live doesn’t adhere to anyone’s expectations or standards. In fact, I’ve been a disappointment to a lot of people. When I die, it will be unremarkable but not in a sad way because hey, I’ll be dead. Anyway, the only information they’ll get out of my autopsy will be that I ate 3 pints of Ben and Jerry’s Toffee Coffee Crunch, was still using Clearasil at the age of 80 and I may or may not have 76 cats back in the apartment I died in.

It’s the weird stuff you get obsessed about while picking out carrots or trying to figure out the difference between red cabbage and plain lettuce.

closeyoureyesIn Chris Bohjalian’s Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands Emily Shepard is a teenager who loves the poetry of Emily Dickinson and seems like your run of the mill 17-year-old. There’s mention of mental illness and wildness but I could never tell if that was just Emily being a teenager or if she was in need of hefty medications and therapy three times a week. She’s a door-slamming and yelling teenager, hates her drunk parents most of the time and likes to go out and party. Both of her parents work at a nuclear plant in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. They have loud drunken fights and quiet hung over mornings.

One morning with every boring thing in its proper place, Emily goes to school, her parents go to work, and things go to hell. At Emily’s school there’s an announcement. All of the students are filed onto buses they’ve never seen. As the buses leave the town and the army comes in, rumors and pieces of the story start to come together. One of the reactors had a meltdown, Chernobyl style. There’s whispering that Emily’s father was working while loaded and caused the tragedy.

Emily tries to think back to the morning before leaving for school. Did her dad seem drunk or hung over? Was it his fault? Everybody thinks so. Since he’s dead they all look to her. She’s his daughter. It’s her fault. Her hometown becomes a ghost town with the national guard surrounding it. The area won’t be inhabitable for hundreds of years. Emily realizes both her parents are dead from the nuclear meltdown and she’s on a bus to God knows where. She decides to slip away.

It is the beginning of her new life.

She becomes a homeless teen with a made up name. She falls in with a bunch of other kids who crash at a filthy crack house. She services truckers for money and drugs. She tries not to think of her parents or the town she grew up in. As strange as it sounds, she worries most about her dog Maggie who may have been locked in the house during the meltdown. She obsesses on this. She decides that while yes, her life sucks big time, she’s still alive. It’s the dead of a New England winter and at least she gets a warm place to stay.

But this isn’t what she wants. She disappears and builds an igloo out of frozen leaves and garbage bags. She meets Cameron, an eight year old boy with a black eye. He’d been through a series of foster homes and was used as a punching bag. She feels a terrifying and unexpected tenderness for the kid and takes care of him; making sure she gets healthy food for him to eat and getting him to read the books she steals. But one day Cameron gets a cold he doesn’t seem to get over. It’s a bitter winter and they’ve been sharing a cold back and forth but this is something different. Cameron’s fever won’t leave and he can’t breathe. Emily takes him to the ER and then splits because she feels guilty that she didn’t take him in sooner and that she didn’t take good enough care of him.

She decides there’s only one place to go: back to the uninhabited town she left almost a year ago. She has no doubts that the radioactivity will eventually kill her. She just wants to go home. Sleep in her own bed, look at her journals and books. She wants to find the body of her dog Maggie and give her a proper burial.

A friend of mine recommended this book as we were driving around town and listing the past couple of books we had just read. I stored it away in my brain because I’ve read some of Chris Bohjalian’s other work and really liked them. Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands is a book to read when you’re in a particular mood where all you can think about is where you’ll end up in life. A mood where all the people you interact with become satellites orbiting your world. It’s a good book to read when you believe you’re the most selfish person in the world and you have no redeeming qualities..

In the end, you can go home. You might die from cancer or radiation sickness. You might have to eat refried beans from cans two years out of date. You might not even realize you’re lonely because you’re sleeping in your own bed.

But you will still be you and you will still find your way home.

House

houseIf you want to meet a real jerk watch House. I’ve gone through 5 seasons in a little under a month- don’t judge me! I do so have a life. It just involves watching a lot of TV. And let me tell you, House is never dull.

Gregory House and his team work out of the Plainsboro-Princeton teaching college. To say he’s a genius would be like saying Beethoven was kinda good on the piano. He’s a genius without a filter and even though he has an unusual way of finding out what’s wrong with people, he can say things that would drop a Hell’s Angel in his tracks. He’ll insult your mother even if she’s been dead for ten years. He’ll tell you your kid is ugly and that’s why no one wants to be friends with him. He’ll tell a married couple that one of them has an STD and leave them screaming at each other in the doctor’s office, each of them professing fidelity.

House says these things because they’re basically true and when he’s said them, he usually finds out the mystery illness. And holy biggoly are those illnesses mysterious. I’m talking about diseases so rare that it hasn’t been heard about since the 1600s or it’s a disease that might affect 1 in 6 billion people. It’s up to House’s team of doctors to figure out what’s going on with the sick person and with each other.

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that House is a pill popping doc. As a distraction he likes to shake his prescription bottle around to listen to the rattle of the pills. I thought he got shot and that’s why he walks around with a cane and is addicted to pain killers. It takes a couple of seasons to find out the reason behind House’s illness and that his injury makes him a better doctor. But I counted once how many times he took Vicodin in an episode. I counted 6.

Wilson is an oncologist and House’s best friend. He enables House’s behavior and is often an unwitting companion in House’s revenge plans.

Dr. Cameron is a right fighter. She’s incapable of lying and is also a pawn in House’s plans. And she’s kind of in love with him. I think I kinda love him too. Except he’d yell at me, probably something with the ring of truth, and then I’d hide in a supply closet and cry. Like I do in real life.

Dr. Foreman was a troubled kid who landed in juvie when he stole a car. He made a life for himself by going to med school and becoming part of House’s team. He starts off aloof and then thaws a bit and then does something 2 seasons later that will have you throwing magazines at the TV.

Doctor Chase is Australian and pretty. I mean really pretty. Kind of FML pretty. He’ll do anything to get ahead. He fascinates me because manipulation is a skill. Not a nice one but still. I can wiggle my ears. Does that mean anything?

I became disgustingly attached to everyone on House. I would go to work and wonder how they were doing. I called my mom once because a character had died and I needed to talk about it. And now I’m in mourning because I’m finished with it. I’m still in mourning for Dexter as well.

If you don’t mind seeing someone throw up blood or get a flesh-eating infection or discovering that the bubonic plague still claims a handful of people each year, watch House. Okay, I’ll warn you. Somebody throws up at least 8 times during an episode. And it’s always unexpected. A patient will be lying in bed, joking around with the nurse and then BAM! Projectile vomiting. This is a show that sticks with you. Don’t be afraid to start diagnosing your friends and family after watching a couple of episodes. Just remember to always stand back two feet in case there’s some liquid shooting your way.

NOS4A2

silverlakeWhen I was a little girl my family would spend nearly every day at Silver Lake. To a 7-year-old this place was paradise. It had sand, a lifeguard in a tower who always seemed as still as a statue, a park to play in when you got sick of swimming, and some days there was a cart that sold snow-cones and hot dogs.

My mom usually took us on weekends but she was a single woman raising 3 kids on her own. Sometimes we had a baby sitter. And one day that baby sitter decided we were going to swim on the other side of the lake because he wanted to smoke a substance that is now legal in the state of Washington but 25 years ago wasn’t. To be honest, this part of the lake SUCKED. Long grass and weeds choked the water line. We had to leave our shoes on because of all the sharp rocks and broken glass in the water.

To this day I suspect there was some kind of water monster hiding in the darkest depths waiting to pull me under. I had just seen the movie Piranha. I’m pretty sure those little cannibals were down there. I’d get waist deep and stare at the crowds on the other side: people lying back on their towels, snoozing in the sun, kids enjoying the sand squishing between their toes. They didn’t have to worry about tetanus shots. The Other Side, as I called it, was not magical and wondrous. It was a dark place where even the sun couldn’t cut through the tops of the trees.

nos4a2In Joe Hill’s NOS4A2, young Vic McQueen is able to travel to other places on her bike. When she gets on her Raleigh Tuff Burner and starts peddling a bridge opens up, the Shorter Way Bridge, one that others can’t see. Throughout her childhood and into her teens she peddles across the bridge and visits people. One of them is a tiny wisp of a woman named Maggie who is a librarian in Here, Ohio. Her talent is like Vic’s but she reads scrabble letters to tell the future. She sees a dark future for Vic, a dangerous and dark future.

Enter Charles Talent Max who has been stealing children for years. He takes them to a place called Christmasland where…well, it’s Christmas all the time. It would be my personal hell to live there, especially since they now start playing Christmas music in stores mid-August. Manx is like a vampire, sucking the life out of children by promising them Christmas fun 24/7.

One day after a nasty fight with her mother, 17-year-old Vic hops on her bike and finds the Shorter Way Bridge (or it finds her). She peddles and peddles until she comes to a house with a kick ass 1938 Rolls-Royce Wraith. I had to google an image of the car. It is indeed kick ass. I think I would get into a car like this driven by a stranger without even being promised any candy or kittens who smell like sleepy mornings and day dreams.

Vic sees a child in the back seat and knows the kid is in danger. Once Vic gets closer to the car she sees that the child’s face is warping and displaying row upon row of sharp teeth. She runs into the house where Manx’s assistant, a sad rhyming idiot, tries to gas her into submission. Vic fights him off and somehow burns the house down. A big dude on a motorcycle is passing by the house when she runs screaming out into the street. He stops, she hops on and we meet Lou who instantly falls in love with Vic (because really, you kind of have to fall in love with someone who is running towards you with a backdrop of a burning house). She escapes but Manx is still out there.

Fast-forward 15 years. Vic has been in and out of rehab, is covered in tattoos and doesn’t get to see the child she and Lou had years ago. She gets sober and wants to start her life right. She wants her son Wayne to spend the summer with her. She’s nervous as hell because she doesn’t really know him and he’s scared because he doesn’t know her. They’re slowly getting to know one another when BAM! There’s Charles Manx in his Wraith taking off with Wayne. Vic’s job is to hunt Manx down and end him.

I read my first Joe Hill novel a few years ago. I looked him up because his writing was so familiar that I felt something tugging at me. Let’s call it the “I know you, don’t I?” tug. Turns out Joe Hill is Stephen King’s son. No wonder the writing seemed familiar. But Joe Hill’s writing stands on its own. His characters are people I think about during the day. You know you’ve made an impact on someone when they sit at their desk and think “I wonder what Vic’s doing right now?”

Devour this novel. Eat it up until there isn’t anything left. Root for the wayward mother doing any and everything to save her child.

I have to go. The Wraith has pulled up in front of my house and it looks like it needs a driver.

The Hit by Melvin Burgess

Oh God, I hope my mom doesn’t read this. Usually she’s busy being retired and teaching our dog tricks. Don’t read this, Mom. I’ll give you $5 not to read this. I think the dog pooped in the hallway. You better go check that situation out. I don’t think you want to hear that the only reason your kid doesn’t do drugs is because she’s too lazy to go find them.

I don’t do drugs. I don’t avoid them because they’re bad for me and will lead my life down a path of ruin and eventual death. I don’t do drugs because I have no idea where I would get them and I’m too lazy to seek them out. The hardest drug I do is Benadryl. And caffeine.

thehitMelvin Burgess’s The Hit is about a drug unlike any other. It’s called Death and it’s in high demand. You swallow it and have 7 days to live, but those 7 days are the best days you could ever hope for. You wake up euphoric, a burst of energy unlike any high you’ve ever felt. Any dream you’ve had, whatever you wanted to become in life, you pursue it with passion (instead of what I do which is ‘I think I want to write a book except my favorite episode of American Dad is on and I’ve only seen it 17 times.’)

Adam comes from a poor family. His dad is disabled and unable to work and his mom works so many shifts that all she can do when she gets home is sleep. His brother Jess, a chemist, hasn’t been heard from in days. England is on the edge of anarchy, goaded on by a terrorist group known as the Zealots who want to bring down the capitalist regime. Adam’s girlfriend Lizzie comes from money and it’s the same old story: boy from the wrong side of the tracks and the rich girl falling in love. Adam doesn’t think his life is going to get any better. He’s going to have to drop out of school and find a job.

He takes Lizzie on a date to see their favorite rock star Jimmy Earle who caps his performance by saying he’d taken Death 7 days before. At the end of the concert, Jimmy Earle drops dead on stage. A near riot ensues on the streets of Manchester. Crowds of people caught up in the fervor of bringing down the government clog the streets. Someone is handing out Death. Adam and Lizzie watch people pop the drug into their mouths. Someone hands Adam Death. He pockets it. It had been the perfect night.

The next day Adam and his parents receive a letter from the Zealots saying his brother Jess has been killed. Jess was working for the Zealots as a chemist, manufacturing Death. His parents are horrified and Adam sinks into a depression. What does his life mean now? He’ll have to quit school and take some crap job and live a crap life. There will be no university. In his despair he swallows the Death he’d pocketed the night before and begins his own countdown. He makes a bucket list for the next 7 days:

1. Loads of sex with loads of girls. Several of them at once.
2. Get rich. Leave my parents and Lizzie with enough money so they’ll never have to work again.
3. Drink champagne till I can’t stand.
4. Do cocaine.
5. Do something so that humanity will remember me forever.

Yeah, that first to-do is definitely a teenage boy’s top priority.

Mixed in with the Zealots is a gangster. Isn’t there always a bad dude in the midst of everything: one hand out for cash in exchange for a bad deed, the other hand holding a machete? This gangster (sorry, entrepreneur ) is named Florence Ballantine and he has a psychotic 46-year-old son Christian who thinks he’s fourteen. Christian wears a baseball cap with the bill flipped to the side, baggy jeans, expensive t-shirts and has a bodyguard named Vince who likes to put his anti-psychotic medicine in a glass of milk. This father and son team manufacture Death. Who cares that it causes people to expire in 7 days? There’s money to be made.

Adam and Lizzie trip through the criminal underworld and get caught up in a race to accomplish everything on Adam’s bucket list all the while counting down the days and hours. While Adam is trying to make the first to-do on his bucket list happen, Christian sees Lizzie at a party and demands that she be his new girlfriend. Nobody wants to be his girlfriend because the dude’s brain is fried. And he’s terrifying.

Is Adam brave enough (or dumb enough) to take on the Zealots, Florence the gangster and his cuckoo for cocoa puffs son? Does Lizzie love him enough to survive a week of knowing he’s going to die? Why was Jess so secretive about what he was working on for the Zealots? Wait until you read the ending. I did not see it coming.

A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby

a long way downMy co-worker Leslie recently wrote a post about books that are going to be made into movies. Nick Hornby’s A Long Way Down is one of them. He’s also the author of About a Boy and High Fidelity. Hey, both of those are movies too.

It all starts on New Year’s Eve when four very different people climb onto a roof to commit suicide. Suicide is a solitary job. You want to be left alone with your thoughts, which is ironic since your thoughts are what make you want to commit suicide. Group suicide is for Jim Jones and those Heaven’s Gates people. .

Martin is a washed up talk show host (think Good Morning America but British) who spent time in prison for having sex with a 15-year-old girl. His career is dead. He’s now the host of a local TV station that is viewed by maybe 30 people. His ex-wife won’t let him see his daughters. He doesn’t want to see them either because he feels like a washed-up loser. He decides he’s done with his life and climbs on top of a roof that’s known for jumpers when he’s interrupted by a fellow would-be jumper.

Jess is a mess. Not even a hot mess because being a hot mess implies you were something grand and slightly astonishing at one point and now there’s nothing left but a glimmer of that. Jess’s dad is an education minister (for some reason I see a preacher in a church throwing literature books at people) and she finds ways of embarrassing him and her mother on a daily basis. Her older sister Jen went missing. Jen didn’t leave a note or any clues as to where she went. Jess’s parents thinks Jen is dead and they go about their lives as if this is common knowledge and they rarely say her name. Jess is wonderfully foul-mouthed, hopped up on drugs and Bacardi Breezers and still chasing after the boy who dumped her. He is the reason why she wants to jump off a building.

JJ is an American musician whose band was starting to get a following when they decided to call it quits. He had a girlfriend, a promising music career and then nothing. The music came to a grinding halt, his girlfriend left him and then he and his best friend parted ways. He’d gone from touring cities with his band to being a pizza delivery boy and decided he’d kill himself on New Year’s Eve.

Maureen is in her 50’s and has a severely handicapped son. She’s sheltered and lonely and shy. As much as she loves her son Matty, she can’t do it anymore. She can’t stand to see the days, weeks, months, and years stretch out in front of her, caring for her child who is a vegetable. She decides to climb to the top of a building and jump.

All four of them find themselves at a loss up on the roof. Nobody wants to be the first jumper, let alone commit the act in front of strangers. They start to talk. Not the kind of “Someone Saved My Life tonight” kind of talk. More like “Why are you jumping?.” And each of them try to out-do one another: “My story’s worse than yours.”

The four of them climb down from the roof and go for a drink. They make a pact that if they still feel like killing themselves in 6 weeks’ time they will go through with it.

Little by little they worm their way into each other’s lives-sometimes not in a good way. Jess is a foul-mouthed brat who says anything that comes to mind. If she doesn’t like you, she’ll let you know. And then some. She’s the character I love. And hate. Martin is still a jerk that goes between knowing he’s a loser and thinking he’s still TV royalty. Maureen is terrified of the world and has never been on a proper vacation. JJ is living in the past, getting embarrassed and delighted when people recognize him from “that band.” What do you call a musician without a girlfriend? Homeless.

What drew me in deeper into this novel was the fact that Martin, Jess, JJ, and Maureen weren’t trying to save each other’s lives by putting suicide on hold. It was more of “Let’s go get a drink or nine, play ‘My life sucks more than yours ever could,’ and see what happens tomorrow.” Not once does this book get preachy or anti-suicide.

Suicide is an uncomfortable topic whether it’s talked about or not. A Long Way Down smashes that uneasiness and says it with honesty: people think about killing themselves. The thought bubbles up and most times it goes away. In the end, Martin, Jess, JJ, and Maureen don’t become best friends and vacation in Maui. But they do go through something that connects them.

Nick Hornby is a hilarious writer and he deals with a subject that makes a lot of people cringe. Since I like books about people who are (or seem) more messed up than me this was the perfect book. 

I haven’t gone looking for a roof to jump off in three days.

Byzantium Or 2013’s Interview with the Vampire

byzantiumI went through a HUGE Anne Rice phase as a teenager. This was when vampires were cold-blooded (hahaha) killers and didn’t sparkle when the sun came out. They couldn’t go out into the light.

Here we are almost 30 years after the publication of Interview with the Vampire and Stephanie Meyer has decimated any coolness cred vampires earned over the last 250 years. Now vampires hiss like a cat that’s been stepped on. They sparkle in the sunlight. They don’t kill for the simple pleasure of it, but because they want to keep that last part of humanity with them. They kill because it is their job. Wonder what the benefits package on that job looks like? Oh yeah. Immortality. No need to go to the doctor.

Okay, let’s talk about immortality. Who wants to live forever? Teenagers who haven’t realized they’re mortal, pop stars, actors. It’s the little things about daily life that I find exhausting: wondering why my underwear feels so weird and then figuring out I’ve had them on backwards all day, looking in the mirror and noticing that gravity has been harder on my left boob than my right and having to take a few minutes every evening to up the girls so they don’t look like they’ve had a stroke. Why on earth would I want to do that until the end of time? Vampires have to watch everyone they love (and hate) die. Immortality means having to watch wars blossom and unfold, cultures destroyed, entire species eradicated. And having to watch it over and over and over again.

Well that was a little trip to a dark place.

In the film Byzantium, Neil Jordan (who also directed Interview with the Vampire) brings us a seemingly ordinary vampire movie about two women who have been alive for over 200 years. Clara (Gemma Arterton, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters) is a stripper. Eleanor (Saoirse Ronan, Hannah, The Host) is an introspective “teenager.” They live together in London. The movie opens with Eleanor writing in a journal (because after being alive for over 200 years a vampire needs to tell her story since there’s only so many Golden Girls reruns to sit through before jumping out a window), tearing out the pages and crumpling them up and throwing them away. An old man finds a page and reads it. He invites her to his house. He is dying and he believes she can help him.

Clara, meanwhile, is giving a private lap dance to a man in the strip club where she works. She invites her customer home with her because she knows she can get a little more money out of him. Over the years she’s run several brothels. But she’s taken the wrong man home. He works for the vampire Brethren. The movie doesn’t explain what that is until almost the end. I’ll just say they don’t like having women in the vampire family. The man tries to kill Clara. She cuts off his head and burns down her apartment. She finds Eleanor and they go on the run. 

Eleanor and Clara run to a small coastal town. Eleanor meets Noel, a man whose mother just died and left him a rundown building called the Byzantium Hotel. They move in and Eleanor turns the Byzantium Hotel into a brothel. Hey, you find something you’re good at, you stick with it. Carpentry and prostitution are two of the world’s oldest trades. If you can find a hooker that can build you a bookcase, your life is complete. Eleanor falls in love with a boy in town but since she’s immortal what’s the point of falling in love if it’s not going to last?

Eleanor and Clara’s lives begin a ripple effect, drawing people, both good and evil, into their lives. This isn’t a fancy art house vampire movie. It boils down to time and how it can become a burden and how even if we feel that our bonds to other people are suffocating, in the end when you have someone who knows you’re a monster and they still love you, well, hold onto that suffocation. For another 800 years.

American Horror Story

american horror storyI’m in charge of finding things for my mom and me to watch. Sometimes I panic. What if I pick something that is right up my alley while Mom is on the couch, looking at me and thinking “We are not related. I found you underneath a rock and took pity on your horrible soul.” My mom’s not into decapitation/cars getting blown up/ or the occasional brain eating zombie. However, she’s one of those cool moms who’ll sit down and watch something because her kid is into it. And by kid I mean her 36 year old daughter who sleeps with a night-light on. Because of shows like American Horror Story.

Ben, his wife Vivien and their daughter Violet make a cross-country move for a fresh start. Vivien is fragile from a miscarriage and from her husband’s infidelity. They move to Los Angeles, buying a beautiful mansion to strengthen their bond as a family. It’s the kind of house you might lose a kid in for 45 minutes because it’s so big. Ben Harmon, a psychiatrist, is over eager to get a new start since it’s his infidelity that has toppled the family. Typical man, thinking if he puts a thousand miles between his family and the affair everything will come up roses.

Ben runs his office out of the new home and he’s a real “How did your father dressing up as a woman make you feel?” kind of shrink. Having his office inside the house means that his family is eventually going to run into a patient, which is weird because hey, what if you’re going through some bitch of a healing session and you go to use the rest room because you used up all the Kleenex and you walk in on Ben’s 15 year old daughter slicing up her skin with a razor blade? Awkward.

AMHasylumLiving next door to the Harmons is Constance (Jessica Lange) and her Down syndrome daughter, Addy. Addy is forever finding ways to get into her neighbor’s house. Every time Violet or Vivien turn around, Addy has somehow made her way into the house, hiding under beds and talking about the formerly living people who occupied the house. I adore Jessica Lange’s roles in all three of the American Horror Story anthology (there’s American Horror Story: Murder House, American Horror Story: Asylum, and the most recent American Horror Story: Coven). Before, I saw her only as that ditsy broad in the King Kong remake. But in American Horror Story she plays an aging Southern belle who came to Los Angeles years ago to be a movie star. When that didn’t happen she remained in La La Land and had children. Lang plays Constance as a real “As God is my witness I’m making a dress out of curtains!” type of gal. And a real cuckoo-ca-choo, if you get my drift.

Apparitions start popping up in the house and you don’t know if they’re really ghosts or just people who have wandered in, curious to see the house where so many deaths have occurred. There’s even a Hollywood tour bus that rolls through the neighborhood, all the seats filled as the guide points at the house and calls it the Murder House because some baaaad stuff went down inside. Cameras and cell phones are whipped out as tourists take pictures of the house that witnessed so much brutality.

I have one word of advice to anyone going near that house: don’t go into the basement. I have no idea why people insist on going into the basement. It’s dark down there. When you reach up to pull the lamp cord there’s always a snap and a burst of light as the light bulb dies. But instead of racing upstairs to get a flashlight you decide it’s a good idea to feel your way through the dark. Touch the sweaty walls; drag your feet through the dirt floor. Get a face full of cobwebs and try not to think of the spiders setting up camp in your hair. Eyes really do adjust to a lack of light. But why are there jars of deformed babies on shelves? Why aren’t there any jars of preserved peaches and raspberry jam? And just what exactly is that thing in the dark that’s been stalking you since it came out of hiding from beneath the basement stairs?

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. The basement is terrifying.

Eventually, the Harmons start to figure out that there’s something REALLY wrong with the house. Duh. Sometimes there’s a dream-like quality to the scenes so you don’t know if something’s really happening or if someone’s having a really bad dream. There’s a huge reveal at the end, something that sent me face down into the couch cushions.

You like originality? You like screaming at the television, maybe even stomping out of the room because those idiots on TV didn’t listen to you and now they’re stumbling down to the basement? You don’t mind sleeping with the lights on? Good. Watch this series. And for God’s sake, stay out of the basement.