Charles Grant's 3rd novel in his "Oxrun Station" series, reads quaint, in a post-SAW world; one could call Grant's prose florid, his story-construction painstakingly subtle, his characters and their arcs/drives almost soap-operatic. The story builds ever-so-slowly; and like the mystery it is, too, introduces clues that are only unpacked into full-blown horror, in the final act (a hallmark of his early Oxrun series). The pleasures here are not vivid scarlet splashes, or gut-wrenching terrors, or jaw-stretching spectacles: the reader is forewarned. But if you want to see the master of "quiet horror" working his magic -- come visit Yarrow's bookstore in Oxrun Station (I wonder if it's not closed up now, like all these other bookstores?) and browse a spell....
