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heroturnedhuman's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
I had to let this sit for a few days and truly let this book stew in my head before I could sit down and write this review. "Let's Go Play at the Adams'" is unrelenting in its cruelness. It is the only book I have read that left me feeling genuinely awful, both emotionally and physically, after reading it. To call it "A Novel of Lingering Horror" is devastatingly accurate.
This book had been on my TDR for well over a year. I hunted it down in every local and corporate bookstore, on every website imaginable, and copies were either impossible to find or painfully expensive. When I saw an in print copy sitting on a end cap celebrating the release of "Paperbacks from Hell", I was over the moon! And while I certainly don't regret finding it and I am overjoyed that Grady Hendrix has brought new interest to this book, it left me with a lot of mixed emotions.
It's definitely a slow burn. The horror of Barbara's situation creeps in like a thick molasses. This pretty, young babysitter wakes up in her well do to client's house, bound and gagged by their precocious children, Bobby and Cindy. Barbara, and often times the reader, truly believes that things can possibly continue to escalate, right? After all, they're just kids.
And "just kids", they do seem to be. As you follow along through the minds and viewpoints of each of the major players in this book, it is blatantly obvious just how childlike their thoughts and emotions are, in the worst of ways. The children are self aware (selfish?) enough to understand that what they're doing will come with massive and unpleasant consequences, they're also too immature and emotionally undeveloped to fully accept that what they're doing is not just wrong, but sadistic. Barbara makes her discomfort and pain clear in the small stretches of time she's ungagged, and yet it just doesn't seem to register. Or rather, it does, but since it isn't hurting THEM, does the pain even really matter?
This entire thing, all the callousness and mistreatment, all the pain and terror they cause to Barbara, all of it is a game. Even the older children (16 and 17 for context) see Barbara as a doll, as a conquest, a challenge that was conquered and a prize now completely at their disposal.
And oh, poor Barbara. Somehow seen to some of these wretched youths as setting herself so far above them, as seeing herself as better than, smarter than, so haughty and tightly wound. This couldn't be further from the truth. She is kind and gentle and lovely, even by the children's own admission, and that somehow pisses them off even more. Barbara is and should be their great unifier, on the cusp, rapidly approaching adulthood and yet still very much a child. And still, the viewpoint of a child can notoriously be black vs white, good vs evil, US vs THEM. And unfortunate as it may be for her, Barbara is THEM.
At the risk of droning on and on, I'll conclude my review with this. LGPATA does exactly what it sets out to do. It's unflinching and unjust in its depiction of human cruelty. The ending will leave you angry, and hopeless and maybe even, like me, somehow a bit empty. 4/5 Stars.
This book had been on my TDR for well over a year. I hunted it down in every local and corporate bookstore, on every website imaginable, and copies were either impossible to find or painfully expensive. When I saw an in print copy sitting on a end cap celebrating the release of "Paperbacks from Hell", I was over the moon! And while I certainly don't regret finding it and I am overjoyed that Grady Hendrix has brought new interest to this book, it left me with a lot of mixed emotions.
It's definitely a slow burn. The horror of Barbara's situation creeps in like a thick molasses. This pretty, young babysitter wakes up in her well do to client's house, bound and gagged by their precocious children, Bobby and Cindy. Barbara, and often times the reader, truly believes that things can possibly continue to escalate, right? After all, they're just kids.
And "just kids", they do seem to be. As you follow along through the minds and viewpoints of each of the major players in this book, it is blatantly obvious just how childlike their thoughts and emotions are, in the worst of ways. The children are self aware (selfish?) enough to understand that what they're doing will come with massive and unpleasant consequences, they're also too immature and emotionally undeveloped to fully accept that what they're doing is not just wrong, but sadistic. Barbara makes her discomfort and pain clear in the small stretches of time she's ungagged, and yet it just doesn't seem to register. Or rather, it does, but since it isn't hurting THEM, does the pain even really matter?
This entire thing, all the callousness and mistreatment, all the pain and terror they cause to Barbara, all of it is a game. Even the older children (16 and 17 for context) see Barbara as a doll, as a conquest, a challenge that was conquered and a prize now completely at their disposal.
And oh, poor Barbara. Somehow seen to some of these wretched youths as setting herself so far above them, as seeing herself as better than, smarter than, so haughty and tightly wound. This couldn't be further from the truth. She is kind and gentle and lovely, even by the children's own admission, and that somehow pisses them off even more. Barbara is and should be their great unifier, on the cusp, rapidly approaching adulthood and yet still very much a child. And still, the viewpoint of a child can notoriously be black vs white, good vs evil, US vs THEM. And unfortunate as it may be for her, Barbara is THEM.
At the risk of droning on and on, I'll conclude my review with this. LGPATA does exactly what it sets out to do. It's unflinching and unjust in its depiction of human cruelty. The ending will leave you angry, and hopeless and maybe even, like me, somehow a bit empty. 4/5 Stars.
pensnfeathers's review against another edition
2.0
When I picked this up, the bookseller told me it was one of the classics of the pulp horror boom of the 70s and 80s. And I can see why that's true. The subject matter is shocking and disturbing, the undertones are unashamedly erotic, and the writing is competent.
Even so, this book had a major problem: it is at its core a pulp horror meant to shock, a cheap thrill. But it tries to be thoughtful, philosophical, and meaningful. In trying to succeed both as torture porn and as literary fiction, it ultimately succeeds as neither.
Even so, this book had a major problem: it is at its core a pulp horror meant to shock, a cheap thrill. But it tries to be thoughtful, philosophical, and meaningful. In trying to succeed both as torture porn and as literary fiction, it ultimately succeeds as neither.
deep_in_the_reads's review against another edition
3.0
Let’s Go Play at the Adams is ice-cold and heartless. It’s a nihilistic, traumatic piece of pulp horror which asserts that cruelty is inherent in the individual, only requiring a peer-pressure, group-think dynamic and an absence of consequences to be unleashed. That dark aspect of humanity (similar to real-life events like the Stanford Prison Experiment, Abu Graib tortures, etc) is unflinchingly explored here.
Mendal Johnson writes with a clinical indifference that denies the reader any sense of warmth. While the writing is sometimes a bit clunky, this was one of the only horror books I’ve read that had a physical effect on me. As the children became increasingly sadistic, my hands would shake and I would feel a knot tightening in my stomach. Their indifference to Barbara's suffering, and the entertainment they got from watching her humanity drain away is scarier than anything Stephen King has ever written, especially because it never delves into the supernatural. The story stays starkly grounded in a reality that’s far too cold, that views innocence and empathy as mere masks. Even thinking back to some scenes months after reading this, I feel shaken. It could be because Let’s Go Play happens to tap into my deepest personal fears, but I hear others feel the same way long after reading it.
There’s barely a drop of blood in the whole thing; the fear is completely psychological. It’s the kind of scary story that doesn’t seek to make you jump at shadows or have spooky nightmares—it simply plunges you into a hopeless head-space without giving you a life line. While most horror fans probably prefer a book with more ‘action,’ the slow, visceral dread on offer here was pretty effective for me.
I wish Johnson had put more work into characterizing Barbara, though. While I understand that the pressure-cooker situation in the book breaks individuals of their determination, she seemed like a naive doormat from the start. There's also several distasteful, misogynistic lines of narration that only make the issue worse. Had Barbara been better-written, her situation would feel more real, and her drawn-out inner-dialogue scenes would be more engaging. There was also some brilliant thematic potential staring the author straight in the face, but he ignores it, making parts of the book seem vapid. But I know most readers don’t go into horror books expecting deep themes, so this thematic flatness probably won’t bother everyone.
I don’t know whether to recommend this; it’s one of the few books where I think that both the one-star and five-star reviews are perfectly justified. It will be too merciless for some, and too “slow” for others. If you’ve got the stomach for it, and want to read something unique and bizarre in horror, seek this out. I can’t even say whether it ‘entertained’ me, exactly, but it had some of the most intensely suspenseful scenes I've read in any horror novel. It also deeply disturbed me, and continues to do so. 3.5/5
Mendal Johnson writes with a clinical indifference that denies the reader any sense of warmth. While the writing is sometimes a bit clunky, this was one of the only horror books I’ve read that had a physical effect on me. As the children became increasingly sadistic, my hands would shake and I would feel a knot tightening in my stomach. Their indifference to Barbara's suffering, and the entertainment they got from watching her humanity drain away is scarier than anything Stephen King has ever written, especially because it never delves into the supernatural. The story stays starkly grounded in a reality that’s far too cold, that views innocence and empathy as mere masks. Even thinking back to some scenes months after reading this, I feel shaken. It could be because Let’s Go Play happens to tap into my deepest personal fears, but I hear others feel the same way long after reading it.
There’s barely a drop of blood in the whole thing; the fear is completely psychological. It’s the kind of scary story that doesn’t seek to make you jump at shadows or have spooky nightmares—it simply plunges you into a hopeless head-space without giving you a life line. While most horror fans probably prefer a book with more ‘action,’ the slow, visceral dread on offer here was pretty effective for me.
I wish Johnson had put more work into characterizing Barbara, though. While I understand that the pressure-cooker situation in the book breaks individuals of their determination, she seemed like a naive doormat from the start. There's also several distasteful, misogynistic lines of narration that only make the issue worse. Had Barbara been better-written, her situation would feel more real, and her drawn-out inner-dialogue scenes would be more engaging. There was also some brilliant thematic potential staring the author straight in the face, but he ignores it, making parts of the book seem vapid. But I know most readers don’t go into horror books expecting deep themes, so this thematic flatness probably won’t bother everyone.
I don’t know whether to recommend this; it’s one of the few books where I think that both the one-star and five-star reviews are perfectly justified. It will be too merciless for some, and too “slow” for others. If you’ve got the stomach for it, and want to read something unique and bizarre in horror, seek this out. I can’t even say whether it ‘entertained’ me, exactly, but it had some of the most intensely suspenseful scenes I've read in any horror novel. It also deeply disturbed me, and continues to do so. 3.5/5
sirandrew96's review against another edition
Ran out of loan days from library, wanted to read book club book
parkersjoint's review against another edition
bored as hell.
don’t really care much.
don’t really care much.
bratus913's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
thinkspink's review against another edition
4.0
I didn't enjoy this book. I don't think anyone could. But it stays with you, and while I couldn't read it all in 1 go (I had to keep stopping to get my head out of it) I really wanted to find out where it went.
It unfolds like a traffic accident in slow motion, you know from early on there won't be anything happy coming out of this. It is not for everyone, and I was torn between giving it 1 star and 4 stars. But what a hell of a horror book.
I'm reading something lighter next.
It unfolds like a traffic accident in slow motion, you know from early on there won't be anything happy coming out of this. It is not for everyone, and I was torn between giving it 1 star and 4 stars. But what a hell of a horror book.
I'm reading something lighter next.
alteradam's review against another edition
dark
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Lord of The Flies meets The Girl Next Door. It’s incredibly disturbing and sad. Well written. (I heard of this book after watching some YouTube video on the most fucked up books.)