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A review by tomhardygirl
The Troop by Nick Cutter
3.0
God, my stomach felt not a single moment of respite for the entirety of this book. It felt heavy and sick and disturbed, sopping and contaminated—which I myself felt while reading this. My skin crawled, my stomach burned, my insides tingled.
I was so deeply in this, wading through the water with these boys, listening for the disgusting torrent of wriggling and writhing I was almost sure I could hear myself. Whilst reading, I felt just as polluted and defiled as the infected, much to the effect of Nick’s commendable but horrifyingly graphic descriptions. They were what put me, the terrorised reader, so deep in this—what left me sick and breathless. There are times in books it is easy to glaze over details and only maintain the big picture, but oh no, not with The Troop, which backs you into a wall and makes you really look at the repulsive, stomach churning belly of truth.
Apart from the awful images elicited in this, I found something else, something I’ve treasured in each horror or thriller I’ve read thus far, which is: the author’s ability to connect you to the characters, to push you into loving and hating them so thoroughly it feels real; getting you to root for them and stick beside them, only to cry when they’re lost. Nick is no exception and I think he does an amazing job of painting these kids as what they are: kids, scared under the circumstances of an unknowable, unwinnable situation—buoyed with the kind of hope you can only find in children, untouched by the sickness of a hateful world.
My favourite part though—the most satisfying part, at least—is how neatly everything connected, how easily every minor detail came back to itself. Earlier in the book, I wrote: ‘I really enjoy the way Nick uses almost tigger words to reignite that gut wrenching terror in your stomach: Sick, sweet, meat, worms. Hungry.’ And to see my thoughts justified and written concretely later on was exhilarating, to know that my every response was intended and well thought out. I was terrifically entertained.
Last but not least, oh Max and Newt ❤️
I was so deeply in this, wading through the water with these boys, listening for the disgusting torrent of wriggling and writhing I was almost sure I could hear myself. Whilst reading, I felt just as polluted and defiled as the infected, much to the effect of Nick’s commendable but horrifyingly graphic descriptions. They were what put me, the terrorised reader, so deep in this—what left me sick and breathless. There are times in books it is easy to glaze over details and only maintain the big picture, but oh no, not with The Troop, which backs you into a wall and makes you really look at the repulsive, stomach churning belly of truth.
Apart from the awful images elicited in this, I found something else, something I’ve treasured in each horror or thriller I’ve read thus far, which is: the author’s ability to connect you to the characters, to push you into loving and hating them so thoroughly it feels real; getting you to root for them and stick beside them, only to cry when they’re lost. Nick is no exception and I think he does an amazing job of painting these kids as what they are: kids, scared under the circumstances of an unknowable, unwinnable situation—buoyed with the kind of hope you can only find in children, untouched by the sickness of a hateful world.
My favourite part though—the most satisfying part, at least—is how neatly everything connected, how easily every minor detail came back to itself. Earlier in the book, I wrote: ‘I really enjoy the way Nick uses almost tigger words to reignite that gut wrenching terror in your stomach: Sick, sweet, meat, worms. Hungry.’ And to see my thoughts justified and written concretely later on was exhilarating, to know that my every response was intended and well thought out. I was terrifically entertained.
Last but not least, oh Max and Newt ❤️