I you're seeking a tale of murder, mayhem, madness, sex and violence then look no further - this has all of these and more. The story hinges on a genuinely shocking incident early in the book that will make you wonder: 'did that really happen?'. This is Cold Comfort Farm on speed and with an added edge. If you think you know what a dysfunctional family is, read this book and prepare to re-adjust your view.
He was at the head of the big table, picking turkey out of his teeth, talking about himself. I kept watching him as I went back and forth carrying plates into the kitchen - the edges of my fingers dipping into unnameable goo - cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, a cold pearl onion, gristle. With every trip back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen I hated him more. Every sin of our childhood, beginning with his birth, came back. He entered the world eleven months after me, sickly at first, not enough oxygen along the way, and was given far too much attention. And then, despite what I repeatedly tried to tell him about how horrible he was, he acted as though he believed he was a gift of the gods. They named him George.