I expected a darker, grown-up version of a fairytale from this book set in a dark castle in the forest, but actually got much more than that. The atmosphere drew me in, particularly towards the very tense end to Part 2 and the two parallel stories in Europe and America kept me intrigued as I tried to work out their connection.
Somewhere in Danny's gut, the worm stretched awake. Who was fucking with him? He stood up and turned around very slowly, three hundred and sixty degrees, looking at the black ring of cypress around him but even more, listening: for a crunch, a crack, a step. The wind was picking up, and dry leaves rattled over the marble and dropped in the pool, resting on the scum awhile before they started to sink. But there were no sounds of people.