He lures you in with engaging humor, spices things up with a little dirty talk, and then, when he’s got you good and hooked, grinning like an idiot and hanging on his every word, he pulls a sawed-off shotgun out from beneath his coat and paints the place with the vaporized bits of your noggin. In Off Season, Ketchum exhibits a sort of folksy, conversational style of writing that is akin to a whiskey-breathed geezer waxing nostalgic in a bar. Throw in Marjie’s latest boyfriend, Dan, and you’ve got all the makings of an interesting weekend. Then again, he’s found someone new, himself a real young one named Laura. After all, Carla’s always valued Nick’s friendship above everything, even though she knows he’s still carrying a torch for her. Of course, this is also the perfect place to entertain her new boyfriend, Jim, and maybe even give her ex, Nick, a chance to get to know him better. Dead River’s also a perfect escape for her pals from the Big Apple especially her long-suffering sister, Marjie, whose lack of ambition and direction has brought on a serious case of the blues. It’s a bustling tourist trap in the summer, but here, in the off-season, it’s a quiet slice of small town New England life.
New York-based editor, Carla, is on a working vacation in the coastal town of Dead River, Maine. Originally released to scathing reviews (the Village Voice deemed it “violent pornography”) over twenty years ago, Ketchum’s first novel has resurfaced in a new “author’s cut” version, and, man, oh man, this one’s a doozy.
Jack Ketchum (aka Dallas Mayr) seems to feel that there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of both, as his intensely frightening and masterfully grisly novel, Off Season clearly shows. Stephen King, when writing about his craft, has said that if something isn’t particularly scary, there’s always the “gross out”.
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