Mention the name Jonathan Butcher, and most reader’s thoughts turn to What Good Girls Do, Motel Styx, and Chocolateman. However, there is one title by him which all too often slips under the radar. The Children at the Bottom of the Gardden is not your average horror novel. Indeed, you might argue it drifts more into a dark space which exists between horror and crime thrillers, with maybe a touch of absurdism too (and I mean literary absurdism, not the often incorrectly used pseudonym for bizarro).
The fact this book steps outside the horror genre is actually a benefit, as too many horror novels show an obedience to well-established tropes which can make them somewhat predictable. The Children at the Bottom of the Gardden doesn’t suffer that fate. Original, absorbing, and unpredictable, its mix of supernatural elements, dark humour, and twisted violence (of both the physical and emotional kinds) delivers a tale which is both disturbing and entertaining in equal measure.
The twisted plot builds as each character is introduced, and despite the chapters head-hopping between the different individuals, the story never becomes disjointed or difficult to follow. Indeed, the way the various narratives intertwine creates a more intriguing proposition altogether. Right up until the last page, there remain unanswered questions and a lack of certainty as to which characters you’re rooting for (including the reprehensible ones).
The novel plays the game of balancing the obscene and objectionable with a true exposition of the human condition, without ever falling too far one way or the other. This ensures the reader has a vested interest in even the most subtle elements of sub plot, while never losing the feeling of the approaching cataclysmic conclusion.
The originality which drives the narrative ensures there’s never a point where you can fully guess at the outcomes, nor how those outcomes might develop. Instead, you become immersed in the tale as it unfolds, as uncomfortable as that might be.
Bad points? Yes; there is one! I started out reading the paperback, in which each character has their parts written in a specific font. As novel an idea as that might be, it’s style over substance, and my old eyes struggled to the point that I bought the eBook, which thankfully was easier reading.
It’s a hefty read, coming in at just under 500 pages, but there’s no flab. Every one of those words plays a part in the overall tale, and every one of them is gloriously original, intentional, and disturbing.
Don’t let this book slip under your radar if want an extraordinary read!