Grab the eye bleach! It's time to read 'Woom'
Recently, I had a book recommended to me – ”Woom” by Duncan Ralston. It was marketed as a horrifying character study, which seemed right up my alley. Well, readers, if you’ve read last week’s review and know how I feel, then you may be surprised to know that I believe that this book is even worse than “Fledgling.”
“Woom” is a difficult book to talk about. It follows Angel as he recounts the worst stories in his repertoire, all of which took place in Room 6 at the Lonely Motel. The stories that are recounted are some of the most needlessly disturbing pieces of fiction that I’ve ever read. It is honestly difficult to believe that someone actually came up with these ideas considering how vulgar and repulsive they are. In all honesty, I was only able to stomach the entirety of “Woom” because of my compulsion to finish every book I begin. It seems to me, in hindsight, that this desire has left me worse off.
Ralston’s exploration of Angel’s psyche comes off as fetishistic. There is no purpose to any of the terrible things that occur in the novel outside of a twisted fascination on the author’s part, the nature of which I find difficult to understand. Ralston is fairly popular within the horror genre, but I honestly did not consider this novel to be “horror.” The amount of torture and gore was, of course, horrifying, but I was never really scared while reading. Instead, I was astonished by the pure, unfiltered tastelessness that assaulted my eyes. I was expecting a masterful excursion into the human psyche, an honest examination of humanity, and I was rewarded with vile images that will never leave my mind. There is a kind of enjoyment that can come from that, to be sure, but I have found myself lying awake at night remembering the terrible scenes that I read in “Woom,” and not in the way good horror can leave a participant.
This leads me to my ultimate question: What is the point? Why create such a foul representation of issues that border on glorification? The only answer I can conceive of is laziness, or maybe even arrogance. It is easy to stay in people’s minds when you write grotesquely instead of horrifically. Perhaps Ralston has even convinced himself of his talent for the genre, despite his obvious confusion of about what makes horror fun. Good horror is disturbing, of course, but it either carries a purpose or a sense of catharsis that is not found in any other genre. Ralston, with his insensitive depictions of real, unimaginable monstrosities, completely misses the point. It almost feels like a competition to create the most twisted book possible, the only participant in which is himself.
It appears as though “Woom” struck a nerve in me. I normally do not believe in giving ratings of 0/10 because I feel that the very act of writing a book is something to be applauded, but I simply cannot let this one go unscathed. If you’re at all interested in reading this book, I would recommend searching for a plot summary on the internet. It would help you avoid the need for any eye bleach.
Overall: 0/10
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