Uncle Cal has a good reason for believing and it won’t take you long to reach an understanding of that because the book reads quickly and easily. The story is heavy on atmosphere and emotion, but the pacing is taut, and the characters are credible.
(If you’ve read Davidson’s work under his pseudonym, Nick Cutter – like The Troop and The Deep – you will know just how dark he can go and this novel is only shadowy by comparison.)
My favourite part, however, are the oh-so-familiar descriptions of south-western Ontario summers:
July wore into the dog days of August. The heat fell like a guillotine blade at first light. By noon you felt as if you were breathing through boiled wool.
The kids of Cataract City took to their basements – most of them unfinished, with bare cement walls weeping moisture. We did what Canadian kids do on unbearably hot summer days: watched reruns of The Beachcombers and Danger Bay on the CBC, played endless games of clue, Monopoly and Stratego, chucked darts at old corkboards, read Archie comics on sofas that had been displaced from the living room to dodder out their days as basement relics.
Both Davidson’s novel and Kathy Page’s Dear Evelyn were nominated for the Rogers Writers’ Trust Award, but they are very different stories.