Endless Night (1993) by Richard Laymon

One might wonder if Richard Laymon was one sick mutha’ and in Endless Night he doesn’t disappoint with his usual onslaught of depraved violence; the bloodier and louder it splats, the better. This time around a psychopath attempts to hunt down an eyewitness to a massacre; more than unfortunate for Jody, who is the eyewitness he’s taken something of a liking to. Whilst spear impalements and decapitation seem inevitable in most of Laymon’s novels, so too does frantic pacing and acute splatterpunk humor. If you can’t smirk a few times whilst reading this you may feel a tad disturbed. Laymon no doubt wanted his readers to experience both humor and revulsion. The narrative is segmented into third-person, as well as first-person from the psychopath’s POV, the latter of which is done eerily well, so much so your skin will crawl. Will the psychopath tie up his loose ends or will Laymon allow the reader to share triumphantly in the protagonist’s retribution? It could go either way with a Laymon novel, but it’s rarely straight forward. An archetypal tale of guts and gore from an under-rated writer – not at all for the faint hearted.

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