Disappearance at Devil’s Rock by Paul Tremblay is a spooky novel. And I don’t mean that in the ghost-and-goblins way, I mean that in the life-can-be-spooky way. Broad strokes: it tells the tale of a disappearance (shocker) of a middle school boy in a sleepy town. Following the mysterious disappearance, some spooky (there it is again) things start happening to the missing boy’s family – namely his mother and sister – but also around the town.
From real, sensual visions to diary pages that just materialize – it’s quite chilling in many ways. It’s even more chilling if you have kids, nieces, nephews, or just younger people you care about. Tremblay tells a spellbinding narrative, and truly captures the voice and tone of teenage boys, single mothers, pre-teen little sisters, and paints a detailed mural of characters. Even the detective investigating the disappearance has depth.
One notable thing about this book that struck me was Tremblay’s ability to weave in technological phenomenon that are just as spooky – like Snapchat, and how dangerous it can be for teenagers to have access to something where you can send and receive messages to anyone, irrecoverable messages. He hints at these new permutations in how we communicate, but really, for this reader at least, gets the wheels turning on how dangerous and pernicious these technologies are. Compound that with trending twitter hashtags about the sketchiness surrounding the event, from wild speculations to Instagram posts, and it snaps an accurate photo of just how vicious people can be, how non-empathetic we are in a digital age.
As far as his writing style, it’s very accessible and devoid of cheap dialogue. In fact, it reads very much like a screenplay, and I wouldn’t be shocked if a movie version of this was adapted in the coming years. He also has a very creative use of narrative tone and delivery method – we see “handwritten pages” of Tommy’s – the boy who is missing – diary. We read transcripts from police questioning. It reminded me of a modern day version of Shelley’s Frankenstein, where much of the story unfolded through other sources than the narrator; Letters in Shelley’s case, in this case, handwritten pages, sketches, and transcripts. In that regard, the book is intelligent and entertaining. It’s not heavy handed, but it is very well written.
I did find myself taking longer than usual lunch breaks, and at the risk of being cliché, I had a tough time putting it down. It weaves an intricate mystery that keeps you turning pages, and wanting, no needing, to know what happened at Devil’s Rock. It’s not quite horror, not quite noir, but something in between.
If you’re a fan of his previous work, or just like a good mystery, scoop up a copy on June 21st when it’s released. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.
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