Let me just say this: Canadian clown porn. But don’t get worked up; if that excites you, I want you to put the review down, and walk backwards out of the room. Keep your hands to your sides, where I can see them. Good. Now, shut the door. Anyone out there under eighteen? Why don’t you go out the window so you don’t have to deal with that person we just chased out the door.
Great. Now it’s just us stable, mature adults, those of us with a firm grasp of our own neuroses and horrific fascinations, right? Great. Great. OK, here’s the deal: Dave Cooper is a genius. He is utterly fascinated with making you, dear reader, squirm. But it’s not the good clean fun of Steven King, or even of Bret Easton Ellis: no blood, no gore, no dead people. Just us, and our society’s confused messages about sex and sexuality. And it’s icky.