To sum the entire book up in one sentence: it really took me by surprise, repeatedly. 
 I started reading the book finding the writing to be very haphazard and the character development bouncing back and forth between poor and indiscernible. I looked into the author and was pleased to see that 1) he is the author of Locke and Key, which I hear good stuff about, and 2) that he is actually King's son. Ah, I thought, maybe this won't be another sister of Anne Rice! Maybe this will pay off! 
 No. 
 I never saw it. The talent, that is. I know its not genetic, but I was hoping for something better than I found. 
 As I dug in, however, I was surprised that the narrative started to carry itself. It wasn't until the last quarter of the book that I became really interested in a not-going-to-be-until-it-is-finished kind of way, and I was pretty surprised that this book and I had even gotten that far. I let it grab me up and carry me through the terrible unbelievable relationship between the protagonist and antagonist, all the way through the not graphic but still oh so terrible rape scene, and all the way to the resolution, where the author finally decided to shit the bed. 
 Oh yes, and shit the bed he did. What a terrible, meaningless, freebie ending he went with. I couldn't believe it, I read the last 30 pages or so three or four times hoping I was missing something. 
 I give this book two stars because it really takes some terrible talent to make me drag myself through three quarters of the book, make me enjoy the last quarter, and then take what little enjoyment I got out of the book away through the terribly upsetting rape scene and ridiculous ending. 
 I won't be touching another of his books unless I find myself in a self abusive frame of mind.