Mr. X, by Peter Straub

I've spoken to hundreds of horror fiction fans over the years, and of course Peter Straub comes up now and again. Readers are basically split down the middle. Some love his work, others don't. I'm always disappointed when anyone says they don't read him.

Part of me gets it. Straub is difficult. His work requires concentration and more than a small amount of effort. It's often dense. Sometimes very obtuse. Peter Straub demands intense concentration from his readers.

Me, I feel that in many cases the greater the effort the greater the rewards. Sure, I like pulpy, entertaining popcorn books now and then, but there are times I want to work for it. The mind is, after all, a muscle and muscles need exercise.

That said, I am not always in the mood. I loved Peter Straub's novels over the years, and in 1999 I eagerly bought Mr. X in hardcover. I started reading it, and put the book down after a few chapters. I wasn't in the mood.

It was a bad time for me. I was finally buying my first house and I was ridiculously busy. I had lived in a dump of a shack and the slumlord was suing me for repairs. Things he should have done to the house all along, but the lease was written in a tricky, deceiving way. I was stressed and angry, and Mr. X was not the book for me just then.

I won that case and I went on with my life, but I never went back to Mr. X. Around that time Straub was becoming more difficult. And me? I was reading more things like Edward Lee and Jack Ketchum. Nothing against those guys, but Peter Straub is in another league.
Now, finally, nearly twenty-three years later I have read Mr. X. The Verdict?

Absolutely, phenomenally, brilliant.

Mr. X is indeed difficult. The plot is incredibly complicated. I consider myself to be a reader of above average intelligence, but this novel challenged me on every level. It was a struggle, but I persevered. I found myself enjoying the book, and was drawn into the shadowy world of Mr. X.

A man has very strange occurrences on his birthdays. Disturbing visions of another life that intersects with his own. When he has visions of his mother in trouble, he hitchhikes back to his hometown. There he finds a mystery with ghastly implications.

Straub is literate, almost brutally intelligent, but he is also a hell of a funny writer. I was laughing out loud while reading Mr. X. The book also deals strongly with H. P. Lovecraft, but thankfully it isn't really a Cthulhu Mythos story. Or is it?

Reading Mr. X was a bit of a chore, but something funny happened when I was around three-quarters of the way though the book. I realized I would be sad when I was done reading it. Straub sucked me in and held me. Even while the horrifying implications of the story chilled me to the bone.

I had trouble following all the threads of Mr. X. The many minor characters, the subplots, the intrinsic details. I think I got most of it. This is a book that, for me, demands a reread. I was contemplating it all as I read the final page, and then I came to the last line of the novel. It hit me on the head like a hammer. One sentence put the entire novel into a completely different perspective. I was absolutely gobsmacked.

Mr. X is probably the best horror novel Straub has ever written. The story is still haunting me two days after finishing it. I've ordered the audio edition, which I plan to start in a week or two.

As if I needed further evidence to convince me that Peter Straub is the finest writer to ever write horror fiction. No one, no one, is better.

Written by Mark Sieber