The Pain Eater is one of those stories which feels familiar in some aspects, but yet weaves a new potential mythology of its own, one which it launches into a world rendered very recognisable. As such, it’s a convincing and engaging blend of unpolished, everyday family drama, and something else entirely – which comes down to the reader through a far more literary, though never excessively literary written style.
We start with the aftermath of a death in the family. Steven and Michael, brothers, are just in the process of dealing with their father’s death and funeral. One of the first issues is this: Michael, who’s in his late teens, is not quite a child and not quite a man, either. He had been living with his father before his sudden death, and this raises an issue for the remaining family members of what to do with him now. Whilst he’d be happy sitting in his room for however long he can get away with it, there’s an initial plan for their estranged mother to move back in to the old family home before older brother Steven, wisely, offers to do so instead. Now that he has graduated college, he reasons that he can do it in the short-term. Michael reacts as he usually reacts: indifferently. But his brother moves in anyway.
This could all have been a domestic drama in its own right and a very different kind of story, of course, but there’s more at hand here, and there are early hints of something not quite right about the set-up, about what Michael has been up to. He’s clearly struggling with his emotions – perhaps this isn’t unexpected – but Steven finds out that he’s been attempting to look after a clearly suffering, dying cat in the yard. Whilst the older brother is repulsed, it seems like Michael sees nothing wrong; it’s as if, in his state of grieving, he’s just glad of anything at all to nurture. But this creature is not all that it seems. In fact, when the cat finally expires, there’s a…something which emerges from its body, and seems to recognise Michael (who, again, seems to take this all strangely well, but there’s that teenage nonchalance again). The weirdly symbiotic set-up between creature-human which ensues soon begins to affect other members of the household, too: but what is this creature, and what does it really want?
The Pain Eater is has a third person, omniscient narrator, though it chiefly moves between the two brothers and their internal monologues; other characters are more closed book situations, though you do come to understand them via their interactions with Steven and Michael, the key characters navigating their way through this strange tale. Characterisation unfolds at a decent pace, humanising the brothers very plausibly with relatable touches many readers will recognise. Many elements they will hopefully not recognise at all: there are elements of body horror throughout, as unpleasant to read as, no doubt, the author understood and intended. The novel also presents a kind of curious realism, debunking ideas around death, family, emotion and other heavy topics. There’s an edge of dark humour here: as an example, look out for quite a lot of vomit at a funeral…
Whilst a lot of the cultural references around Michael and his best friend, Halie, are a little lost on me, and so don’t illuminate them much (theirs is a world of anime and gaming) and the quick acceptance of the ‘new normal’ by the characters involved is a little odd, all considered, the narrative wisely chooses not to get bogged down by that; it moves on quickly. All in all, this is as much a cautionary tale as a body horror-tinged story, and there are aspects of allegory too – there’s a big element of ‘be careful what you wish for’ here. Not to give too much away, The Pain Eater is an effective piece of storytelling written in an effective style, as much about the horrors of failed communication as it is addiction, grief or any of the other themes which could overlay the darkly imaginative, almost cinematic events that unfold here.
The Pain Eater releases on 5th July 2022.