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A woman commits suicide for no apparent reason. A week later, her son- fifteen-year-old Mark Underhill-vanishes. His uncle, novelist Timothy Underhill, searches his hometown of Millhaven for clues that might help unravel this horrible dual mystery. He soon learns that a pedophilic murderer is on the loose in the vicinity, and that shortly before his mother's suicide, Mark had become obsessed with an abandoned house where he imagined the killer might have taken refuge. No mere empty building, the house whispers from attic to basement with the echoes of a long-hidden true-life horror story, and Tim Underhill comes to fear that in investigating its unspeakable history, Mark stumbled across its last and greatest secret: a ghostly lost girl who may have coaxed the needy, suggestible boy into her mysterious domain.… (more)
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A great device used by the author in this story is the foreshadowing...certain things that Straub tells us through the voice of the main character here, writer Tim Underhill who is a recurring character in a few of Straub's books. First off, when the story begins Tim has agreed to collaborate on the writing of a libretto for a chamber opera based on Dr. Herman Mudgett, also known as HH Holmes (recently profiled in Larsen's The Devil in the White City), the notorious serial killer. Without giving away any of the surprises in lost boy lost girl, Underhill's nephew disappears and is assumed dead by the hands of a pedophile-killer who preys on young boys. Granted, Holmes/Mudgett's victims were women, but both sets of crimes involved a house...which eventually yielded up their clues to the grisly killings. Second, Underhill notices a strange slogan which he takes for an ad "lost boy lost girl" on a New York sidewalk which he cannot find later when he goes back to look for it. Third, while visiting his brother at the time of his sister-in-law's funeral, Underhill looks out his hotel window and watches as a strange black car run down a man on the street, an obvious murder. However, while he's wondering if anyone else noticed it or is going to do something about it, a group of people who turn out to be a movie crew descend on the spot of the "accident." Therefore, we have a warning that things may not be what they seem. There are other items that a careful reading will bring out, but I've already given away too much. Okay. So forewarned is forearmed.
As the story opens Tim Underhill's sister-in-law has died, a victim of suicide. Tim goes to his hometown of Millhaven to attend the funeral with his brother and nephew, Mark. A few days later after Tim has returned to New York, he gets a call from his brother wondering if Mark is there with Tim. Tim goes back to Millhaven to help his brother try to find the answer to what happened to Mark.
Told NOT in chronological order (this may confuse some readers but believe me, it's better this way) and through the use of alternating voices, the story that unfolds is creepy and keeps you turning pages. My advice to the reader: you don't need to believe. Just have fun with a very well-written novel. I do believe this may be the best Straub has yet offered.
To badly paraphrase Carl Sandburg, Straub creeps up on little cat's
In lost boy lost girl, novelist Tim Underhill (who also appears in Koko and The Throat) returns to his hometown of Millhaven, Illinois when his sister-in-law commits suicide. The death is shocking, especially to Tim's brother Philip and nephew Mark. It was "a death like a slap in the face," the book's first sentence informs us. The family's grief is only made worse when Mark mysteriously disappears a week later.
Based in part on a couple of cryptic e-mails Mark had sent him, Tim starts to think there's something more to his nephew's disappearance than the police department's suspicion that it's the work of the local Sherman Park Killer who has been snatching local teenage boys off the street. Tim returns to Millhaven and begins to investigate the string of deaths and as he gets closer to the truth, he discovers it most likely can be found in the creepy house which has sat abandoned in Mark's neighborhood for years.
As we'd expect from the man who gave us the ultimate Ghost Story, lost boy lost girl eventually turns into another haunted-house masterpiece. The residence at 3323 North Michigan Street becomes a living, breathing, pulsating character in its own right, complete with hidden staircases, sliding panels and poltergeists that move objects from room to room.
Straub is an elegant writer—on the opposite end of the horror spectrum from his chum Stephen King, the Royal Scribe of Sticky Gore. From Julia onward, Straub has penned his stories in a tradition established by people like Hawthorne, James and Saki. Like his literary ancestors, he knows how to scare readers psychologically, rather than with an amplified, Hollywood-ized barrage of "gotcha!" cheap thrills. The result is complex writing which is placid on its surface, but underneath teems with the squirming nasties of the id.
Like the dust-moted rooms of the house, Straub's writing is quiet and intense, choosing not to blare off the page in show-offy fashion (starting with the unobtrusive, e.e. cummings-like title). Instead, we take our horror in small doses, unexpected scenes which can prickle the neck-hairs with a single, well-placed word.
For instance, while out skateboarding one day, Mark comes across a dark, hulking figure we assume is the Sherman Park Killer and the sight fills him (and us) with icy dread:
A thick-bodied man facing the other direction stood silhouetted against the dead sky at the top of Michigan Street….The sense of wrongness flowed from this man, Mark understood—this figure with his back turned. Mark took in the unkempt black hair curling past his collar, his wide back covered by a black coat that fell like a sheet of iron to the backs of his knees. Willful, powerful wrongness came off of him like steam.
You could spend hours deconstructing a paragraph like that to determine how Straub does it, how he goes about the business of icy cat's paws with words like "unkempt," "curling," and "steam."
There are plenty of other instances where the author works his black magic on the reader: for instance, a ghost's footsteps "chimed like brush strokes." As Mark sits in the not-empty-after-all house, those whispery footfalls were like "hearing someone stepping down a passage within his own head."
And, earlier, when Mark and his friend Jimbo first entered the house, he'd looked for footprints in the thick dust carpeting the floors. "He saw only tracings, loops and swirls like writing in an unknown alphabet inscribed with the lightest possible pressure of a quill pen." Straub excels at writing subtly wicked sentences like that which collapse our lungs and tighten our throats. What ethereal being, we wonder, could have made those loops and swirls and—most importantly—are they good or evil?
Both good and evil inhabit the rooms of Straub's haunted house in lost boy lost girl, and it's that conjunction of forces which gives the novel its air of melancholy and, ultimately, majesty.
Like I said before it has a slow start, but after it begins to delve into why Mark--the nephew--disappeared and exactly how his mother and he are related to the problems experienced by the neighborhood they used to live in. Not as Ghost Story, but it's an unfair comparison, so this book is still good enough to stand by itself.
The book is well written, but did not grab me as a reader and make me want to keep reading to see what happens
The summary makes it sound like a murder mystery,
I think I might have enjoyed this one more if I hadn't accidentally first read the sequel, In the Night Room (which was very strange and I wasn't that in to). While I enjoyed lost boy lost girl far better, I read it in the context of the sequel, so I already knew some of the mysteries revealed. It made it hard to get excited about the plot.
Straub is a true master of the genre in both style and substance. This story is a strange wandering through an early 2000s landscape when cameras were not yet everywhere and Internet-enabled technology still felt somewhat magical to the average user. In that way, this novel has probably not aged well.
However, if you set aside the dated technological references and instead focus on the double mystery of Nancy Underhill's suicide and Mark Underhill's disappearance, the story is timeless. Familial bonds are tested. Young boys only out to entertain themselves become inextricably linked to a mysterious empty house. Murderous evil people are suspected of wrongdoing. Societal and cultural prejudices hold deadly influence over events and people. And then there's the ghost of the little girl.
There's a great deal to enjoy about LOST BOY, LOST GIRL. I'm glad I picked it up.
An interesting premise, though Straub takes his time getting to the point and the reader occasionally may wonder if all the buildup is leading to anything. I enjoyed the vividly spooky phantom imagery borrowed from Henry James's classic ghost story "The Jolly Corner"
But don't avoid the book just because of that. Fans of The Throat, in particular, should read Lost Boy, Lost Girl because it follows author/amateur detective Tim Underhill back to his hometown of Millhaven to solve a new mystery: the disappearance of his young nephew Mark, which is somehow related to a shunned neighborhood house where terrible events took place decades earlier. The particulars of the story will be comfortably familiar to Straub fans, and this short novel is a nice warm-up for its sequel In the Night Room. There, Straub revisits the setting of this book, but on surer footing with a cast of adult characters.