![]() ![]() The content of the book, the journey of Melmoth from the opening wind-swept scenes on the Irish coast, through the fantastical paradigm of temptation, castigating and mocking the monastic Inquisition of the zenith of Catholicism… all are drawn, described, depicted, painted in a language that shows Charles Maturin to be a literary genius akin to Victor Hugo. Not horror that is cinematically shocking, not the kind of creeping horror you’d get from a Stephen King novel… rather the disquieting and silencing effect of coming face to face with true evil. ![]() It is the first - and only - book in some four decades or more of reading that I have set aside, unfinished, deeply disturbed feeling I had a glimpse of true horror. The reason is that I found this the perfect literary depiction of evil: Evil in an abstruse manner. It has taken this reviewer considerable time since setting aside this unfinished book to write a review. ![]()
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