THE RESORT
by Bentley Little
This was the fourth or fifth book I read by Bentley Little, a man once hailed as the new master of horror and put on a level comparable to Stephen King and Clive Barker. While I find Little's books entertaining and worthy additions to the dark pantheon of horror, I still wonder about such comparisons.
By far my favorite writing by Little is The Collection, a compilation of his various short stories. Bentley Little excels at the short story. It's his long game that is a little iffy. However much his wife might (or might not) disagree with me I often compare Little's writing to sex. He's great at foreplay, but has trouble finishing the job.
The last thing an author wants is for their readers to feel like an unfulfilled housewife. Great openers, good build up, excellent hints of surprises yet to come, and then... well, the climaxes of many Little books are pretty limp. The Walking, The Return, The Association, and now The Resort. When, Bentley, when?! When will you learn to stay and finish the job?
Abrupt endings, anticlimactic showdowns, little to no epilogue, all of these elements combine to cripple what should otherwise be superb classics of modern horror. Don't get me wrong, the first half to three-quarters of these books are excellent. Often the premise alone makes them well worth the reading.
I could be wrong. I have read some glowing online reviews of Little's work, this title in particular, but I challenge you to try one and tell me different. Odds are, you'll end up more frustrated than a soccer mom with a "massager" full of dead batteries.