'Grant me a little licence', so says Neddy Poindexter, narrator of Ronald Hugh Morrieson’s newly reissued 1963 first novel, The Scarecrow, a book you read smiling and laughing, regardless of the horrors in it.
The definition of joy is sex and alcohol. Put together they’re likely to land you in sweet strife. If you’re in Ronald Hugh Morrieson’s great comic-thriller-horror novel The Scarecrow, they certainly will. If you’re one of his adult male characters, you’ll drink till you’re garrulous and boastful, then fall asleep. Sex will be more wishful thinking than the act itself.
You’ll have smutty intentions but be all talk. Watch out, though, for creepy old codgers with predation stirring their loins. They’ll ply young girls with grog so they can feel them up. The creepiest has a penchant ...
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