Warning: Contains Spoilers!
Every one of Nimbelsewskin’s victims that had been hanging from the oak tree was there – moving and yet not alive.
Aufwader’s Thoughts: There’s something so deeply, deeply messed-up about Dora and the other skin-puppets actually mourning for Nimblesewskin. It implies that not only are they somehow still aware in there, but also that they actually do have emotions other than face-eating rage. Do you think they celebrated when a new puppet was made? Had happy little Night of All Dark parties? Did Nimblesewskin ever face moments of regret for his ghastly deeds, and did Dora, or any of the others, ever feel any flicker of resentment toward him? What a cobbled-together quilt is Mooncaster!
I hate to say it, but I really enjoy the way the Ismus turns up at the close of this chapter. Just floating in, casual as you please, blasting trees and being smug at Lee for the fun of it. With everything that’s happened at the North Korean base, it was easy to forget that we hadn’t actually seen our lead villain since before Dark Waters of Hagwood, so some theatrics are warranted. If any of you haven’t heard Nigel Peever’s fantastic narration of this book, I highly recommend it – his renditions of all the characters are superb, and his Ismus, in particular, is pitch perfect.
Matt’s Thoughts: The unfiltered imagination of Robin Jarvis is extraordinary. There was not necessarily any plot need to insert the Nimblesewskin cottage – I’m sure there were any number of crazy ways that Lee could have gotten away from his military captors.
But this is the one we’ve got – full of reanimated corpses and meathooks. It’s gross and would almost be fun, except for the mention of Jim. It’s only a couple of paragraphs but it’s easily the most horrific thing in the chapter; the idea that you can die a double death – a brutal one in our world and an even more horrendous one in the next. But isn’t that the idea of Hell?