Is it art, or simply a compulsive rolling about in the most intense descriptions possible of the ecstasy of hideous murders and the gourmet delights of human flesh-eating? It's sure repulsive. Brite may well lose fans this time, her superbly composed arias on the most disgusting forms of death and sloshy decay being likely to turn off many admirers of her previous torchlit searches through the caverns of hell. In this third novel, the author, now 29, outdoes herself, creating a pair of gay necrophiliac lovers-both serial killers-who meet in New Orleans for a feast of corpse-eating and coupling with the rotting dead. Crumb cartoonist into Brite's universe of lyric soul-sucking. A follow-up, Drawing Blood (1993), cleverly absorbed an R. Brite's first horror novel, Lost Souls (1992), a high-intensity rock-'n'-roll epic about southern white-trash vampires, gained much of its energy from parody and her over-the- top bloodlust. Or Necrophiliacs-The Serial Killers' Love Story.
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