Patrick McGrath's great topic is morbid, self-obliterating obsession. He haunts the moors and marshlands of a vast country called Freudland, where primitive sexual impulses sublimate wildly, where monsters and doppelgängers walk among us. Disfigured in mind or body (often both), McGrath's unfortunates rattle around inside creaking spaces: an asylum, a moldering halfway house, a drafty old cottage by the Turner-like sea. McGrath is, in short, a total goth, and his temperament hasn't changed amid the incongruously sunny, sultry climes of his sixth novel, which pitches camp in New York and the Caribbean, as well as McGrath's... More >>>