The Pear-Shaped Man (1987) by George R. R. Martin

A disturbing, sickening psychological horror story. Just utterly nauseating. It won Martin the Bram Stoker Award for Best Long Fiction back in 1987, and it’s easy to see why, as it’s a very memorable and fascinating story.

Martin imbibes the story with such a strong sense of dread and repulsion, he’s so good at bringing up feelings of disgust and paranoia. None of the characters in the story are particularly likeable, but the protagonist is certainly relatable, and her descent as the story goes on is horrifying but thrilling to read.


The ending works well enough for the story, but it’s the first 90% that I enjoy the most, the steady escalation of the repulsive writing, rather than the plot progression and resolution that’s mostly crammed into the last few pages.

I give it three cheese doodles, and a bottle of coke.


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