Art Barbara was not a cool kid in High School, no friends, bad health, and not a lot of interests outside of Def Leopard (their later years, not the cool ones). When he puts up flyers for his Pallbearers Club, it is to have something on his college applications, not an attempt to gain a life long friend. Mercy takes Art under his wing, teaches him about music and life. Everything is wonderful, until it is not. Decades later Art is writing a memoir, to try and make sense of the strange times that Mercy was in his life, and Mercy has the editors pencil in her hands to put her own spin on the truth. A wonderfully unique Vampire (or not Vampire) memoir (novel).

When it comes to interesting, intelligent, thought-provoking horror fiction few do it better than Paul Tremblay.
And he delivers again here in what might be his most autobiographical-like book to date.
The Pallbearers Club is an enthralling and deeply personal coming of age story about misfits, punk rock, grief, depression and mental health - that may or may not contain a vampire.
It's written in a very unique, almost playful style - as a reflective memoir from the main character with notes and comments (provided in scrawled handwriting in the printed book form) from his best friend/antagonist.
It's an interesting technique that brings in two opposing POVs of the story -with each character presenting their own version of events, while largely leaving "the truth" up to the reader.
Easily one of the most original and emotionally engaging books of the year to date.

Paul Tremblay is that rare kind of horror writer who manages to transform every sub-genre he touches. With A Head Full of Ghosts he reinvented demonic possession for the found footage age, with The Cabin At The End of the World he gave us a Lovecraftian, apocalyptic twist on the home invasion, and Survivor Song was the zombie outbreak with added social commentary only the more poignant in the wake of covid. His new book takes on - [SPOILERS ADVISED] vampire lore, specifically the vampires of New England, where the "dead" family members prey on the lifeforce of those still living. It's a welcome change from the classic Eastern European-inflected vampire mythos, and Tremblay makes it his own with two characteristically smart choices: firstly, picking nerdy Art Barbara as his viewpoint character - so unassuming, surely HE isn't going to become a horrendous bloodsucker - and secondly, allowing the is-she-or-isn't-she vampire Mercy to intervene in the text herself, creating a dizzying web of half-truths, corrects, and self-justifications. What unveils itself at a leisured pace is sadder than scary, a consideration of the nature of monsters from the viewpoint of the monsters themselves, and some devastatingly surreal and unnerving set-pieces: I'll be thinking about that hovering dresser for weeks to come. Tremblay just keeps getting better.

A new Tremblay is always a cause for celebration. There's a lot happening here, and a valiant attempt at a new way to tell a story. In this book, our main character is looking back on his life, relationships, schooling, music and more. His friend, possibly not quite human, is reading along with us, making notes in the margins and questioning him about memory and time. Does it always work? I'm not so sure. But it's an experiment that comes close in the good hands of this writer.