"He sits in the woods holding her hand." This sentence is the first of many clever ploys that make this book a stand-out among serial-killer novels. You could say it's just one gimmick after another -- missing body parts, lipstick on corpses, sexual obsessions, implications of incest, reek of rotting flesh in a shabby motel room, small children trying pathetically to be brave -- and yet as shameless as Martin is, you'll give him credit for pulling it off with panache. I recommend that you try your darndest to figure out the mystery, too; the answer is deeply weird.