Jeremy works at Video Hut in Nevada, Iowa, a small town in the center of the state. It's the late 1990s, just before DVDs become the preferred method of entertainment, leaving video stores struggling. This should be an interesting exercise: writing a review of a book that you do not understand but you couldn't stop reading, both because you were hoping things would finally become clear, and because the writing was quite good, even as it meandered.

I'm between 2.5 and 3 stars here, but I'm going to round up because of the quality of John Darnielle's writing. For Jeremy, and all those around him, life will never be the same. And all of a sudden, what had once been the placid, regular old Iowa fields and farmhouses now feels haunted and threatening, imbued with loss and instability and profound foreboding. But Stephanie is pushing, and once Sarah Jane takes a look and becomes obsessed, there’s no more ignoring the disturbing scenes on the videos. This has gone far enough, maybe too far already. And the barn looks a lot like a barn just outside of town. The scenes recorded onto Targets are similar, undoubtedly created by the same hand. But there is something profoundly disturbing about that scene Jeremy’s compelled to watch it three or four times. Four minutes later, She’s All That is back. And indeed, in the middle of the movie the screen blinks dark for a moment and She’s All That is replaced by a black-and-white scene, shot in a barn, with only the faint sounds of someone breathing. Two days later, Lindsey Redinius brings back She’s All That, a new release, and complains that there’s something wrong with it: “There’s another movie on this tape.”

It’s good enough for Jeremy: It’s a job it’s quiet and regular he gets to watch movies he likes the owner, Sarah Jane it gets him out of the house, where he and his dad try to avoid missing Mom, who died six years ago in a car wreck.īut when Stephanie Parsons, a local schoolteacher, comes in to return her copy of Targets, starring Boris Karloff-an old movie, one Jeremy himself had ordered for the store-she has an odd complaint: “There’s something on it,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.

But there are regular customers, a predictable rush in the late afternoon. This is the late 1990s, pre-DVD, and the Hollywood Video in Ames poses an existential threat to Video Hut. It’s a small town-the first “a” in the name is pronounced ay-smack in the center of the state. Jeremy works at the counter of Video Hut in Nevada, Iowa. Life in a small town takes a dark turn when mysterious footage begins appearing on VHS cassettes at the local Video Hut

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