Three words: warm blister broth. The first third of this was a 5-star book. The middle third: 4 stars. Last third: 2 stars. Basically three decent novellas padded with excessive amounts of body horror and some of the nastiest imagery I’ve ever read. I don’t think I’ve spent 200 pages reading with a stank face before, but this was gross as hell. However — it did give me my new go-to phrase for canceling plans: “I would come myself but my tubercular state has rendered me inert.”