The Falls: Haunted Houses

The darkest, ugliest book I've ever written, during the spring of 2021 in which I was sure I was about to die, The Falls is a pure melancholy trudge towards the abyss. Whereas The Pixies is about the chaos of evil, The Falls is a wretched, miserable hangover. It was a book that felt like all two hundred pages of it were written in the rain. The reason The Falls is so miserable is because it is about The Holocaust. I only realize this now. The main family in the book were originally Jewish (until I changed this to Catholic because I didn't want the idea of this family influencing history to be seen as a nasty racist conspiracy theory); and long stretches of the book take place in Ancient Egypt during the Book of Exodus. The Nazis are mentioned once, just once, but I wanted this to be a book about the dreaded misery of history, and how journeying into its darkness isn't joyous or attractive but really just a nasty trudge into the darkness. The book ends with a thousand explosions that, far from feeling cathartic, come so fast and furious they become meaningless.