LaValle is absurdly good at writing stories that just hit me exactly where they are supposed to. I appreciate that he straddles the line between horror and fantasy (as all good horror ought to in my humble and entirely subjective opinion) while also letting the fantasy exceed the horror in some ways.
Horror--and romance--are the genres of morality. Fantasy is not in the same way. And by walking the bounds here, LaValle is equally interested in the moral arguments of who is the monster and the fantastic question of who wins. While also recognizing that it's not actually about goodness and badness but a story about "how do you respond when something is not like you?"
But set in Montana in the early 20th century and filled with super-interesting information about something I'd never had reason to think about.
Also, about halfway through the book, I was a bit surprised to see my name become relevant. But that was fun.