Really enjoyed the way this book approaches the themes of generational trauma, abuse, outlook, pain, and healing. 

This is the fourth book I've read by this author, and so far, I've loved them all, but this one fell a little short. The author admits in the afterword that he struggled to write it and had written it three different ways before submitting it for publication, and it shows.

I liked the concept of the book, and I love love love how weird his mind gets. The execution suffered a little, and there were a few holes that I would've preferred be tied up.

This book was really intriguing. It had such a strong start, a really interesting premise, and some fantastic ideas. The motif of cycles and the way the author deals with generational trauma as an aspect of horror is particularly interesting, as is the entire character of Oliver. 
Unfortunately, this book ultimately felt way too busy. There is so much going on at all times, there are so many plot threads to follow, there are so many tertiary characters - it feels stuffed to the point of bursting and it ultimately left me feeling overwhelmed. There were so many fantastic concepts and ideas in here that could have been compelling as their own story, but since they were woven in and out of this story I felt like they were less impactful than they could have been. Honestly, this book could have been about 20% shorter without all the fluff and filler in the plot and dialogue, and it would have been better for it. 
Also, all the random semi-irrelevant political tangents in here were weird. I'm a firm believer that a lot of good horror is inherently political, but this didn't feel inherent - it felt like the author was Attempting to insert politics into this book in a way that was both inelegant and ineffectual, since like 95% of it was not relevant to any plot or true character development. 
Overall, not a bad book! It's got some good bones and some brilliant moments, but it kinda manages to get in its own way sometimes. 

Reading time: 8 days
 
Difficulty level: 2.5/5
 
Rating: 3/5

 
Nathan, a devoted father and workworn city cop, Maddie, a passionate artist and doting mother, and Oliver, their big-hearted, if somewhat unusual, teenage son appear to be a normal, loving family. Yet, underneath this picturesque exterior, secrets lurk. Nathan is holding back the abuse he experienced at the hands of his father, Maddie is desperately seeking answers for the gaps in her childhood memories, and Oliver may just be a little more different than his parents bargained for.
 
When Nathan’s father dies and leaves his childhood house to him in the will, he moves his family to his hometown. As they settle in, Nathan sees things that aren’t there, Maddie loses chunks of time, and Oliver finds an unlikely friend in a neighborhood boy who appears to have secrets of his own.  As the strange occurrences pile up, Nathan and Maddie realize that sinister forces are working against their family, and the key to stopping it may just lie in the truths that they’ve spent their lives running from.
 
Like a Russian nesting doll, The Book of Accidents unveils the grander horror through interconnected bits and pieces that slowly come together to form the bigger picture. Invoking intense dread and unease in the reader as the sense that something is very wrong becomes clearer, you will be screaming at the characters, hoping against all hope to warn them that something bad is coming.
 
A tour-de-force in in the utilization of horror as a vehicle for exploring grief, generational trauma, and interfamilial relationships, The Book of Accidents doesn’t hold back from examining the gritty, uncomfortable details surrounding the seedy underbelly of domestic life that humanity shies away from. Shining a spotlight on the darkest corners of love, empathy, and family, Wendig excels at reminding the reader that the world is far from a peaceful place, even in your own backyard.
 
Despite the emotional magnitude that lingers amongst the pages, the character depth that is needed for a book of this caliber to feel complete is missing. The cast feels too similar to one another in all the ways that matter, and the everyday family dynamics are stilted and unnatural, lending to the feeling of never quite being able to forget that you’re reading a story about fictional people and are not actively enmeshed in the horrors that they’re going through.
 
Wendig’s talent shines through in his plot and pacing, but he suffers from a lack of direction. At times he zeroes in on vivid imagery, beautiful scenery, and the intensity of the emotions his characters are experiencing, which paints an intricate, palpable picture. However, there are other instances where he attempts to use humor or pop culture references as comic relief, which falls flat, creating the impression that he is undercutting his own writing and cheapening the story. 
 
An intense probe into how our childhoods impact who we grow into, and how that affects our own children, and then their children later down the line, The Book of Accidents serves as a stark reminder that we are not what happened to us, but rather who we choose to become. Lingering long after the final page is closed, this book shows us that, through empathy, healing, and love, we have the power to overcome our trauma and be better than those who came before us