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The Book of Accidents: A Novel Hardcover – July 20, 2021
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LOCUS AWARD FINALIST • “The dread, the scope, the pacing, the turns—I haven’t felt all this so intensely since The Shining.”—Stephen Graham Jones, New York Times bestselling author of The Only Good Indians
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The New York Public Library, Library Journal
Long ago, Nathan lived in a house in the country with his abusive father—and has never told his family what happened there.
Long ago, Maddie was a little girl making dolls in her bedroom when she saw something she shouldn’t have—and is trying to remember that lost trauma by making haunting sculptures.
Long ago, something sinister, something hungry, walked in the tunnels and the mountains and the coal mines of their hometown in rural Pennsylvania.
Now, Nate and Maddie Graves are married, and they have moved back to their hometown with their son, Oliver.
And now what happened long ago is happening again . . . and it is happening to Oliver. He meets a strange boy who becomes his best friend, a boy with secrets of his own and a taste for dark magic.
This dark magic puts them at the heart of a battle of good versus evil and a fight for the soul of the family—and perhaps for all of the world. But the Graves family has a secret weapon in this battle: their love for one another.
- Print length544 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDel Rey
- Publication dateJuly 20, 2021
- Dimensions6.36 x 1.65 x 9.55 inches
- ISBN-100399182136
- ISBN-13978-0399182136
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“Only Chuck Wendig can blend horror, fantasy, and science fiction into a propulsive thriller that is as funny as it is frightening, clever as it is uncanny, tender as it is terrifying. A magical ride.”—Alma Katsu, author of Red Widow and The Deep
“Chuck Wendig’s The Book of Accidents transported me to the golden age of sprawling horror novels that I loved so much as a kid. Sweeping yet intimate, multilayered and bighearted, this is a novel to sink deeply into.”—Dan Chaon, New York Times bestselling author of Ill Will
“In the tradition of Stephen King’s Dark Tower books, Wendig views the cosmic and terrifying through the lens of the domestic, anchoring his visions of the sublime in the grit of the familiar. The result is a novel to ramble around in, to get lost in.”—John Langan, author of Children of the Fang and Other Genealogies
“An unforgettable, terrifying dose of top-flight horror that hits on our most basic core fears, The Book of Accidents chills you to the bone while still warming your heart.”—Alex Segura, author of Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall and Miami Midnight
“With a story both universally horrifying and viscerally intimate, Wendig brilliantly uses The Book of Accidents to explore a painful truth: In the end, we all haunt ourselves. I couldn’t get through the pages fast enough.”—Kiersten White, New York Times bestselling author of The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein
“Move over King, Chuck Wendig is the new voice of modern American horror. The Book of Accidents is a masterwork, and Chuck is only just getting started.”—Adam Christopher, author of Stranger Things: Darkness on the Edge of Town
“A bold, impressive novel with fierce intelligence and a generous, thrumming heart . . . It’s intimate and panoramic. It’s humane and magical. It’s a world-hopping, time-jumping ride that packs a deep emotional punch.”—Library Journal (starred review)
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Tinnitus
This was Oliver:
The boy, fifteen, knelt on the ground, his chin against his chest, the soft undersides of his forearms pressing into his ears even as his fingers dug into the thatch of messy hair at the back of his head. His ears rang sharply—not the tolling of a bell but a shrill whine, like that of a dental drill. To one side of him: yellow lockers. To the other: a water fountain. Above: a waterfall of bright fluorescence. Somewhere ahead were two gunshots, bang, bang. Each made his heart jump. Somewhere behind him were the murmur and rustle of students moving from classroom to classroom, seeking safety. Oliver imagined them dead. He imagined his teachers dead. Blood on linoleum. Brains on chalkboard. He imagined weeping parents on the news, and the suicides of survivors, and the thoughts and prayers of uncaring politicians—he could see the pain like a little ripple that became a wave, that met other waves and became tsunamis roaring back and forth over people until all were drowned underneath.
A hand grasped his shoulder and shook him. A word spoken as if through a fishbowl—his name. Someone was saying his name. “Olly. Oliver. Olly!” He gently rocked himself back on his ankles, sitting partly upright. It was Mr. Partlow, his BioSci teacher. “Hey. Hey, lockdown drill’s almost over, Oliver. You okay? Come on, kiddo, let’s get you—”
But then the teacher let go and took a half step back. Mr. Partlow stared down at the floor—no, not at the floor. At Oliver. Oliver took a look, too. His crotch was wet. Fingers of liquid were spreading down his pant legs. Ahead, he saw a few students gather and stare. Landon Gray, who sat behind him in homeroom, looked sad. Amanda McInerney—who was in all the plays, and chorus, and student council—made a gross face and giggled.
Mr. Partlow helped him stand up and took him away. Oliver wiped tears from his face, tears he didn’t even know he’d spilled.
2
The Lawyer
This was Nate:
That same day, Nate sat in a lawyer’s office in Langhorne. The lawyer was round and grub white, like the inside of a cut potato. In the window of the office, an AC unit grumbled and growled, so that the man had to raise his voice in order to be heard.
“Thank you for coming,” the lawyer, Mr. Rickert, said.
“Uh-huh.” Nate tried to keep his hands from balling into fists. Tried, and failed.
“Your father is sick,” the lawyer said.
“Good,” Nate answered without hesitation.
Rickert leaned forward.
“It’s cancer. Colon cancer.”
“Fine.”
“He’ll be dead soon. Very soon. He’s on hospice.”
Nate shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay,” the lawyer repeated, and Nate couldn’t tell if the man was surprised by his reaction—or prepared for it. “Mr. Graves—”
“I know you expect me to be broken up about all this, but I’m not. Not one little bit. My father was—or, is, I guess—a tremendous piece of garbage. I have no love for him. I have only hatred and disdain for that monster masquerading as a man, and truth be told, I’ve been dreaming of this day for the better part of twenty years, maybe longer. I’ve imagined how it would go. I’ve prayed to whatever god that would listen that my father, the piece of shit that he is, would go painfully and miserably, that it wouldn’t be fast, wouldn’t be a quick sprint to the end, but, rather, a slow, stumbling marathon, a . . . a clumsy run where he’s painting the walls with his lung blood, where he’s drowning in his own fluids, where he’s gotta wear some, some bag on his side to contain his own f—his own mess, a bag that breaks on him or that pops out of its port every time he moves to adjust his ruined, dying body. You know what? I was hoping it’d be cancer. A crawling, steady cancer, too, not fast like pancreatic. Something that eats him up from the inside sure as he ate up our family. Cancer for cancer, tit for tat. I figured it’d be lung, given the way he smoked. Or liver, given the drink. But colon cancer? I’ll take colon. He was . . . he was always full of shit, so that is a fitting end for that semi-human sack of septic excrement.”
The lawyer blinked. Silence passed between them. Rickert pursed his lips. “Are you done monologuing?”
“Go to hell.” He paused, regretting being so angry at this man who probably didn’t deserve it. “Yes, I am.”
“Your speech doesn’t surprise me. Your father said you’d say those things.” He laughed a little, a high-pitched titter, and he gesticulated with both hands so it looked like his fingers were little moths taking flight. “Well, not those things, exactly. But the gist.”
“So, what’s the point? Why am I here?”
“Your father, before he passes, wants to offer you a deal.”
“No deal, whatever it is.”
“It’s a favorable deal for you. Don’t you want to hear it?”
“I don’t.” Nate stood up, kicking the chair out behind him. It juddered louder and more aggressively than he’d intended it, but it was what it was and he wouldn’t apologize.
He turned to leave.
“It’s the house,” the lawyer said. Nate’s hand paused on the doorknob.
“The house.”
“That’s right. Your childhood home.”
“Great. He can leave it to me in the will.”
“It’s not in the will. He will sell the house to you, instead. The house, and the thirteen acres of land on which it sits.”
Nate shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t afford it.” The house—as the lawyer noted, Nate’s childhood home—was in an area that had, over the decades, become prime real estate. Upper Bucks County. Used to be just farmland and swamp, but these days, prices were up, taxes were up, rich people had moved in from Philly or New York. Gentrification wasn’t just for the inner cities. “Tell him to sell it, then. He can use the money to pay for a really fantastic casket.”
“Surely you can afford the cost of a single dollar.”
Nate turned his narrowed gaze toward Rickert. He ran a hand through his beard and winced. “A dollar.”
“A dollar, that’s right.”
“If I have it right, the idea there is so I avoid . . . what, some sort of taxes? I pay a dollar, and it’s a free-and-clear transaction.”
“That is the perception.”
Nate nodded. “The ‘perception.’ Uh-huh. I’m a city cop. I’m not too caught up on white collar stuff, it’s mostly blue collar for me, but I know a con when I smell it. Dad could just gift the house to me and it’d be good to go. Or I could inherit it like most people do—and I’d only be on the hook for taxes if I sold it and made more money than the fair market value of the house. But this, and correct me if I’m wrong, means that if I buy the house for a dollar and sell it for any amount over that dollar, I get whopped with a capital gains tax on top of it being income. I have that right?”
An unhappy smile stitched between the lawyer’s plump cheeks. “That’s likely correct. The IRS
usually demands its pound of flesh.”
“I’m not buying the house. I’m not buying anything the old man is selling. I wouldn’t buy a cup of water from him if I was dying of thirst. I don’t know what his game is, except to saddle me with a house I don’t want. Please tell him to take his offer and shove it up his rotting, cancerous behind.”
“I can convey that message.” The lawyer stood and offered a hand to shake. Nate looked at it like the man had just blown his nose into it, no tissue. “The offer will remain on the table until Carl passes.”
Nate walked out the door without saying another word.
Product details
- Publisher : Del Rey (July 20, 2021)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 544 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0399182136
- ISBN-13 : 978-0399182136
- Item Weight : 1.76 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.36 x 1.65 x 9.55 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #452,661 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #609 in Ghost Thrillers
- #6,728 in Murder Thrillers
- #21,377 in Suspense Thrillers
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chuck Wendig is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Aftermath, as well as the Miriam Black thrillers, the Atlanta Burns books, and the Heartland YA series, alongside other works across comics, games, film, and more. A finalist for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer and the cowriter of the Emmy-nominated digital narrative Collapsus, he is also known for his popular blog, terribleminds.com, and his books about writing. He lives in Pennsylvania with his family. (photo by Edwin Tse)
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Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
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Wendig's prose is masterful, capturing the emotion and tension of the story. His use of imagery creates strikingly visual scenes that draw the reader further in. The family's journey is heartbreaking, the final act a blood-soaked struggle for survival that leaves a lasting impression. I so grokked Oliver and his sensitive nature. Being empathic can be overwhelming, especially since most people don't really understand how those folk work. Wendig's ability to balance humor and horror is a testament to his writing talent, and The Book of Accidents is no exception. He has crafted a masterpiece that will stay with readers long after the final page. Highly recommended, as are all of his books!
Reviewed in the United States on June 8, 2023
Wendig's prose is masterful, capturing the emotion and tension of the story. His use of imagery creates strikingly visual scenes that draw the reader further in. The family's journey is heartbreaking, the final act a blood-soaked struggle for survival that leaves a lasting impression. I so grokked Oliver and his sensitive nature. Being empathic can be overwhelming, especially since most people don't really understand how those folk work. Wendig's ability to balance humor and horror is a testament to his writing talent, and The Book of Accidents is no exception. He has crafted a masterpiece that will stay with readers long after the final page. Highly recommended, as are all of his books!
The story centers on a loving, functional family that is far from perfect. Nate is filled with rage at his father over an abusive childhood, and determined that it ends with him. Maddie is a working artist in full, anxious control of every aspect of her life. Fifteen-year-old Oliver is so sensitive, he can see others’ pain. Each is afraid to reveal their inner turmoil until forced to by increasingly creepy circumstances. I loved this portrayal of a happy family that is not like any other (take that, Tolstoy!), with every member capable of violence and heroism when pushed.
This story is bloody and creepy as all heck, so not for the faint of heart, but ultimately uplifting and satisfying in many ways.
Build-up was fantastic—whispers of a serial killer executed decades before, a “felsenmeer” or field of boulders, an old tunnel that spurned urban legends, an abandoned coal mine, a deer and insects behaving strangely, and a mysterious figure in the woods. Having lived in Pennsylvania all my life, I could relate to so many of the rural surroundings, locales, and places that were mentioned.
But the heart of the book is its characters. I was so wrapped up in the lives of Nate, Maddie, and Oliver. Even secondary characters like Fig, Jed, and Caleb are fully fleshed out and given strong supporting roles.
It’s Oliver who turns out to be the key player. He’s gifted, but the importance of that gift only becomes apparent as the suspense rachets from simmer to boil. The story is definitely “out there.” Be prepared to dip your toes into elements of fantasy and magical realism along with horror. There are multiple twists and turns from start to finish but the ending melds everything together for a strong conclusion.
Wending has a gift with words. I loved his prose, at times beautiful and at other times vivid enough to make me feel squeamish. I also enjoyed the afterword in which he described the previous incarnations of the book and how it came to be. I’m glad he stuck with what was first a “trunk novel.” I expect this one will haunt a lot of readers.
Nate was a victim of child abuse from his drunken father but has managed to stop the cycle. Maddie is an artist who was involved with stopping a serial killer when she was a child. Oliver, their son, is empathetic to a significant degree in a world with mass shootings, starvation, wars, and other evils, yet he still manages to find good in people.
Mr. Wendig throws in a lot of horror tropes (I laughed at Maddie with her chainsaw), but there are also parallel worlds and time travel and magic. I didn't know where the story was going for the first half, but the characters are intriguing and I wanted to find out what was happening to them. It's good writing which one would expect from this author.
I enjoyed this book a lot: 4 1/2 stars.
Top reviews from other countries
This is a fabulous story and one that is a mix of horror, mystery, murder, supernatural and a whole lot of other stuff. The focus is on the Graves family, Father Carl, Mother Maddie and Son Oliver. They have just moved into Carl's father's house after his father had died. Carl didn't have a good relationship with his father, there is bitterness and anger, and even a feeling of being glad that his father had passed away.
Starting a new life away from Philly and being a cop, Nate is hoping for a more relaxed life. One that will allow Maddie to create her art and for Oliver to find some piece from the trauma of being at school. Oliver is a sensitive child, he picks up on others' feelings and finds it all overwhelming.
The feeling is something that runs deep in this novel, the feeling of something sinister lurking waiting for the author to unleash it. The feeling that there is more to this story than meets the eye. Then there is the feeling of unfinished business and events that are unfolding in the town.
There was a series of murders in the area, and the man was caught, imprisoned and electrocuted. Then the mystery of why the boulder-strewn park is so notorious and why the tunnel is officially a no-go area.
There is a lot going on in this book and the author lays it out in a way that allows you to get to grips with some of the characters before introducing more. There isn't an over-abundance of characters, instead, there are a lot of subplots, and plots within sub-plots. Again brilliantly executed and allows the reader to keep up to speed even though not necessarily know where the author is planning on going.
This is a horror, and while there are some gory moments, I didn't find it scary. I was more intrigued by the mysteries and wanted to know what the outcomes would be. THe tense and intriguing nature of the story makes this such an addictive read. Mysteries deepen, more questions form and the story goes on a wonderful rollercoaster of a journey.
The synopsis is good to tempt but comes nowhere near to giving anything much away, which is why this is such a vague review. The family concerned is one that I was rooting for, nothing however is guaranteed and I was on tenterhooks for a large part of the story as to what eventualities they would find themselves in.
This is a brilliant story and at 500+ pages it is one that you can really get your teeth into, so to speak. I think this is one that would interest a good many readers as it does span several genres. I thought it was a cracking read and I would absolutely recommend it.
It didn't grab me, or intrigue me, or scare me.
The author writes well, as far as compiling sentences into a story. But I didn't find the story interesting enough to hold my attention.
Maybe that's just me.
Oh, and a terrifying Serialkiller, which - of course - is always good.



















