I loved Tom Franklin’s first novel Hell at the Breech, and it’s still one of the best books I ever read. I’d described that one as a brutal story, beautifully told. This second novel was just brutal. I only finished it because it was short and I was hoping that there would be enough at the end to make up for the disgust I felt reading the first part. There wasn’t.
Franklin can be a wonderful writer and I still want to read Poachers, which is a collection of short stories.