I enjoy a good external fright from maniacal slayers of co-eds, outer space beasties, mutated fishpeople et al as much as anyone can, but as anyone who has squirmed through David Cronenberg’s earlier works (Rabid, The Brood, The Fly, Videodrome) can attest, true horror comes from within. And then invariably explodes outwards in a variety of gruesome ways. Nick Cutter knows this as well. And he’s not afraid to make you afraid. In fact, I’d hazard that he rather enjoys giving readers the willies, heebie-jeebies, and soiled underpants. If you weren’t at all worried that your body might one day rebel against your wishes (as our bodies are wont to do), The Troop should cause some anxiety. We may think we’re in control, but pretty much everything else is out to prove otherwise

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