Quinn Maybrook has been through a lot. She’s lost too much. Seen far too much death. She’s tired and drained and exhausted. But she cannot rest—not when so many of the maniac clowns who slashed her youth away are still out there, evading justice. So, leaving what little remains of her life behind, Quinn Maybrook decides to take matters into her own hands.
And elsewhere, in a town calling itself Kettle Springs, Frendo’s curse patiently awaits Quinn Maybrook’s arrival.
I have a deep and abiding appreciation for this series. The first novel was one of my favorite Hallowe’en reads back when it first came out, thoroughly impressing me with its balance between pointed social critique and sheer slasher spectacle. I enjoyed the second book a little less, finding it lacking much of the frivolous, dynamic action that kept the first novel being dragged down by its heavier themes, but I still thought it was a thought-provoking and realistic escalation of those same threads.
Which makes it all the more unfortunate that Adam Cesare’s Clown in Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo, the apparent climax to this corrupted clown chronicle, just didn’t do it for me.
Talking about it with a friend who was similarly let down, I likened this series of books to the original Halloween films—although, upon further reflection, the modern trilogy seems a far more apt comparison. In that cycle, we have a relatively simple—if effective—slasher story with its first movie; a sequel that is essentially more of the same, turned up a few considerable notches; and then a largely disappointing denouement that is only connected to the previous narrative by the barest of threads.
Going with that analogy, The Church of Frendo is definitely the Halloween Ends of this otherwise coherent sequence. Gone is much of the clever cultural commentary present in the earlier entries, abandoned in favor of a drawn-out and ultimately anticlimactic revenge tale that feels more like the secondary plot of a larger story than it does a proper, satisfying finale. Add to that some truly bizarre and questionable choices (a Juggalo love interest? For a teen protagonist? In the year of our Lord 2024?) and you have all the makings of an awkward and underwhelming conclusion. Tragically disappointing.
Even then, I can’t say I totally disliked this book. Cesare can still write a mean set piece, teeming with tension and terror—and while these became increasingly infrequent as the series went on, they are definitely always memorable. And though not enough to be a saving grace, I did enjoy some of the character work—particularly with Tabitha, a truly compelling character in a grueling and heart-wrenching situation. I liked her so much that, in retrospect, I couldn’t help but feel that if this novel was always meant to be such a departure from formula, it would have benefited more from having her as the sole protagonist, with her story—so similar to Quinn’s in the first novel—tying into the broader storyline at the end, thus closing that circle in a much more narratively satisfying manner.
I think, anyway.
ricardo reading 