It’s 1963 and it’s Halloween in an anonymous small Midwestern town.  This little town that appears to be like so many others through the country has one Halloween tradition that no one else has.  For five days before October 31st, families lock their teenage sons in their rooms without food or drink, and then release them on Halloween night, hopefully gas, stoked, and ready to go, and blood thirsty, to hunt for the October Boy.  Whichever lucky young man brings down the October Boy before he can reach the town center and ring the church bell gets to leave town and venture out into the world, and his family is treated like royalty for the next year.

The October Boy, or Ol’ Hacksaw Face or Sawtooth Jack (pick a name), is resurrected every year by a group of men from the community called the Harvester’s Guild.  The October Boy is a scarecrow made of vines, cornstalks and husks, topped with a carved pumpkin head, and stuffed with candy (I wouldn’t lie to you).  His goal is to slash and massacre his way to the church to ring the bell.  It’s the job of the desperate army of young men to stop him, because if he rings that bell, the town and life as the townsfolk know it will end.  Luckily, the October Boy has never succeeded.

This year, Pete McCormick is old enough to hunt.  And he wants to win the hunt at all costs.  He wants to escape the town, his failure father, and the memory of his deceased mother.  The object of the game changes for Pete, though, when he uncovers some truths to the morbid traditions of his hometown.  Hunting the October Boy, being hunted by a villainous cop, rescuing a girl, and fighting off the other guys who want out of the cursed town also, Halloween is a very dangerous night in these parts.

Too bad there’s no real tension to be found.  Dark Harvest is a book I can’t really recommend.  This slender volume is okay, but it’s just too damn silly at times.  The twists are interesting, but things like the October Boy stealing a car and cruising through town…just silly; and it often had a bloated sense of self-importance.  It’s at turns violent, at times poignant, but tries too hard for sentiment.  The overall feel is humdrum and empty, and not really memorable or deep.  I like Norman Partridge’s style of storytelling here, but I wish it was a better story.

2 out of 5
John Robinson