If we’re not gallivanting around in the car, revelling in spontaneous outings with sandwiches and a thermos flask of tea, Dad and I while away our hours with books and puzzle magazines – his favourite pass-time being the latter. While Dad is glued to the TV, a hobby that doesn’t quite capture my interest, I immerse myself in my own pursuits. Lately, though, Dad’s health hasn’t been the best, and he hasn’t picked up a book with his usual enthusiasm, preferring the comfort of his puzzles.
A couple of weeks ago, in an attempt to rekindle his reading habit, I suggested he try something from my collection. Ever the sport, he agreed, and I promised to surprise him with something. My library isn’t brimming with modern classics, so I chose Psycho by Robert Bloch, hoping its thrilling narrative might pique his interest.
Now, two weeks in, I’m not entirely sure my choice was a hit. Dad has only managed to read about five pages, bless him, and spends most of his time dozing in his chair. Despite my best efforts, it seems his love for puzzles still reigns supreme.
Robert Bloch’s Psycho is a literary rollercoaster, a suspenseful smorgasbord, and a masterclass in spine-chilling thrills. If you’re in the mood for a psychological thriller that will make you double-check your locks and question your hotel choices, look no further. But let’s dive deeper into this deliciously dark gem and uncover why Psycho deserves a standing ovation, even from the skeptics who prefer comedy to corpses.
Let’s start with our protagonist, Norman Bates, who redefines what it means to have mother issues. Freud would have a field day with this man. Norman’s dedication to his mother, Norma, is truly admirable – if you admire that sort of thing in a twisted, “please call a therapist” kind of way. Living in a house where taxidermy is not just a hobby but a lifestyle, Norman’s home is where dead things go to retire. Bloch crafts Norman with such care that you almost feel bad for him. Almost. After all, he’s just a boy standing in front of a girl, asking her to let him stab her in the shower.
Marion Crane’s journey from a sticky-fingered secretary to a tragic cautionary tale is a wild ride. Who knew embezzling $40,000 and running off into the night could end so badly? Marion’s decision to hole up at the Bates Motel is the plot twist we all saw coming but hoped she wouldn’t. It’s like watching someone about to step on a rake—you know it’s going to hurt, but you can’t look away. Bloch’s pacing here is spot on, delivering suspense with the precision of a master chef serving a delicately poisoned meal.
Ah, the Bates Motel. It’s got all the charm of a haunted house without the cheesy ghost props. Bloch describes the setting with such eerie clarity that you can almost hear the creaky floorboards and feel the chill of the ever-present drizzle. It’s the kind of place you’d stay if you’re into that rustic murder mystery vibe. Plus, who doesn’t love a motel that comes with complimentary psychological trauma?
Psycho delves deep into themes of identity, morality, and the very thin line between sanity and madness. But it also teaches valuable life lessons, like always checking reviews before booking a motel and that sometimes, the real horror isn’t the person with the knife but the unexamined emotional baggage we carry. Bloch masterfully intertwines these profound themes with a narrative that keeps you on the edge of your seat – preferably not in the shower.
Bloch’s prose is as sharp as Norman’s kitchen knives. His writing is tight, concise, and brimming with a dark humour that might make you feel guilty for laughing. But hey, if we can’t find humour in fictional murder, where can we find it? The dialogue is snappy, the descriptions are vivid, and the pacing is relentless. It’s a book that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go until the final, chilling revelation.
Psycho by Robert Bloch is a must-read for anyone who enjoys a good scare, a psychological deep dive, or just a really, really bad motel experience. It’s a book that has stood the test of time, inspiring countless adaptations and homages, not to mention a fear of showers that has lasted for generations. So, grab a copy, lock your doors, and settle in for a delightfully terrifying read. Just remember to keep an eye out for any suspicious taxidermy.
Wording 