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The Keeper

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Overview

Some believe Bedford, Maine, is cursed. Its bloody past, endless rain, and the decay of its downtown portend a hopeless future. With the death of its paper mill, Bedford ' s unemployed residents soon find themselves with far too much time to dwell on thoughts of Susan Marley. Once the local beauty, she ' s now the local whore. Silently prowling the muddy streets, she watches eerily from the shadows, waiting for ' something. And haunting the sleep of everyone in town with monstrous visions of violence and horror.

Editorial Reviews

Editorial Reviews for this product are not available at this time.

Author Information

Bio of Sarah Langan

Sarah Langan received her MFA in fiction writing from Columbia University. She studied with Michael Cunningham, Nicholas Christopher, Helen Schulman, and Maureen Howard, among others, all of whom have been instrumental to her work. She is currently a master's candidate in environmental medicine at NYU and lives in Brooklyn, New York. The Keeper is her first novel.

Customer Reviews

  • 1 star out of 5A mixed bag

    Posted October 05, 2009 by Jim D, Tulsa, OK

    Disappointing. The novel starts out in appealing fashion, but the story quickly runs out of steam. The author is technically proficient, but ultimately borrows too much from too many genres. The ending goes on forever, and the symbolism is just too predictable to hold the reader's attention. A nice try, perhaps, but it takes a big effort to keep reading until the end.

  • 5 stars out of 5Awesome

    Posted October 08, 2009 by Ila in Maine, Sanford ME

    Reminded me of Steve King when he was young and could still scare me, when Salem's Lot had to be read outdoors in broad daylight because you were afraid to look out your windows for fear of who or what might be looking back at you, and you lived on the third floor.

    I read lots of horror, I live in Maine and it was the perfect read for me. I'm 51 and I don't say that about many, well hardly any books these days.

    Lock the doors, pull the blinds and enjoy a few chills.

  • 1 star out of 5Horrible! Absolute waste of time!

    Posted October 12, 2009 by Lisa, Columbia

    There is a reason this particular book was free. Its terrible. Save yourself some boredom and don't even start it.

  • 4 stars out of 5Great story, needs a little polishing

    Posted October 24, 2009 by RT, Lawton, OK

    I really enjoyed this book. It was very creepy, with great atmosphere. There were a lot of characters, and at times I got a little confused as to who was being referred to. But, even with its problems, the book is still an enjoyable read. I will be looking for more from her in the future.

  • 3 stars out of 5Somewhat predictable

    Posted October 25, 2009 by TraceyDNJ, NJ

    I like this genre and a book has to be pretty bad for me to not finish it. I actually did like this book although the story itself wasn't that strong. I think the author's writing style was engaging and did make me want to continue reading. The ending was fairly predictable, but overall a good, quick read.

  • 2 stars out of 5Glad it was free!!!

    Posted November 01, 2009 by Killswitch76, Export, PA

    This book was like a Stephen King wanna be. It was worth the read since it was free. I may give the second one a try but I am still undecided.

  • 1 star out of 5Started Good but an Effort to Finish

    Posted November 04, 2009 by Diana, Fort Walton Beach

    It started with a little promise but then just dwindled into blah, blah, blah a blend of different movies and books. The last 200-300 pages was a speed read to get to something actually interesting. It was a blend of all of Stephen Kings' books.

Additional Info

Imprint

HarperCollins

Filesize

904.13 KB

Number of Pages

400

eBook ISBN

9780061244827

Excerpt from: The Keeper by Sarah Langan

Liz Marley was a pretty girl with brown eyes and brown hair. Her attractiveness came less from her looks than from a generosity of character. When people spoke, she listened. When they needed comfort, she overcame her natural shyness and offered words of consolation. These qualities, easy to overlook, can make a plain face beautiful. But underneath her eyes were chronic dark circles, the result of too little sleep and bad nutrition. Over the years she had tried the cabbage diet, the protein diet, and the toothpick diet, all supplemented by late-show nachos and Cheez Whiz. Throughout these diets, her body had remained an adamant fifteen pounds overweight. In bed at night she sometimes squeezed the extra inches of fat on her stomach, silently accusing her body of betrayal.

It was an early Thursday morning in March, and the sun would not rise over this stretch of northern Maine for several hours. Liz Marley was standing inside the wrought-iron gates of the Bedford Cemetery. She blew out a deep breath, and watched the cloud of it billow in the cold air, and then dissipate into nothing. Down the hill the town still slept, and in front of her the cemetery was veiled in a layer of the most recent snow. Though this visit was a somber occasion, she was giddy with courage. Being here was a brave secret that no one would ever know.

In the center of the cemetery, a large stone angel presided over William Prentice's body. One of its wings was missing, and over the years the features of its face had been ground smooth. William Prentice had invested heavily in the Clott Paper Mill, and for a long time, it was his vision that had allowed the town to prosper. But the mill closed last month, and "For Sale" signs now adorned the houses on Nudd, Chestnut, and Mayflower Streets like decoration. The stone angel reminded Liz of a poem she'd read in English class about a forgotten king in a wasteland, warning all to look on his works, ye mighty, and despair, in a place where lone and level sands stretched far away.

Liz walked to the back of the cemetery. At the far corner, she found what she was looking for. The stone was smaller than most, and there were fresh red roses, their petals clinging closely together, at the foot of the grave. The inscription might have read husband or father or skinny asshole, but it said none of those things. Ted Marley (1963?2001), it read, and that was the best way to remember him: a name.

"Hi Dad," she said. "It's me. Lizzie. The daughter who isn't crazy."

She waited, almost expecting him to say hello back. Hi, princess! he might say. In her most perfect fantasy, he would call her princess and look at her with eyes full of pride like those dads on the WB: I'm not really dead. I was just sleeping. But now I'm back and I'm going to make everything right.

She sat down on the wet ground, and snow seeped through the nylon of her jacket. In the months after his death, Liz's mother had quietly embarked on a mission to erase Ted Marley. She donated his clothes and Red Sox caps to the Goodwill in Corpus Christi, and took down the photos of him, even family photos, from the end table in the television room. The rest of his things she stuffed into boxes and abandoned at the public dump.