Eradication

I’ll admit: I side-eyed *Eradication* at first. A ‘literary’ novel about goats? But within twenty minutes, I was hooked—not by the premise (though the goats *are* a masterstroke), but by the way Miles writes grief like it’s a living thing, something that oozes into the cracks of a family’s foundation. The story follows a son returning to his father’s crumbling farm, where the old man’s death isn’t just imminent—it’s *contagious*, spreading like a curse through the land and the livestock. The surrealism isn’t window dressing; it’s the only language adequate for the characters’ pain. When the protagonist starts seeing his father’s face in the herd, it’s not a jump scare—it’s a gut-punch of recognition. We’ve all been haunted by the dead. Miles just gives the haunting hooves. Tom Alexander’s performance is a clinic in how to narrate the uncanny. His voice is warm but unstable, like a man telling a joke while his hands shake. He nails the book’s dark humor (a scene where the protagonist argues with a goat about existentialism had me cackling on the subway) but never undercuts the horror. My only critique? The pacing stumbles in the second act, where a subplot about a neighboring farmer’s feud feels undercooked—more atmospheric detour than narrative thrust. And while the ending lands with the force of a sledgehammer, I wished for a beat more ambiguity; the final image is so stark it risks tipping from haunting to heavy-handed. Still, these are quibbles. The production is flawless—no distracting edits, no tinny audio—and the runtime makes it a perfect one-sitting obsession. If you’ve ever loved a book that made you feel *unsettled* in the best way (*Piranesia*, *The Vegetarian*), this is your next fix. Just don’t blame me if you start eyeing the local livestock with suspicion.