Review: Watching Evil Dead by Josh Malerman

Watching Evil Dead is kind of a book on the creative life, kind of a meditation on love, and kind of a memoir about a specific night. 

Josh Malerman is among my favorite modern horror writers, and I was so excited to read some of his nonfiction. I don’t normally go in for books on “the creative life,” quite frankly (and I probably won’t start even after this one). I never feel as though I have anything in common with most of the authors. But having read Malerman’s fiction, I knew our Venn diagrams overlapped. Still, I got both more and less than I expected. I haven’t been this conflicted about my feelings on a book in a while. Which is…good, I think?

Malerman uses the night of showing his then-girlfriend-now-wife The Evil Dead for the first time as a throughline for examining what he believes an artist deserves. It’s a thought experiment of a question, not necessarily a literal one, although it’s inspired by his recent Bird Box publishing deal. The other thread that runs through the book is about relationships—beginnings and endings, mostly. (I’ve seen a couple reviews that hated the whole bit about sex in the old office, but come on, have a little fun.) We also learn quite a lot about Josh’s writing habits and his years of writing before Bird Box was picked up. Hey, I love reading about writers’ career trajectories. Those bits were great. Though Watching Evil Dead is kind of clunky and the threads of the braid feel a little forced at times, it’s also quite lovely. (Despite its charm, this book also reminds me why I don’t like watching movies in a group where one person hasn’t seen the movie. The pausing, the active commentary, the personal drama, my god just watch the movieeeeeeee.)

And here’s why it dropped a star or two for me: I sort of hated the tone of this book. It reminded me of the kinds of repetitive, fake-deep drunk and stoned conversations I hated being around in my 20s, where everyone was very important and there was always one guy who insisted on bringing the topic back to his pet question or theory of the night. (Maybe my Venn diagram collides with Malerman’s a little too well.)

Don’t go into this book expecting an updated, horror-friendly version of The Artist’s Way. Go into it expecting to get to know Josh Malerman. Leave with some inspiring quotes and the urge to reflect on the first time a friend showed you a great movie. And just for fun, try to imagine keeping up with Josh and Co. drink for drink and joint for joint. Good luck.

3.5/5 rum and cokes