When we think of horror, we imagine monsters and gore, serial killers and hockey masks, edged weapons and the supernatural. But there are other kinds of horrors, and those are the everyday ones in our lives. I'm a courts/crime reporter, and every day, I see people whose lives have become living hells... sometimes through no fault of their own. This is a story about one such living hell... a story about a woman who did everything she was supposed to do, did everything society told her to do. She followed the rules, and the Shangri-La she was promised remains an elusive one she glimpses only on television. Casey delivers a heart-wrenching and biting bit of social satire that uses extremes to makes its point, but it's the sad fact that those extremes are all too real from which the story derives its impact.
Barb is the perfect homemaker. She has dinner on the table every night as her kids and husband arrive home, and she works hard to provide a loving environment for her family. All she's ever wanted is a home, a family and their love and respect, and she's got it... except for the love and respect part. At their best, her family ignores her, and at their worst, they abuse her. But that's all about to change...
Parkhouse's art here strikes me as a cross between the styles of Ty (Bigg Time) Templeton and Guy (The Marquis) Davis. The character designs are crafted so as to reflect the ugliness that lies within. Parkhouse's vision of a 1950s, idyllic home life on the television conveys the vacant, empty and superficial nature of the main character's Holy Grail. Parkhouse's art is unflinching in its portrayal of some of the nastier elements in the story, such as Fletcher's violence toward animals and the violence the husband throws Barb's way.
Casey's satirical look at suburban family life is far from subtle, but it's clever -- and more importantly, it's surprisingly effective on an emotional level. Despite the fact that she's something of a pitiful figure, one cannot help but feel sympathy for Barb. One could view her as contributing to the insanity in which she lives, given the long road it would have taken for her teenage kids to become such assholes. But Casey balances that by showing Barb's efforts to help her kids, to steer them down a healthy path, only to have her legs cut out from under her by her husband and a lazy education administrator.
I'm reminded of Rich Johnston's Holed Up when I read Milkman Murders. Both are over-the-top visions of surburban life gone awry, but Joe Casey one-ups Johnston by demonstrating where a murderous anger comes from. Johnston's family is one made up of people who live to kill, but Casey's is full of people who deserve to die. They're so reprehensible that the reader can't wait to see Vincent and the kids get their bloody comeuppance.
