To dispel some, perhaps, common misconceptions: the novel More Than Human by Theodore Sturgeon is not very much like the White Zombie classic, More Human Than Human. One is grand guignol rock classic and the other a meditation on identity.

The novel dragged a bit to begin with and it wasn’t until about a third of the way through that the disparate pieces started to come together. There was a bit of second rate Faulkner-ism in the third person limited narrative sections featuring children and brain damaged adults and I honestly couldn’t see what Sturgeon was doing. I now see, but I’m not convinced it was worth it.