By Keith Staskiewicz
September 28, 2014 at 04:00 AM EDT

Consumed

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”Long live the new flesh,” cries a transformed James Woods in Cronenberg’s 1983 classic Videodrome. Indeed, the pet obsessions the director explored in that film have lived on for decades in his subsequent work, including his debut novel. They’re all here: body horror, fetishism, techno-organic overlap, suppuration anxiety. Nathan and Naomi are a pair of freelance journalists who discover the stories they’re working on independently — a doctor’s daughter exhibiting strange symptoms and a French philosopher accused of killing and devouring his wife — might be related. Cronenberg has never striven for subtlety, and he writes with the understatement of a jackhammer. But like so much in his oeuvre, Consumed starts to grow on you after a while. B

Consumed

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