Sometimes you just don't connect with a book and it's neither the reader's fault nor the author's fault. Reading this kind of felt like hanging out with a group of your friends who start referencing an inside joke you're not a part of and you just have to patiently wait for that part of the conversation to end.

I'm not big on movies or television (I read books, that's why I'm here), but I'm aware of the titular trope even if I can't point to any specific examples. I likely would've gotten a lot more out of this if I was a big horror movie buff and/or had a good understanding of Los Angeles, but I'm not and I don't. The writing is fine and some passages of prose were actually impressive, but it's the pacing that got to me. For a story that's meant to stress the importance and value of the people you care about, we don't spend a lot of time with the protagonist's inner circle before they're threatened with danger. For once I'm wondering if the inciting incident happened too early rather than too late.

Despite the protagonist's flashbacks to a younger, closeted gay version of himself that were absolutely relatable, I don't feel I ever connected with Misha on a meaningful level. A disappointing climax rounded out an otherwise initially promising premise. Also there's a bit of a bait-and-switch going on genre-wise that I was ultimately okay with, but would've preferred if it hadn't happened. Not a bad read viewed in a vacuum, but a bit of a let down for me personally considering how much I loved Camp Damascus.