Review by Ian Keogh
Loving, Ohio is a moody supernatural thriller beginning with the mystery of the title. Is it a town? Is it a description? Or does it relate to the state of the half dozen teenagers introduced after the prologue revealing something’s gone seriously wrong. Well, it could be all three. We don’t have to wait long to learn it’s definitely a town, and one where when teenagers disappear it’s put down to them just leaving for somewhere bigger and better.
Sloane is introduced in the prologue and the guide and viewpoint to Loving, Ohio. She’s unhappy at the thought of her boyfriend Jesse leaving, and has no time for the personalised brand of religion her father and his friends subscribe to. What takes a while to drop into place is what Jesse meant by “leaving”. It’s indicative of Matthew Erman’s writing style, requiring attention to pick up on the nuances. Subtlety also applies to Sam Beck’s delicate art, which is good at setting mood via a limited selection of colours, and at showing what people feel. A signature technique is incorporating music in different forms, swirling around the atmosphere as jagged light or connected lyrics.
The atmosphere of an individual church with great influence is consistently sinister, and Sloane’s uncertainties are well established, but too much scene-setting occurs before the supernatural aspect emerges. That’s via a club visit that turns into tragedy, after which Sloane and her friends decide as no-one else is taking the problem seriously they’re going to sort it. This is a decision taken more heavily than in usual teenage mysteries, and with full awareness of what lies ahead.
Erman leads readers to have suspicions in certain directions, but keeps the bigger mystery of why things are happening under wraps. It takes 139 pages to circle back to the opening sequence, and cleverly, what is a definite victory, although one with a high emotional cost, followed by what seems a bombshell being dropped to set up the remainder of Loving, Ohio, except it’s not properly explored or discussed. The remainder is awkward. The emotional strength remains, but the narrative jerks, then slows again, and slows some more. Attractive art disguises the pace to an extent, along with the anticipation that there’s something important to follow. There isn’t. The story effectively ended on page 139 and a couple of the following conversations would have served as an epilogue, but Erman doesn’t know where to stop. Even if you’ve come to care for Sloane, the remainder is one long fade out, true to life, beautifully drawn and dull.
