Dallas' Book Report: Playground by Aron Beauregard (2022)

      Yes, as you can tell by the cover, this is not a pretty book--nor is it a pleasant read by any stretch of the imagination. If the cover is not a dead giveaway, then take it from me--a fan of the splatterpunk genre--to tell you that this is one book that is not for the faint of heart. Scratch that, even for seasoned gorehounds like myself, it is a struggle to get through. On one decapitated hand, Aron Beauregard's Playground is as revolting as any novel can be; lunches will be lost, and the sanity of the reader will be questioned--who needs to digest their food anyway? So overrated. 
        But on the other hand (which has also been dismembered, mind you), Playground also has a lot of heart (mostly speaking figuratively in this regard), some very well put together character development, and an ending that packs a pathos-fueled surprise. 
        This blood-soaked tale of familial trauma and child endangerment begins with an innocent enough proposition. A family of billionaires invites a series of families to test out their state-of-the-art playground equipment for one afternoon for a payment of five thousand dollars. On paper, this is a charitable organization to help at-risk youths and low-income families, led by the seemingly sweet Geraldine Borden. The children play, and their parents get paid--sounds like free money to the people in question. For a family down on their luck, such money could be life-changing. But little did they know that their children were in for a world of hurt, for Geraldine Borden and her sadistic associates had more nefarious intentions in mind.
        The first thing readers will notice about Playground is just how much of a blunt force object it is in its writing. The pacing moves along so briskly that, despite the relatively simplistic writing style, there have been sections of the book where I had to re-read to grasp the narration. Situations, especially the graphic and disturbing sections, come at the reader like an eighteen-wheeler, barreling full force, and there is little to do to stop it. The use of wording, at times, feels less like a professional writer and more akin to something an edgy Redditor would write. While this may seem like a tonal jab with a hint of disrespect, given that this is a splatterpunk novel, it is to be expected. Beaurgard does the genre well, however, and he does have some very well-written characters throughout. 
        While I will not go into too much detail about the child characters (for the sake of spoilers), each encounter, as well as the gruesome aftermath, is told with a real sense of sympathy. This is more than just a kid version of the Saw movies; the author very much forces the reader to delve into the abject terror of child abuse and how generational trauma can ripple into a tidal wave of horror. Especially regarding one of the main leads, Rock Borden, the heavily abused adoptive son of the deranged villainess, Geraldine Borden. Rock, by far, is the standout character of the story, and his tale is tragedy-turned-triumph at its best. 
        And seeing Geraldine get her comeuppance is one of the most cathartic moments in horror history I have ever experienced. Speaking of Geraldine, she ruins the book not because of her depraved nature (that is par for the course of any horror villain) but because Beaurgard showcases her wicked nature way too quick. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I prefer my deranged psychopaths to have a slow burn effect, to encroach upon the reader like a pestilence. Also, having a spectacled old Nazi scientist be her partner in crime to help her design a deadly playground is passe to the point of groan-inducing. 
        While the main antagonist and some of the side plots are demerit points, I do recommend Playground to anyone who can stomach its horrors. Playground is a blunt yet, at times, touching tale of survival horror that is sure to please gorehounds.