Hollis geht einen Deal mit Walt ein. Er soll für Obdach und Nahrung sorgen. Was er nicht weiß: Walt ist ein Geist und übernimmt seinen Körper, den sich die beiden nun teilen müssen. Coole Idee, teilweise gute Gespräche zwischen den Protas, aber zu lang. Man hätte viele Filler-Kapitel rauskürzen können.

K. Ancrum writes like a ghost whispering in your ear—soft, strange, and unforgettable. The Corruption of Hollis Brown is not just a story. It’s a haunting. A possession. A love story for the lost. In a town that’s rotting from the inside out, Hollis Brown aches in silence—half rage, half yearning. He is a boy carved by grief and shaped by small-town shadows, until one fateful deal at a crossroads invites a spirit into his bones. Walt is everything Hollis isn’t —and yet, the two boys begin to share not only a body, but something deeper. Something tender. Something dangerous. This book is a fever dream of queer longing, cursed soil, and the kind of love that blooms between ruins. It hums with Southern Gothic tension, and yet it pulses with the warmth of chosen family, of unlikely connection. Ancrum doesn’t just tell you a story—she dares you to feel it in your marrow. Here, love is not soft. It’s messy. Possessive. Brave. And when the exorcism draws near, when the lies crack open and the truth howls through, you’re left wondering: is it really corruption… or transformation? For readers who believe that broken boys can be sacred, and ghosts can be kissed, The Corruption of Hollis Brown will burn its way into your heart—and stay.