Little wraps a fascinating supernatural mystery in a suffocating cocoon of horror. Daniel Martin is a typical Southern California kid in the 1980s, until his parents decide to purchase a vacation home in rural Arizona. Their new house will be constructed from a prefab kit—and the strange handyman across the street offers to build it for a low price. Little do Daniel and his innocent family realize that everyone who comes into contact with weird and evil Frank Watkins meets malevolence sooner or later. After Frank moves away, the corpse of a child is found in the basement of his old home. Shortly thereafter, Daniel's brother dies gruesomely. And that's just the beginning. As the story unfolds, readers see that the evil Frank causes has popped up across the country and over decades. With each taut chapter, Little skillfully reels in the reader, climaxing in an oddly believable paranormal finale. Little's horrifying tale will entice even readers who are not fans of the genre, and stay with them for a long time to come.
And you thought your contractor was bad? Little, one of the most dependable tanks in horror fiction, follows such delightful jobs-from-hell shockers as The Mailman (1991) and The Consultant (2015) with a story of a simple handyman named Frank Watkins. Or Watson. Or Wilton. Or Wilson. Depends on where he pops up, see. Daniel Martin was just a little kid when Frank built a vacation house for the Martin family—a house that had dead dogs buried under it and suffered a structural collapse that killed Daniel's brother. Years later, Daniel, now in real estate, happens across other so-called "Frank houses," structures of shoddy build that always manage to kill their occupants. Teaming up with a paranormal TV show called Ghost Pursuers (Little cleverly credits Frank's supernatural activity as causing the rise of such shows), Daniel hits the road to track down this hammer-swinging, cement-pouring, child-killing fix-it man. Though Little appears to lose interest during the mumbo-jumbo-filled final battle, this is far from a fixer upper. It's a finished mansion full of sick, playful rooms for you to explore.
—Daniel Kraus in Booklist