For those who have seen Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, there is very little reason to read Robert Bloch's novel. Those who haven't seen the movie yet should probably do so rather than read this book.

That's not to say that Bloch's book is bad; it's just not as good as Hitchcock's famous movie. Still, Bloch's book has several things in its favor: it's a short read, simply written, and the shower scene is still frightening in prose. The problems: it's cliched (the investigator's character is about as stock as they come), the dialogue is stilted, the characters are shallow, and the explanation of Norman Bates's behavior is overwrought and implausible. (I actually don't know whether Bates's "condition" is medically accurate or not, but the exposition chapter that occurs at the end is still unnecessary even if Bloch exhaustively researched Bates's mental disease.)

Not a terrible book, but not a good one either. Given its subject, Psycho ends up being a surprisingly bland read.

(Addendum: This is not entirely relevant, but I found this article interesting in light of what Bloch talks about in this book.)

Copyright © 2002 Steven Wu