Review by Valarie Thorpe

This debut novella by James Newman is a tale of blinded beliefs that crawls across the reader's skin like fire ants and razorblades...and that's a good thing as Newman packs in more creepiness before 9 a.m. than most folks pack in all day.

We pick up with our protagonist in the morning, one that gives all new meaning to 'shouldn't have gotten out of bed.'

An innocuous visit by two clean-cut young men kicks things off and from there the day slowly unravels for our guy. The tension in here is reminiscent of a Glengary Glen Ross [if you've seen only the movie, which was incredible, pick up David Mamet's book]. Holy Rollers is very, very claustrophobic but with a sense of the familiar. It gets to the heart of maladjusted fervor and shows us it can crop up anywhere...anytime.

Hailing from the North Carolina Blue Ridge area, Newman knows from where he speaks. This is Billy Graham country, the home of the 'Carolina Christian Voice' and The Cove, resulting in an environment a little bit different than other areas. This isn't a disparaging comment, just an observation as a relative to dozens that live around there as well. Religious fervor has a very strong hold in some areas of North Carolina and although I'm sure this can be found in all parts of the country (and world for that matter), it's sort of a southern thing...you have to see it to appreciate it.

Newman writes in a swirl-of-events mode that keeps things going with an aura of desperation similar to that of trying to stop a massive layout of dominoes toppling -- just can't do it, and you can't stop reading either. This is a good one. Pick it up, enjoy it and later say, I knew him back before the guest spots on Letterman.

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