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Cold House exemplifies what T.M. Wright is capable of when he's working at his own singular level of full-tilt boogie -- when Wright Gets It Exactly Right, so to speak -- when the spell he casts is not just a spell but a goddamn net. In which you, I promise, reader, will happily flounder.--Jack Ketchum_________In a dark, strange city which may exist, in a time which may have been, in a cold, cold house as big as Cleveland, on streets the color of blood, among a thousand ghosts, and people who watch but barely speak, a man and a woman, separated by nightmare, search for each other and find an eternal winter, faces they do not recognize, love, torment, sacrifice.____________The people in this city are everywhere this morning. Thousands of them moving through the streets like a river, flowing here and flowing there, in pink and brown and gray, in and out of the townhouses, in and out of the row-houses.And so quiet. I open the window and I can't hear a thing. Such a great moving mass should at least produce a breeze. They're like blood flowing.