The Last Plague kept my interest from beginning to end. Hawkins’ prose is visceral, graphic and completely immersive, with a sense of dread that builds almost immediately. Poor Frank, Joel, Magnus and Ralph are put through the wringer from the hangover after Joel’s stag do right through to the final pages, and things only become more brutal as the story unfolds.

This book is completely relentless. The horror is gruesome and often grotesque, but it never feels like shock for the sake of it. There is enough atmosphere and character beneath the carnage to keep you invested in what happens next. The ending is dark and macabre, but satisfying in its own twisted way.

This is the first book in a trilogy, but it still feels complete as a story in its own right. I will definitely be reading the sequels, probably quite soon. A solid four stars from me, although it definitely punches above that rating.