Let me confess. I got this book because of a review I read in the Daily Beast. Here's what hooked me: "From the get go, Nightwoods pegs the speedometer needle into the red and keeps it there for the duration. It is a terrifying, exhilarating thrill ride of a book." The reviewer must not have read the same book I did. I found the first two hundred pages of the book very slow going, indeed. Maybe it's the faux Faulkner prose style. Or maybe it's the fact that Frazier doesn't seem to have heard about showing rather than telling. There's more telling in this book than you're likely to encounter elsewhere. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I like tellling. I just don't like it with a lot of overwritten purple prose. The last 50 pages or so, which seem pretty much ripped from Night of the Hunter pick things up a bit, but not enough.
I'm probably completely wrong about this, so don't let me deter you from reading the book yourself. Check it out and see what you think.