never a fun author but always a deep one, John le Carré. a pensive, carefully controlled writer and a deceptively placid novel: the perfect ingredientnever a fun author but always a deep one, John le Carré. a pensive, carefully controlled writer and a deceptively placid novel: the perfect ingredients for the start of what will become a classic series. one that will take the thrill out of 'spy thriller' and which will explore previously unmined depths within the genre. we meet George Smiley and gradually become impressed by this seemingly dull, lumpish, rather vague man. we appreciate his dry insights, his dislike of the pompous and the showy, his sardonic outlook on the systems around him, that almost control him. almost, but not quite, not fully; and not fully means he is, at heart, unable to be controlled. his empathy slowly becomes clear: an empathy that defines him, that is key to what makes him strong, and that is also his greatest weakness. this is not only a novel of spies and espionage, it is also a murder mystery. sadly for George, empathy is perhaps not the most helpful attribute when it comes to solving a murder....more
breathless gothic set in the darkest, deadliest, most dangerous place on earth: France! probably the least of the Coffmans I've read so far, but stillbreathless gothic set in the darkest, deadliest, most dangerous place on earth: France! probably the least of the Coffmans I've read so far, but still fairly fun. as always, I come to her looking for atmosphere and she has yet to disappoint me. tons of creepy castle atmosphere (doors that close with no one touching them! rooms opening on rooms instead of a sensible hallway! vivid painting of a sexy-evil vampire-witch king!) and tons of creepy country atmosphere (rose bushes but all the roses are dying! overgrown foliage because Le Compte is apparently too cheap to hire gardeners! a poisoned spring plus an unlucky mouse proving that it's poisoned!) the heroine is obstinate and annoying. the hero is - is there even a hero? there is a mysterious, foppish gent who is described by our heroine as weak-looking and there's a big, dull French cop roaming around with some kind of club-cane; neither are particularly compelling or charismatic. the plot: our young heroine, a newly-orphaned and newly-rich bourgeois-but-sympathetic-to-the-French-Revolution up & buys an isolated mansion that belonged to her slain fiancé's family; sinister, maybe-satanic shenanigans ensue. moral of the tale: never up & buy a castle that is literally called "Witches' Coven Castle"?...more
gee whiz! this is a perfectly executed novella about two boys, age 12 (and a half!) and age 14 (and a half!), at odds with ultra-dimensional villains.gee whiz! this is a perfectly executed novella about two boys, age 12 (and a half!) and age 14 (and a half!), at odds with ultra-dimensional villains. Azathoth, so-named, and Nyarlathotep, perhaps (my guess, at least). the twist is that these two young fellows are the übermensch scions of a world-dominating clan that controls a world-dominating corporation. so, despite the reader most likely being sympathetic towards the charismatic brothers, this is basically a tale of evil versus evil. in brisk and bloody action-novel format! what's not to love?
synopsis: in 1956, while on holiday from the school for assassins known as Mountain Leopard Temple, two likely lads first engage in a bit of drinking & shagging with loose local lasses and then find themselves on the run from who knows what from where God only knows. much bloodshed occurs. the two then take part in an archeological dig and more bloodshed occurs. finally, a journey across dimensions of time and space and life and death and a big dead whale, and a little more bloodshed of course. all's well that end's well and the masters of this mortal coil shall continue to pull our puppet strings. good job and nice work, kids!
Barron's pacing is tight and his characterization is sharply etched and his tongue is so far in cheek it has bored a bloody hole right through, you can see it wagging at you, cheekily. I really, really, really, REALLY wish that this had been novel-length. gosh it went by too quickly!...more
the author wrote a book about a detective in San Francisco, a dreaming detective who wishes himself away to Babylon, again and again. again and again the author wrote a book about a detective in San Francisco, a dreaming detective who wishes himself away to Babylon, again and again. again and again in Babylon, he misses his stop and his block and his appointments and the baseball and the whole point of the case he's on. he keeps dreaming of Babylon, dream dream dream, all he does is dream, this soft-boiled detective... this author too. is he writing a book for himself only? for his friends only? for his dreams only? is this his dream of a gumshoe and a dame and some shady characters? I wanted to like this book, so I did. sorta. but it was a bit of a chore to read you, book, like listening to someone recount their dream, I'm glad you were a short dream. a dream about a detective, a dame, a body or two, and mysteries that don't get solved because mysteries never get solved in your dreams. kind of a depressing dream but maybe the dreamer didn't realize that, too busy dreaming.
this part made me smile:
"Ohhhhhhh!" the butler moaned up from the floor.
"You didn't believe me," I said to Nana-dirat. "You said that the butler couldn't have done it, but I knew better and now the swine will pay for his crimes."
I gave him a good kick in the stomach. This caused him to stop concentrating on the pain in his arm and start thinking about his stomach.
Not only was I the most famous detective in Babylon but I was also the most hard-boiled just like a rock. I had no use for lawbreakers and could be very brutal with them.
"Darling," Nana-dirat said. "You're so wonderful, but did you have to kick him in the somach?"
"Yes," I said.
Nana-dirat threw her arms around me and pressed her beautiful body up close to mine. Then she looked up into my cold steel eyes and smiled. "Oh, well," she said. "Nobody's perfect, you big lug."
You are The Adversary, full of secrets, including a Secret Identity. Are you the doctor? The detective? The American friend?Choose Your Own Adventure!
You are The Adversary, full of secrets, including a Secret Identity. Are you the doctor? The detective? The American friend? The spymaster? The barrister? The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker? Who knows! Certainly not your foolish enemies, which include above all the British government and their stiff upper lips. You run circles around these Anglos, they are like children to you. Amusing creatures, these English; you wonder if their upper lips will remain so stiff after you bring down their entire government and make them the world's laughingstock!
You have adversaries of your own: the foolish Tommy and the obstreperous Tuppence. These two amateur sleuths also amuse you. As if they could find you out. As if! Let them try. The only problem they pose is the question of which you shall kill first.
If you decide to give Tuppence her due, it's best to eliminate smart young women before they turn into smart old women, choose https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
the book is a smooth operator, just like its cool cat of a protagonist, the double agent known as Eberlin. pacing is casual, not in a hurry. the writithe book is a smooth operator, just like its cool cat of a protagonist, the double agent known as Eberlin. pacing is casual, not in a hurry. the writing is proficient on a technical level, carefully descriptive, never effusive, steeped in irony and sometimes disdain, all shades of autumnal brown and wintry blue. but the book is not to be trusted. be careful of it, it has an agenda despite its studied nonchalance. the reader will find rapport with its beyond stylish, easily bored, yet surprisingly empathetic hero, perhaps glossing over the fact that he's also a Soviet assassin with at least two kills on his resume, probably many more. it's easy to sympathize with him, he's humane in his way, and he looks like a saint when comparing him to his psychopathic colleague, a sadistically misogynist James Bond type. you may forget that your sympathies shouldn't lie with a duplicitous killer, but the book hasn't. man that ending, how deflating. I respected the book but didn't love it, not at all. like with most smooth operators, I appreciated the technique, the finesse, the subtlety. but also like most smooth operators, it kinda gave me the creeps and it definitely left me cold....more
Simon Clark is always able to get right into the heads of his young protagonists. there's such an ease there, and a realism; it's a treat to read. BasSimon Clark is always able to get right into the heads of his young protagonists. there's such an ease there, and a realism; it's a treat to read. Bastion is a novella that has a lot for its readers to contemplate, but provides very little answers. usually I appreciate ambiguity, but this one feels like a lengthy intro to a much longer novel and I was a trifle annoyed by the total lack of reasons why. still, the questions intrigue: why are these boys waking up into a world of warfare, within what looks like a giant warehouse with deadly greenery growing out of concrete and a variety of murderous alien threats? why are the girls waking up into an indoor farming community, their sole purpose to raise crops and slaughter livestock and provide food for the boys? why do the boys lose their memories and why do the girls keep theirs? why are their ages strictly 10-16 and are these kids even aging? where the heck are they all, in some other dimension or another planet or or or? who did this to them? and hey why not... what is the nature of gender... what is the nature of war... is the entire story a literalization of how war consumes the young most of all? so many questions....more
#7 on Karl Edward Wagner's list of Best Science Fiction Horror Novels
this frenetically paced slice of pulp fiction is like a kid who doesn't know what#7 on Karl Edward Wagner's list of Best Science Fiction Horror Novels
this frenetically paced slice of pulp fiction is like a kid who doesn't know what they want to be when they grow up, so they try on a bunch of identities and discard those identities whenever they see fit (including when they get bored).
and so The Flying Beast has creepy & atmospheric horror, a murder mystery, a bit of comedy o' manner, international espionage & financial skullduggery, a harrowing trip through an African desert, a Lost City, and a couple action sequences featuring humans with guns versus a subhuman, subterranean horde. (let's not think too deeply about that last one.) this all happens sequentially, in roughly the order presented. I should also make clear that the berserk narrative and the throwing of multiple things at the wall made this a fun, certainly never boring experience. Masterman is an enjoyable writer, can definitely create an atmosphere (multiple ones), quite dramatic at times but not eye-rollingly melodramatic. there's a fairly saccharine romance happening throughout the book, but fortunately nothing too nauseating.
synyposis: an old recluse is found hanged in a spooky mansion. and then things really start to happen....more
HE'LL BULLY AND THREATEN TWO OLD LADIES MANAGING A WOMAN'S SHELTER BECAUSE THE COLD WAR DOESN'T HAVE TIME FOR THEIR NOSEY NONSENSE AND THEIR UPTIGHT "NO MEN ALLOWED" SO-CALLED "RULES"! THOSE MAN-HATERS BEST GET OUT THE WAY!
This is a 2 star book: lightly enjoyable but forgettable. Pulp vibe was medium-strength and fun when present. I could have used more of that vibe. For example, I'd have liked a lot more of the very very memorable "poetic" writing as displayed in this wonderfully over-the-top love scene:
It was a beautiful sunrise, slow and easy at first, then with crashing suddenness the wild red and bright burst in upon both of us in a frenzy of delight, then diminished into the steadily increasing glow of morning.
Damn, how soft she was, how firm and round the fleshy curves and hollows. Right from the fierce steppes of a Caucasus mountain she brought every buck, every undulation into a living symphony of outlandish delight. Her mouth was a hot, wet thing of such demanding passion that it itself was a fuse that ignited one explosion after another. Her mouth melt against mine, a torch that could nearly scream unless it was choked off, her entire body an octopus of emotion that demanded and demanded and when it was satisfied for a short time was almost content in a relaxation close to death itself.
But I wouldn't give her that relaxation. She asked, now she got. She wanted to see what a tiger was like and now she had to find out. She knew the depth of the canines and the feeling of being absorbed because she was only a woman in the lust of a horrible hunger and in that frightening sunlight she knew for the first time what it was like to live as one.
And that my friends is how a tiger with two backs is made....more
The Love Pavilion was built by a Chinese merchant in Malaya. Within the Love Pavilion is an antechamber decorated with friezes of dragons, fish, and bThe Love Pavilion was built by a Chinese merchant in Malaya. Within the Love Pavilion is an antechamber decorated with friezes of dragons, fish, and birds; beyond that room is the Golden Room, then the Jade Room, and finally the Scarlet Room. When the Japanese invaded Malaya during World War II, and held it for 3 years, the Chinese merchant was beheaded. His head was displayed on a pole for all of the villagers to see and so be instructed on the new order. During those 3 years of occupation, depending on the whims of the occupying soldiers, villagers were marched to the courtyard of the Love Pavilion and made to kneel there. 42 villagers eventually lost their heads in front of the Chinese merchant's pavilion. The courtyard became known as the Garden of Madness.
The Love Pavilion was written by one of my favorite authors, Paul Scott. It displays many of the virtues that I loved in his Raj Quartet: dense, sometimes hallucinatory prose full of vivid description - of landscapes, places, bodies, faces; characterization that goes deep, so that a certain understanding of his characters is reached, while still leaving them ambiguous, capable of terrible deeds; themes that are concerned with masculinity and femininity and gender roles, the shifting roles of colonizer and colonized, and the metaphysical: what is the nature of the mind, what is the purpose of existence. You know, light stuff.
The Love Pavilion is about Mysticism versus Rationalism. Mysticism is embodied by Brian Saxby, an adventurer always reaching for higher places, less-traveled paths, ways of existence not bound to tradition or by society. Saxby is first mentor to our protagonist, then symbolic father figure, then a person to be hunted; Saxby eventually becomes something very dangerous, murderous, a threat to those who would move on past the now-ended war, an animal in the jungle that must be put down. Rationalism is embodied by every other male character with a speaking part, not including our protagonist. Rationalism is shown at its weakest, most pathetically sentimental, most understandable, in Major Reid: a Good Man, a man's man, father to his troop of soldier boys, guardian of masculine codes, tormented by an inchoate guilt over his ambiguous past failures, a leader who views the slaughter of supposed enemies as a pleasant daytime activity, character-building for his young lions, much like the enjoyment he provides them in the evening: the whores who shall visit and pamper them in the Love Pavilion.
The Love Pavilion's protagonist is Tom Brent, who must find his own way between these two paths. He is a compelling, frustrating, wounded, relatable character. Although perhaps most relatable to... men. This is a man's book in that all women are viewed through a certain lens of condescension by its characters. They exist to please and sometimes irritate men. A man's needs include sexual gratification and it is expected that the Malay women shall provide this on demand. Even relatable Tom feels this, at one point asking his boss Greystone - another Rational Man - if he could have a girl assigned to him during his time working the land, a village girl who can cook his meals, handle his laundry, service his sexual needs at end of day. He asks this as casually as a person would ask for a towel to dry themselves after bathing. Only one man in this novel does not think of women this way: the murderous mystic, Brian Saxby.
The Love Pavilion's love interest is Teena Chang, biracial, mistress of the whores of the Love Pavilion, a whore herself. Teena has two faces that she displays to signal how she will be engaging with her clients: her European mood and her Chinese mood. These faces, these moods, are alternately Rational and Mystical. She puts them on and takes them off as she sees fit. Teena, unlike each and every other male character, recognizes that such moods, such ideas, should not be the sole attribute of any person, they should be adopted as needed, and discarded in the same way. Teena's world is a small one, purposely so; a world that is not concerned with the loftier goals of Mysticism and Rationalism. Of course, Tom falls quickly and deeply in love with Teena. Of course, Teena must die. There is only room for binary thinking in the great big world of men, the men who would create and use the Love Pavilion as they see fit....more
it is a superior product and it does two things very, very well: it marries the classic noir narrative to Lovecraft; it tells the story of a femme fatit is a superior product and it does two things very, very well: it marries the classic noir narrative to Lovecraft; it tells the story of a femme fatale from the lady in question's perspective. it presents the Pair of Cops template in its first story and the Sunset Boulevard template in its second. it is not a deconstruction, it is a reconstruction, an enrichening. it has depth, empathy, sadness. its heroine is beautifully realized, as with most of its cast. it stays true to the genre while bringing new dimensions to it: new dimensions to an archetype and literal new dimensions. its use of the supernatural is supernal. its writing is superb; my first time with the hard-boiled but sensitive Brubaker and definitely not my last. its art is equally superlative, all the shades of brown, gray, dark blue, the occasional splash of deep red. it rubs the lotion on its skin. it places the lotion in the basket....more
hard to know who i could ever recommend this gem to. certainly it requires patience of a special sort. this is a da vinci code kinda book except smarthard to know who i could ever recommend this gem to. certainly it requires patience of a special sort. this is a da vinci code kinda book except smarter, longer, very ironic, and quite attuned to its own absurdities. a person would have to find the parallel journeys of two professors trotting around europe and digging up family histories and historical obscurities in search of some cursed rubies to be compelling. that person would not mind lengthy digressions about internecine ivory tower battles and world war two experiments with rat-telepathy; don't worry though, it all comes together in the end. and that person could not be annoyed at snobby humor at the expense of other snobs, intellectual humor at the expense of various lackwits, and insensitive humor at the expense of anyone who isn't a cultured straight white male (although happily, a good deal of that humor is also aimed at the two cultured gents in question). the author is an urbane and sophisticated sort, well-traveled in the ways of the world and in the ways of both the upper class and provincials, and that kind of perspective is its own kind of obnoxious.
but nevermind all of that, this is a great book if you have the right mindset and like overly long and overly droll adventures. i took well over a month to read this because it is super dense and also super fun for my own particular personality type - i just didn't want it to end. i like spending time with snobby friends. but my favorite character is far from snobby: a surprisingly cheeky and clever undergraduate embroiled in these diabolical misadventures, always on the grift and always making sure to look out for his pals and his wallet. so what if at the end of the book, while staring rapt at his professor's hot wife being ravished by a hot, undead immortal twin in some eerie cavern as part of some arcane ritual to ward off both a slaughter by rats and to remove an ancient curse, he shamelessly and quite furiously begins to jack off at the exciting sight. who could blame him? i mean really, you don't get to see something like that everyday....more
shortly after the Civil War, a "feministic" young woman finds herself stranded with a range of other travelers at the Plantation Inn, waiting for the shortly after the Civil War, a "feministic" young woman finds herself stranded with a range of other travelers at the Plantation Inn, waiting for the rains to pass and the river nearby to become passable. also nearby: the vicious scion of a robber clan, on the run with his paramour, and notoriously okay with slashing the throat of any man, woman, child, or cat that gets in his way. but perhaps that villain and his lady are already members of the party, in disguise and ready to slash more throats... cue dramatic music!
there are a couple reviewers that found this to be "excruciatingly boring" and I just have to say that if such reviewers find the recounting of 3 tense days & nights filled with anxiety, paranoia, murdered animals, an intruder dressed as a spectral klansman, a dummy dressed as a murder victim, a lady's finery shredded and smeared with excrement, women screaming in the night, blood smeared throughout the hallway, tales of bayoneted babies (yep), someone at the locked door trying to get in while whispering spring has come, oh and some light flirting... well, if they find a 160-page book full of those sorts of things to be boring, then what exactly do they find to be exciting??
for the most part, this was a fun, page-turning experience and I just had to finish it in one sitting. the writing is mainly pretty good and the setting is ripe with rainy gothic atmosphere. unfortunately, the denouement is the worst kind of corny infodump, the various romances are eyerolling and unconvincing, and when the writing isn't pretty good, it is completely horrible, with some headscratchingly obtuse dialogue and bizarre misuse of words that occasionally gave me the impression that the author wasn't too comfortable with using things like words. and so 1 star docked, despite this being an exciting experience overall....more
don't spend time wondering about dumb things like how well boys would do without girls in their lives or vice versa. don't continue with this so-calledon't spend time wondering about dumb things like how well boys would do without girls in their lives or vice versa. don't continue with this so-called review if you don't like outright SPOILERS AHEAD. don't read Dead Poet's Slaughter Society if you don't like reading about growing up or mass murder. also,
after my aggravating experience reading Goblin, I'm glad that Malerman restored my faith in him with this sweet, tightly paced, mainly well-written, occassionally brutal, and eventually very bloody coming of age tale. Inspection has its weaknesses, such as the self-indulgence in depicting a pretentious teacher and the weak motivation for the novel's two striking villains. to the latter: placing the blame on a sour feminist for creating this sick mini-dystopia was a terribly cringey decision. all that said, I loved how well the kids are characterized. empathetic and I think realistically done. the setting is well-drawn and the atmosphere is eerie from beginning to end - the author clearly grew past his Goblin mistakes. and it was great seeing some girls really take care of business when the tone moves from dreamlike to frantic in an expected but still charmingly berserk finale. kill 'em all, kiddos!...more
synopsis: various Englishmen, an Englishwoman, and a lively Englishboy are embroiled in a murder mystery, a sort of treasure hunt, the nefarious goalssynopsis: various Englishmen, an Englishwoman, and a lively Englishboy are embroiled in a murder mystery, a sort of treasure hunt, the nefarious goals of various occultists, and a diverse array of paranormal happenings; unsurprisingly, they barely bother to acknowledge let alone comment on the spiritual and supernatural aspects intruding violently upon their lives, no doubt because they are English and such immoderate declarations of the obvious would certainly be considered a trifle unseemly.
I love how this offbeat novel espouses that there is a kind of mythic transcendentalism within the nature of Anglican Christianity - quite a new perspective to me. Never would I have imagined adding the Church of England to my list of Favorite Christian Faiths - but make room Quakers, Religious Scientists, and Swedenborgians! There's a new faith that will now be sharing your space in my head.
Charles Williams was of course one of the Inklings, that storied crew of literary enthusiasts and visionary Christians that included J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I guess he was the odd one out, or - as I'd like to imagine - the eccentric brother who they had little in common with but still admired because of that eccentricity. Despite his idiosyncracies, Williams was no Iconoclast: the Christian vision within him was strong, and this story features one of the most important Christian icons of all: the Holy Grail. Indeed, it is the iconoclastic villains in this novel that seek to misuse or destroy this holy item.
One of the things I appreciated most about Williams' storytelling, and his take on the Anglican value system, is that he is not strident about his religion. The author does not make a big fuss about anything, including matters of faith. There may be a beautifully dreamlike and transcendent miracle that happens in a church at the climax, but the author is never pushy with his faith. The protagonists include a range of nice but uninteresting individuals with varying levels of spirituality, and there is no dull speechifying about what constitutes Right or Wrong Behavior. The evil villains are fascinatingly malicious and spiteful, urbane and erudite and amusing, callous and cruel just to be cruel, and they feature deadly magicians and a cynical, mean-spirited author... but their wickedness comes from who they actually are, their personalities and intentions, their outlook on life - and not from their specific ideology, or lack thereof. They are not villains because they move against Christianity, they are villains because they are heartless assholes. The rot came from within.
Another thing I appreciated: the inclusion of the legendary Prester John as an in-person deus ex machina. This Prester John, despite being a force for ultimate good is... scary. A smiling, ruthless, you simple-minded terrestrial villains are but interesting little insects to me, barely worth my time kind of scary. Yay for scary good guys! There's too few of them.
The book is dry, the humor so low-key it nears invisible, the pacing veers back and forth between being too quick and choppy to being too gently meandering, and it often doesn't bother explaining itself very clearly. It is a metaphysical book but the feel for the most part is mundane, corporeal, rooted in the day-to-day of office and family life, work conversations and polite, passive-aggressive banter. Open drama is kept to a mininum, as is the expression of blatant emotion. When the fantastic elements intrude and the mystical visions take over, it felt like I had turned the page and entered another book entirely, so based in reality is the majority of the story. This is a hard book to recommend. But I loved it, including all of its idiosyncracies; it is an excellent gateway into Charles Williams' unusual world view. I look forward to reading more of his strange adventures....more
synopsis: pirates can have a heart; children, never.
I have a shelf called "World of Insects" where I put literary novels whose perspectives on human nsynopsis: pirates can have a heart; children, never.
I have a shelf called "World of Insects" where I put literary novels whose perspectives on human nature are cold and detached; these stories often function as dissections. They provide examples of how humans lack a moral compass and follow predictably selfish behavior patterns. I have another shelf called "These Fragile Lives" with books that illustrate how humans are a complex and delicate web of emotions. These warmer stories depict human nature with a certain empathy. A High Wind in Jamaica belongs on both shelves. This off-putting but still quite absorbing anti-adventure has a dual perspective. The writing is both sardonic and sunny, at once disturbingly realistic and gorgeously poetic; the tone is light that conceals darkness; the narrative is a wonderful series of surprises yet is also one that is bleak, deterministic. The pirates are sympathetic until one is reminded that some men want adult things from a child. The kids are delightful until one is reminded that some children aren't overly concerned with truth or kindness. Remind me to never go on a pirate adventure with either children or pirates!
It feels mean to harshly criticize or even mock this action-packed dramedy about semi-powered B-listers stuck between asshole superheroes and slaughteIt feels mean to harshly criticize or even mock this action-packed dramedy about semi-powered B-listers stuck between asshole superheroes and slaughter-happy supervillains. Like mocking a pre-teen who is excitedly recounting their overly long and rather stupid superhero saga that is all about constantly running around and backtracking and regrouping and making phone calls and making plans and enacting those plans and doing those plans over again and going back to the same places over and over again and plenty of fights and torture and snarky face-offs and unconvincing angst and a brain-numbing amount of wisecracking and of course cardboard characters and some really goofy powers including hands that can shoot out geysers of liquid feces. Oops I guess I did mock it after all.
The author went on to write the popular and well-regarded Six Wakes, so I'm confident that the amateurish writing powers on display were enhanced over time. Perhaps like the one thing that saves this from getting 1 star: namely, the minor powers of the heroine. No one can take away the things she keeps - thus the title, groan. Her powers are explored and then enhanced over the course of the book and really do turn into something interesting. The image of various heroes and villains who tried to take something from her suddenly frozen in stasis and forced to follow her around like floating luggage was superfun to imagine....more
"Francis Stevens" was Gertrude Barrows, one of the very few female writers of strange fiction to catch the public's eye in the early 20th century. Kud"Francis Stevens" was Gertrude Barrows, one of the very few female writers of strange fiction to catch the public's eye in the early 20th century. Kudos, Ms. Barrows!
This was a lot of fun. The author weaves in elements of various genres that I haven't previously seen put together: bold adventures in a lost world, the unknowable forces of weird fiction, Aztec mythology, off-kilter suburban horror, a gothic landscape right outside of that suburbia, and a rather Götterdämmerung-esque scene of gods at battle. Definitely some points awarded for the sheer creativity on display. I didn't love one of the heroines (too submissive) but she redeems herself with a display of forthright bloodthirstiness. The other heroine was great - strong and clever and quite capable of forcing a conservative husband to finally do something active besides get on the phone to complain to the police. And the protagonist is one of those oversized lunks with a brash, naive manner but of course a heart of gold, which is one of my favorite archetypes. Best of all is a key horror set that appears twice, first in a strange forgotten land and then in the outskirts of a bedroom community: a foggy, murky marsh full of horrible beasts that somehow exists indoors. Like in a building and accessed through a doorway! Fascinating imagery.
I see that reviewers have complained about the abrupt shift from King Solomon's Mines type adventures to creeping dread in a middle class environment. I get it, it was pretty damn abrupt. But purposely so. I liked it - the shift made the whole experience all the more disorienting and original.
I love that sneaky smile. She knows something you don't.
UPDATE: according to a recent blog post on Wormwoodiana, the above photo is actually not the author. I love that photo, so that makes me a wee bit sad. However, I have to say that I love the photo included in the Wormwoodiana article of "the real Francis Stevens" just as much:
What is she looking at? Certainly not at you or me or any other insignificant human. Perhaps she has spied a portal between worlds, and the etheric beings floating through that can only be seen by her third eye. Or some such faintly interesting vista....more
Imagine Holden Caulfield. All of the angst, all of the questioning of society's bullshit, all of the contempt, insecurity, honesty, and occasional kinImagine Holden Caulfield. All of the angst, all of the questioning of society's bullshit, all of the contempt, insecurity, honesty, and occasional kindness. Now imagine that he came from a far worse home, one where his PTSD-driven father torments and beats him while his mother turns away. Imagine Holden getting bigger, stronger, turning the tables on the father to torment and beat him in turn; imagine Holden turning into a monster. He kills a man "in a fog of despair" (thanks, book synopsis). This Holden sees red when he encounters fakeness and hypocrisy; he flies into a murderous rage, laying waste to innocent and guilty alike. He goes to jail. This Holden yearns to not just escape the hypocrisy of society, he yearns to escape the literal bars enclosing him; he tries and tries again. This Holden becomes a predator, a manipulator, a person to be feared, a survivor. This Holden clings to another man, to remind him that decency still exists, that warmth between two humans can survive it all, that escape is possible. Poor Holden Caulfield Kirk Whelan! He is destined for disappointment.
Frank Hilaire apparently wrote this while he was serving time. If my digging online can be trusted, he's out now and has perhaps been out for a while. He lives south of the border. He's still writing. God bless the guy.
The book is intense, to say the least. Hilaire writes in an emotionally escalated style and Kirk Whelan is capable of surprisingly poetic trains of thought. At times there is a certain self-indulgence to the writing, a pretension to the prose, a hackneyed quality to Kirk's questioning of moral standards. But that's often the case when the young are aged before their time and begin lashing back at the ways of the world. Portentousness is a part of the package. And so Kirk is a nihilist, a smart and uncompromising one. The reader roots for him while nervously awaiting his next bleak smile, condescending put-down, or worst of all, his red haze when he just wants to smash, pulp, and kill. Fellow prisoners must be careful what they say around him; he has the brawn, brains, and vindictiveness to hurt them in all sorts of ways. But no matter: the reader roots for Kirk still. Watching Kirk's friendship develop with the pretty, kindly, very queer Leslie is incredibly endearing. Kirk's words are insensitive; the reader, much like Leslie, must put up with a hell of a lot of "stupid fag" and "little fruit" type comments. That's the way Kirk talks when mad, sad, glad, or just relaxing with his best friend. And later, his lover. Kirk himself is not queer. But prison will make of you what it will. The reader sees this relationship develop and roots for them, for tenderness and a place free of bars, for an escape to something better. The reader is destined for disappointment....more
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