feels strange to describe a book as "literate" but Doctors Wear Scarlet is certainly that. I noticed that descriptor on the back cover - along with thfeels strange to describe a book as "literate" but Doctors Wear Scarlet is certainly that. I noticed that descriptor on the back cover - along with the equally apropos adjective "alarming" - and sneered. but I've realized it really fits. unnamed reviewer at Chicago Heights Star, you were absolutely correct in calling this "literate and alarming."
the novel is about a young man lured into vampirism. no burning in sunlight or shape changing, but vampirism nonetheless: hypnotic powers, bloodsucking, embracing the darkness, stakes required, etc. the young man in question, Dick Fountain (that name!), is an even-tempered, well-spoken, scholarly, athletic Top Lad at Cambridge who appears totally normal on the surface and is definitely going places academically, if only he would let those around him micromanage his life. but get to know him intimately and you learn he's a little off. surprisingly animalistic in a fight. oddly subservient to authority yet just as oddly sadistic when it comes to freezing out those who would control him. low-key obsessed with the idea that buttoned-up humans need to cast off their shackles and return to their primal, pagan natures. and a writer of pleasant, floral poetry to boot! honestly, I developed kind of a crush on the little weirdo. eventually, Dick Fountain (that name!) goes off to study abroad at various Grecian isles and there he meets a lady who introduces him to a different way of looking at life.
we learn all of this via our erudite, snobby, and rather louche narrator, Mr. Seymour, a schoolchum of Dick Fountain (that name!) - the latter is often viewed from a distance, a flame that the rest of the characters are terribly attracted to. the book itself is much like Mr. Seymour: erudite, snobby, rather louche. Simon Raven has a way of writing a book that makes everyone in the story and the author himself sound like what the English call a toff. even the perfectly amiable detective involved in this case admits that he's only interested in protecting the lives of his friends and "special, talented persons" because "there's no time for the rest." author and cast are all very Ayn Rand, very Nietzsche. as well as exceedingly and obnoxiously languid, casual under pressure, well-read, and hyper-articulate. they were fun to read about.
there are two amazing setpieces in the book: a confrontation in a remote mountain monastery with the vampiress who has ensnared Dick Fountain (that name!) and the detailing of a ghastly-sounding welcoming/graduation ceremony of sorts - students vomiting during their dinner from all of the alcohol they're drinking while their elders look on affectionately and servants rush to clean up the mess - at which a hysterical and very mean-spirited speech is given by Dick Fountain (ok one last time: that name!). the finale is suitably bloody and tragic. (view spoiler)[we also get a description of how the vampiress relaxes, which is basically by hypnotizing children into getting raped and then raping each other, and I really, really didn't need to read about that. hate to end this review of an excellent book with that last sentence, so I put it in a spoiler. but probably important for squeamish readers like me to know about that scene, which occurs late in the book. (hide spoiler)]
☠️
#11 on Karl Edward Wagner's list of "13 Best Supernatural Horror Novels"...more
the children are born from the earth, born hungry. they grow, they eat, they explore the world. some put on the costume of a human adult, playing dresthe children are born from the earth, born hungry. they grow, they eat, they explore the world. some put on the costume of a human adult, playing dress-up, until they believe the role they've taken on, until they forget what birthed them. but return to their mother they must; those born of the earth must go back into that earth, eventually. to be reborn again, eventually. it is a cycle...
although one book remains in this series of standalone novels, The People of the Dark feels like a natural ending. we return to the original setting of the first two books, and to the abandoned upscale housing development and massacre site of the second, and a key character from the third makes an appearance. the first book had a child born and an adult realizing their true nature; the second book had more children born, and born hungry. the third book had children exploring, and still hungry. this fourth book has a child turned adult, a strange being who thinks she's a human realizing she's something different, her husband unable to understand what is happening to her and in the nearby town, unable to make sense of what has come from the woods that surround them, from the woods and from the earth. people, or rather "people," wandering around the town and up to his doorstep, not knowing what they are but going through the motions, wondering why, slowly fading. all of this is a spoiler if this is the first book being read (not recommended) but all of this makes perfect sense if the prior books have been read first (highly recommended).
this is a minor novel; none of the novels after the first, Strange Seed, have quite reached that book's heights or depths. minor note in tone as well. nevertheless, T.M. Wright is a masterful writer and his talents are on full display here. this is a surprisingly moving story, suffused with a forlorn longing, in the words of the lost earth-beings, and in how a man sees his love and his life with that love slipping away, for reasons he refuses to understand, no matter how many people try to explain to him why. The People of the Dark is an eerily quiet novel, full of ambiguity and unsettling occurrences, whispery voices from the walls and blank faces at the door, the sense of another world overlapping with our world. this other world has its own rules and ways of living, just as Wright has his own unique style and way of writing....more
this is a fascinating horror novel about adults who won't let go and kids who have to pay the price. the novel literalizes the idea of parents living this is a fascinating horror novel about adults who won't let go and kids who have to pay the price. the novel literalizes the idea of parents living their lives at the expense of their children: appalling thrill-seeker Renee may now be virtually braindead, but she still wants to live the wild life, even if that means inhabiting the mind of her daughter, bending that little body to her will and sucking her soul away, bit by bit. Renee was a student of the left-hand path and those lessons served her well; fortunately for her daughter, Renee's ex-husband is willing to literally give up everything to free their child of this puppeteer.
the book is grim, grimy, and unpleasant. and very well-written. the scenes of Renee's practice run mind controlling her sister were difficult for me to read, they were so full of the complete degradation of a person's body and spirit. Jeter makes this novel a compelling and fearful experience, full of night sweats and terrible dreams. he was clearly committed to maintaining a certain kind of narrative, one that doesn't spell things out for his readers, and to creating a certain kind of atmosphere, one of creeping dread and feelings of imminent doom. his vision of an unspoken fraternity of divorced fathers, only somewhat in their children's lives, moodily traveling the freeways on Fridays and Sundays, was a surprising concept. even more striking is the novel's central location: a failed suburban planning experiment now mainly empty, the funders out of money halfway through the project, leaving only the skeletons of homes that will never be lived in. and at the heart of that dead neighborhood, a body in a coma, hooked to feeding tubes, nearly dead itself but still desperately yearning for life. never have I read a will to survive depicted so repulsively. just die already, monster!
the strange and perfect collage art cover on my edition is by Dave McKean, whose covers for Sandman disturbed and enchanted me when much younger....more
All of Tom Reamy's fiction under one cover, minus his Bradbury homage, the novel Blind Voices. (I read the hardcover edition of this collection, but tAll of Tom Reamy's fiction under one cover, minus his Bradbury homage, the novel Blind Voices. (I read the hardcover edition of this collection, but that's not appearing on Goodreads.) Reamy was a fascinating author and many of his tales are wonderfully strange. He had a lively intelligence that makes me wonder what more he could have brought into the world, if he hadn't left the world so soon.
The collection has three new additions to his prior collection, the excellent San Diego Lightfoot Sue and Other Stories. None of them amazed me, and two of them were mediocre - but all three are still interesting for completists like me.
"Sting!" is a screenplay about an alien invasion in a small town. Goofy fun but clichéd and not particularly memorable.
"M Is for the Million Things" is bleak and repulsive. Bad things happen to people, perhaps randomly and perhaps not, and maybe this is the start of the end of the human race. The talent is there but I'm not sure why this was written.
"Potiphee, Petey, and Me" is very hard to describe. In some kind of society - post-apocalyptic maybe? - mutated or bio-engineered men live a certain kind of way, without women. The overlords of this society keep the men "horny, happy, and ignorant" which basically involves a lot of sodomy and the designation of some males as female-labeled "butterflies". The plot: after the death of their butterfly, three men hope to reconstitute their group marriage by finding a new butterfly, which will get some female-labeled energy back into their home and will mean they can finally stop fucking each other. Our hero, the aptly-named Horse, stumbles upon a plot by a group of rebel butterflies who seek to escape into the outer world. This novella was strangely light-hearted and incredibly bizarre.
✄
I'll just copy & paste some of my review of San Diego Lightfoot Sue to describe more of this collection:
"Twilla" was super fun - a dark kind of fun, but fun nonetheless: a thrilling battle between an elderly schoolteacher, living out her days in a dusty small town, and a vicious little witch, trapped in a schoolgirl's body and armed with spells, homunculi, and and an enslaved djinn. That horrific, demonic, rape-happy djinn is the story's biggest character, in all definitions of the word, but what I loved in particular was how Reamy fully invests in his brave heroine - still virginal after all her years, but still an intrepid maverick who knows how people think and who knows exactly how to take care of business.
"Beyond the Cleft" and "Dinosaurs" are about the end of things: in the first, the end of human life as we know it in a small town (and perhaps everywhere) and the beginning of something terrible and new to take its place; in the second, the end of human life on our earth and the beginning of something new and perhaps not so terrible, ready to take our place. The first story was pitch dark, deadpan horror; the second was incredibly imaginative science fiction that is at ease in depicting completely alien cultures - human and otherwise - with a bleak and mournful tone. Sad and memorable stories depicting sad, terrible things. Ah, the sad, terrible cycle of life!
I had so much fun reading the slightly amateurish "Insects in Amber" - and the feeling I had of this story being written by an excited writer just developing his skills actually added to the fun. It was slapdash and speedy and I smiled constantly. The plot: a number of strangers find that a storm has trapped them all in an old dark mansion, one that comes complete with an eerie, elderly mistress, her sinister servant, a strange supernatural force, psychic powers galore, and a couple memorable deaths. What's not to love? I have literally just described everything I'm interested in when it comes to old dark mansions.
The cynical, snarky appeal of urban noir that stars police detectives and private detectives is fully present in "Under the Hollywood Sign" and "Detweiler Boy". The careful putting together of clues, the stubborn protagonists, the untrustworthy suspects, the sudden plunge into a bleak existential darkness - all there, alongside a rich vein of disturbing, surreal fantasy that involves inexplicable angels (the winged kind) and a mysterious twin (the bloodthirsty kind). And mixed in with all of that is what felt like a kind of homoeroticism, one not curdled with any sort of loathing, self- or otherwise. I'm not sure what the sexuality of the author was, but the feel I get is that of a person not just completely at ease with their own sexuality, but open and nonjudgmental of the spectrum of sexuality itself. That was a good feeling and a surprising thing to find.
That openness is certainly present in the highly regarded and awarded "San Diego Lightfoot Sue," which has a sweet, very naive teen from a small town, new to Los Angeles, taken in by two very flaming and, much more importantly, very kind queens. I completely loved that the depiction of these two embraced both the stereotypes and how genuine and nurturing they are. Reamy was certainly not an author who Othered those outside the mainstream. The boy falls in love with the much older prostitute-painter next door; tragedy soon follows. The story is actually barely even genre fiction - outside of the opening and the tragic closing, this is more of a coming of age tale featuring a remarkable and very sympathetic cast....more
"I want to know whether you think I would be an adequate parent. I mean, I would be willing to dine out less often, and if necessary I would change my"I want to know whether you think I would be an adequate parent. I mean, I would be willing to dine out less often, and if necessary I would change my tailor. But would that be enough?"
spoilers ahead but not really
he gets the award for worst fucking father of the year that's for sure. not because he's abusive or because he lacks love or doesn't care for the kid. it's because he puts his needs above hers time and time again. leaving her alone when she shouldn't be. giving her what she wants when he shouldn't. moving her to a small town that has an annual murder & cannibalization ritual featuring kids just her age.
they say we sacrifice things for love but does that include your own kid?
that amusing quote above isn't even from our hero-dad, it's from his best friend. who turns out to be a model of common sense compared to worst father of the year.
enough about the dad, more about the book itself!
it's been described as a slow burn and that's correct. it's quiet horror. it builds slowly and surely. and quietly. it quietly builds and builds and doesn't go anywhere noisy. it wants you to understand its world and its father and his daughter and the mysterious lady he's fallen deeply - too deeply - in love with. the father and the mysterious lady both love the little girl with all of her strange, quiet little quirks. but the father loves the lady even more and the lady loves the strange traditions of her quiet, quirky hometown more than anyone. all three of them come to hate the noisy normality of new york city. and so off to a deadly little village upstate they go. never go upstate.
film noir is all about shadows and ambiguous motivations and hidden murders, lying women, weapons in the dark. is there such a thing as film blanc, its opposite? this would be the book version of that. no shadows; everything is made clear, even the ghosts that appear in the photos with the little girl, they are right there for all to see. no ambiguous motivations; everything is said clearly and truthfully, just not blatantly, you only have to really listen to truly understand, it's just that most people don't really listen. no hidden murders; they told him from the start what the town's founder did and these are people who adhere to their traditions. the woman never lies and they keep the knife right there, in the church for all to see. that title.
Ken Greenhall is one of my favorite authors. elegant prose, eccentric characters, deep ideas. the novel didn't disappoint. only the dad did. fuck that dad....more
hyperventilating tale of a South American demon cult finding its prey within an upper-middle class Jewish enclave. although this is a largely forgettahyperventilating tale of a South American demon cult finding its prey within an upper-middle class Jewish enclave. although this is a largely forgettable novel, the milieu was interesting and unusual. I'm not sure I've read about such a specifically depicted neighborhood in a horror novel before. Jewish faith & culture aren't explored per se, they are more of a given in this setting. makes for a very stark (but, as the kids say... problematic?) culture clash of a rarified society versus a barbaric one. the writing is at times strikingly and at other times annoyingly impressionistic - Betty Ferm is an author with flair in her prose. the book's very narrow focus on the confused, increasingly hysterical heroine's perspective was likewise both striking and annoying. climax was rushed and bizarre but certainly vivid....more
all the sweet spots were hit, including one I didn't know I even had: sardonic and (relatively) independent heroine yearning to explore the world; welall the sweet spots were hit, including one I didn't know I even had: sardonic and (relatively) independent heroine yearning to explore the world; well-developed setting; lavish detail porn featuring décor, couture, and food; arch dialogue; vivid swordfights; and especially, surprisingly, a Gary Stu Vampire versus decadent, sadistic Satanists. I'd add in an admirably frank attitude towards describing sex, but the sex described in this one was basically satanic gang rape, so I'll leave that out as far as sweet spots go.
speaking of sex, one of the most interesting/amusing things about Gary Stu-Germain the heartbreaker protagonist is that the book makes it clear that vampires can't have sex (at least of the penetrative variety). when you combine that with his disinterest in killing people, his sweet supportiveness and gentle demeanor, his style, his frequent and generous compliments, his kindness to servants... he's the safest and most pleasant vampire one could ever have the pleasure of meeting. I'd probably let him chaperone my daughter (as long as he promised not to turn her).
Yarbro's prose is polished and sophisticated but never pretentious. despite the amount of historical detail on display, the narrative never felt heavy. this was such a pleasure to read, so droll and amusing. and sometimes very moving.
something that really stood out to me - besides the utter goodness of the vampire hero - was how Yarbro rather subtly illustrated her feminism via the letters written by certain characters to each other. instead of creating an artificial situation or unrealistic characters, Yarbro instead shows her disdain for repressive value systems by having such values extolled by a couple embarrassingly foolish supporting characters. namely, a father and an abbot, both of whom spend a lot of time talking about how beautiful and Christian it is for a woman to completely submit to their husband/master's will.
I'm excited to check in with saintly Saint-Germain in future novels to see how different iterations of him throughout history think and act, especially in comparison with the warmth and compassion displayed here.
†
much gratitude to Saffron Moon for sending me this awesome book! really enjoyed it.
†
also, I love that this was the review's first like:
the set-up is classic: innocent young couple finds refuge from a snowstorm in a haunted mansion. a slight twist: there are visitors there already, repthe set-up is classic: innocent young couple finds refuge from a snowstorm in a haunted mansion. a slight twist: there are visitors there already, representatives from science and media and the military, all gathered to investigate the estate's history of mysterious deaths and then - and I loved this - planning to blow the whole place up. unfortunately for everyone except the reader, the snowstorm blows harder and the whole cast is stuck in the malevolent manse for several days. there will be blood...
this was enjoyable. Archie Roy is an accomplished writer and he makes the whole thing spooky and atmospheric. bonus: (view spoiler)[a cunning revenge plan, successfully enacted in the distant past, is described at the end. which led to the finale being particularly satisfying in retrospect, because although it's great when vicious assholes get punished, it's even better when vicious assholes who are dead get their haunted home blown up too (hide spoiler)]. all in all, a fun little ride and not particularly corny despite the familiar set-up. no complaints!...more
"I warned you I was a strange person, didn't I? Death fascinates me as nothing else does. As a girl, I
it's not like she didn't warn his stupid ass:
"I warned you I was a strange person, didn't I? Death fascinates me as nothing else does. As a girl, I used to follow my father and brother at night because I hoped to see them accidentally drowned or trapped in the reef. My throat would go dry with a desperate hunger to watch things die -"
and that comment is not even halfway through the book! much earlier, she exults orgasmically when envisioning a child's awful death, dreamily wishing that she had been there to witness his adorable little last gasps. exulting right there in front of the servants too. anyway: dude get a clue, she's literally laying them out right in front of you. for instance, a lock of hair with some scalp still attached, dropped on the stairs for chrissakes.
synopsis: dum-dum stays at a really creepy house full of locked doors and strange sounds in the night and the smells of blood and formaldehyde and freshly-dug earth, the servants scared shitless over their mistress's bizarre new behavior patterns, the senile owner herself casually mentioning how much she gets off on watching people slowly, painfully die and hey sometimes she likes to get in on that action, and brainiac somehow manages to still be surprised when things get gruesome. d'uh!
this was enjoyable because it's impossible for me not to have fun reading about a little old lady nonchalantly admitting a tendency towards incredibly sadistic bloodthirstiness, dropping these bombs with a charming twinkle in her eye and a sweet tone in her voice and an affectionate pat on the cheek. it was also genuinely unnerving at times, in particular the old dear's division of people in the world into normie human beings who she really can't stand to associate with and would love to see slaughtered, and the rest of humanity ("3 out of 10 people") who are just like her in their longing to witness or cause the deaths of others, but unlike her are all uptight about it. those scenes where she hints to our narrator that she is fond of him because she is sure they have certain interests in common... LOL!
this was also enjoyable because Edgar Mittelholzer was a very interesting person and it comes out in his writing. he was a mixed-race Guyanese author of "Caribbean fiction." he writes with ease about a mixed-race couple in a way that is both relaxed and feels lived-in, authentic. the book isn't about race - or colorism, or the effects of colonialism on the psyches of the colonized - but my understanding is that he addresses those topics with sensitivity and realism in the microscopic A Morning at the Office, which I literally just ordered last night after finishing this. Mittelholzer's evocative way of setting a scene is also very impressive. the wind, the colors, the stretches of grass, the sea! the sounds and smells in the night, the creepy brain coral on display right there on the mantle! it was all there for me. I won't read this one again, but I'm very intrigued by this author....more
"Lady and lapdog roamed the night, learning the gorging, insatiable, and disgusting joys of vampirism."
first time I've read about a vampire lapdog
"Lady and lapdog roamed the night, learning the gorging, insatiable, and disgusting joys of vampirism."
first time I've read about a vampire lapdog! this is a mild tale of a young couple trying to create a life in the countryside but coming across a brass etching that leads to much moonlit horror. the first half is pleasant scene-setting and character-building; the second half is frenetic freak-outs in the rain as our earnest protagonist tries to track down the truth and then his wayward, vampire-enchanted girlfriend. nicely written with no blatant flaws. a genteel book, in its way. also a forgettable one....more
what's a sophisticated, highly attractive, highly strung divorcée recovering from a nervous breakdown to do with all of her new-found free
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what's a sophisticated, highly attractive, highly strung divorcée recovering from a nervous breakdown to do with all of her new-found free time? why, visit a satanic spa, of course! such is the advice given to Christie Deeth by a similarly highly-strung friend. of course the "friend" "forgot" to mention the "satanic" part, but in this book that's par for the course because everyone is hiding something and everyone is playing the long game. and so off our intrepid and anxious heroine goes to Lucifer Cove (the spa's name is a bit of a giveaway). It's south of San Francisco, cozied away in a valley village that appears to have no roads in and no roads out, but also has lots of cute Tudor buildings and sulfurous hot springs and a very erotic dining establishment and a cozy temple devoted to the worship of the Son of the Morning Star... who also just may be the landlord of the charming sanitarium. Lucifer Cove's owner and its sexy staff are devoted to their clientele, encouraging them to find their true selves while fucking everyone in sight. this all sounds like a pleasant week away. but unfortunately for Christie, Lucifer himself has a very personal eye trained on our attractive young divorcée. an eye that gazes at her through mirrors, the tv set, through the assertive cat that follows her about. but could it possibly be... just maybe... that she is perhaps... falling for Satan too??
I got some Hiram Keller vibes from the author's description of "Marc Meridon" who basically spends all of his time staring and smoldering satanically at our agitated heroine. who's Hiram Keller? well, see the eyes above and/or click the spoiler below. but only at the risk of your eternal soul!
Virginia Coffman appears to be a craftsman at heart, well at least in the three books I've read by her so far. so expect no writerly flourishes or dreamy prose or interesting themes. oh well! I would have liked those things. but despite those lacks, she is a very competent writer who knows how to create atmosphere and construct a narrative that keeps the reader turning the pages. she also has a deft hand with description and so it was very easy to visualize everything in this hidden valley, its mountain pathways, the landscape, and especially the ornate design of the spa's various rooms.
favorite part was the casual relay of a satanic threat to poor Christie Deeth: oh, Mr. Meridon thinks your children should come and spend some time with you here... I gasped at that one. children in a satanic spa! heaven forbid! I can't imagine a bigger buzzkill to a week (or eternity) of orgies, drugs, and devil worship than some kids running around underfoot....more
layers upon layers hidden in this thin, trim, tidy little work of Lovecraftian horror. pure nihilism, yet this sleek and snazzy number never bores, anlayers upon layers hidden in this thin, trim, tidy little work of Lovecraftian horror. pure nihilism, yet this sleek and snazzy number never bores, and is written with flair and wit. protagonist Amy expands upon her supporting role as survivor of the massacre of humans and dogs that ended the prior book and now takes center stage in her return to her hometown, 4 years later. it seldom bodes well to be the hero in a McNaughton novel. in less intelligent hands, she would have been portrayed as pure victim; the author instead gives her a lively, quirky personality, one that is defined by her solitary nature, the insecurities drilled into her by her now-deceased mother, and an sardonic, idiosyncratic perspective on her own life and the people in it. Amy is unimpressed by the urbane Satanist manipulating her, as well as by her co-protagonist, a true crime "reporter" who falls quickly in love with her and apparently thinks it is appropriate to run around shirtless with dickey under a cheap blazer. the book also features a fascinating couple, neighbors to Amy in the apartment complex built on top of a garbage heap slash graveyard: an insightful and slutty Marxist shacked up with a boyfriend who is both studly, bullying Neanderthal and ambitious, bookish aspirant to supernatural powers. there are fascinating layers to these two misfits who find themselves in over their heads. they may have to deal with manipulating poor Amy while trying to get over the latest traumatic sex & magic orgy gone terribly awry, but there are indeed worse things waiting for them (and Amy) when the graveyard one is living on top of holds a sadistic, long-dead sorceress eager to return to the world of the living and try on some new clothes. and by "new clothes" (her words, not mine), I mean "new human bodies" of course.
this is a sneaky, subtle, sly little novel. the Laughlins now live in an awkwardly converted mill, passed down generations to the mother in this familthis is a sneaky, subtle, sly little novel. the Laughlins now live in an awkwardly converted mill, passed down generations to the mother in this family of three. strange things are afoot: sensual yet horrible dreams featuring a beautiful woman plague and arouse father and son while the mother is figuring out her own life, and how much impact her cult-leader father has had on her. McNaughton excels in making all of them - and their neighbors, colleagues, and love interests - basically agreeable or at least very understandable people. and so it is a gradual process revealing the layers of disturbances beneath the surface, whether it's an obsession with the Lovecraft mythos displayed by the family lawyer, or a history of incest or a repressed desire for the same sex or actual powers displayed by the friendly and urbane Satanist next door, or most importantly, the subsuming of one character by his long-dead ancestor. the author's elegant but unpretentious prose makes the book move smoothly along, until we are in the middle of the novel's extended set-piece: a Halloween party that turns violent and horrific. and suddenly we are there, a light novel (in tone, at least) turned exceedingly dark, and then after the party we are suddenly in even deeper, down in the sub-cellar, in a battle taking place inside and out of the mental space, all the horror hinted at now made visceral, and all is madness and magic and murder, blood and guts and sadism, arcane books stolen and doorways smashed, bodies ripped apart, bones melting, everyone become victim or villain or both at once. and yet it still remains sneaky, subtle, and sly, as if the author always has still more tricks to play. it is like McNaughton was smiling when he wrote this, except that smile is not a very nice one.
the word "story" is too small to describe what can encapsulate a person's whole life. lives are not stories and yet the stories of Intrusions describethe word "story" is too small to describe what can encapsulate a person's whole life. lives are not stories and yet the stories of Intrusions describe and encapsulate entire lives, in moments small and large and metaphorical and phantasmagorical and eerily, uncomfortably ordinary. Aickman, as ever, resists the urge to turn a life into a pat story, a series of events and decisions into a reliable narrative, an individual person into something that can be understood in 50 pages or less. his ambiguity is both a disturbance and an homage to the slippery spaces, the liminal, the movements so slow or so fast that they barely register as change, all the things that make a person's life so indescribable that in the end, words can but fail to be of use when portraying that life. ah, the eerie ordinariness of our prosaic lives, the shallows that contain secret depths. these lives, our lives, like intricately constructed but poorly running clockwork never showing the right time, or a play whose central player has forgotten their lines but the show must go ever on, or a happy empty house disturbed by the intruders that have entered it, insisting that they live there, that they know each other, that they even know themselves.
"Hand in Glove" - how does one deal with the death of love? is it a death due to a lover that infantilizes, a bullying boy to your adult woman? must the lover, or the loved one, die - to confirm if it was ever love at all?
"No Time is Passing" - how does one know a happy life is happy? is it not your beautiful house, is this not your beautiful wife? what if there is a dirty, dreamy place beyond that will neither confirm nor deny that happy life, but will make you wonder - how did you get there after all?
"The Next Glade" - how does one imagine a different husband, a different home, a different life altogether? is it just a step or a death away? will financial ruin confirm that dreams must stay dreams while life goes on after all?
"The Fetch" - This story about a wraith whose appearance presages the death of one of the narrator's loved ones is only the second traditional tale of the supernatural that I've read by Aickman. As with the first - the sublime vampire story "Pages from a Young Girl's Journal" - the fact that the author could have written perfectly accomplished and straightforward albeit old-fashioned horror fiction is fully illustrated. Although I saw few layers here, except perhaps autobiographical ones that contemplate Aickman's own relationships with women, that doesn't take away in the least from the strange, dislocating mood created and the sense of a man adrift in life, only anchored by the women whom he will eventually lose. The story is flawless.
"The Breakthrough" - how does one guard their inner self? is it by hiding the past, hiding from the past, compartmentalizing ourselves, creating new versions of ourselves, erasing our secrets so that our new selves can achieve a certain calm? what shall happen when our pasts and our inner selves break through, haunting us, showing themselves as quite alive after all?
"Letters to the Postman" - how does one recognize true love? is it what you have built in the mind or is it what you will make in the moment? when dreams come true and you learn that reality is not a dream, what will you do with that truth - one that confirms that even love is transactional after all?
"The Strangers" - how does one truly connect with another? is it by hook or by crook, by chance or misadventure, on the bed or in the heart or in an indescribable feeling for which words seem too small, words like love or friendship or connection? is our destiny to always be as dreams or as strangers to each other after all?
These are 7 fascinating, allegorical stories; 6 are gems and 1 imperfect. That less than pleasing story is "Hand in Glove" - the lessons learned felt unearned, showing a strangely petty side to Aickman, who is not an author I expected to deliver a grim twist simply to deliver a grim twist.
But the 6 that follow are so much better. Fulfilling yet still tantalizing after their finish. They were built for rereading. "No Time Is Passing" and "The Next Glade" bend both space and time in their portrait of unknowable places that exist in the woody park across the street and in the backyard past the creek, spaces that represent our dreams and fears, time that is passing too quickly to realize those dreams have gone and only fears remain. "The Strangers" and "The Breakthrough" feature hauntings: in the first, our drab lad is haunted by those he should know and love best; in the second, our urbane gent is haunted by manifestations that exist to upend the carefully predictable lives that he and his neighbors have so carefully constructed. "Letters to the Postman" portrays a wistful fantasy of love crushed by prosaic reality - one so unlike the fantasy that it achieves its own unreality in our naïve hero's mind, incapable of understanding what is obvious to all around him. My favorite of all, and somehow the most straightforward: "The Fetch" - which ends in media res. Which, in a way, makes it the most Aickman-esque of all these tales, as perhaps all of the stories that Aickman told are ones that describe just that state: "in the midst of things."
it's funny to consider the different things we can and cannot tolerate as a reader. take this book for example. the premise: a 10-year-old boy begins it's funny to consider the different things we can and cannot tolerate as a reader. take this book for example. the premise: a 10-year-old boy begins displaying the mannerisms of his dead uncle, starts romancing his widowed and delusional aunt, and soon enough, inexplicably ages into an adult (at least physically)... that's super creepy! but I can definitely tolerate "super creepy". the writing: Bob Randall had some success back in the day with his thriller The Fan, but I wonder how, since the characterization here is a glib joke, the internal monologues of the two sisters (in alternating chapters) sound exactly the same except one curses more, and the lack of writing chops overall is... well let's be generous and say that the surprising amateurishness made me smile. I can definitely tolerate "so bad it's good". but the straw that broke this reader's back: the offhand cruelty of the characters towards the black housekeeper who raised the sisters and, much worse (because I can deal with racist characters), the feeling that Randall wrote this laughable Mammy caricature without a second thought about how completely awful he was being. it's embarrassing when an author shows ignorance like that. I just couldn't tolerate it, so I gave up. good riddance, ya dumbass book!...more
Old-fashioned supernatural murder mystery with loads of wonderful atmosphere. Perfect for a cold night! Copper is a studiedly anti-modern writer, whicOld-fashioned supernatural murder mystery with loads of wonderful atmosphere. Perfect for a cold night! Copper is a studiedly anti-modern writer, which I enjoy. The narrative is fun but predictable, the characters are as old-fashioned as the writing. It's all so vintage, in both intent and execution. It's a familiar tune and the author never misses a beat. The selling point here is the lavish amount of descriptive passages detailing a truly amazing gothic castle (and the rustic Hungarian village surrounding it). I was delighted to live in it throughout the course of the book. If there were a genre called Castle Porn, this would be a prime example....more
As another reviewer notes, it starts off so classy. (Well not quite - the prelude is shrill and bloody, but that's over soon enough.) Trevor Hoyle is As another reviewer notes, it starts off so classy. (Well not quite - the prelude is shrill and bloody, but that's over soon enough.) Trevor Hoyle is a rather elegant writer, paying careful attention to how his characters look, move, and talk. His prose is calm and thoughtful and dare I say it, refined. Lovely, atmospheric descriptions of landscapes and homes that are pleasing to read about if not always pleasing to his characters' eyes. The mystery of Who & Where Is The Witch is carefully unspooled and refracted through multiple perspectives, all of them completely sympathetic. There are some shivers and shocks to be had as well, still in the classy vein, in particular with the startling appearance of a misshapen Something and two very upsetting falls on a staircase. There's even a character with the classy name of Dr. Ravenscroft. And he's a very classy fellow!
But then it's like the author had a convulsion near the end and shouted to himself You Know What? Fuck This! and then all of a sudden we have some very explicitly described attempted rapes (one by demon dog and the other by a grotesque baby-shaped homunculus with a huge penis) and finally that ole standby, death by blowjob. Not that I'm complaining, I sometimes like my trash served up harsh & horrible. Still, that tone shift was something else.
"Now that God is dead we can begin."
That line was something else too, a jaw was dropped....more
Happy Halloween! If you are interested in a quick but still quite disturbing horror read, then please consider this little gem - a vastly underrated aHappy Halloween! If you are interested in a quick but still quite disturbing horror read, then please consider this little gem - a vastly underrated author's debut novel.
Elizabeth is a young witch, and not the good kind. Totally without empathy and responding to the siren call of a long-dead ancestor haunting her from mirrors, our antiheroine embarks upon a life of orderly indolence as she carefully curtails any intrusions into how she wants to live that life. Despite being 14 years of age, she's definitely her own woman, with her own personal life goals. As the back cover notes, her career starts with the killing of her parents. Soon she finds herself in just the place she'd love to stay: the family manse, complete with a sinister matriarch, a creepy cousin obsessed with snakes, a charming uncle (her lover) and a charming aunt, a new tutor (her aunt's lover), and of course a sex-attic. All seems to be proceeding swimmingly until a mysterious disappearance occurs, and a troubling murder mystery develops in which prim tutor and amoral student seek to discover who exactly is responsible.
The tone and the narrator's voice are so well done. Flat and without affect, hypnotic, weirdly seductive. Ken Greenhall is masterful with the prose - so many strangely ambiguous asides and pointed ways to describe things, and all done with elegance and subtlety. This is one of those novels where the reader is slowly drawn into the mind of a murderous psychopath, eventually realizing - aghast - that they fully understand her. And maybe even sympathize with her. Eek! But the girl just wants to live her life and solve some mysteries, who can blame her. Except for the incest and the murders, I really get where she's coming from....more
despite being crudely written, excessively brutal, and all kinds of grim, gray, and depressing... the book has a stark moral me2.5 stars, rounded up.
despite being crudely written, excessively brutal, and all kinds of grim, gray, and depressing... the book has a stark moral message that i appreciated and which was very effectively delivered: love your kid, no matter how difficult it may be, otherwise he will bring you hell.
if you think you'll be incapable of providing that love - maybe because the fetus is the spawn of a handsome but eventually bestial incubus who raped and then urinated on you in the opening pages of this book - then please get an abortion for fuck's sake. it would have been more than understandable; even your judgmental mother was willing to co-sign that. you're not going to be able to myka stauffer your way out of this if the kid can disappear & reappear at will and use his demonic powers to kill everyone around you, just because you never learned how to hug him without shuddering. and all those vodka tonics aren't helping.
the author does not seem like a very nice or sensitive man, and he's not a great writer, but I get his anger at parents who don't know how to be empathetic to the troubled kids who they had no business bringing into this world in the first place. such parents shall reap the whirlwind....more
"Do you know Where you're going to? Do you like the things That life is showing you Where are you going to? Do you know?
Now looking back at all we've had We"Do you know Where you're going to? Do you like the things That life is showing you Where are you going to? Do you know?
Now looking back at all we've had We let so many dreams just slip through our hands Why must we wait so long, before we see? How sad the answers to those questions can be
Do you get What you're hoping for? When you look behind you There's no open doors What are you hoping for? Do you know?"
thoughts on the book, with spoilers, copied/updated from the comment thread in the excellent group Literary Horror:
(view spoiler)[I finished over one weekend and enjoyed it all the way through. I didn't like it as much as I did the novellas in When Darkness Loves Us, but overall I was still impressed by Engstrom's skills and the story & prose worked for me. I like how the novel carefully showed Angelina to be an unreliable narrator (e.g. her descriptions of how she left her job and how her ski town apt looked vs. how others saw her apt and described her firing). I did think love interest/foil Boyd ended up being disappointing - so much build-up and for very little (except for that gotcha moment in the very end, with his new life path). And I would have liked to have seen more tracking or maybe internal rumination by the protagonist on how she went from being an at least superficially empathetic sociopath - one who felt she was giving something wonderful to her victims - to an outright psychopath who could care less about her victims, literally tossing their used bodies on top of their parents' bodies.
What I liked in particular was the ambiguity about any supernatural element. Certainly Angelina had psychic powers of some sort, but the realization that this voice "She" was no dark goddess but rather the manifestation of a buried personality was an interesting surprise. (hide spoiler)]...more
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