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OtherRealms Issue 21 Part 02
Electronic OtherRealms #21
Summer, 1988
Part 2
The Agony Column
Rick Kleffel
Copyright 1988 by Rick Kleffel
Face
Cecile Pineda
Penguin Contemporary American Literature
$6.95
horror readers:***+
literary readers: *****
Stinger
Robert R. McCammon
Pocket Books Fiction $4.95
****-
The Influence
Ramsey Campbell
Macmillan Publishing, also Scream/Press
*****
The Scream
John Skipp and Craig Spector
Tor $3.95
***+
The Kill Riff
David J. Schow
$17.95 Tor, ISBN:0-312-93065-8
****-
Night Visions 4
Introduction by Clive Barker,
Stories by Dean R. Koontz, Edward Bryant,
Robert R. McCammon
Dark Harvest, $18.95
*****
Polyphemus
Michael Shea
Arkham House, $16.95, ISBN 0-87-054-155-2
*****+
Sphynx
David Lindsay, Introduction by Colin Wilson
Carroll & Graf, $18.95
****+
Unassigned Territory
Kem Nunn
Dell, $7.95, ISBN 0- 440-50009-5
*****
One of the appeals of reading horror these days is that the field is
now wide open to everyone who can't fit in any other genre. Books that
may not have even been published ten years ago are being given the go
ahead, with glossy covers and grocery store cardboard display stands.
This process of opening up gives the horror genre the ability to
encompass works of vastly different content, intent and execution.
These books give a practical example of just how different two works
in one genre can be -- and both still be good, reasonably well- written
genre novels. It is now possible to travel from the inner mind of Face
and The Influence to the Outer Limits of Stinger.
Face
In Face, by Cecile Pineda, we have an incarnation of the horror novel
as haute- literature -- a book that aims for, and mostly reaches, the
stratospheric heights of universal expression found in other horror
works such as Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis and Jean Paul Sartre's
Nausea. As such, it won't find a huge readership, either in the horror
fraternity (most of whom will consider it a bit too talky) or in the
world of high-falutin' upscale Writer-Readers (most of whom will consider
it a bit too macabre -- just enough so to make it unacceptable for
cocktail party synopses). But for those who like to think while grinding
their teeth in terror -- your ship has come in. And it's a beauty.
Helio Caras, the protagonist in Face is a dirt poor barbershop aide
scraping away a meager living in the slums of Sao Paolo. Although he
seems as poor as possible without being dead, in his own world, he is
not yet at the bottom of the ladder. This split perception -- our view
of his poverty as absolute, and his view of it as not absolute -- is at
the center of the disturbing atmosphere created by the writer. She writes
in short chapters (often only one to two pages), using sparse, clean
prose, which gives the book a readability that is often missing in literature.
But a fall from the cliff results in a horrifying facial disfigurement,
one that Helio Cara cannot afford to have surgically corrected. In
swift succession he loses his job, his girl, and his shack -- and what
the reader might have once thought of as worst has become considerably
worse. Helio flees the city and moves back to his mother's
now-abandoned house in the country. There, with a knowledge gained from
barbershop wart removal, interviews with plastic surgeons and the study
of library texts, he picks up needles, thread, razor blades and
procaine in an attempt to rebuild his face and his identity.
The horror in this novel comes at the reader from two angles -- the
poverty of the lowly in other countries, and the horror of losing your
facial identity -- and it's an effective combination. The sparseness of
the prose eliminates the poor starving third world overly-compassionate
complex, as does the kitchen table plastic surgery. But the desperate
search for employment by a man who has become a monster to his peers
adds a believable tension to the surgical horror. This is the writer's
first novel, and was nominated for an American Book Award. Her next
novel, the blurb tells us, is set in 10th century India. You might have
to go to some trouble to find this book -- but it's worth the search.
Stinger
You certainly won't have to go to much trouble to find Robert R.
McCammon's new novel Stinger. You can pick it up with two quarts of
milk and a box of diapers at the grocery store. If you do, fasten your
seat belts, don't touch that channel, and get ready for the return of
something that was invented a long time ago but is just now having a
resurrection in the book world -- science fiction horror. Many of us
can remember the terror and awe of those black-and-white monsters from
TV's The Outer Limits. Ants with wicked human faces, stones that could
talk, two-dimensional living lightning bolts -- whether or not you
could imagine it, the creators of The Outer Limits would have it fall
out of the sky and into somebody's back yard. But with the success of
The Exorcist, Carrie and other such supernaturally-oriented novels, the
monster lost a lot of ground as a central element of the horror novel.
Another contributor to the downfall of the monster in horror novels was
the success (a few years later) of monsters in science fiction films --
Alien and Jaws in particular. It seemed that novels just couldn't
compete with the styro-gyro creations of the new breed of
makeup-mechanical artists -- there are times when one picture cannot be
equaled by any number of words. Unfortunately, none of these creations
possessed any more intelligence, cunning or character than Bruce the
shark. And, when the strings started to show, they left most folks
cold. It seemed that the days of the intelligent, tortured monsters --
Frankenstein's created soul and the elegant and evil Dracula -- were
gone. Lost to the horror genre, forgotten by science fiction writers.
Good news for monster fans -- smart monsters and science fiction themes
have been rediscovered by horror writers and are rearing their ugly --
but not brainless -- heads in the most recent crop of novels by todays
top mainstream horror writers. First Dean Koontz gave us Watchers, with
two genetic experiments -- one very good, and the other very bad -- on
the prowl in Orange and Santa Barbara counties. These beings were more
intelligent than the humans pursuing them, but like the human
characters, they were driven by trauma, desire, love and hatred.
Shortly thereafter, Stephen King introduced us to his version of
B-movie monsters as raucous gangsters in The Tommyknockers. In Stinger,
Robert R. McCammon delivers the
all-stops-pulled-monster-invades-small-town novel -- with a vengeance.
And, like Watchers and The Tommyknockers, Stinger immeasurably improves
upon the sources it draws from, which are both plentiful and obvious.
In his latest novel, Mr. McCammon has taken a bit of The Hidden, a
touch of The Terminator, a liberal dose of Alien, borrowed from
Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, and combined these in his own genetic
centrifuge to create a novel that is as much -- or more -- fun to read
than these movies are to watch. When a UFO appears over the dying Texas
mining town of Inferno, all that is found is an unbreakable round
object the size of a pool ball. An eight-year old girl is the one to
find this object, and before she can say "Possession!", the alien
inside of the sphere has taken control of her body and placed her mind
(soul, whatever) inside the sphere for safekeeping. As it happens, this
alien is a "freedom fighter" (as opposed to terrorist), on the run from
one bad, bad, bounty hunter -- Stinger, who arrives all too soon on the
"wrong side of the tracks" in Inferno.
What ensues is gruesome, engrossing, and imaginative. The author
handles the big cast of characters especially well -- his orchestration
of character and action across the landscape of this town divided into
Bordertown and Inferno proper is clearly and cleanly handled, and he
build the suspense and horror perfectly to an appropriately large-scale
climax. The science fiction elements are well thought-out, but most
importantly, we are given well developed human characters, each
instantly identifiable (and not overly stereotypical), and none of whom
are rich and/or famous. Even better, the two monsters also have
distinct characters, a rarity in SF horror. Yes, there is plenty of
dripping slime, torn flesh, and alien genetic experimentation -- but
there are also clear and comprehensible, if alien, motivations. They
don't call him "one of the masters of modern [mainstream] horror" for
nothing. Reading this book, you might not ever make it to the beach
this summer. And it's cheaper than the movie tickets.
Polyphemus
But don't switch that dial -- there's even more fun in store, combined
with some serious, high-quality literate writing and a top-flight
publishing package that yields Polyphemus by Michael Shea from Arkham
House. This collection of short stories is no less than the most
amazing package to come down the pike since Scream/Press' version of
Barker's Books of Blood, and it's been worth the wait. Handsomely
illustrated by John Stewart, this volume is certainly a best buy for
those interested in horror, science fiction or humor -- all three
genres are represented here, along with heroic fantasy and urban
folklore. It's enjoyable enough to be easily read, it's certainly
shocking, and most importantly, it's high quality writing by a unique
voice in the genre.
Michael Shea isn't a new voice -- he's been around for quite some time,
and this collection will definitely pique the readers' interest, and
have them hunting up all his other work, along with this reviewer. What
is impressive here is the range of stories, that are all recognizably
written by the same author, yet have an incredible variety of subject,
tone, and genre. The title story is ecological science-fiction horror
in the tradition of Solaris and Dune, but don't let these quality
references fool you into thinking that the story is devoid of blood,
slime, horror or action. All are abundantly present. "The Angel of
Death" is the story of what happens when an alien student comes to
earth to study sexuality, and of his meetings with men, women, and
something that may or may not be human -- one who thinks of himself as
'The Angel of Death". Once again, humor accompanies horror, to the
reader's delight. And finally, there's "The Autopsy", which showcases
for the reader one of the most intelligent, insidious aliens ever to
find its way to earth. There is no one (on earth) who will be able to
read this story without yelling at the characters in the book, to stop,
stop! Actually, the less said about the stories here the better -- this
is the kind of book readers will want to savor, enjoy slowly, and
reread. As soon as they've stopped shaking.
The Influence
Although Ramsey Campbell is another writer who is often tagged with the
dubious honor of master of modern horror, The Influence is anything but
mainstream. His writing has more in common with P.D. James and Henry
James than with Stephen King and Dean Koontz; in fact, he is often
referred to as "a writer's writer" because, although he receives much
praise from his fellow writers (many of whom cite him as an influence),
he never seems to really break into the big-big bestseller/major motion
picture bracket. And it's just as well, because Ramsey Campbell uses
poetic prose techniques to create a subtle horror that can be likened
to authors as diverse as Flannery O'Conner and Franz Kafka --
techniques that might not transfer easily to the big sell/screen.
There are no gargantuan monsters or rich and famous runaways in The
Influence, just lower-middle class English working parents and their
children, under emotional and financial pressure after the death of an
unlikable great-aunt. But Queenie, in her low-key fashion, soon becomes
as frightening to the reader as the thought of a reptilian monster
hatching in your stomach, made even more so the familiarity of the
situations. For, while nobody wants an alien bursting through their
chest during dinner, most of us are more scared that our friends,
relatives or co-workers will do something to us that is cruel and
embarrassing enough to be called monstrous. Queenie's menace is
familiar enough to remind you of the mean relative you'd always
disliked, but imaginatively expressed by the author, as is evidenced in
this passage:
When I was a baby they gave her one of my first teeth, and do
you know what she said to me when I was old enough to realize?
She told me that if I ever did anything she didn't like or said
anything against her she'd make me feel as if the tooth were
being pulled out.
These are the kind of incidents that parents fear most, the relative
whose comments, joking or otherwise, somehow affect a child into
adulthood. In the wrong hands, this could seem like the cheesiest
voodoo threat this side of Haiti, but in Campbell's hands, the
intimations of child abuse overshadow and suggest the supernatural,
rather than the other way around. And Campbell's thoughts on the
supernatural are convincing and compelling:
Hermione had always thought that the idea of hell presupposed a
god, but perhaps hell was yourself after death: perhaps you
were judged at the moment of death by that part of yourself you
couldn't lie to, the part that knew everything you'd thought
and done in your life. Somewhere in everyone was their own
severest critic, and perhaps dying released it from a lifetime
of constraints to judge what kind of eternity was deserved....
Perhaps life after death was an endless lonely dream, and
whether it lasted for the moment of death or eternity didn't
matter: its kind of time would have nothing to do with life
awake, even if one were to invade the other.
This is the kind of careful, philosophical thought that has
characterized the great literary works of the genre -- Frankenstein,
Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, and Ghost Story come to mind -- combined
with a aching look at life on the financial edge in modern England.
But just because the book is thoughtfully written and philosophically
sound, don't think it isn't also gripping and entertaining, a family
mystery in the best tradition of English mystery writers. In
particular, P. D. James' A Taste for Death comes to mind, for both are
mysteries of what the characters will become, as well as what will
become of the characters. This is a book that will satisfy those with a
thirst for blood and those with a thirst for thought equally, without
alienating one or the other. And, even better for those readers who
double as collectors, is the news that Scream/Press is soon to publish
a version of this novel set directly from the author's word processor
disks, including part of a chapter that was deleted in the MacMillan
edition, and an author's afterward that is not available in any other
edition. This edition will be illustrated by J. K. Potter, with the
photographs shot in England and Ramsey Campbell's daughter serving as
the lead model. Like most Scream/Press books, this will undoubtedly be
something to look forward to.
The Scream
But when people are tired of thinking and tired of bleeding, they turn
on music. And, while music itself is a big moneymaker, other forms of
art that deal with music and musicians often aren't. Once in a while,
someone writes an Amadeus or Rocky Horror Picture Show but more often
than not we're given half-baked concoctions like Rock and Roll
Nightmare (don't even think about renting this video!). Rock music, in
particular, has been heavily abused by writers who know nothing about
1) Music, 2) Musicians and 3) Musical Equipment. Other problems are
that descriptions of music are boring, unless the writers have tied
that description to something outside of the music, while descriptions
of musicians who are only and exactly and just solely confined to being
eccentric musicians are one dimensional characters. And novels where
every major character is one- dimensional tend to be, well....flat. All
of which is a way of saying that The Scream, by Skipp and Spector, is
treading on dangerous territory by being, yes, yet another book about
devil-worship-rock-and-roll-zombies (though you'd never guess so from
the cover) -- one that, surprisingly, succeeds.
The main reason this novel is a success is that at least some of the
characters are three dimensional people with lives to be lived. The
women characters are particularly commendable, and one of the highlights
of horror in this novel the trip they take to an abortion clinic. No,
it's not Rosemia's baby, it's something that could happen to a friend
of yours -- and that's why you won't forget it. Like real musicians,
the people in this book have families and children and parents -- three
elements often reduced to absurdity in other rock novels.
Then, of course, there are the devil worshipers, the child molesters,
la, la, dee, dah -- in short, the typical middle-american picture of
Lead Guitarist for Radical Rock Group, who in this case, has about 75
bodies buried in the walls of his mansion. Or the seductive, evil lead
singer who (literally) devours men. Yes, within the two dimensions,
they're clearly drawn, but in the end, these are the cardboard
characters we've come to expect in rock horror novels, and it is
unfortunate that we must find them here.
On the other hand, the authors are writing about what they know, and
when they didn't know, they asked someone who did. The descriptions of
the mechanics of music (the tour, the equipment, the roadies) are first
rate and solidly believable. And the invention the authors propose is
not only clever, but sensible. As a musician who has performed live,
I'm in a good position to evaluate these aspects, and everything adds
up. That alone made this book readable, where it might otherwise have
been laughable.
Incorporating these elements with a Supernatural from Vietnam theme is
like smoking at a gas station, but the authors bludgeon ahead, and come
up with yet another surprisingly strong story line. Like the
musical/technical aspects of the novel, the supernatural in The Scream
is logically developed, but appropriately mysterious, and keeps the
reader guessing and reading until the last line of the last page. In
fact, this book is good enough to make the reader forget that "it's
only rock and roll".
The Kill Riff
But, if after reading The Scream, you think it's safe to go a concert --
think again, because David J. Schow, a noted short story writer for The
Twilight Zone Magazine, has just unleashed his first novel -- The Kill
Riff, and, when read in the same vicinity, there's no question that The
Kill Riff blows away The Scream and a good many other rock novels. In
the first place, there's no supernatural element to this novel, and that
in itself is a refreshing breath of clean air. There are no devil/demon
worshipers of any kind to be found in this book, and even better, it
largely sidesteps the censor rock issue that will soon become a trite
element in music novels. What we do have is very well drawn characters,
and, some of the best observations about showbiz of all types to be
found in any recent novel. What is missing are major characters whose
net yearly income is less than $100,000, but, if we have to have yet
another novel about the rich and famous (one of whom must, of course,
is an ex-Viet Nam veteran, no less!), let it be The Kill Riff.
The plot concerns Lucas Ellington's revenge for the death of his
daughter in a stampede at the Civic Auditorium during a concert by
rock's new bad-boy band, Whip Hand. Mr. Ellington decides that since
these people are scum-of-the-earth and a convenient scapegoat, he will
use his Army training to "be all he can be" -- in this case, a murderer
committing the perfect crime(s). Amazingly, the reader's sympathy is
with Lucas, as he tracks and kills the members of the band, saving
Gabriel Stannard, the lead singer, for last. A good part of the terror
in this novel comes from the realization (as demonstrated by Lucas) how
easy it would be for a reasonably intelligent person to commit a number
of murders for which he/she is never caught nor punished. What Lucas
does not count on is the fact that Gabriel Stannard is something of a
gun freak himself, surrounded by bodyguards who are less than stable.
And what the reader won't realize until they start the novel is how
great the characters are going to be, how funny the jokes will be or
how gripping the narrative will become. All too soon (and perhaps
against your better judgment), you'll find yourself clutching this
book, yelling out loud to the characters in an effort to try to
convince them "Don't go in there!"
And once you're caught up in the narrative, you won't be ready for some
of the major twists and surprises that Mr. Schow hands to you. This is
a book that will especially appeal readers of action-oriented crime
novels, as well as those who are looking for horror. Because of the
lack of a supernatural element, I was prepared for disappointment, but
there wasn't any of that, or relaxation coming around the corner. Great
characters, gripping action, good jokes and observations about music --
this novel abound in these elements, and the words Blockbuster Movie in
subtitles flashing at all the right times. Next time though, let's see
if we can bring things out of the financial stratosphere.
Dark Visions 4
Dark Visions 4 is the newest entry in this top-flight series from a new
star in the small American publishing houses, Dark Harvest books.
Despite the high, high quality of the previous issues, this is by far
the best of the series. The idea of this series is to give top notch
veterans and newcomers to the field of horror 30,000 words to do with
what they wish. In general, the fiction published in these books is
darker, more extreme and more experimental than that found in the
writers more generally available releases. Last year brought us Clive
Barker's The Hellbound Heart, which he directed as the movie Hellraiser.
This year brings us three stories by Dean R. Koontz, a passel of tales
by Edward Bryant and three stories by Robert R. McCammon.
Koontz's work in this collection takes elements of his bestseller style
writing and combines them with elements of shock horror. The results
(surprisingly enough to me) are wonderful, shocking, exciting stories
that are definitely this writer's best, most uncompromising work. Two
of the tales use classic SF monsters (a shape changer, a body snatcher)
and rather extreme gore, but amazingly, end up being convincing tales
of -- love! There's a smidgen of black humor and a truckload of dark
horror, but these are stories about man's capacity to love. The shock
of finding out what the subject is in these works is as great as those
provided by the SF/horror elements. The final story subjects a rather
unlikable atheist narrator to the horrors of extreme bad luck. The
prose in this story is remarkably controlled, allowing the reader to
see limitations in the narrator that he himself is unaware of. This is
the kind of story that is too emotionally severe to be published as
mainstream fiction, yet too muted and normal for most horror or science
fiction magazines - and it finds a home in Dark Visions 4.
Edward Bryant's stories also catch the reader unawares -- but then,
that's the point of horror, isn't it? They're all shorter than
Koontz's, and have a wider variety -- from the humorous mystery of
"Haunted" to the senseless, brief violence of "Doing Colfax", to the
classic Twilight Zone twist of "Buggage". But, by using an ingenious
device, just when one starts to think that their impact will be blurred
by the variety and humor, Mr. Bryant manages to sneak up and bury a
very surprising hatchet in our unsuspecting brains. Like Mr. Koontz,
Edward Bryant bludgeons us with horror, but surprises us with the
subtlety of his written art.
Robert R. McCammon has written many, many mainstream style horror
novels from They Thirst (an excellent large-scale modern vampire novel)
to Usher's Passing, a Gothic novel of the arms race and black magic set
in the South. His writing style has always been superior to the
run-of-the-mill-Graham Masterson/Whitley Streiber-let's-crank-out-
another-monster-black-magic-story school of fiction, so I was a bit
disappointed that he didn't offer the freshness of artistic vision
offered by the other writers. But, for sheer peek- between-your-fingers
terror, he certainly delivers the goods, particularly with "Best
Friends", the story of some very, very bad demons that are called into
our world by an emotionally disturbed teenager, with results that are
appropriately disastrous and unexpected, to quote "Ready or not, here
they come!"
Which, might be said about Night Visions. Next month, we can expect to
see Dark Visions 5, with contributions by Stephen King, Dan Simmons and
George R. R. Martin. If King doesn't pull this series into the
limelight, then -- maybe my hat will eat me.
Sphynx
Horror and supernatural fiction devices -- telepathy, lycanthropy,
vampirism, etc -- are often used by authors to externalize otherwise
invisible internal, emotional conflicts. Unfortunately, if the
emotional observations don't ring true or aren't interesting, the
supernatural device rapidly becomes gratuitous, and the novel loses it
appeal once the freshness of its supernatural plot device has worn
thin. This is why so many once- interesting classics of the
supernatural now seem rather flat. But the respected publishers at
Carroll & Graf have seen to it that the works in their new series of
Classic horror reprints is edited by none other than Colin Wilson, the
notable author and philosopher who brought us The Mind Parasites so
many years ago. If Sphynx by David Lindsay, the first volume in this
series, is representative of the quality of those to come, then this
line will rapidly become a must buy for all those seriously interested
in entertaining, literate, supernatural fiction.
Sphynx is, in fact only borderline supernatural/science fiction; it has
more in common with Evelyn Waugh than with H. P. Lovecraft. The novel
tells the story of Nicholas, a young English clerk who inherits a large
sum of money, and, as a result, decides to rent a room in a house in
the country, where he can continue his scientific research into the
recording of dreams. He has already completed the majority of the
research necessary to create a camera-like device that records his
dreams on chemically- coated film, and now plans to construct a
production size device that records, first, five minutes, then later
on, one hour of the dreams of those who are in its presence when they
are dreaming. Nicholas has rather naively counted on relative peace and
quiet in his newly-rented room, but he is so unworldly that he (a young
single man with money) has elected to rent a room in a house where the
three unmarried daughters of the landlord still reside. The social
situation is complicated even more by an excitable, irresponsible two-
timing metalworker Nicholas employs, who is having dating one of the
daughters, a neighboring young female compose, and an experienced,
worldly young widow who is also a neighbor of Nicholas' new residence.
All of these characters far outstrip Nicholas in social expertise, and
his whirlwind learning experience is filtered and diffracted by the
dream recorder of his invention. The author's perceptions of people are
are so right-on that this novel becomes riveting, sometimes hilarious,
reading, even by today's most jaded standards. Where else could one
read the complaint of Lore, the composer, who laments that "Women are
nine-tenths reputation and one-tenth human being"? Murder, jealousy,
abuse, callous disregard for other's pride, all are stirred expertly,
then reinvented in the sparse but highly imaginative dreams that
Nicholas' device records. The climax is surprising, but leaves the
reader with enough to feel satisfied with everything but this series --
when does the next volume come out, and who will it be -- and this
author, whose works I will now have to endeavor to read.
Unassigned Territory
And finally, we come full circle, this time with a magnificent entry
into science fiction, Unassigned Territory, the second novel by Kem
Nunn. Tapping the Source, his first novel, showed an almost
Lovecraftian sense of the pervasiveness of evil, as it followed a naive
young man from the desert into the scummy beach life of Southern
California, searching for his sister, who may be missing, dead or moved
away, no forwarding address. Starting out in a low-key, almost
absentminded fashion with a single character and a single point of
view, the reader was gradually introduced to an ever-deepening chain of
evil, until the novel built to a truly demonic denouement. In
retrospect, it becomes clear that Tapping the Source was written more
within the genre of horror than mystery, despite the fact that is was
marketed as a mystery.
Unassigned Territory brings all of those Lovecraftian intimations of
evil out into the harsh desert sunlight, and under the scrutiny of
Obadiah Wheeler, a canny young member of a splinter fundamentalist sect
called simply The Friends. It's 1970, and in order to preserve his 4D
draft status, Obadiah must do at least 120 hours work per month to
preserve his status as a minister. It is this that prompts him to head
out into the unassigned territory of the title, accompanied by members
of his congregation, to seek new converts for his religion. In the
course of doing so, he stumbles across "The Thing" in Sarge Hummer's
Mystery of the Mojave Desert Museum -- something that may or may not be
an actual extra-terrestrial artifact, and Delandra Hummer, Sarge's
daughter. In a moment of sun-drenched decision, strikingly similar to
that which occurs in Camus' The Stranger, Obadiah sees his ministry
going down the drain, and decides to hitch up with Delandra, stealing
"The Thing" from the museum in hopes of selling it to Dr. Ceton Verity,
builder of a red-white and blue Electro-Magnetron resting peacefully
near the site of the disappearance of the Table Mountain Indians.
What ensues is a hilarious -- but sometimes horrifying -- update and
remix of Lovecraftian cult-terror with a modern sense of paranoia. Nunn
uses the time-honored technique of ridiculing the fathers of the
obscure theories, thus making them even more believable once all those
hard questions have been asked -- and answered. This book has some
consummate moments of open-ended terror, but they are accompanied
hand-in-hand by some of the funniest writing to come down the pike
since Vonnegut demonstrated the use of humor in science fiction.
Imagine Flannery O'Connor writing science fiction set amidst the losers
and dreamers wandering around the Mojave Desert and you'll come close
what the author does in this novel. But you'll never be able to pin
down all the references, any more than you'll want to put down a book
that makes you laugh out loud.
The characters here all extremely memorable, but the book is constructed
in the opposite manner of Tapping the Source; rather than starting with
one character, then spreading out, Nunn starts with several characters,
then slowly draws them together towards a nexus that no-one wishes or
is able to think about. Rex Hummer, Sarge's son, and Harlan Low, Obadiah's
Church Elder, seem at the beginning to be minor characters, but develop
into major forces by the end of the novel -- and into people you look
more and more forward to hearing from. This is a novel you won't find
in the SF ghetto at your bookstores, but wherever it's pigeonholed, any
science fiction or horror fan looking for a good time -- can be sure to
find one here.
Next Time
Coming soon are reviews of: The Blood Kiss, by Dennis Etchison
(Scream/Press), Servants of Twilight by Dean R. Koontz (Dark Harvest),
Toplin by Michael McDowell (Scream/Press), and Tapping the Source (Dark
Harvest), featuring all new stories by Stephen King, George R. R.
Martin and Dan Simmons.
OtherRealms #21
Summer, 1988
Copyright 1988
by Chuq Von Rospach
All Rights Reserved
One time rights have been acquired from the contributors. All rights
are hereby assigned to the contributors.
OtherRealms may not be reproduced in any form without written
permission from Chuq Von Rospach. The electronic edition may be
distributed or reproduced in its entirety as long as all copyrights,
author and publication information remain intact.
No article may be reprinted, reproduced or republished in any way
without the express permission of the author.
