I recently underwent about two months of ill health. I don't know what the deal was, but I was damned sick and it just wouldn't go away. About one week of that month, I hardly noticed my ails, and that was due entirely to the weighty tome of Stephen King's "Under the Dome." I'm a very rapid reader... my comprehension is at 100%, I can fully absorb the information and the elements, but I can do it at a remarkable pace. "Under the Dome" took me at least a week to read, no sleep, no meals... hardly even a bathroom break. This book was monolithic. I was excited as soon as it was released- about a month before it was released, honestly; as soon as I heard how long it was.
My two favorite novels are by King... and they're two of his longest. "It" and "The Stand" are both remarkable tales with characters I will never forget- in fact, I think about them regularly, as if they were real people. Before reading "Under the Dome," I knew this would continue. Somehow it seems that King's longest works are his most memorable and unique.
I had read about this story when it was still in the making, when King described it as- and I paraphrase- "a book about a town that gets trapped under a huge dome and the citizens start eating each other." I was a little sad when I found that the cannibalism hadn't made it to the final evolution of the novel, but as a stand-alone story with no prior knowledge to previous plotlines, "Under the Dome" didn't disappoint.
The story is still about the town of Cleave's Mill being trapped under a dome, but the conflict is with the political pantheon and their abuse of power while cut off from external forces which would normally bring them under the fist of justice. Left only to their own devices, these people- primarily Big Jim, the main protagonist- had no limit to the horrible things they can do to other people when he owns the police and no one from the outside world can set so much as a foot in their city limits.
The characters in this novel were incredibly real to me... the most prominent being the bully Big Jim and his henchmen. I hated these characters so fiercely that, were I to meet them, I would find myself capable of unspeakable acts I wouldn't normal imagine. As a matter of fact, this brings me to one of only two things I didn't like about the hefty novel. But I'll get to that later.
The town of Cleave's Mill was remarkably complete. It didn't feel in the least bit imagined- and there is even a small map depicting the layout of the town in the first pages of the book. The characters within the town had real-world positions in such; they were policemen and cooks and journalists. Not extraordinary people, just good old Small Town America, with unbelievable realism to their roles.
As always- or at least almost always- King narrates the story perfectly. There is just enough description, a perfect blend of speculation and action, and above all else the characterization and plot-building qualities I love about his work. Despite the size of this book, I couldn't put it down. And I'm sure I developed a good amount of muscle in my forearms from carrying it around the apartment all week.
Now, what I didn't like about the book were two very small, but very important flaws in King's direction. The first one being the main antagonist. This is one of those rare bad guys... one that has a blackness in them so complete that Hitler would shudder when he walked into the room with them. I hated this beast of a man so much that I couldn't wait to see how he would meet with justice. Whether the Dome collapsed and Big Jim had to find himself under the retribution of the outside world for his heinous crimes, or he met with a grisly- and by grisly I mean absolutely horrific, nightmare-inducing, wrath of God- death. Unfortunately, his reprisal was anticlimactic, leaving me feeling as if he had mostly gotten away with what he did.
The other thing was the explanation for the Dome's existence in the first place. I won't spoil it here, but when I found out the cause for it all- the entire story and every conflict within- it seemed a bit contrived. It was almost as if King didn't quite know how such an abnormal thing could take place and, as the novel neared completion, he just threw a card into the hat and said "done." Still, these minor infractions take only a shred away from the story.
This is why I rate Stephen King's "Under the Dome" a 9.9 out of 10... my first rating which requires a decimal point. I wanted to give it a 10... but these things were slightly remiss, in my eyes. But he certainly deserves more than a mere 9 for this epic work.
The P.S. Zone: Even if you aren't a fan of King or abnormally long novels, I still recommend you read this book. While there is a strong supernatural element (the existence of the impenetrable Dome) it is more a story about the faults of humanity and how inhumane we can be when we don't think there will be consequences for our actions. Additionally, as a second postscript, I would like to say that I fully intend to read this book again- many times- just as soon as I find the courage to undertake such a lengthy novel.
Stay Scared.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
"Island" by Richard Laymon
Before picking up this book at Borders, quite uncertain with my decision, I had never heard of Richard Laymon. Honestly, what sold me on the purchase was the fact that it had to do with a group of characters marooned on an island- a scenario that never grows old for me- and because Stephen King was quoted on the jacket as saying, "If you've missed Laymon, you've missed a real treat." As King has never steered me wrong on the referral of other horror novelists, I picked it up and boy am I glad I did.
I am officially a Richard Laymon fan until the day I die... and then further.
"Island" is around the 300 page mark- an average sized book for mass-market paperbacks- and I read it in one sitting. I knew I had obligations the next day which would require a full night's rest, but I traded my comfort to find out what would happen next.
Laymon has an unbelievable ability to keep the pages turning. As a matter of fact, he had redefined the page-turner for me. When I think of something utterly captivating, something veritably impossible to put down until I have reached the orgasmic completion, I think solely of Richard Laymon. The man is the patron saint of prose.
That being said, I must mention that Laymon's works were very involved in depravity and sexual deviancy. If you have a weak stomach for rape or overt sexuality, by all means- stay away. But if you think you can tolerate it in the name of an unforgettably disturbing story- which I think most of us can- then you really have missed a treat with Laymon.
"Island" is about an unfortunately-named teen, Rupert, who goes on spring break with his girlfriend, Connie, and her family. While they stop on a deserted island for lunch, their boat mysteriously explodes, stranding them utterly with little-to-no hopes for rescue. But they aren't alone on the island- someone or something is picking them off, one by one. "Island" is continuing in the violence and debauchery one comes to expect with Laymon, though there is a lesser degree of violent sex than some of his other works. The sexuality within is mostly in part to Rupert's descriptions and internal monologues of Connie and her beautiful sister and mother, all of which are clad in only the bathing suits they had brought to the island before becoming shipwrecked.
This story is not a whodunit, which normally tend to annoy me, but rather a straight-forward suspense... even when we find out who is killing them off, about a quarter of the way through. You see, the conflict isn't discovering a culprit, but trying to find a means to hide or overcome it. It's truly a remarkable tale, right down to an ending which left me simultaneously triumphant and aghast. It was an exploration of human nature and opportunism at its best and worst.
You might note that I have yet to say anything bad about Richard Laymon's "Island." The reason for this is simple... This is my first review that ends in a 10 out of 10 rating. "Island" had a narrative which brought me right to the island with them, experiencing every little nuance of their misadventure from the very first page... and long after the last had expired. I absolutely love this book and will recommend it to everyone I think might be able to stomach the aforementioned overt sexuality without growing too bashful.
The P.S. Zone: If there's anything that I don't like about Laymon, it is certainly the amount of rape or thoughts of rape, which I'm an adamant opposer of in all senses. However, we read horror fiction to become disturbed... and now and then, when ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties are too fanciful for a bleak tale, there is nothing more unsettling than a horror novel without supernatural events. These things could- and have- actually happen to people. And the ultimate revulsion of a rape is so much more pungent to me than the usual unoriginal serial killer, no matter how many angles and plot twists it takes.
Stay Scared.
I am officially a Richard Laymon fan until the day I die... and then further.
"Island" is around the 300 page mark- an average sized book for mass-market paperbacks- and I read it in one sitting. I knew I had obligations the next day which would require a full night's rest, but I traded my comfort to find out what would happen next.
Laymon has an unbelievable ability to keep the pages turning. As a matter of fact, he had redefined the page-turner for me. When I think of something utterly captivating, something veritably impossible to put down until I have reached the orgasmic completion, I think solely of Richard Laymon. The man is the patron saint of prose.
That being said, I must mention that Laymon's works were very involved in depravity and sexual deviancy. If you have a weak stomach for rape or overt sexuality, by all means- stay away. But if you think you can tolerate it in the name of an unforgettably disturbing story- which I think most of us can- then you really have missed a treat with Laymon.
"Island" is about an unfortunately-named teen, Rupert, who goes on spring break with his girlfriend, Connie, and her family. While they stop on a deserted island for lunch, their boat mysteriously explodes, stranding them utterly with little-to-no hopes for rescue. But they aren't alone on the island- someone or something is picking them off, one by one. "Island" is continuing in the violence and debauchery one comes to expect with Laymon, though there is a lesser degree of violent sex than some of his other works. The sexuality within is mostly in part to Rupert's descriptions and internal monologues of Connie and her beautiful sister and mother, all of which are clad in only the bathing suits they had brought to the island before becoming shipwrecked.
This story is not a whodunit, which normally tend to annoy me, but rather a straight-forward suspense... even when we find out who is killing them off, about a quarter of the way through. You see, the conflict isn't discovering a culprit, but trying to find a means to hide or overcome it. It's truly a remarkable tale, right down to an ending which left me simultaneously triumphant and aghast. It was an exploration of human nature and opportunism at its best and worst.
You might note that I have yet to say anything bad about Richard Laymon's "Island." The reason for this is simple... This is my first review that ends in a 10 out of 10 rating. "Island" had a narrative which brought me right to the island with them, experiencing every little nuance of their misadventure from the very first page... and long after the last had expired. I absolutely love this book and will recommend it to everyone I think might be able to stomach the aforementioned overt sexuality without growing too bashful.
The P.S. Zone: If there's anything that I don't like about Laymon, it is certainly the amount of rape or thoughts of rape, which I'm an adamant opposer of in all senses. However, we read horror fiction to become disturbed... and now and then, when ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties are too fanciful for a bleak tale, there is nothing more unsettling than a horror novel without supernatural events. These things could- and have- actually happen to people. And the ultimate revulsion of a rape is so much more pungent to me than the usual unoriginal serial killer, no matter how many angles and plot twists it takes.
Stay Scared.
"Comes the Blind Fury" by John Saul
When I found myself without a book to read this week, I decided to go a little retro and dig through a box of paperbacks I haven't gotten around to reading. What I selected was an unfortunately stripped book, its front cover removed long before making its acquaintance with me. But what was on the outside was by no means the whole story with this wounded paperback. It was John Saul's "Comes the Blind Fury," originally published in 1980 and the one tragedy therein is that I didn't find the time to read it before this week.
"Comes the Blind Fury" is a simple take on the classic 'ghost story.' A New England family moves into a grandiose Victorian estate on the seashore, only to find that they got more than they bargained for. If my description sounds cliche, sue me. Because at its foundation, this story is just as jaded. But Saul's masterful prose kept the pages turning, even when I thought I knew what was going to happen next. In all honesty, I was right sometimes and wrong others; I didn't bother working out the right to wrong ratio, I just took the victories with the losses and continued reading.
Saul's characterization was hit or miss in this book- though I must say that he seemed to have captured exactly what he was aiming for. An important character, the father of the protagonist, started off as a truly enjoyable person to read... but before long he became an introverted and downright loathsome character that I would love to slap in the face, should I meet a living incarnation of him. I guess this is what defines great characterization, and I'm embittered by the fact that this character turned so surly when I wanted him to stay the Nice Guy supporting character he had originally been. His wife- the yin to his yang, as it were- was just the opposite. In the beginning I wasn't all that interested in what her character was bringing to the table. But by the time the plot had thickened, I saw that June Pendleton was an embodiment of the compassionate and understanding mother that we all wanted. A Joan Cleaver without the obnoxious sentiments.
The problem I have with "Comes the Blind Fury" should be an important one, as it involves the main character, Michelle, and the main conflict (that the ghost is making Michelle do terrible things which she is later blamed for). The problem I had was that Michelle, at times, seemed almost willing to perform these horrific murders- as if all she needed was a little infinitesimal nudge to do so. In fact, the only time she resisted the will of the specter, she successfully saved a life with very little trouble at all.
But this is a minor problem, against all odds, because Saul's narrative voice kept the story moving, even in parts that should have felt slow. And because his characterization was strong enough that these people seemed real to me- and never stepped out of character unless it was pivotal to the plot.
Overall, I'm rating John Saul's "Comes the Blind Fury" a 7 out of 10 for my first Retro Review. There was a little to leave desired- up to and including the dramatic, almost Shakespearean ending and modern horror B-movie epilogue- but what little I felt it lacked was inconsequential in the face of what it possessed. I will recommend this read heartily, though not to absolute horror connoisseurs. But how many of us are there really?
The P.S. Zone: I'm going to mention the dialog as a completely personal opinion... I felt myself shaking my head a little bit at the way the characters spoke to each other. Not because they talked in an unrealistic manner, but because the way Americans speak has changed so much in the last thirty years. While I know for a fact that Saul's dialog was spot-on in its time, reading it was like hearing Dennis the Menace saying, "Gee, Mr. Wilson, that sure is swell!" in the old TV shows. I haven't thought much about the current stage of our language's evolution, but I'm certainly going to be looking for more examples as poignant as in "Comes the Blind Fury."
Stay Scared.
"Comes the Blind Fury" is a simple take on the classic 'ghost story.' A New England family moves into a grandiose Victorian estate on the seashore, only to find that they got more than they bargained for. If my description sounds cliche, sue me. Because at its foundation, this story is just as jaded. But Saul's masterful prose kept the pages turning, even when I thought I knew what was going to happen next. In all honesty, I was right sometimes and wrong others; I didn't bother working out the right to wrong ratio, I just took the victories with the losses and continued reading.
Saul's characterization was hit or miss in this book- though I must say that he seemed to have captured exactly what he was aiming for. An important character, the father of the protagonist, started off as a truly enjoyable person to read... but before long he became an introverted and downright loathsome character that I would love to slap in the face, should I meet a living incarnation of him. I guess this is what defines great characterization, and I'm embittered by the fact that this character turned so surly when I wanted him to stay the Nice Guy supporting character he had originally been. His wife- the yin to his yang, as it were- was just the opposite. In the beginning I wasn't all that interested in what her character was bringing to the table. But by the time the plot had thickened, I saw that June Pendleton was an embodiment of the compassionate and understanding mother that we all wanted. A Joan Cleaver without the obnoxious sentiments.
The problem I have with "Comes the Blind Fury" should be an important one, as it involves the main character, Michelle, and the main conflict (that the ghost is making Michelle do terrible things which she is later blamed for). The problem I had was that Michelle, at times, seemed almost willing to perform these horrific murders- as if all she needed was a little infinitesimal nudge to do so. In fact, the only time she resisted the will of the specter, she successfully saved a life with very little trouble at all.
But this is a minor problem, against all odds, because Saul's narrative voice kept the story moving, even in parts that should have felt slow. And because his characterization was strong enough that these people seemed real to me- and never stepped out of character unless it was pivotal to the plot.
Overall, I'm rating John Saul's "Comes the Blind Fury" a 7 out of 10 for my first Retro Review. There was a little to leave desired- up to and including the dramatic, almost Shakespearean ending and modern horror B-movie epilogue- but what little I felt it lacked was inconsequential in the face of what it possessed. I will recommend this read heartily, though not to absolute horror connoisseurs. But how many of us are there really?
The P.S. Zone: I'm going to mention the dialog as a completely personal opinion... I felt myself shaking my head a little bit at the way the characters spoke to each other. Not because they talked in an unrealistic manner, but because the way Americans speak has changed so much in the last thirty years. While I know for a fact that Saul's dialog was spot-on in its time, reading it was like hearing Dennis the Menace saying, "Gee, Mr. Wilson, that sure is swell!" in the old TV shows. I haven't thought much about the current stage of our language's evolution, but I'm certainly going to be looking for more examples as poignant as in "Comes the Blind Fury."
Stay Scared.
"Blockade Billy" and "Morality" by Stephen King
My edition of "Blockade Billy" by Stephen King comes with an included short story called "Morality" and it's a good thing; the book is small enough to be issued to fifth graders to read over the weekend. Don't be fooled by the fact that "Blockade Billy" tunes in at 81 pages- each page consists of about three paragraphs of large print.
What I liked about "Blockade Billy" was that it was written under the guise that an old man in a retirement home was orally relating the story, even referring to the reader as "Mr. King" and the language was believable enough that I felt like I was being told a story by an old man with an above-average grasp of language and without a tendency to ramble. What didn't much like was that the story being told wasn't all that special. Sure, it was an old timey baseball story- about a uniquely talented and peculiar catcher William "Blockade" Blakely and the related story made me wistful and nostalgic for my own baseball playing days. I felt I could hear the crack of the bat, could feel the rosin bag in my hands and smell the polished leather of my worn baseman's mitt. But it was a story with a predictable ending and without much really going for it.
Essentially, I don't see myself reading it again, unless I want to tap into that old baseball feeling again. Although I am an adamant supporter of King's work- and I realize this was a special interest story from a true baseball fan- I wasn't emotionally moved by "Blockade Billy" and the only real justice was that it didn't take up more than an hour of my time. If I want to hear a story from the old sepia-toned days of sports, I'll go to a nursing home and start up a conversation with anyone who isn't busy with virtual bowling or checkers.
"Morality" was a 30-ish page short story about a married couple and their financial near-ruin. When the wife, a private nurse for a stroke victim priest- is offered $200,000 dollars for an immoral act, she is hesitant but eventually gives in to the need for security. The deed she must commit- so that the dying priest may experience sin by association- is to videotape herself punching a random four-year-old boy in the face hard enough to draw blood. The wife, who is originally remorseful, eventually becomes a violence-fiend who demands her husband brutalizes her during intercourse and even moves up to sleeping with random strangers and asking the same of them. In the end, the couple divorces. While I am into Stephen King's unique ideas of moral deviation, this story seemed slightly pointless, once the suspenseful question of what the immoral act would be was revealed. The woman, who was tempted into utter ruination of ethics, never met with consequences for her actions. In fact, she semi-retired in her dream home with no need to share her money with her ex-husband. "Morality" was mostly a waste of thirty minutes of my time; the only thing I can take from it is that, one day when King has finished publishing new works, I can still say I have read all of his work.
As much as I disbelieve it, I have to rate Stephen King's "Blockade Billy" and "Morality" at 3 out of 10 and 2 out of 10, respectively.
The P.S. Zone: Stephen King is my favorite writer, by far. His style and choice of words have always kept me amused and has kept me reading, even when I come across a phase where I'm not entirely into the written word. It pains me to say anything negative about his works, but I have to be honest. His last novel "Under the Dome" absolutely blew me away, and I can't wait to see what he comes up with next. But "Blockade Billy" and "Morality" are two of the few that I'm going to file in the Dead Zone of literary genius.
Stay Scared.
What I liked about "Blockade Billy" was that it was written under the guise that an old man in a retirement home was orally relating the story, even referring to the reader as "Mr. King" and the language was believable enough that I felt like I was being told a story by an old man with an above-average grasp of language and without a tendency to ramble. What didn't much like was that the story being told wasn't all that special. Sure, it was an old timey baseball story- about a uniquely talented and peculiar catcher William "Blockade" Blakely and the related story made me wistful and nostalgic for my own baseball playing days. I felt I could hear the crack of the bat, could feel the rosin bag in my hands and smell the polished leather of my worn baseman's mitt. But it was a story with a predictable ending and without much really going for it.
Essentially, I don't see myself reading it again, unless I want to tap into that old baseball feeling again. Although I am an adamant supporter of King's work- and I realize this was a special interest story from a true baseball fan- I wasn't emotionally moved by "Blockade Billy" and the only real justice was that it didn't take up more than an hour of my time. If I want to hear a story from the old sepia-toned days of sports, I'll go to a nursing home and start up a conversation with anyone who isn't busy with virtual bowling or checkers.
"Morality" was a 30-ish page short story about a married couple and their financial near-ruin. When the wife, a private nurse for a stroke victim priest- is offered $200,000 dollars for an immoral act, she is hesitant but eventually gives in to the need for security. The deed she must commit- so that the dying priest may experience sin by association- is to videotape herself punching a random four-year-old boy in the face hard enough to draw blood. The wife, who is originally remorseful, eventually becomes a violence-fiend who demands her husband brutalizes her during intercourse and even moves up to sleeping with random strangers and asking the same of them. In the end, the couple divorces. While I am into Stephen King's unique ideas of moral deviation, this story seemed slightly pointless, once the suspenseful question of what the immoral act would be was revealed. The woman, who was tempted into utter ruination of ethics, never met with consequences for her actions. In fact, she semi-retired in her dream home with no need to share her money with her ex-husband. "Morality" was mostly a waste of thirty minutes of my time; the only thing I can take from it is that, one day when King has finished publishing new works, I can still say I have read all of his work.
As much as I disbelieve it, I have to rate Stephen King's "Blockade Billy" and "Morality" at 3 out of 10 and 2 out of 10, respectively.
The P.S. Zone: Stephen King is my favorite writer, by far. His style and choice of words have always kept me amused and has kept me reading, even when I come across a phase where I'm not entirely into the written word. It pains me to say anything negative about his works, but I have to be honest. His last novel "Under the Dome" absolutely blew me away, and I can't wait to see what he comes up with next. But "Blockade Billy" and "Morality" are two of the few that I'm going to file in the Dead Zone of literary genius.
Stay Scared.
"Feeding Ground" by Sarah Pinborough
The book jacket says, "London streets that were once filled with pedestrians, tourists, and shoppers are now clogged with thick webs and dead bodies. Spidery creatures straight out of a nightmare have infested the city, skittering after their human prey, spinning sticky traps to catch their food...
A few desperate survivors have banded together, realizing their only hope for survival is to flee the dying city. Their route will take them through wrecked streets, into an underground train station. Only too late will they discover their deadly mistake: their chosen tunnel is home to the hungry creatures' food cache, filled with cocooned but still living victims. Instead of escape, the group has run straight into the heart of a ... FEEDING GROUND."
My biggest problem with Sarah Pinborough's "Feeding Ground" is from this blurb on the cover. I realize that it was most likely written by someone on the editorial staff, but I found- after reading 310 pages- that it was inaccurate. To be honest, I was quite intrigued to be taken through those devastated London streets filled with wrecked cars, bloody remnants of battle, and larger-than-life spider webs. Unfortunately, this scenario took up only about ten pages of the book. But I was still drawn in by the idea of London survivors groping around in the dark, with stealthy spider-like creatures lowering down on them from above. Yet this segment was even less than ten pages. What the cover blurb should have said is: "A large cast of morally reprehensible characters think about their hierarchy of crime and drug use, while their supporting characters seem even less meritorious than they, leaving- by perspective- the protagonists more relatable."
I was expecting a good amount of action and I instead got a good amount of backstory and internal monologue about building a slumdog crack empire in a shitty London neighborhood. I won't take away from Pinborough's ability to write- she was evocative, original, and quite talented. But I suppose I was fooled by the description of the novel. Another gripe with the cover blurb is that it claims a "few desperate survivors have banded together," when, in fact, this was minimal. There were two main groups of characters: The bad guys, a small contingent at the head of the Crookston crime syndicate, and the good guys, the trio of teenagers who were hiding from the bad guys so they weren't executed for nearly testifying against them. The only "banding together" occurred in the beginning, when an autistic boy joins the teenagers simply because they knew each other from school and when three other characters- introduced more than halfway through the book- were thrust into the acquaintance of the teens and the autistic boy. The group consisting of the bad guys never seemed to band together at all, instead tending to implode within themselves, as I suppose criminal organizations are prone to do in times of anarchy.
The real travesty in this novel is that the main antagonist- the race of spidery creatures which had jumped to the top of the food chain- were so little encountered. They were incredibly unique creatures that I thought would create some incredible action segments. They were, of course, very spiderlike, all of the obvious characteristics present. But aside from being giant spiders, they had suckers along their belly which was only minimally mentioned and could have been more properly utilized. Also, they had a communal memory and consciousness, communicating with each other by telepathy and true empathy. This could have spawned some amazing attack scenarios, but unfortunately it was one more missed trait. Aside from the brunt of this race, the Whites, there was a number of outcasts, the Squealers, who were slightly smaller, colored differently, and weaker in the telepathic sense. This was because they had been born to crack-addicted hosts, rather than normal ones. The Whites and the Squealers seemed to be natural enemies, though nothing came of this until the anticlimactic 1/2 page "last stand."
Also, another race of monsters was introduced at about the 3/4 mark... a swarm of huge rats- about the size of cats- that I thought would be a sort of Chekov's Gun. A cavalry of super rats attacking the Whites and the Squealers to give the protagonists just enough time to escape in the climax. Unfortunately, these rats were briefly shown to us twice, then left without conclusion or explanation. Their existence in the novel could have been omitted entirely without altering a single plot point.
All in all, I rate Sarah Pinborough's "Feeding Ground" a 6 out of 10. Although it moved slowly, I loved the race of spiders and only wish I had been shown more of them. If there had been less moments of speculation and more of what the cover blurb described, this book would have been a 10 for sure. I look forward to reading another of Pinborough's novels, but I think this time I will skip reading the description on the back to keep my expectations low.
The PS Zone: Pinborough's dialog was incredible. When reading the character's dialogs, I never felt I was reading at all. They spoke realistically to themselves, without hokey phrases or suspect wording. However, if you aren't up to date on your UK slang, you might want to brush up. Local color was a large part of the vocal realism.
Stay Scared.
A few desperate survivors have banded together, realizing their only hope for survival is to flee the dying city. Their route will take them through wrecked streets, into an underground train station. Only too late will they discover their deadly mistake: their chosen tunnel is home to the hungry creatures' food cache, filled with cocooned but still living victims. Instead of escape, the group has run straight into the heart of a ... FEEDING GROUND."
My biggest problem with Sarah Pinborough's "Feeding Ground" is from this blurb on the cover. I realize that it was most likely written by someone on the editorial staff, but I found- after reading 310 pages- that it was inaccurate. To be honest, I was quite intrigued to be taken through those devastated London streets filled with wrecked cars, bloody remnants of battle, and larger-than-life spider webs. Unfortunately, this scenario took up only about ten pages of the book. But I was still drawn in by the idea of London survivors groping around in the dark, with stealthy spider-like creatures lowering down on them from above. Yet this segment was even less than ten pages. What the cover blurb should have said is: "A large cast of morally reprehensible characters think about their hierarchy of crime and drug use, while their supporting characters seem even less meritorious than they, leaving- by perspective- the protagonists more relatable."
I was expecting a good amount of action and I instead got a good amount of backstory and internal monologue about building a slumdog crack empire in a shitty London neighborhood. I won't take away from Pinborough's ability to write- she was evocative, original, and quite talented. But I suppose I was fooled by the description of the novel. Another gripe with the cover blurb is that it claims a "few desperate survivors have banded together," when, in fact, this was minimal. There were two main groups of characters: The bad guys, a small contingent at the head of the Crookston crime syndicate, and the good guys, the trio of teenagers who were hiding from the bad guys so they weren't executed for nearly testifying against them. The only "banding together" occurred in the beginning, when an autistic boy joins the teenagers simply because they knew each other from school and when three other characters- introduced more than halfway through the book- were thrust into the acquaintance of the teens and the autistic boy. The group consisting of the bad guys never seemed to band together at all, instead tending to implode within themselves, as I suppose criminal organizations are prone to do in times of anarchy.
The real travesty in this novel is that the main antagonist- the race of spidery creatures which had jumped to the top of the food chain- were so little encountered. They were incredibly unique creatures that I thought would create some incredible action segments. They were, of course, very spiderlike, all of the obvious characteristics present. But aside from being giant spiders, they had suckers along their belly which was only minimally mentioned and could have been more properly utilized. Also, they had a communal memory and consciousness, communicating with each other by telepathy and true empathy. This could have spawned some amazing attack scenarios, but unfortunately it was one more missed trait. Aside from the brunt of this race, the Whites, there was a number of outcasts, the Squealers, who were slightly smaller, colored differently, and weaker in the telepathic sense. This was because they had been born to crack-addicted hosts, rather than normal ones. The Whites and the Squealers seemed to be natural enemies, though nothing came of this until the anticlimactic 1/2 page "last stand."
Also, another race of monsters was introduced at about the 3/4 mark... a swarm of huge rats- about the size of cats- that I thought would be a sort of Chekov's Gun. A cavalry of super rats attacking the Whites and the Squealers to give the protagonists just enough time to escape in the climax. Unfortunately, these rats were briefly shown to us twice, then left without conclusion or explanation. Their existence in the novel could have been omitted entirely without altering a single plot point.
All in all, I rate Sarah Pinborough's "Feeding Ground" a 6 out of 10. Although it moved slowly, I loved the race of spiders and only wish I had been shown more of them. If there had been less moments of speculation and more of what the cover blurb described, this book would have been a 10 for sure. I look forward to reading another of Pinborough's novels, but I think this time I will skip reading the description on the back to keep my expectations low.
The PS Zone: Pinborough's dialog was incredible. When reading the character's dialogs, I never felt I was reading at all. They spoke realistically to themselves, without hokey phrases or suspect wording. However, if you aren't up to date on your UK slang, you might want to brush up. Local color was a large part of the vocal realism.
Stay Scared.
"Deeper" by James A. Moore
James A. Moore’s 2009 novel “Deeper” is about a yacht captain who is hired to take a research expedition made up of college volunteer divers to an underwater cave system to search for a rumored race of “fish-men” as well as- almost as a side-note, rumors of ghost sightings in the area. During this month-long expedition, the first mate catches one of these rumored fish-men and brings it aboard. The creature itself is dangerous, but it isn’t alone- or vulnerable on land.
I’m going to begin by saying that I am usually drawn very deep into Lovecraftian nods such as these. And the story’s homage is hardly subtle, as there are a number of references to Lovecraft’s fictitious “Miskatonic University,” the home of the Necronomicon and other dangerous texts, and the nearby town of Golden Cove was formerly named “Innsmouth,” another famous Lovecraft locale. And the motif of monsters rising up from chthonic rifts is common enough in stories inspired by the Master of Horror.
Unfortunately, “Deeper” didn’t add up to some more notable Lovecraftian horrors. Don’t get me wrong; it was an adequate novel with all the fixings: terrible creatures whose strengths outweigh their weaknesses, a cast of widely different characters in a painfully vulnerable predicament, and enough action to keep the pages turning. But the first thing which turned me off of “Deeper” was that it was written in first-person narrative. I’m not normally a fan of that as it is- unless the narrator is particularly gripping and eloquent- but in a Lovecraftian horror, a first-person narrator negates the premise entirely. When reading stories of this genre, often times you will find that the protagonist doesn’t survive the ordeal... or he is left raving mad in its wake. In first-person narrative, you know the main character survives and keeps his wits, as he is telling you the story himself. I feel like that was a terrible oversight.
My second gripe was that I didn’t particularly like the main character until about three quarters into the book. The only thing which kept me reading was the supporting cast of characters, who didn’t get as much spotlight as they deserved. The protagonist, Joe, was in my opinion a very stubborn an apathetic man. A very typical kind of man, who I can meet in real life without stepping into a book. Far too many times Joe did something bitter or unfavorable and blamed it on the fact that he’d been hired to pilot a boat, and nothing more. His interactions with the other characters always seemed to be the opposite of what a rational man would do. He often seemed to be deluding himself with excuses, rather than facing the fact that he was a bit of a prick. Once the action went full-force this was rectified, but only because he didn’t have time to express his views.
The supporting characters were never fully developed and the main human antagonist was painfully predictable, although I got the feeling that his big unveiling of his true self at the end of the book was supposed to be surprising to the reader. Furthermore, two small details were never concluded with the story... what had truly happened to one character who disappeared halfway through and then reappeared in the last chapter, unharmed and otherwise uninvolved in the goings on... and exactly who had piloted the yacht back with the main antagonist. As the reader, I expected that these questions answered themselves- that the ‘disappearance’ was a ruse and that the character had been on the other side of the whole thing. But this notion was never verified or even hinted upon other than the narrator not trusting him, without knowing why.
But my disapproval of these irksome holes, the underdevelopment of the side-cast, and general dislike of the protagonist, “Deeper” was at least well written. James A. Moore has proven himself to be an incredibly vivid writer and the fact that I made it all the way through the book when I didn’t like much about it is testament to the fact that he is talented. And it was a quick read, even though I found lots of places to put it down.
Because of Moore’s abilities as a writer, I’m certainly going to look into his other works in hopes of finding a book with a better protagonist and fewer plot holes. I’m sure that, although I am picky enough to find less enjoyment in “Deeper,” I will enjoy something else in Moore’s bibliography.
Due to the aforementioned gripes, I’m afraid this book will get a less-than-perfect rating, but please bear in mind that if Moore’s abilities as a storyteller weren’t so pronounce, I wouldn’t have made it halfway and wouldn’t even be able to give it a 1 out of 10. As it is, I’m rating James A. Moore’s “Deeper” 5 out of 10. A less picky horror fan will probably like it a great deal, especially if they don’t look into the protagonist’s poor attitude the way that I did, early on.
The P.S. Zone: “Deeper” ended in a half deus ex machina and I really hate that. I say “half” because, in hindsight, it was foreshadowed as a very subtle Chekov’s Gun... and it wasn’t exactly God from a machine. But it felt like a cheap ending to me. A creative mind like Moore’s could have come up with better. But again, I look deeply into these things. A less picky reader probably wouldn’t mind it a bit.
Stay Scared.
I’m going to begin by saying that I am usually drawn very deep into Lovecraftian nods such as these. And the story’s homage is hardly subtle, as there are a number of references to Lovecraft’s fictitious “Miskatonic University,” the home of the Necronomicon and other dangerous texts, and the nearby town of Golden Cove was formerly named “Innsmouth,” another famous Lovecraft locale. And the motif of monsters rising up from chthonic rifts is common enough in stories inspired by the Master of Horror.
Unfortunately, “Deeper” didn’t add up to some more notable Lovecraftian horrors. Don’t get me wrong; it was an adequate novel with all the fixings: terrible creatures whose strengths outweigh their weaknesses, a cast of widely different characters in a painfully vulnerable predicament, and enough action to keep the pages turning. But the first thing which turned me off of “Deeper” was that it was written in first-person narrative. I’m not normally a fan of that as it is- unless the narrator is particularly gripping and eloquent- but in a Lovecraftian horror, a first-person narrator negates the premise entirely. When reading stories of this genre, often times you will find that the protagonist doesn’t survive the ordeal... or he is left raving mad in its wake. In first-person narrative, you know the main character survives and keeps his wits, as he is telling you the story himself. I feel like that was a terrible oversight.
My second gripe was that I didn’t particularly like the main character until about three quarters into the book. The only thing which kept me reading was the supporting cast of characters, who didn’t get as much spotlight as they deserved. The protagonist, Joe, was in my opinion a very stubborn an apathetic man. A very typical kind of man, who I can meet in real life without stepping into a book. Far too many times Joe did something bitter or unfavorable and blamed it on the fact that he’d been hired to pilot a boat, and nothing more. His interactions with the other characters always seemed to be the opposite of what a rational man would do. He often seemed to be deluding himself with excuses, rather than facing the fact that he was a bit of a prick. Once the action went full-force this was rectified, but only because he didn’t have time to express his views.
The supporting characters were never fully developed and the main human antagonist was painfully predictable, although I got the feeling that his big unveiling of his true self at the end of the book was supposed to be surprising to the reader. Furthermore, two small details were never concluded with the story... what had truly happened to one character who disappeared halfway through and then reappeared in the last chapter, unharmed and otherwise uninvolved in the goings on... and exactly who had piloted the yacht back with the main antagonist. As the reader, I expected that these questions answered themselves- that the ‘disappearance’ was a ruse and that the character had been on the other side of the whole thing. But this notion was never verified or even hinted upon other than the narrator not trusting him, without knowing why.
But my disapproval of these irksome holes, the underdevelopment of the side-cast, and general dislike of the protagonist, “Deeper” was at least well written. James A. Moore has proven himself to be an incredibly vivid writer and the fact that I made it all the way through the book when I didn’t like much about it is testament to the fact that he is talented. And it was a quick read, even though I found lots of places to put it down.
Because of Moore’s abilities as a writer, I’m certainly going to look into his other works in hopes of finding a book with a better protagonist and fewer plot holes. I’m sure that, although I am picky enough to find less enjoyment in “Deeper,” I will enjoy something else in Moore’s bibliography.
Due to the aforementioned gripes, I’m afraid this book will get a less-than-perfect rating, but please bear in mind that if Moore’s abilities as a storyteller weren’t so pronounce, I wouldn’t have made it halfway and wouldn’t even be able to give it a 1 out of 10. As it is, I’m rating James A. Moore’s “Deeper” 5 out of 10. A less picky horror fan will probably like it a great deal, especially if they don’t look into the protagonist’s poor attitude the way that I did, early on.
The P.S. Zone: “Deeper” ended in a half deus ex machina and I really hate that. I say “half” because, in hindsight, it was foreshadowed as a very subtle Chekov’s Gun... and it wasn’t exactly God from a machine. But it felt like a cheap ending to me. A creative mind like Moore’s could have come up with better. But again, I look deeply into these things. A less picky reader probably wouldn’t mind it a bit.
Stay Scared.
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