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A review by monty_reads
Fiend by Peter Stenson
4.0
I sorta love Peter Stenson's Fiend even though it made me feel grimy and despondent and awful. It's an inventive take on the zombie genre, but it's also – I think, as a generally sober dude who can't speak with any authority on methamphetamine use – a critique of drug culture and the cost that comes with addiction.
In some ways it gives us what we expect from a zombie novel. One day, Chase and his best friend Typewriter, two long-time meth addicts, see a young girl rip out a dog's throat. With her teeth. Is this a drug-fueled hallucination? When she breaks into their squat and attacks them, it's clear it isn't. And as they escape and learn what's happened to the world, they begin to realize they're simultaneously lucky and doomed. In short, some sort of virus befell the world (or at least the United States or at least Minnesota, where Fiend is set). Some people died straightaway. Some reanimated as zombies. Apparently the only people to avoid either of those less-than-desirable fates are drug addicts. Chase doesn't arrive at a definitive answer for this – it's the apocalypse, duh – but his guess is that it has something to do with all the junk in their system essentially blocking them from the virus. The uncomfortable truth? Stay high or become a zombie.
The story tracks Chase and Typewriter's search to find a stable source for more meth; to find Chase's ex-girlfriend KK; and eventually to use a Minnesota prison as a place for refuge and – maybe – a cure. It's a fast-paced read that will satisfy casual horror readers as well as anyone out for something a little more allegorical.
A few things are crucial to Fiend's effectiveness:
1) It's a cool little spin on zombie folklore. For whatever reason, these zombies giggle uncontrollably. It doesn't sound like much, but think about it. You're in a darkened building searching for supplies. Your senses are amped. You're listening for any indication that you're not alone. Suddenly from out of the darkness you hear giggling. I don't care who you are – that shit's scary. Chase and his friends call them Chucks – short for Chucklers – and it's a subtle twist to the traditional zombie mythos that works really well.
2) As I read Fiend I couldn't help but be reminded of Nico Walker's Cherry. Both of them deal with addiction, both of them center on a protagonist who's an addict, both of them attempt to drop us into the addict's mind. Only Fiend works. As I mentioned in my review of Cherry, that book seemed a little too self-conscious, a little too satisfied with its own voice. It drew attention to itself. Chase, Fiend's main character, has a distinctive voice, but I didn't feel like Stenson wanted a pat on the back for capturing it. The message seemed to be: Chase is who he is, now let's get on with the story. Cherry had me rolling my eyes at the affectation; Fiend had me squirming at Chase's delusion and duplicity. It's not a book for people who need likable characters. Which is probably one reason why I loved it.
3) There's a clear and obvious comparison between Chase and the other addicts they encounter and the zombies. The subtext to all of this: who's really the undead? Yeah, the zombies are giggling monsters that feed on human flesh, but Chase is solely dependent on finding another score. He has nothing else. Even the human relationships he's forged pale in comparison. They matter to a certain degree, but unless he can find a reliable high, he's dead. I suppose on the surface it sounds a little trite – meth addicts are the walking dead – but Stenson doesn't deal in caricatures. Chase and Typewriter are relatable characters, and –
SPOILER ALERT
– Chase's reunion and eventual relationship with KK is poignant and heartbreaking. It's easy to want to view them as One-Dimensional Tweakers.™ But the book doesn't really work without us investing in Chase's ordeal. And the emphasis on these characters who find themselves lost in multiple, soul-shattering ways is kind of tragic.
Fiend is a horror novel before it's anything else. But thanks to Stenson's indelible voice and honest way of dealing with addiction, it also made me think of substance abuse in a way I never really had before. It'll be one of the best books I read this year.
In some ways it gives us what we expect from a zombie novel. One day, Chase and his best friend Typewriter, two long-time meth addicts, see a young girl rip out a dog's throat. With her teeth. Is this a drug-fueled hallucination? When she breaks into their squat and attacks them, it's clear it isn't. And as they escape and learn what's happened to the world, they begin to realize they're simultaneously lucky and doomed. In short, some sort of virus befell the world (or at least the United States or at least Minnesota, where Fiend is set). Some people died straightaway. Some reanimated as zombies. Apparently the only people to avoid either of those less-than-desirable fates are drug addicts. Chase doesn't arrive at a definitive answer for this – it's the apocalypse, duh – but his guess is that it has something to do with all the junk in their system essentially blocking them from the virus. The uncomfortable truth? Stay high or become a zombie.
The story tracks Chase and Typewriter's search to find a stable source for more meth; to find Chase's ex-girlfriend KK; and eventually to use a Minnesota prison as a place for refuge and – maybe – a cure. It's a fast-paced read that will satisfy casual horror readers as well as anyone out for something a little more allegorical.
A few things are crucial to Fiend's effectiveness:
1) It's a cool little spin on zombie folklore. For whatever reason, these zombies giggle uncontrollably. It doesn't sound like much, but think about it. You're in a darkened building searching for supplies. Your senses are amped. You're listening for any indication that you're not alone. Suddenly from out of the darkness you hear giggling. I don't care who you are – that shit's scary. Chase and his friends call them Chucks – short for Chucklers – and it's a subtle twist to the traditional zombie mythos that works really well.
2) As I read Fiend I couldn't help but be reminded of Nico Walker's Cherry. Both of them deal with addiction, both of them center on a protagonist who's an addict, both of them attempt to drop us into the addict's mind. Only Fiend works. As I mentioned in my review of Cherry, that book seemed a little too self-conscious, a little too satisfied with its own voice. It drew attention to itself. Chase, Fiend's main character, has a distinctive voice, but I didn't feel like Stenson wanted a pat on the back for capturing it. The message seemed to be: Chase is who he is, now let's get on with the story. Cherry had me rolling my eyes at the affectation; Fiend had me squirming at Chase's delusion and duplicity. It's not a book for people who need likable characters. Which is probably one reason why I loved it.
3) There's a clear and obvious comparison between Chase and the other addicts they encounter and the zombies. The subtext to all of this: who's really the undead? Yeah, the zombies are giggling monsters that feed on human flesh, but Chase is solely dependent on finding another score. He has nothing else. Even the human relationships he's forged pale in comparison. They matter to a certain degree, but unless he can find a reliable high, he's dead. I suppose on the surface it sounds a little trite – meth addicts are the walking dead – but Stenson doesn't deal in caricatures. Chase and Typewriter are relatable characters, and –
SPOILER ALERT
– Chase's reunion and eventual relationship with KK is poignant and heartbreaking. It's easy to want to view them as One-Dimensional Tweakers.™ But the book doesn't really work without us investing in Chase's ordeal. And the emphasis on these characters who find themselves lost in multiple, soul-shattering ways is kind of tragic.
Fiend is a horror novel before it's anything else. But thanks to Stenson's indelible voice and honest way of dealing with addiction, it also made me think of substance abuse in a way I never really had before. It'll be one of the best books I read this year.