Scan barcode
ojtheviking's reviews
112 reviews
If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin
5.0
This is a bittersweet story. A love story smack dab in the middle of the harsh reality of certain aspects of society, especially in the US. Injustice, racial profiling, cops always going after the black man first regardless of the circumstances, and so on. And in the middle of it all, you have a young couple in love - Tish and Fonny - who are trying to keep their love, and their chances to become a family, alive.
The thematic contrasts are in and of themselves beautiful, here. The novel touches upon some fairly brutal topics, to such a degree that it in many ways has the makings of a very bleak and desperate story. But somehow, Baldwin still manages to make a love story work within this setting. Tish and Fonny are so devoted to each other even when it seems like the whole world is against them, which to me makes their connection all the more romantic, but also all the more heartbreaking.
Recently, I've read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, and some of the same topics were present there, but presented in a much more brutal, to-the-point, and in-your-face way. However, I think it should be taken into consideration that Baldwin's novel was written over 40 years prior, at a time when touching upon these topics was perhaps even riskier than now, and as such, I still say that Baldwin is far from subtle, and it is very easy to understand why he is considered one of the most influential writers and social critics. As a side note, it's also a very sad fact that the same hatred towards the African-American community is still written about several decades later. If you knew nothing about the years these two novels were published, they both might as well have been written in the same year.
It's just that there's a certain softness and sensibility to his writing that adds to the aforementioned bittersweetness, and adds a very classic sense of romance in his novel compared to something like Thomas' story. In addition to being an anti-imperialist, and black queer advocate, Baldwin was also a feminist, which I'd say gives him an advantage when it comes to male authors writing female characters. He avoids the standard male gaze, and he tells the story through Tish's point of view with such ease and respect, that I might have guessed this was written by a female author if I had been handed this novel with the author's name blotted out.
I've always heard this novel being mentioned as one of the great, timeless classics, and having finally read it, I certainly understand why. And I consider this to be one of those page-turners you'll have trouble putting down once you get started. (The only reason why it took me a while to finish it was because I was preoccupied for several days in between reading sessions; this could have easily taken me just a day or two otherwise)
The thematic contrasts are in and of themselves beautiful, here. The novel touches upon some fairly brutal topics, to such a degree that it in many ways has the makings of a very bleak and desperate story. But somehow, Baldwin still manages to make a love story work within this setting. Tish and Fonny are so devoted to each other even when it seems like the whole world is against them, which to me makes their connection all the more romantic, but also all the more heartbreaking.
Recently, I've read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, and some of the same topics were present there, but presented in a much more brutal, to-the-point, and in-your-face way. However, I think it should be taken into consideration that Baldwin's novel was written over 40 years prior, at a time when touching upon these topics was perhaps even riskier than now, and as such, I still say that Baldwin is far from subtle, and it is very easy to understand why he is considered one of the most influential writers and social critics. As a side note, it's also a very sad fact that the same hatred towards the African-American community is still written about several decades later. If you knew nothing about the years these two novels were published, they both might as well have been written in the same year.
It's just that there's a certain softness and sensibility to his writing that adds to the aforementioned bittersweetness, and adds a very classic sense of romance in his novel compared to something like Thomas' story. In addition to being an anti-imperialist, and black queer advocate, Baldwin was also a feminist, which I'd say gives him an advantage when it comes to male authors writing female characters. He avoids the standard male gaze, and he tells the story through Tish's point of view with such ease and respect, that I might have guessed this was written by a female author if I had been handed this novel with the author's name blotted out.
I've always heard this novel being mentioned as one of the great, timeless classics, and having finally read it, I certainly understand why. And I consider this to be one of those page-turners you'll have trouble putting down once you get started. (The only reason why it took me a while to finish it was because I was preoccupied for several days in between reading sessions; this could have easily taken me just a day or two otherwise)
Night Film by Marisha Pessl
5.0
Although by now (especially in recent years) I've read my share of books, many of which I've thoroughly enjoyed, I haven't really always felt too strongly that feeling others describe, that they are left with a feeling of desperation by the time they get to the last page of a book, because they don't want it to be over. This book may be the first one to truly give me that experience, in the most positive sense.
I absolutely loved this novel, one of the best ones I've read, not just so far this year, but perhaps so far in my life, and it was like a jolt to the system when I turned to a new page and arrived at the author's acknowledgments. I immediately had this sense of not being prepared for it. "Wait! It can't end NOW!" But in retrospect, I found it to be perfect, and very much in the same spirit as the rest of the novel.
The book is written in first-person, and it's as if Pessl has been able to anticipate the readers' reactions to the twists and turns of the story, as if the novel's main character was the readers' avatar, like how we control a video game character, only the tables were somewhat turned. The mystery of the story was so well-crafted, that by the time the main character said to himself things along the lines of "But this couldn't be possible, right?" and "But what about THAT detail? That couldn't have been false, could it?" these were basically my own thoughts at the exact same moments. You might say that this is the job of a skilled author, to make you feel and think what the character feels and thinks, but to me, in the context of this book, it's like Pessl is quite intentionally manipulating you the same way people within the story are being manipulated by other sources. It's all very meta.
Along the way, there is a very clear duality, sort of leaving it up to you what you choose to believe. Murder or suicide. Psychological thriller, or supernatural. Disease or curse. Visions from beyond or hallucinations under the influence. And in an expertful way, Pessl managed to introduce us to a scenario revolving around a mysterious death, and only create bigger mysteries as the story unfolds. The quest to find the answer to one question led to a whole new line of questions, and by the time the answers seemingly presented themselves, you're no longer sure whether to believe them or to suspect it's just another piece of a grander puzzle. Or is the puzzle a scam?
I also love the detailed world-building here. Within a story that makes you question what is real, the story itself becomes truly life-like with all the extra work put into this, with some of the book's pages being made to look like old magazine interviews, newspaper headlines, website articles, medical reports, and so on. When the book started with a quote by the novel's infamous and mythical movie director, Cordova, supposedly taken from an interview printed in Rolling Stone in 1977, I thought for a moment it was a real quote, and it set the tone for these occasional moments of the aforementioned world-building. Pessl constructed the universe of her story as meticulously as Cordova constructed the universe of his movies, and of his own private life, and it really adds a third dimension to these pages, where you legitimately feel like you've stepped into another world, before it spits you back out at the end, leaving you alone with nothing but your own thoughts and freedom to make up your own mind about what it is you've been reading.
All in all, I consider it to be one of the cases where all the praise printed on the cover and inside the first few pages of the book was 100% spot on. This novel deserves all the praise it got and more. This was, in short, an exceptional journey.
I absolutely loved this novel, one of the best ones I've read, not just so far this year, but perhaps so far in my life, and it was like a jolt to the system when I turned to a new page and arrived at the author's acknowledgments. I immediately had this sense of not being prepared for it. "Wait! It can't end NOW!" But in retrospect, I found it to be perfect, and very much in the same spirit as the rest of the novel.
The book is written in first-person, and it's as if Pessl has been able to anticipate the readers' reactions to the twists and turns of the story, as if the novel's main character was the readers' avatar, like how we control a video game character, only the tables were somewhat turned. The mystery of the story was so well-crafted, that by the time the main character said to himself things along the lines of "But this couldn't be possible, right?" and "But what about THAT detail? That couldn't have been false, could it?" these were basically my own thoughts at the exact same moments. You might say that this is the job of a skilled author, to make you feel and think what the character feels and thinks, but to me, in the context of this book, it's like Pessl is quite intentionally manipulating you the same way people within the story are being manipulated by other sources. It's all very meta.
Along the way, there is a very clear duality, sort of leaving it up to you what you choose to believe. Murder or suicide. Psychological thriller, or supernatural. Disease or curse. Visions from beyond or hallucinations under the influence. And in an expertful way, Pessl managed to introduce us to a scenario revolving around a mysterious death, and only create bigger mysteries as the story unfolds. The quest to find the answer to one question led to a whole new line of questions, and by the time the answers seemingly presented themselves, you're no longer sure whether to believe them or to suspect it's just another piece of a grander puzzle. Or is the puzzle a scam?
I also love the detailed world-building here. Within a story that makes you question what is real, the story itself becomes truly life-like with all the extra work put into this, with some of the book's pages being made to look like old magazine interviews, newspaper headlines, website articles, medical reports, and so on. When the book started with a quote by the novel's infamous and mythical movie director, Cordova, supposedly taken from an interview printed in Rolling Stone in 1977, I thought for a moment it was a real quote, and it set the tone for these occasional moments of the aforementioned world-building. Pessl constructed the universe of her story as meticulously as Cordova constructed the universe of his movies, and of his own private life, and it really adds a third dimension to these pages, where you legitimately feel like you've stepped into another world, before it spits you back out at the end, leaving you alone with nothing but your own thoughts and freedom to make up your own mind about what it is you've been reading.
All in all, I consider it to be one of the cases where all the praise printed on the cover and inside the first few pages of the book was 100% spot on. This novel deserves all the praise it got and more. This was, in short, an exceptional journey.
Frog Music by Emma Donoghue
4.0
I enjoyed this book a lot. I find it cool how the narrative pretty much starts in the middle of the plot, right when a significant incident takes place, and the story that unfolds from there is a jump back and forth between the aftermath of the incident and the events leading up to it, making it a non-linear way to piece together what caused what happened and who was responsible for it.
The world-building is wonderful. This novel falls under the historical fiction category, yes, but this has in no way limited the author. It truly does feel like we are taking a journey back in time, to the summer of 1876 when San Francisco was a Wild West town and you can truly sense the summer heat, and experience first-hand the epidemic and the anti-immigrant uproar (although, I suppose you don't really have to be a time traveler to experience such things nowadays)
The friendship between the two main characters is both beautiful and tragic; tragic not just because of what happens during the aforementioned incident, but also due to how this era's society deals with topics such as LGBTQIA+ and female rights. Although, once again, we haven't necessarily seen that many changes in the past 145 years. That's really one of the clever things about stories like this; it paints a picture of society as it was in a specific era and inspires us to look at how things are today, making it all the more clear that some societal problems are still ongoing. And on top of that message, the story is sprinkled with other timeless topics such as love, lust, jealousy, parenthood, and the longing for autonomy.
We also get some humor and lightness to counterbalance the underlying murder mystery. Especially in the flashbacks; there is laughter, song, and the playful nature between the two friends slowly turns into something more intimate. It feels like the seemingly random and sudden way the two main characters meet is a stroke of fate in disguise, that they've crossed paths for the purpose of self-discovery and growth. Even though tragedy strikes along the way, there is still something to hold on to from there on out.
The world-building is wonderful. This novel falls under the historical fiction category, yes, but this has in no way limited the author. It truly does feel like we are taking a journey back in time, to the summer of 1876 when San Francisco was a Wild West town and you can truly sense the summer heat, and experience first-hand the epidemic and the anti-immigrant uproar (although, I suppose you don't really have to be a time traveler to experience such things nowadays)
The friendship between the two main characters is both beautiful and tragic; tragic not just because of what happens during the aforementioned incident, but also due to how this era's society deals with topics such as LGBTQIA+ and female rights. Although, once again, we haven't necessarily seen that many changes in the past 145 years. That's really one of the clever things about stories like this; it paints a picture of society as it was in a specific era and inspires us to look at how things are today, making it all the more clear that some societal problems are still ongoing. And on top of that message, the story is sprinkled with other timeless topics such as love, lust, jealousy, parenthood, and the longing for autonomy.
We also get some humor and lightness to counterbalance the underlying murder mystery. Especially in the flashbacks; there is laughter, song, and the playful nature between the two friends slowly turns into something more intimate. It feels like the seemingly random and sudden way the two main characters meet is a stroke of fate in disguise, that they've crossed paths for the purpose of self-discovery and growth. Even though tragedy strikes along the way, there is still something to hold on to from there on out.
Play Dead by Michael a. Arnzen
3.0
This was a pretty cool read. An interesting idea, first of all, that I think the author executed well. The overall feel of the story reminded me of an urban Western of sorts, except instead of cowboys preparing for a duel at dawn, we have a number of distinct characters - albeit sometimes borderline caricature-like, but I believe intentionally so - preparing for a card game that's literally a matter of life and death. I can imagine it would be in the vein of a grindhouse flick if it was ever adapted into a movie.
The way the story is divided into 52 chapters to complete a full deck of cards is also clever, and it never really feels like the author is padding the story just to churn out enough chapters. There is a constant energy in the story, driving the plot forward, building suspense, raising the stakes, serving up a healthy dose of violence and brutality along the way, but Arntzen still evens it out with moments that allow us to become familiar with all the players involved, so that we get more emotionally invested in them.
As mentioned, though, the characters are in danger of being a bit like caricatures - a good example of that is the Preacher, constantly yelling or mumbling about sinners and damnation, temptation and forgiveness, etc. - but in the context of this novel, it sort of fits. They become archetypical, as if they themselves are cards belonging to an even larger game. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, except they are card players instead of gunslingers.
In short, it's a story that doesn't try to be anything other than what it is, and sometimes that's exactly how it should be.
The way the story is divided into 52 chapters to complete a full deck of cards is also clever, and it never really feels like the author is padding the story just to churn out enough chapters. There is a constant energy in the story, driving the plot forward, building suspense, raising the stakes, serving up a healthy dose of violence and brutality along the way, but Arntzen still evens it out with moments that allow us to become familiar with all the players involved, so that we get more emotionally invested in them.
As mentioned, though, the characters are in danger of being a bit like caricatures - a good example of that is the Preacher, constantly yelling or mumbling about sinners and damnation, temptation and forgiveness, etc. - but in the context of this novel, it sort of fits. They become archetypical, as if they themselves are cards belonging to an even larger game. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, except they are card players instead of gunslingers.
In short, it's a story that doesn't try to be anything other than what it is, and sometimes that's exactly how it should be.
The Broken Girls by Simone St. James
4.0
This was such an excellent read. A very well-written story from beginning to end. One of those page-turners that you simply cannot put down.
I try not to research novels too much before reading them, to avoid spoilers, and I'm extremely glad about that in this case, as this is one of the finest examples of a pleasant surprise. I initially bought this book because it was on some sort of list of current bestsellers, and I expected an above-average/decent crime story. I got that, but also so much more.
Two mysteries across time, bound together by a third, preceding mystery. And the way one storyline ultimately affects the other one is very cleverly put together. All the characters are so fleshed-out, and St. James' writing style is captivating. I mean it in a good way when I say that the overall mystery sometimes comes in second after the character development. It makes you truly care for them all, and the things that have happened to them therefore feel more tragic. Because there is a recurring sense of bittersweet tragedy throughout this story, with people being very much haunted by their past, quite literally so at times. But it's not done in a way that is draining; the writing is still compelling enough for you to thoroughly enjoy the experience.
This is my first time reading any of her work, but I'm definitely interested in reading more after this.
I try not to research novels too much before reading them, to avoid spoilers, and I'm extremely glad about that in this case, as this is one of the finest examples of a pleasant surprise. I initially bought this book because it was on some sort of list of current bestsellers, and I expected an above-average/decent crime story. I got that, but also so much more.
Two mysteries across time, bound together by a third, preceding mystery. And the way one storyline ultimately affects the other one is very cleverly put together. All the characters are so fleshed-out, and St. James' writing style is captivating. I mean it in a good way when I say that the overall mystery sometimes comes in second after the character development. It makes you truly care for them all, and the things that have happened to them therefore feel more tragic. Because there is a recurring sense of bittersweet tragedy throughout this story, with people being very much haunted by their past, quite literally so at times. But it's not done in a way that is draining; the writing is still compelling enough for you to thoroughly enjoy the experience.
This is my first time reading any of her work, but I'm definitely interested in reading more after this.
The Hollows by C.L. Monaghan
3.0
This was a nice, quick read! I believe it was while I was once searching for novels that featured some good, old-fashioned gothic horror that I stumbled upon this title, and the blurb I read had me intrigued enough to give it a chance. Sometimes taking a chance on authors one is not familiar with pays off!
The immediate way that comes to mind to describe this story, is if Sherlock Holmes had magical powers; Midnight Gunn is such an investigator (albeit not officially a detective). And since this is the first novel in a series, I suspect that each case Gunn is working on also has a supernatural twist to it. This first installment made me think of a Jack-the-Ripper-but-with-that-something-extra style scenario. Sherlock Holmes meets The X-Files, if you will.
While the story is well-written, it's also quite fast-paced and sticks closely to the narration throughout. The upside to that is that you're left with an action-packed thrill ride, complete with plot twists, double-crossings, kidnappings, as well as summoning and superstition-turned-reality. However, although this is, as mentioned, just the first installment of a series, and I'm sure we will learn more about Midnight Gunn in the following books, I mean it more as a compliment to the author than a criticism when I say I wish she'd take more moments to do a little more world-building every now and then, as the premise itself was very promising.
With that said, as the story takes place in Victorian-era England, the pacing feels appropriate in other ways; more in line with the way suspense novels were written at the time. That's another thing I have to give Monaghan credit for; it does in many ways feel like a novel that could have been published back then, only with that aforementioned "little extra" (meaning the supernatural elements).
Ultimately, my thirst for just a little bit more backstory and fleshed-out scenarios will hopefully be quenched by reading the next installments one day - and I think I'll do just that!
The immediate way that comes to mind to describe this story, is if Sherlock Holmes had magical powers; Midnight Gunn is such an investigator (albeit not officially a detective). And since this is the first novel in a series, I suspect that each case Gunn is working on also has a supernatural twist to it. This first installment made me think of a Jack-the-Ripper-but-with-that-something-extra style scenario. Sherlock Holmes meets The X-Files, if you will.
While the story is well-written, it's also quite fast-paced and sticks closely to the narration throughout. The upside to that is that you're left with an action-packed thrill ride, complete with plot twists, double-crossings, kidnappings, as well as summoning and superstition-turned-reality. However, although this is, as mentioned, just the first installment of a series, and I'm sure we will learn more about Midnight Gunn in the following books, I mean it more as a compliment to the author than a criticism when I say I wish she'd take more moments to do a little more world-building every now and then, as the premise itself was very promising.
With that said, as the story takes place in Victorian-era England, the pacing feels appropriate in other ways; more in line with the way suspense novels were written at the time. That's another thing I have to give Monaghan credit for; it does in many ways feel like a novel that could have been published back then, only with that aforementioned "little extra" (meaning the supernatural elements).
Ultimately, my thirst for just a little bit more backstory and fleshed-out scenarios will hopefully be quenched by reading the next installments one day - and I think I'll do just that!
Cujo by Stephen King
5.0
By now, almost every work of writing Stephen King ever did has been adapted into a movie or a TV series, so I've made it a principle, whenever I'm reading his novels, not to compare them with the movies based on them (assuming I've seen them). With that said, as I had already seen Cujo the movie, I already knew before I started reading this that it was going to be a rough read in some ways.
Not rough as in it's a poorly-written story. Far from it. It's just that the animal lover in me - the dog lover in particular - already felt very emotionally impacted by its premise just from watching the movie, so I sort of mentally prepared myself for a heartbreaking ride when I started reading this novel. And, for lack of a better phrase, I was not disappointed.
Most King fans know that it's somewhat stereotypical to simply label him as a horror writer. There is so much more to his writing, his characters and his stories than that. Sure, some of his stories are more full-on horror than others. As for Cujo, it's one of the novels I would not label horror, but instead a tragic tale. If you strip away the typical dash of mysticism that King often weaves into his stories one way or another, I'd say that this is one of his most realistic ideas, establishing a tragic incident that not only COULD have happened in real life, but HAS happened one way or another.
I mean, just the premise in and of itself started with a real-life event King experienced, when he needed a mechanic to fix a bike for him. He went to the mechanic's property, and there was a huge Saint Bernard that intimidated King for a moment. Thus, along with the author's knack for "what if" scenarios, the basis for Cujo was born. It's a story that could have worked even without the aforementioned mysticism, because the incident that takes place is in and of itself completely plausible, and therefore all the more tragic.
And it is, as usual, extremely well-written. It's why the dog lover in me almost dreaded getting started on this one. Having loved and lost a dog myself (albeit under other circumstances), I had to brace myself to witness a good boy turn "bad." I use quotation marks, because that's just the thing... there isn't really any clear-cut villain in this story. Not in the core story at least. Meaning, King sometimes manages to set up a storyline like a domino effect, with minor characters playing a certain part in the bigger picture, and one such character is what I'd call the typical King-style sadistic, selfish asshole. In some stories, one such asshole can be the main antagonist. However, in Cujo, I'd say what the characters are up against are those unforeseen circumstances in life that are beyond our control; fate, bad luck ... tragedy, but with King's typical twist.
No real villains, only victims.
Not rough as in it's a poorly-written story. Far from it. It's just that the animal lover in me - the dog lover in particular - already felt very emotionally impacted by its premise just from watching the movie, so I sort of mentally prepared myself for a heartbreaking ride when I started reading this novel. And, for lack of a better phrase, I was not disappointed.
Most King fans know that it's somewhat stereotypical to simply label him as a horror writer. There is so much more to his writing, his characters and his stories than that. Sure, some of his stories are more full-on horror than others. As for Cujo, it's one of the novels I would not label horror, but instead a tragic tale. If you strip away the typical dash of mysticism that King often weaves into his stories one way or another, I'd say that this is one of his most realistic ideas, establishing a tragic incident that not only COULD have happened in real life, but HAS happened one way or another.
I mean, just the premise in and of itself started with a real-life event King experienced, when he needed a mechanic to fix a bike for him. He went to the mechanic's property, and there was a huge Saint Bernard that intimidated King for a moment. Thus, along with the author's knack for "what if" scenarios, the basis for Cujo was born. It's a story that could have worked even without the aforementioned mysticism, because the incident that takes place is in and of itself completely plausible, and therefore all the more tragic.
And it is, as usual, extremely well-written. It's why the dog lover in me almost dreaded getting started on this one. Having loved and lost a dog myself (albeit under other circumstances), I had to brace myself to witness a good boy turn "bad." I use quotation marks, because that's just the thing... there isn't really any clear-cut villain in this story. Not in the core story at least. Meaning, King sometimes manages to set up a storyline like a domino effect, with minor characters playing a certain part in the bigger picture, and one such character is what I'd call the typical King-style sadistic, selfish asshole. In some stories, one such asshole can be the main antagonist. However, in Cujo, I'd say what the characters are up against are those unforeseen circumstances in life that are beyond our control; fate, bad luck ... tragedy, but with King's typical twist.
No real villains, only victims.
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
5.0
Every now and then, there's a novel that you just know you should have read already, but you just haven't gotten around to it yet. Everybody talks about it, and there's been several movie adaptations of it; you may even have seen a couple of the movies. A friend of mine asked if I'd like to be reading buddies this year, and we've initially talked about two titles, with Matheson's novel being one of them. This was my excuse to finally check out this novel, and now that I have, I feel genuinely grateful.
I know that Matheson has written other well-received stories too, as well as having written for the original Twilight Zone, so I already had a strong feeling that I was in for a treat. I was not disappointed.
First of all, telling a story that's essentially a one-man show for the majority of the novel can be a risky thing. There is a chance it could drag out a bit and become monotonous. But Matheson's style keeps the narrative alive, there is a constant drive, much thanks to the main character's determination to survive and look for answers. There is a quiet desperation underneath the surface of Neville, which helps the story never have a dull moment. (Of course, sometimes that desperation also breaks through the surface, in his most frustrated and destructive episodes)
This book is also one of the finest examples I've come across so far in my life of what science fiction does best; establishing a fictional scenario to comment on real, societal issues. Topics like prejudice and persecution, almost similar to how there was a certain group in history who considered themselves to be the master race. This book was published in 1954, some years after WWII ... I'm just saying.
And I love the angle this story is approached from; science and hard facts vs. faith and superstition. Matheson has taken the classic vampire myth, and attempted to scientifically explain how they can exist. The main character even begins as a skeptic, not believing in vampires, until he manages to see past the ancient mythology and looks more closely at them from the viewpoint of biology and medicine. As I was reading this book, it made me think of The X-Files, with Mulder always being the believer and Scully always looking for rational explanations. Then it dawned on me that at some point on the show, there was even a character named Senator Matheson, so it's safe to say that this author has been an influence one way or another.
I'm even reminded of something like the Resident Evil franchise, where there is a specific explanation to where zombies come from (as opposed to George A. Romero's universe where it's never quite clear what caused the outbreak). I kind of feel like the vampire myth and the zombie myth blend together in Matheson's universe, as the vampires here are less like the magical, demonic being that Dracula is, and more like a horde that's constantly multiplying through infection.
It's a short novel that speaks volumes and has many layers that can be interpreted into many themes. And that is when you know you have a timeless classic on your hands, because people are still discussing it and analyzing it to this day.
And it makes me eager to check out more of Matheson's work eventually.
I know that Matheson has written other well-received stories too, as well as having written for the original Twilight Zone, so I already had a strong feeling that I was in for a treat. I was not disappointed.
First of all, telling a story that's essentially a one-man show for the majority of the novel can be a risky thing. There is a chance it could drag out a bit and become monotonous. But Matheson's style keeps the narrative alive, there is a constant drive, much thanks to the main character's determination to survive and look for answers. There is a quiet desperation underneath the surface of Neville, which helps the story never have a dull moment. (Of course, sometimes that desperation also breaks through the surface, in his most frustrated and destructive episodes)
This book is also one of the finest examples I've come across so far in my life of what science fiction does best; establishing a fictional scenario to comment on real, societal issues. Topics like prejudice and persecution, almost similar to how there was a certain group in history who considered themselves to be the master race. This book was published in 1954, some years after WWII ... I'm just saying.
And I love the angle this story is approached from; science and hard facts vs. faith and superstition. Matheson has taken the classic vampire myth, and attempted to scientifically explain how they can exist. The main character even begins as a skeptic, not believing in vampires, until he manages to see past the ancient mythology and looks more closely at them from the viewpoint of biology and medicine. As I was reading this book, it made me think of The X-Files, with Mulder always being the believer and Scully always looking for rational explanations. Then it dawned on me that at some point on the show, there was even a character named Senator Matheson, so it's safe to say that this author has been an influence one way or another.
I'm even reminded of something like the Resident Evil franchise, where there is a specific explanation to where zombies come from (as opposed to George A. Romero's universe where it's never quite clear what caused the outbreak). I kind of feel like the vampire myth and the zombie myth blend together in Matheson's universe, as the vampires here are less like the magical, demonic being that Dracula is, and more like a horde that's constantly multiplying through infection.
It's a short novel that speaks volumes and has many layers that can be interpreted into many themes. And that is when you know you have a timeless classic on your hands, because people are still discussing it and analyzing it to this day.
And it makes me eager to check out more of Matheson's work eventually.
The Hollow Places by T. Kingfisher
3.0
It's fun to sometimes fall into literary rabbit holes (much more fun than wormholes, anyway! ...see what I did there?), and see how things are connected. Firstly, I haven't read anything by T. Kingfisher previously, but have learned that this is the adult fiction pseudonym of children's author Ursula Vernon. Moreover, I learned that The Hollow Places is sort of a spiritual sequel, or maybe even a retelling of sorts, of the old novella The Willows by Algernon Blackwood, a story which Kingfisher herself discovered due to H. P. Lovecraft having claimed that it's the finest supernatural tale in English literature.
I looked up information about The Willows and some key elements from that story are certainly reused and morphed into modern horror in Kingfisher's novel. The idea of the mysterious willows themselves is of course the main part, but even the mention of strange occurrences by the River Danube, ominous shapes peeking through reality, the gong-like noise, and so on.
I was unaware of any of this when I started reading, and didn't discover it until I read the author's notes at the end. But it retrospectively added a whole new layer to my overall reading experience, which was already fairly positive. I have to repeat, although purist literature enthusiasts might cringe at this comparison, that if Blackwood's original story had been a movie rather than a novel, Kingfisher's novel would have been a solid remake, true enough to the source material for it to be familiar, but innovate enough to make it her own. (It makes me think of the 1951 movie The Thing from Another World and John Carpenter's 1982 remake The Thing) Of course, that's slightly an assumption as I've only checked out the summary of Blackwood's story and not actually read it yet; the summary simply gave away enough details for me to see the resemblances.
As for The Hollow Places itself, I found it to be an enjoyable read. The writing has its light, humorous moments, which had me chuckling a bit at times. Not exactly flat-out comedy sequences, just a funny way of describing some unusual scenarios and quirky personality traits, as well as witty dialogue every now and then. The descriptions of Beau the cat are unquestionably the observations only fellow cat lovers and owners can make.
I like the slightly realistic approach to stumbling upon another dimension. And I had ironically noted down the following before I knew that Kingfisher (aka Vernon) is ordinarily a children's author: In some children's novels, people just happen to discover a new world, and the adventure immediately starts. But here, there is all the confusion, the hesitation to believe, the "wtf?" of it all, as the two main characters have to mentally process everything that's suddenly happening. It's a more adult rationale, or I should say a struggle to rationalize something inexplicable. Because the overall vibe is like a smooth mix between The Twilight Zone, Lovecraft, and Narnia, and Kingfisher takes her time to allow the characters to be mind-blown, and frightened yet curious, once they find themselves in this predicament.
In that respect, it furthermore helps that the story takes its time to establish the unusual scenario before upping the creep factor. It helps build suspense, and at the same time it allows us to get more acquainted with the characters who find themselves in this situation, and that's always a foolproof way to make the reader care more when the characters are in danger.
The novel also slightly defies your expectations of this type of story, in the sense that the scenario is a bit more grounded in reality. The characters keep expecting all sorts of monsters, but one of the eeriest elements is how the other place seems strangely similar to our own reality in many ways (which is not to say that there aren't any creatures at all, mind you). But nevertheless, Kingfisher manages to introduce some terrifying ideas into the story, such as how your own thoughts can end up killing you. I mean, just imagine; if you're told NOT to think about something, how impossible is it to stop doing so?
There are some other sudden turns that defied my expectations too, such as the question of whether they'll ever find their way back, and when/how they'll do so, but I don't want to get much farther into spoiler territory than I already have. Let's just say that when those turns appear, Kingfisher still manages to add new layers to keep the suspense going in new directions. Because of this, there's never really a dull moment, and the writing is captivating from beginning to end.
Now I may just have to look up Blackwood's original novella at some point.
I looked up information about The Willows and some key elements from that story are certainly reused and morphed into modern horror in Kingfisher's novel. The idea of the mysterious willows themselves is of course the main part, but even the mention of strange occurrences by the River Danube, ominous shapes peeking through reality, the gong-like noise, and so on.
I was unaware of any of this when I started reading, and didn't discover it until I read the author's notes at the end. But it retrospectively added a whole new layer to my overall reading experience, which was already fairly positive. I have to repeat, although purist literature enthusiasts might cringe at this comparison, that if Blackwood's original story had been a movie rather than a novel, Kingfisher's novel would have been a solid remake, true enough to the source material for it to be familiar, but innovate enough to make it her own. (It makes me think of the 1951 movie The Thing from Another World and John Carpenter's 1982 remake The Thing) Of course, that's slightly an assumption as I've only checked out the summary of Blackwood's story and not actually read it yet; the summary simply gave away enough details for me to see the resemblances.
As for The Hollow Places itself, I found it to be an enjoyable read. The writing has its light, humorous moments, which had me chuckling a bit at times. Not exactly flat-out comedy sequences, just a funny way of describing some unusual scenarios and quirky personality traits, as well as witty dialogue every now and then. The descriptions of Beau the cat are unquestionably the observations only fellow cat lovers and owners can make.
I like the slightly realistic approach to stumbling upon another dimension. And I had ironically noted down the following before I knew that Kingfisher (aka Vernon) is ordinarily a children's author: In some children's novels, people just happen to discover a new world, and the adventure immediately starts. But here, there is all the confusion, the hesitation to believe, the "wtf?" of it all, as the two main characters have to mentally process everything that's suddenly happening. It's a more adult rationale, or I should say a struggle to rationalize something inexplicable. Because the overall vibe is like a smooth mix between The Twilight Zone, Lovecraft, and Narnia, and Kingfisher takes her time to allow the characters to be mind-blown, and frightened yet curious, once they find themselves in this predicament.
In that respect, it furthermore helps that the story takes its time to establish the unusual scenario before upping the creep factor. It helps build suspense, and at the same time it allows us to get more acquainted with the characters who find themselves in this situation, and that's always a foolproof way to make the reader care more when the characters are in danger.
The novel also slightly defies your expectations of this type of story, in the sense that the scenario is a bit more grounded in reality. The characters keep expecting all sorts of monsters, but one of the eeriest elements is how the other place seems strangely similar to our own reality in many ways (which is not to say that there aren't any creatures at all, mind you). But nevertheless, Kingfisher manages to introduce some terrifying ideas into the story, such as how your own thoughts can end up killing you. I mean, just imagine; if you're told NOT to think about something, how impossible is it to stop doing so?
There are some other sudden turns that defied my expectations too, such as the question of whether they'll ever find their way back, and when/how they'll do so, but I don't want to get much farther into spoiler territory than I already have. Let's just say that when those turns appear, Kingfisher still manages to add new layers to keep the suspense going in new directions. Because of this, there's never really a dull moment, and the writing is captivating from beginning to end.
Now I may just have to look up Blackwood's original novella at some point.
The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix
3.0
I have previously read two other novels by Grady Hendrix, and I was left with a mostly good impression, yet I felt slightly conflicted. I first read My Best Friend's Exorcism and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then I read The Final Girl Support Group, and I'd say I overall enjoyed it but had some issues with it. Now that I've read a third title of Hendrix's, have I been swayed more one way or another, positively or negatively? Kind of both.
Admittedly, I did enjoy The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires more than I did ...Support Group. It felt more like a spiritual follow-up to ...Exorcism, which is fitting because while it's not a direct sequel per se, the story exists within the same universe as ...Exorcism – specifically in the same neighborhood; it's almost as if this neighborhood has its own anthology-esque set of stories, I suppose.
The way the story unfolds is good. There's some scares, some gore, and some nice touches of humor along the way. It's not a spoiler to say the following given how the book title itself gives away what we're dealing with here, but I think he put an interesting spin on the vampire myth. You won't find a charming, upper-class Victorian Gothic-era vampire here, but more of a seedy, creepy predator who operates similarly to real-life creeps, only with a supernatural element. Hendrix himself explains in the author's note that he wanted to approach the vampires as if they were serial killers. So you get more of a Bundy vibe than Dracula, and the “serial killer with supernatural abilities” element in this particular story reminds me of something you'd see on The X-Files; one very specific episode comes to mind.
Hendrix's writing is unquestionably decent in many ways. As a somewhat macabre positive point, he describes disturbing moments and violations in ways that successfully make you uncomfortable and provoked. And he's generally good with describing action sequences and building suspense here and there.
It's just that some things are starting to become a very clear pattern with him which takes away from the sense of originality from one story to another.
For example, one thing I also mentioned when I reviewed ...Support Group, is that he is very fond of banking on people's nostalgia, as these stories are set in the 1980s and 1990s. It's one thing to establish an era by referring to things we recognize as being from that era, but the way Hendrix approaches it, makes it come across as him just spilling a bunch of pop references onto the page, as if to say: “Oh, remember that movie? Dude, remember that song? Dang, remember that TV show?” It's a borderline tacky way to spark an emotional response in readers who lived and/or grew up in that era.
Another unfortunate pattern is that in all three books I've read so far, he's used the plot device of the main character being alienated by nobody believing them, thinking they're sick or crazy, and so forth. It's a very common element of conflict that many writers use, sure, but with Hendrix, it's almost to the point that he's used the same story arc in each of these books just with different character names and circumstances. It gets a little bit repetitive, basically.
A minor additional gripe is that I found parts of this story a bit predictable. If you've seen movies like The Lost Boys or Fright Night, you'll be familiar with the concept of “something is wrong with my neighbor/my mom's date” and “they are up to no good, and I have to prove it to my friends, but they're all rejecting my claims.” Again, though, this is just a minor gripe. I feel like it's a case where Hendrix is paying tribute to these 1980s movies, and it gets just a tad too familiar.
So, three books in, and I kinda sorta like Grady Hendrix as an author, but there's this feeling of wishing I could like him even more, with the critiques mentioned above holding me back a little bit. But, for what it's worth, ...Slaying Vampires is ultimately a more decent read than not. I certainly don't regret having spent the time to finish it.
Admittedly, I did enjoy The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires more than I did ...Support Group. It felt more like a spiritual follow-up to ...Exorcism, which is fitting because while it's not a direct sequel per se, the story exists within the same universe as ...Exorcism – specifically in the same neighborhood; it's almost as if this neighborhood has its own anthology-esque set of stories, I suppose.
The way the story unfolds is good. There's some scares, some gore, and some nice touches of humor along the way. It's not a spoiler to say the following given how the book title itself gives away what we're dealing with here, but I think he put an interesting spin on the vampire myth. You won't find a charming, upper-class Victorian Gothic-era vampire here, but more of a seedy, creepy predator who operates similarly to real-life creeps, only with a supernatural element. Hendrix himself explains in the author's note that he wanted to approach the vampires as if they were serial killers. So you get more of a Bundy vibe than Dracula, and the “serial killer with supernatural abilities” element in this particular story reminds me of something you'd see on The X-Files; one very specific episode comes to mind.
Hendrix's writing is unquestionably decent in many ways. As a somewhat macabre positive point, he describes disturbing moments and violations in ways that successfully make you uncomfortable and provoked. And he's generally good with describing action sequences and building suspense here and there.
It's just that some things are starting to become a very clear pattern with him which takes away from the sense of originality from one story to another.
For example, one thing I also mentioned when I reviewed ...Support Group, is that he is very fond of banking on people's nostalgia, as these stories are set in the 1980s and 1990s. It's one thing to establish an era by referring to things we recognize as being from that era, but the way Hendrix approaches it, makes it come across as him just spilling a bunch of pop references onto the page, as if to say: “Oh, remember that movie? Dude, remember that song? Dang, remember that TV show?” It's a borderline tacky way to spark an emotional response in readers who lived and/or grew up in that era.
Another unfortunate pattern is that in all three books I've read so far, he's used the plot device of the main character being alienated by nobody believing them, thinking they're sick or crazy, and so forth. It's a very common element of conflict that many writers use, sure, but with Hendrix, it's almost to the point that he's used the same story arc in each of these books just with different character names and circumstances. It gets a little bit repetitive, basically.
A minor additional gripe is that I found parts of this story a bit predictable. If you've seen movies like The Lost Boys or Fright Night, you'll be familiar with the concept of “something is wrong with my neighbor/my mom's date” and “they are up to no good, and I have to prove it to my friends, but they're all rejecting my claims.” Again, though, this is just a minor gripe. I feel like it's a case where Hendrix is paying tribute to these 1980s movies, and it gets just a tad too familiar.
So, three books in, and I kinda sorta like Grady Hendrix as an author, but there's this feeling of wishing I could like him even more, with the critiques mentioned above holding me back a little bit. But, for what it's worth, ...Slaying Vampires is ultimately a more decent read than not. I certainly don't regret having spent the time to finish it.