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ojtheviking's reviews
116 reviews
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.
Animal Farm by George Orwell
5.0
Some books are classics for a reason, and this is certainly one such case. When it comes to George Orwell, the only book I've heard more about than Animal Farm is of course 1984, which I, at the moment I'm writing this review, have yet to read (but I definitely plan to do so). Both are novels you can't avoid hearing about in all sorts of contexts, and having now finally read Animal Farm, I did in no way find all the praise and, for lack of a better term, hype, to be exaggerated. (It makes me even more eager to read 1984 sometime soon) In fact, I loved this book so much, I finished it just within a few hours! (That's easily doable for most people though, as it's less than 100 pages long)
By his own admittance, Orwell had a very specific part of history in mind when he wrote this allegory/satire, namely Stalin's Russia, but as history tends to repeat itself - which is even indicated within the pages of this novel - the story lends itself well to several scenarios; everything from slavery to dictatorship, all of which is wonderfully demonstrated through what is most certainly a fairytale for adults, with a countryside farm becoming the battlefield and home base where what started as a well-intended revolution morphs into something completely different thanks to greed, self-serving idealism and lust for power. The same old song, in other words, but still as relevant as ever.
Given its satirical elements, you can't help but smile and chuckle a bit on several occasions, as certain moments are so tragically on the nose, yet so delightfully described. The humor is extremely dry and very British in that respect, and I absolutely loved it. Art is sometimes at its best when it holds up a mirror and makes you look at yourself, and in Animal Farm, you have a veritable army of farm animals that mirror mankind; the working class doing all the dirty work, the privileged filling their pockets with riches and basking in their privilege as they bit by bit sneak their way to absolute power and corruption, and moments like actual sheep being the blind followers as the aforementioned beast of totalitarianism begins to emerge in the midst of it all, are very good examples of how cleverly he's given each farm animal a very recognizable human trait.
And given how this is at its core a very troubling societal topic, dystopian in some ways, it's a testament to Orwell's writing skills, how enjoyable this short and sweet story is, and what a fun read it is.
By his own admittance, Orwell had a very specific part of history in mind when he wrote this allegory/satire, namely Stalin's Russia, but as history tends to repeat itself - which is even indicated within the pages of this novel - the story lends itself well to several scenarios; everything from slavery to dictatorship, all of which is wonderfully demonstrated through what is most certainly a fairytale for adults, with a countryside farm becoming the battlefield and home base where what started as a well-intended revolution morphs into something completely different thanks to greed, self-serving idealism and lust for power. The same old song, in other words, but still as relevant as ever.
Given its satirical elements, you can't help but smile and chuckle a bit on several occasions, as certain moments are so tragically on the nose, yet so delightfully described. The humor is extremely dry and very British in that respect, and I absolutely loved it. Art is sometimes at its best when it holds up a mirror and makes you look at yourself, and in Animal Farm, you have a veritable army of farm animals that mirror mankind; the working class doing all the dirty work, the privileged filling their pockets with riches and basking in their privilege as they bit by bit sneak their way to absolute power and corruption, and moments like actual sheep being the blind followers as the aforementioned beast of totalitarianism begins to emerge in the midst of it all, are very good examples of how cleverly he's given each farm animal a very recognizable human trait.
And given how this is at its core a very troubling societal topic, dystopian in some ways, it's a testament to Orwell's writing skills, how enjoyable this short and sweet story is, and what a fun read it is.
Innfødte skrik: Norsk svartmetall by Håvard Rem
4.0
I'm not too well-versed in books about Norwegian black metal in general. In fact, this might be the first book I've read that's solely dedicated to the genre. But I can agree with some of the other reviews I've seen that it seems like a very thorough, chronological representation, taking us from the genre's birth, guiding us through its evolution, and sort of coming to terms with where we are now, nearly 30 years later.
It's also a fascinating read in terms of it not being solely about the music simply as music. You can't really do that when talking about Norwegian black metal anyway. This book is just as much about the ideologies found within the scene, the religious and anti-religious views alike, the social and societal impacts both locally and globally, and so forth. One could almost say it's just as much a cultural study of this specific scene as it is a book about the evolution of a music genre.
Black metal, as a music genre, has always been a complicated thing for me, as I'm not interested in supporting bands that have racist views. After having read this book, some of my skepticism has in many ways been affirmed, but in other ways, I've also come to appreciate certain aspects of the genre more as well. So regardless, I can only come to the conclusion that it's a very good read, thought-provoking, and informative.
It's just a shame that it's not (yet?) translated into any other languages because I think this could be just as thought-provoking and informative for people who are fans of, or at least curious about, the genre, all around the world.
It's also a fascinating read in terms of it not being solely about the music simply as music. You can't really do that when talking about Norwegian black metal anyway. This book is just as much about the ideologies found within the scene, the religious and anti-religious views alike, the social and societal impacts both locally and globally, and so forth. One could almost say it's just as much a cultural study of this specific scene as it is a book about the evolution of a music genre.
Black metal, as a music genre, has always been a complicated thing for me, as I'm not interested in supporting bands that have racist views. After having read this book, some of my skepticism has in many ways been affirmed, but in other ways, I've also come to appreciate certain aspects of the genre more as well. So regardless, I can only come to the conclusion that it's a very good read, thought-provoking, and informative.
It's just a shame that it's not (yet?) translated into any other languages because I think this could be just as thought-provoking and informative for people who are fans of, or at least curious about, the genre, all around the world.
Blodmåne by Jo Nesbø
4.0
It might seem weird whenever I write an English review of a Norwegian book, but Nesbø's books featuring the antihero detective Harry Hole have gained worldwide popularity, so it's only a matter of time before this current one gets an English translation (if it hasn't already).
When an author has written thirteen installments of the same series, I suppose it's only natural that you'll enjoy some of them more than others. There have been times when I've felt some of the elements in the Hole series have been slightly shallow, almost pretentious in some ways, even though the core stories have always been entertaining regardless. With that said, I'd say Blodmåne, aka Blood Moon, is one of the most solid installments of the entire series. The writing feels more focused, the plot is meticulously thought out complete with red herrings and misdirections like any good whodunit needs. And the character development flows more naturally without being too melodramatic.
One thing I've come to appreciate with the Hole series is that while the first few books were stand-alone stories, it eventually came to a point where it all became a bit more serialized, with some supporting characters returning in each new installment, other characters coming and going, and some B-stories being introduced in one book only to continue through the next book and the next after that. It makes this entire universe Nesbø has created all the more connected, much larger and alive, and gives a much better sense of overall continuity, with the whodunit aspect sort of becoming the "killer of the week" had this been a TV show.
Case in point, and I'm jumping ahead a bit here: Even at the end of this story there is a hint of more to come, so the series is clearly not over yet, and some things have been set up to be continued in the next book.
Another thing I liked this time, is that not only is there in-universe continuity, but also real-world continuity, which adds some realism. These are of course fictional characters, but Nesbø has often made references to actual historical events, whether it's about political incidents, references to real-life serial killers, war history, or just stuff revolving around music and artists. In this case, the COVID-19 pandemic has also happened within the book's universe, and the events of the story take place shortly after everything opened up again. Sometimes Nesbø uses these real-life elements as a way to move the fictional story forward, and I think that's a neat approach.
Now, as for the "killer of the week" aspect, I've always felt that some of the bad guys in this series have an almost Bond-villain quality at times. Larger-than-life personas with very specific gimmicks and/or methods of taking lives. But you need interesting killers in a series like this. Sometimes their methods are a bit macabre too, almost leading us into horror/gore territory, and that is very much the case this time. But for a horror buff like me, that just made it all the more suspenseful. It's such a particular method that I'm almost surprised the novel wasn't titled after.
So to conclude this review, all I can say is that I've had various opinions on some of his previous books - none of them flat-out negative, I've just had a few things to critique along the way. But this time I'm very satisfied, and as I said, this is one of Nesbø's most solid Hole books yet. Lucky number, 13 I guess!
When an author has written thirteen installments of the same series, I suppose it's only natural that you'll enjoy some of them more than others. There have been times when I've felt some of the elements in the Hole series have been slightly shallow, almost pretentious in some ways, even though the core stories have always been entertaining regardless. With that said, I'd say Blodmåne, aka Blood Moon, is one of the most solid installments of the entire series. The writing feels more focused, the plot is meticulously thought out complete with red herrings and misdirections like any good whodunit needs. And the character development flows more naturally without being too melodramatic.
One thing I've come to appreciate with the Hole series is that while the first few books were stand-alone stories, it eventually came to a point where it all became a bit more serialized, with some supporting characters returning in each new installment, other characters coming and going, and some B-stories being introduced in one book only to continue through the next book and the next after that. It makes this entire universe Nesbø has created all the more connected, much larger and alive, and gives a much better sense of overall continuity, with the whodunit aspect sort of becoming the "killer of the week" had this been a TV show.
Case in point, and I'm jumping ahead a bit here: Even at the end of this story there is a hint of more to come, so the series is clearly not over yet, and some things have been set up to be continued in the next book.
Another thing I liked this time, is that not only is there in-universe continuity, but also real-world continuity, which adds some realism. These are of course fictional characters, but Nesbø has often made references to actual historical events, whether it's about political incidents, references to real-life serial killers, war history, or just stuff revolving around music and artists. In this case, the COVID-19 pandemic has also happened within the book's universe, and the events of the story take place shortly after everything opened up again. Sometimes Nesbø uses these real-life elements as a way to move the fictional story forward, and I think that's a neat approach.
Now, as for the "killer of the week" aspect, I've always felt that some of the bad guys in this series have an almost Bond-villain quality at times. Larger-than-life personas with very specific gimmicks and/or methods of taking lives. But you need interesting killers in a series like this. Sometimes their methods are a bit macabre too, almost leading us into horror/gore territory, and that is very much the case this time. But for a horror buff like me, that just made it all the more suspenseful. It's such a particular method that I'm almost surprised the novel wasn't titled after.
So to conclude this review, all I can say is that I've had various opinions on some of his previous books - none of them flat-out negative, I've just had a few things to critique along the way. But this time I'm very satisfied, and as I said, this is one of Nesbø's most solid Hole books yet. Lucky number, 13 I guess!
The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix
3.0
Because I read and loved My Best Friend's Exorcism last year, I was intrigued to check out more of Grady Hendrix's work, and The Final Girl Support Group was the other book of his I had available in my collection.
Having now read two of his books, it's clear to me that Grady Hendrix is very much a "nostalgia author", banking on pop references of the past to grab the reader's interest, and putting new spins on old tropes. This is of course not necessarily a bad thing. Just an effective way to grab certain readers' attention ... hey, it worked on me, right?
...Support Group is in every way a love letter to the slasher horror genre, filled with delightful meta elements. Both a tribute and a parody that suggests that the famous horror franchises we've come to love are actually based on real events, only with some differences for the sake of commercialism and setting up sequels. Parts of the story also don't shy away from commenting on the morbidity of our fascination with death, true crime, and how some people are fanboying/fangirling as much over this as others do over music or actors, or authors. Most of us are fascinated by the horrors of true crime, in a can't-look-away-from-the-traffic-accident sort of way, but some individuals glorify the killers on a deeper level than what may seem healthy.
I initially thought that this novel would also have the Young Adult vibes like ...Exorcism, but the tone is more serious and more meta than spoof-like in this one, and the topics seem better suited for a slightly older demographic (...then again, that comes from a guy who's watched gory slashers and horror since the age of 10-12)
My only wish is that there was slightly more time spent on the actual support group meetings before the story progressed into its main mystery, as that premise was already entertaining. It would have also given us time to get just a bit more acquainted with the main characters. I think that may be my main gripe with the entire novel; it sort of rushed into the action. However, perhaps that's intentional, because this in and of itself mirrors many of the slasher movies; a handful of characters are immediately thrown into the plot, and the mayhem starts as quickly as possible.
Also, there's a part of the story that requires some more suspension of disbelief than normally, regarding how quickly some supporting characters had a falling out with the main character, especially at a time when there were more important matters at hand. But in a novel like this, I'm unsure whether that's just a slightly cheesy part of the writing, or if it's another intentional nod to how horror movies use convenient plot devices to isolate the heroine. (It could also be that I'm just nitpicky at this point)
Overall, this was a solid read, enough for me to confidently say I enjoyed it, although ...Exorcism may still be my favorite of the two.
Having now read two of his books, it's clear to me that Grady Hendrix is very much a "nostalgia author", banking on pop references of the past to grab the reader's interest, and putting new spins on old tropes. This is of course not necessarily a bad thing. Just an effective way to grab certain readers' attention ... hey, it worked on me, right?
...Support Group is in every way a love letter to the slasher horror genre, filled with delightful meta elements. Both a tribute and a parody that suggests that the famous horror franchises we've come to love are actually based on real events, only with some differences for the sake of commercialism and setting up sequels. Parts of the story also don't shy away from commenting on the morbidity of our fascination with death, true crime, and how some people are fanboying/fangirling as much over this as others do over music or actors, or authors. Most of us are fascinated by the horrors of true crime, in a can't-look-away-from-the-traffic-accident sort of way, but some individuals glorify the killers on a deeper level than what may seem healthy.
I initially thought that this novel would also have the Young Adult vibes like ...Exorcism, but the tone is more serious and more meta than spoof-like in this one, and the topics seem better suited for a slightly older demographic (...then again, that comes from a guy who's watched gory slashers and horror since the age of 10-12)
My only wish is that there was slightly more time spent on the actual support group meetings before the story progressed into its main mystery, as that premise was already entertaining. It would have also given us time to get just a bit more acquainted with the main characters. I think that may be my main gripe with the entire novel; it sort of rushed into the action. However, perhaps that's intentional, because this in and of itself mirrors many of the slasher movies; a handful of characters are immediately thrown into the plot, and the mayhem starts as quickly as possible.
Also, there's a part of the story that requires some more suspension of disbelief than normally, regarding how quickly some supporting characters had a falling out with the main character, especially at a time when there were more important matters at hand. But in a novel like this, I'm unsure whether that's just a slightly cheesy part of the writing, or if it's another intentional nod to how horror movies use convenient plot devices to isolate the heroine. (It could also be that I'm just nitpicky at this point)
Overall, this was a solid read, enough for me to confidently say I enjoyed it, although ...Exorcism may still be my favorite of the two.
The Seven Visitations of Sydney Burgess by Andy Marino
4.75
Wow. You read certain books and call them a unique experience. This novel was a whole journey, in the most surreal way. Which I say lovingly, because I thoroughly enjoyed it from start to finish. If a touch of the surreal is your cup of tea, then this should definitely be a gem for you.
The atmosphere within these pages is not only heavy and full of dread, but also nightmarish, like a David Lynch movie. And this bleak, darkly poetic tone is present right from the start, consistent across all the pages, never fully letting you go until the aforementioned journey's over.
I also think there are potentially two ways to read this novel. You can take it all literally, and witness how Sydney's life is gradually taken over by a mysterious force. Or, it can all be a bit metaphorical, with said force symbolizing a whole different, internal struggle. Honestly, both ways kind of work, although I'm personally leaning more toward a combination of the two, so I guess there are three ways to read this.
There's a lot of jumping back and forth in time here, sometimes in a jarring way until it's later explained how we suddenly find ourselves in a certain scenario. Two parallel storylines can unfold in each their own chapter, until one ends up being the explanation of another, almost as if we are witnessing cause and effect at the same time. This feels like a creative way of portraying a fragmented mind, as if bits and pieces of Sydney's memory are scattered around – much like the pieces of broken glass on the cover – waiting to be put together again in the correct order.
To sum it up, this is a paranoid, visceral, deliciously uncomfortable and occasionally severely violent fever dream, with sprinkles of addiction, grief, and corruption on top, captivating from the very first page, refusing to let go until the very last. And so much of this aforementioned sense of dread lies within Marino's wonderful ability to make the character hyper-aware of all the details around her, and the morbid way in which he describes everything through her eyes.
What really impresses me, is that the author's bio claims this is Andy Marino's first horror novel. Well, damn, I was about to say that I certainly hope it's not his last, because this is one hell of a horror debut; fortunately, as far as I can see, among all the other books he's written, at least one more of them is horror. So I'm definitely reading that one at some point!
The atmosphere within these pages is not only heavy and full of dread, but also nightmarish, like a David Lynch movie. And this bleak, darkly poetic tone is present right from the start, consistent across all the pages, never fully letting you go until the aforementioned journey's over.
I also think there are potentially two ways to read this novel. You can take it all literally, and witness how Sydney's life is gradually taken over by a mysterious force. Or, it can all be a bit metaphorical, with said force symbolizing a whole different, internal struggle. Honestly, both ways kind of work, although I'm personally leaning more toward a combination of the two, so I guess there are three ways to read this.
There's a lot of jumping back and forth in time here, sometimes in a jarring way until it's later explained how we suddenly find ourselves in a certain scenario. Two parallel storylines can unfold in each their own chapter, until one ends up being the explanation of another, almost as if we are witnessing cause and effect at the same time. This feels like a creative way of portraying a fragmented mind, as if bits and pieces of Sydney's memory are scattered around – much like the pieces of broken glass on the cover – waiting to be put together again in the correct order.
To sum it up, this is a paranoid, visceral, deliciously uncomfortable and occasionally severely violent fever dream, with sprinkles of addiction, grief, and corruption on top, captivating from the very first page, refusing to let go until the very last. And so much of this aforementioned sense of dread lies within Marino's wonderful ability to make the character hyper-aware of all the details around her, and the morbid way in which he describes everything through her eyes.
What really impresses me, is that the author's bio claims this is Andy Marino's first horror novel. Well, damn, I was about to say that I certainly hope it's not his last, because this is one hell of a horror debut; fortunately, as far as I can see, among all the other books he's written, at least one more of them is horror. So I'm definitely reading that one at some point!
Rainbow in the Dark: The Autobiography by Ronnie James Dio
4.0
This was a bittersweet read in a couple of ways. First of all, obviously, because this book mostly contains the memoirs of one of my all-time favorite legends in rock, metal, and music overall, Ronnie James Dio, but he passed away before he could fully finish writing this himself, so his widow Wendy Dio collaborated with Mick Wall to add to and complete the book some years later.
Bittersweet also because he had planned for this to be just the first book, covering roughly the first half of his life and career, and a continuation was to come later on. Wendy Dio indicates that a second book may see the light of day in the future, but I think that would turn out to be more of a biography than an actual autobiography, so Ronnie's own words might be featured even less at that point.
With that said, Rainbow in the Dark was a fast, but highly entertaining read. Being the music buff that I am, and having already read and seen a lot about my music heroes via interviews and news articles and other books, the core progression of his career was already well-known to me. That's not to say this book only states the obvious, though. It still provides a lot of insight from his own point of view, and this being his own book rather than quick interviews, he is able to flesh it all out with more details and anecdotes, so there are a couple of funny stories along the way, as well as some sad ones.
I was interested to see if it would be clear at all what were his own words and what was the addition of Wendy Dio with Mick Wall's help. Fortunately, that is made very clear for the most part, as Wendy's additions are treated as a separate thing, with her interjections clearly marked as coming from her. I know that Mick Wall also helped polish some of Ronnie's own writings, but I can't imagine that took a whole lot of work; it was mostly because Ronnie preferred to write down his memoirs by hand, using pen and paper, so a digital transcription would have been necessary regardless, and it is said that Mick Wall helped further flesh out some of the later parts of the book (in a way Ronnie would have written it himself) because some of those parts were left unfinished due to Ronnie's passing.
But as I said, it couldn't have required that big of an effort on Wall's compared to other works Wall has been involved with, as it's no secret that Ronnie James Dio was himself a master of words. Decades of song lyrics, as well as the added fantasy story on his concept album Magica, will prove that. That is often where this book shines, too, when he's used his talent for storytelling to let us into some behind-the-scenes moments from his life on the road, moments from his marriage to Wendy, moments from his childhood and growing up, and how he inadvertently and indirectly crossed paths with a mob boss on several occasions throughout his life.
There's a saying in show business: "Always leave them wanting more." This book is the definition of that because, in some ways, it ends just as things are really getting good. We get to explore his humble beginnings, his time in Elf that would morph into his breakthrough in Rainbow, before moving on to Black Sabbath, and finally starting his own band, Dio. But we don't really get that far into the Dio era, and it is clear that the intention was for a second book to explore that more. I hope it does one day.
Bittersweet also because he had planned for this to be just the first book, covering roughly the first half of his life and career, and a continuation was to come later on. Wendy Dio indicates that a second book may see the light of day in the future, but I think that would turn out to be more of a biography than an actual autobiography, so Ronnie's own words might be featured even less at that point.
With that said, Rainbow in the Dark was a fast, but highly entertaining read. Being the music buff that I am, and having already read and seen a lot about my music heroes via interviews and news articles and other books, the core progression of his career was already well-known to me. That's not to say this book only states the obvious, though. It still provides a lot of insight from his own point of view, and this being his own book rather than quick interviews, he is able to flesh it all out with more details and anecdotes, so there are a couple of funny stories along the way, as well as some sad ones.
I was interested to see if it would be clear at all what were his own words and what was the addition of Wendy Dio with Mick Wall's help. Fortunately, that is made very clear for the most part, as Wendy's additions are treated as a separate thing, with her interjections clearly marked as coming from her. I know that Mick Wall also helped polish some of Ronnie's own writings, but I can't imagine that took a whole lot of work; it was mostly because Ronnie preferred to write down his memoirs by hand, using pen and paper, so a digital transcription would have been necessary regardless, and it is said that Mick Wall helped further flesh out some of the later parts of the book (in a way Ronnie would have written it himself) because some of those parts were left unfinished due to Ronnie's passing.
But as I said, it couldn't have required that big of an effort on Wall's compared to other works Wall has been involved with, as it's no secret that Ronnie James Dio was himself a master of words. Decades of song lyrics, as well as the added fantasy story on his concept album Magica, will prove that. That is often where this book shines, too, when he's used his talent for storytelling to let us into some behind-the-scenes moments from his life on the road, moments from his marriage to Wendy, moments from his childhood and growing up, and how he inadvertently and indirectly crossed paths with a mob boss on several occasions throughout his life.
There's a saying in show business: "Always leave them wanting more." This book is the definition of that because, in some ways, it ends just as things are really getting good. We get to explore his humble beginnings, his time in Elf that would morph into his breakthrough in Rainbow, before moving on to Black Sabbath, and finally starting his own band, Dio. But we don't really get that far into the Dio era, and it is clear that the intention was for a second book to explore that more. I hope it does one day.