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Post by vaughan on Aug 17, 2009 1:01:24 GMT
[glow=red,2,300]Bobby loves his dog, King, a playful German Shepherd...until the day King turns and attacks him, snarling and vicious. The dog is put to sleep, but Bobby still see's him everywhere - in the garden, on the stairs, crouching, waiting. Then the horrific deaths begin - brutal, savage maulings. terror grips the sleepy town of Fallsburg, and doors are nervously locked at night. For through the woods runs a dark shadow with dripping jaws, eluding pursuit with uncanny skill. Now more than ever, the scientists down the road must guard the deadly secret of the monster they've unleashed... NIGHT HOWL.[/glow] Arrow - 1986 - 277 Pages. Dogs. As a dog lover they mean something a little special to me. You can't beat them. And since they're domesticated, and people have such connections with them, it makes sense that they would make good fodder for the odd horror novel. I have three, Dogs by Robert Calder, The Pack by David Fisher, and Night Howl by Andrew Neiderman. Come to think of it, I even have Fluke by James Herbert around here somewhere, though that's not quite the same kind of thing. Stephen King gave us Cujo, and who can forget the heartbreaking tale that is Old Yellow? Yeah, Dogs rock. Even when they're evil. I like to read different types of horror, alternating between the different strands. Since I was up for a creature feature it was time to choose a Dog book, and this was the one I went with. And I'm glad I did. Night Howl is an interesting read, not least of all because passages are written from the perspective of the Dog itself - it's thoughts, dreams, and ambitions. Of course, for this to truly work the dog in question has to be something a little bit special, and indeed Phantom (the dog in question) is something just that little bit special. Laboratories, gashed throats, bone snapping, and a wild beast in the rubble of New York circa 1985 adds up to quite a journey. Qwen is the tracker, Maggie his dog, and they're on the trail of an animal more human than the people it finds itself surrounded by. I was not familiar with Neiderman's work prior to this, but a bit of research reveals he wrote Pin, and probably more famously, the novel on which the movie The Devil's Advocate (Pacnino/Reeves) is based. His writing is solid, and despite the rather odd choice of writing from a dogs perspective, makes it work solidly. The story starts out as a traditional view of a nuclear family - Husband, wife, son, daughter, and dog - and then sets about breaking it down with one tragedy to another. As the scale of the problem grows, so we get to meet Qwen, the scientists, and police, building to a climax in the big city. Excellent stuff. Having read this single tale, I'd say Neiderman is someone I'd keep an eye out for. He keeps things interesting, and this one is very much worth looking for.
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Post by vaughan on Aug 8, 2009 8:40:49 GMT
One of the signs of a good author, in my never to be humble opinion, is when you keep reading even though there’s something nagging at the back of your mind saying: ‘When the f*ck is something actually going to happen?’ It’s the writing that keeps you marching on. I mean, over 315 pages, something is bound to happen, right? In Suffer the Children, in truth, nothing much does actually happen. People walk about, an annoying couple are – well – annoying. There are silly time shifts (100 years, 15 years, and an obviously not present). Sure, some people die. There is some hilarious stuff with a cat. There’s a hole, and a rope ladder. Stuff that might constitute a decent premise if only 100 pages were loped off. But nothing much happens. If that sounds like a damning condemnation, think again. Because John Saul is an entertaining bugger, and with ‘The million copy bestseller’ plastered on the cover, it isn’t easy to turn away. I’m not sure if I was riveted or comatose, mind you. The cover blurb states: “A novel of unnatural passion and supernatural terror”. That alone kept me reading. Unnatural passion sounded good, and supernatural terror sounded better. Combine the two and you’ve got a heady mix. But it’ll not come as a shock to you that there’s some exaggeration going on. In fact, from my reading of the book, nothing supernatural goes on. I suppose the fun of this title might well be that others read it differently. With my reviews I don’t like to go over the plot, so let’s just say there is a question mark over this one, and you’ll have to make up your own mind. It’s also funny that we read books on ridiculous subject matter, but we’ll sometimes balk at some fine point. Take Guy N. Smith’s Deathbell as an example. It’s a silly book on the face of it. If someone was ringing a bell in the dead of night, killing people, you’d go tear the thing down – no? I mean, people are DYING. Would a padlock and chain hold you back? It’s silly, it bothered me, but that was half the fun. In the case of Suffer the Children there’s a cave. In an easily accessible cliff face. And four generations of people have been looking for it to no avail. People started to wonder if it even existed, as though it were a myth. But it’s there. And I ask you, FOUR GENERATIONS weren’t able to find a cave that you can walk too?!?!? Silly. And in the end that was what I was left with. Silly. And not scary. I’m not sure it was even trying to be scary. But damn it, Saul writes well. My wife also read this book, and she finished it – despite nothing happening. We kind of looked at each other and said – “but why did we finish it?” And it’s all down to Saul, he’s decent. I bought a stack of four Saul titles, and I wonder if anything happens in those other books, they all claim to have something happening 100 years ago. But does anything actually happen? Or maybe he specializes in books where nothing happens. Or maybe a young boy attempting to have sex with cat entrails isn’t ‘nothing’, maybe it’s just the tone of this book that fooled me into thinking, ‘nothing happens’. But it has fooled at least one other as well, and that’s my defense. Suffer the Children, as a synopsis, reads like every other Saul novel I’ve seen. Something (maybe) happens 100 years ago, and it comes back to modern times. Modern times in this case being 1977. And something happens (perhaps). Although, in all probability, nothing happens. You know, this title even has a ‘Book II’, known as an epilogue to you and me. It doesn’t do anything major to the main story, and it runs – get this – for thirty pages. Thirty pages. Three-o. Damn. And in it, virtually nothing happens. Because the story had already ended. And that’s Suffer the Children. And if I had a time machine I’d go back to 1977 and interview 999,999 other people who read this and ask, “Why? Why did you read this? Was it word of mouth, reviews in the papers, were you drunk, on drugs? Did a friend you no longer like recommend it?” But I read it. Saul wouldn’t let me go. It’s a thumb up from my left hand, and a thumb down from my right. You’re going to have to take your own chances. ps: At least the cover shown, not the one from the 1976 second impression I have, has the correct arm torn off!
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Post by vaughan on Aug 8, 2009 7:33:06 GMT
Part of the deal is that we know there is a formula at work, we know key elements are going to be familiar, we know that we’re dealing with kinks in a chain rather than whole new handcuffs. That’s what we like. Pulp. If you change things significantly, then it might be good, but it ceases to be pulp. You know?
Plague Pit is a case in point. I recently read a novel called “Thirst” by Charles Eric Maine, in it the oceans run dry, commerce crumbles, society dissolves, the foulest instincts of man surfaces (with convenient women playing victims), blah blah blah, the end. And guess what, Plague Pit is essentially the same story. It even has the same scenes at times, and while the scope is smaller (England as opposed to global catastrophe) Mark Ronson, the author, proves that what works on a macro level can also work well on a micro level. That’s alright.
As sometimes happens, the main problem faced by Ronson was that he needed a new cause for the effect. Thirst had oceans running dry due to fissures forming on the sea beds of the world. Plague Pit has Bubonic plague. Excavations rupture an old burial pit, people enter to find treasures (at the time victims were buried with their jewellery) and hey presto, scabs, cists, pus, blood, and insanity.
I mention Thirst rather than other, perhaps more obvious antecedents simply because of the scale of the problem envisioned by the author. Another model for this book would be James Herbert’s The Rats, or Stephen Lewis’ The Spiders, or…. Well a lot really. However, Ronson cranks up the headcount, topping out at around two million. Nice!
So are there any downsides to the book? Well, maybe. Well, not maybe - yes, it does get a little odd. You see, Ronson decides to throw in some neo-nazi’s. I suppose it’s trying to bring out the prejudice in every day life, but it sits like a pus filled boil waiting to be lanced. And there’s a shockingly poor encounter with a Jewish lab technician that really can only make you laugh. I mean give us a social message if you must, but does it have to be so heavy handed? And anyway, why try to tie in a Plague Pit story with the death of Jews at the hands of Nazi’s, is this a gas camp reference?
But then it’s quirks like that that can make an ordinary book into an interesting adventure. And while it doesn’t sit very well with me overall, I must admit it was a surprise, if an ill-judged one. The fact that you can figure out a lot of the ending quite early on is a testament to the fact that Ronson isn’t trying to beak new ground here. Fair enough. I honestly think that, ultimately, that’s exactly what we want, or at least it’s what I want sometimes. The same, only different.
Plague Pit came from Hamlyn, and runs a measly 191 pages. And, of its type, it’s quite good. You should probably check it out.
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Post by vaughan on Aug 8, 2009 7:08:29 GMT
If you’re going to define a sub-genre, going to have a best seller with it, going to create a little niche market, then others are going to follow. Call it inspiration, call it homage, claim whatever artistic device you feel legitimizes it best – but let’s face it, it’s an economic goal that will drive it to market from a publishers standpoint.
Once something is big, it’s emulated, copied, manipulated first in small ways, and then larger ways, until yet another sub-genre materializes. Then it all starts again.
But who could argue that more of the same should be denied the guy that started it all? James Herbert had given us The Rats, a hugely popular book, and if anyone was going to benefit from its success, surely Herbert was the guy most deserving? And so we got The Lair, a sequel to The Rats, appearing a mere five years after the original.
The Lair runs a familiar path, although things are fleshed out a little better, the basic story benefiting from an additional fifty-odd pages on the original. Transpose London for Epping Forest, and you probably already have a pretty good idea of what new opportunities this inspiring scenery afforded Herbert. Rather than the hustle and bustle of urban life filling the pages, you have the broken tranquillity of the forest.
Herbert is careful to refer back to scenes in the first book, giving nice continuity, and while there is in reality little new going on here, the story feels smoother, more satisfying, one might say more “professional”. That can sometimes be a bad thing, but not in this case.
Still, having said that there is still one jarring sequence in the book. Amazingly for a title with 244 pages in all, things take a severe turn for the worse on page 191 through 200. I mean, a nine page seduction sequence! These novels are riddled with hilarious sex scenes, but in this case Herbert is apparently enjoying it way too much, and this seems to go on and on. Wholly unnecessary, it enlightens and enlivens nothing, and is a bit squirm inducing – which is saying something when you’re reading a book about giant rats!
Maybe I’m being a bit harsh overall, given you can skip pages 191 to 200 completely and not miss a thing of consequence, it’s just curious to me when Herbert seems to lose his own plot. We’ll set that aside though.
Perhaps not surprisingly, I enjoyed The Lair. It follows the path of the first novel, but when they’re this good it’s a road you don’t mind travelling a second time. Herbert does a good job (for the most part) keeping things chugging along, and the action sequences are a little better that those in the first book.
Of course there is a third book in the series – Domain. And yes it’s sitting on my shelf. I’ve heard only bad things about it, and talk about bloat, it runs for 420+ pages. Ouch! But maybe I’ll tackle it soon, just to finish things off. Hell, I’ve gone this far, and I’m the sort who is attracted to things people tell me to stay away from.
But even if we only had The Rats and The Lair we’d have a hell of a good time. Let’s face it, we wax lyrical about the significance of these novels, and the reason for that is that they’re just very very good. Perhaps this one was unnecessary, but as I have said, who can begrudge Herbert, of all people, going to back to the trough? Or the cellar.
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Post by vaughan on Aug 8, 2009 2:33:37 GMT
If I might interject with a useless piece of tangential aside.... Have you heard Django Bates album based on The Third Policeman? A most excellent work!
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Post by vaughan on Aug 7, 2009 22:03:08 GMT
I certainly don't intend to take anything away from Herbert, as I stated earlier, this book is iconic and stands very well on its own.
And I agree, the British setting adds a dimension to things, although largely that surely comes from "writing about what you know" rather than out of any necessity. The style is all Herbert!
On the visceral front though, I don't quite see it as you do. Horror cinema in the years leading to publishing of this book had also taken a more visceral approach, with the gore of the mid to late 70's forming at good pace.
If I can mention but two examples in order to illustrate what I mean - 1972 (two years prior to the books original publication) Wes Craven and Sean Cunningham had directed and released Last House on the Left. While this isn't a monster movie it definitely pointed to a new approach in horror, more punchy, graphic, and indeed visceral. By 1974 (and I'm obviously missing out some gore titles in between) we saw the release of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Both of these films still pack a punch today (TCM was banned in the UK outright for a good time). Both pointed to a new attitude to horror, sounding the Deathbell (it's always a good time to throw in some GNS!) for the likes of Hammer, which had itself once rode a wave of being groundbreaking in its explicitness, but by the early 70's looking quite sedate.
So overall I say Herbert was riding that initial wave in the horror movement, a wave that took the quaint, cosy, predictability of what shocked us, and turned it up a few notches.
Again, I must say I'm not taking anything away from him. Your point about the visceral nature of Herbert's novel and those 50's sci-fi movies is well taken. The movies were of their time, after all. However, looked at another way, there are many similarities. Usually only mild threats are turned into BIG problems, the authorities are slow to respond and when they do they are initially deliver an ineffective response. Science rules the day, and finds love while doing it. Cities are trashed, people flee, society breaks down, etc. I think the basic formula was already there, add in the gore and a nice British setting, and you have most of the ingredients you need to write a book about killer rats.
Not that many people could have written one quite as good as this!
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Post by vaughan on Aug 7, 2009 15:03:29 GMT
What in the world can you say about a novel such as Rats? It’s iconic, a defining moment, a modern classic of horror literature. As such it’s been pawed over, nibbled at, and devoured by millions of people. Rats – the novel - it seems, is impervious to poison, traps, the warbling sound of dissent, and the gaseous moaning of critics. Rats just IS.
So maybe I shouldn’t be writing anything about Rats. What exactly is the point? We all know its reputation, and most of us have read it so know what’s in it. A plot synopsis is redundant for a start.
Which is probably the worse way to begin a review, as such, because I’m holding my hands up right away and stating that I have no amazing insight into the novel, I have no unique feelings about it, you’ll learn nothing here and can probably skip over these remarks without a feeling a loss. Oh well.
But I’m writing anyway, because if nothing else Rats is worthy of at least a mention. You know?
The Rats is a short novel, just 187 pages long. It was first published in 1974, and has had many reprints since (with the cover art getting worse and worse as time went on). Let’s face it, The Rats will ALWAYS been in print. It’s part of a literary history that transcends the horror genre. It’s the kind of book that people who don’t usually read horror books know about, even if only by word of mouth.
And why would that be? Perhaps it’s because it was genre breaking. Perhaps it was because it set a formula in place that was copied without shame? Perhaps it was because, ingeniously, rats are an animal that makes everybody curl up.
I’ve read quite a bit about how genre breaking the book was, setting a new formula in motion. It’s undeniable really, if you read other “animal attack” novels then you’ll well know how familiar things become. However, to be honest, I do feel that there is a slight amount of untruth involved. Animal attack has long been a staple of the movies, for instance; All the way back to Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922) where rats, and plague, played a key role in frights and scares – animals have been terrorizing people and the world we live in. Add in the 50’s cycle of giant monster movies (Ants, Spiders, forest critters, dinosaurs, scorpions) and the idea of nature running amok could hardly have been called new in 1974.
Original? No. Yet The Rats is important. And most of all, it’s entertaining. In fact, it’s such a fun read, once you’ve read it once, another go around wouldn’t be amiss.
Is it perfect? Well, no. There are a couple of things that occurred to me during my recent re-read. Firstly, there are two characters that are singled out for extended biographies. One is a homeless lady, the other an under-secretary for the government. I’ve read comments elsewhere that have applauded how well these characters are “fleshed out”, and that’s fair enough. On the other hand, it is odd that only these two get the treatment – and neither have a radical affect on the story, nor are prime characters. After reading pages and pages about the homeless woman, she’s immediately killed. What was the point, exactly? Well, I suspect the formula simply wasn’t fully formed yet.
The other is a perhaps a more interesting point – what price did we pay for the formula many of us love? Those 50’s sci-fi monster movies followed the same formula, changing location and monster. But everything else was essentially the same – nuclear bomb, scientist no-one listens to, military, and love interest. BAM BAM BAM. Animal attack novel copied Herbert’s formula relentlessly to good affect. The question is, if they hadn’t, what kind of novels would we have gotten? Not that I dislike what we have, but to what extent did the formula stunt the development of this interesting sub-genre? It seems clear that the direction things took was largely down to economic reasoning – The Rats made money, so give us more of things like this! Of course, this whole thing isn’t easy to conclude, though interesting to think about.
But you know, the thing is, The Rats is just a very very good novel. Not only that, there are two sequels (I’m reading The Lair as I write this). Herbert let his imagination run riot as they went on: The Rats 189 pages, The Lair 244 pages, Domain 421 pages. Rat tails (sic) are growing.
I won’t comment on The Lair yet, I’m only 60 pages in – however, what is clear is that above and beyond the subject matter, the point is that Herbert can WRITE. He’s entertaining, it’s reading without feeling like reading, at least at this time of his career. That’s worth the price of admission.
And so I end having done nothing but state the obvious, and ask questions to which I have no answer. Oddly I won’t recommend The Rats, or try to convince people to read it (or not). This novel is immune. You HAVE to read it. And why not, it’s terrific in every way we care about. Having read it again, it loses little over time. Which says a lot.
Erm. It’s good.
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Post by vaughan on Jul 30, 2009 19:11:06 GMT
Thanks guys!
Okay - so there ARE some jellyfish books (even if one includes what might be possessed jellyfish).
Sounds terrific!
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Post by vaughan on Jul 30, 2009 14:00:59 GMT
If they're from the author - I'll definitely read them.
If they're from someone else.... I'm not all that interested. Those I have read are gushing publicity numbers without anything interesting to say. (I just read the intro to Barker's "Book of Blood" by Ramsey Campbell, and it's quite poor..... gushing.... how good.... blah blah blah. Basically a longer version of cover quotes: "Better than bread!"
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Post by vaughan on Jul 30, 2009 13:58:51 GMT
Is this still a problem? I mean posting "naughty" covers?
If it is, and it's a problem for this site, then let me know. I might well have a solution.
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Post by vaughan on Jul 30, 2009 10:11:19 GMT
Excellent - my copy of Guy N. Smith's "Mania" has the same cover.
I'd add a smilie, but they're missing. --LOL--
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Post by vaughan on Jul 29, 2009 23:10:29 GMT
I just read this in an Amazon review:
"The next few years would see bookshelves stuffed with grue dripping books about killer cats, dogs, bats, crabs, slugs (yes, I said slugs), spiders, jellyfish, and assorted other nasties."
Now, this particular theme is a favorite of mine - any creature will do, as long as they're having a munch.
All the animals listed are well known to me in one fictional horror or another (or several) - but the last one, "Jellyfish" caught my attention.
Nope, I can't name a single killer Jellyfish book. Can anyone enlighten me, or have I been too gullible?
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Post by vaughan on Jul 29, 2009 10:02:06 GMT
There was a great interview with her on the BBC site yesterday. She was cackling and being all witchy when the interviewer said: "If you could come out of character for a bit." She stood a little straighter, smiled, and then started speaking...... and she was exactly the same as when she was IN character. Hilarious!
Good luck to the witchy lady.
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Post by vaughan on Jul 29, 2009 0:00:38 GMT
A cover image turned up on Ebay!
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Post by vaughan on Jul 28, 2009 23:25:33 GMT
I just wanted to say a "thanks" to Allthingshorror. We did a trade today, and that's all well and good. However, he invited me into his home (along with my good wife), showed me a boatload of cool stuff (although there was precious little time for me to truly savour it all) and not only that - he traded me some books that weren't just "nice to have", but also "totally what I want to read". You know, nature run amock trash. Perfect!
So amiable, friendly, and generous. You can't beat that.
Thanks, Allthingshorror!
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