Electronic OtherRealms #23 Winter, 1989 Part 5 Copyright 1989 by Chuq Von Rospach All Rights Reserved. OtherRealms may not be reproduced without written permission from Chuq Von Rospach. The electronic edition may be distributed only if the return address, copyrights and author credits remain intact. No article may be reprinted or re-used in any way without the permission of the author. All rights to material published in OtherRealms hereby revert to the original author. The Agony Colum Rick Kleffel Copyright 1989 by Rick Kleffel The cringing virgin, the tortured beast, the psycho killer, the tainted priest, the master vampire, the Satanic son, the town with a secret, the impotent gun--this is what horror is made from.... These are the scary stereotypes of horror, the shredded scraps of skin and muscle that are carelessly grafted to skeletal plots by Stephen King wanna-be's, then packaged in glance-grabbing wrappers and aimed at an unsuspecting audience. Monsters (vampires, werewolves, aliens) and their victims (virgins, scientists, military madmen) should be fertile ground for the invention of new stereotypes. Instead, they become fertile ground for re-invention; everybody wants to do their version of the vampire. Writers like Clive Barker and Anne Rice manage to make something old seem new again. But in less competent hands, these cliches become crutches. They allow the writer to be lazy. After all, think of all the information that comes with the word vampire; bloodsucking, shapechanging, undead, fangs.... But even the less-than-literate serve their purpose. It is only in their territory that new stereotypes are noticeable. In fact, the eighties have presented us with a new monster, another carrion-fed cliche to haunt readers of the future. Look closely at what you've been reading recently, and you'll see him--the Vietnam Veteran--hero, monster, victim--this decade's nominee for the Hall of Horror Stereotypes. Koko [*****-] Peter Straub Doubleday, $19.95, 0-525-24660-6 Koko by Peter Straub is being billed as a thriller by a man who is best-known for his horror novels. While it's true that the supernatural is missing from Koko, few who finish this novel will walk away unaware that this is yet another horror novel, one in which the monster is war and the men who enjoy it. In this novel, the Vietnam veterans are given the treatment they (or any other "group") deserve; they are first and foremost people, with jobs to keep them busy during the day and friends and family to keep them company at night. Koko's ingenious plot draws together four disparate members of a platoon fifteen years after the war, when one of them discovers that a string of serial killings in the Orient can only be the work of someone who was once a member of their fighting unit. Despite an intricately constructed exposition, the novel is easily read, as the reader is swept into the demonic, hallucinogenic world of the characters' perceptions. These aren't the stock maladjusted malcontents, nor are they hibernating supermen--they're ordinary people who have lived through an extra-ordinarily horrifying experience. And, even though supernatural events are absent, the feeling of pervading evil is very much present. This combination of real and perceived evil make Koko Straub's best book since Ghost Story--in many ways, better. In addition, the Straub stories "Blue Rose" in "Cutting Edge" and "The Juniper Tree" in Prime Evil, offer another glimpse of the characters in Koko. They enhance the novel, but are not required reading. Complex and compelling, Koko is at the forefront of today's realistic horror movement. Monastery [**] Patrick Whelan Pocket Books, $3.95, 0-671-66187-6 At the other end of the spectrum is Monastery by Patrick Whelan, a thoroughly pedestrian "Rambo versus Dracula" saga, set on a remote island off the coast of Washington. Braille, our stoic veteran hero, would make even Rambo look like wimp. Caught assassinating an aging North Vietnamese general, he is tortured for months by the man's son. This is the perfect preparation for his confrontation with Gregory, the Ancient, a Master Vampire entombed on the island hundreds of years ago by Secret Order of the Catholic Church. It's doubly surprising when they become buddies in combat only because any surprise in this book is itself surprising. This novel unveils a new stereotype while conforming to the description of an existing stereotype--the artificial, cheesy vampire novel, easily read, admirably absentminded, easily forgotten. Necroscope [***+] Brian Lumley Tor, $3.95, 0-812-52166-8 Queen of The Damned [***+] Anne Rice Doubleday, $18.95 Cabal [****+] Clive Barker Doubleday, $17.95 Happily, in Necroscope, by Brian Lumley, Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice and Cabal by Clive Barker, these big name horror writers fare quite well in their encounters with the undead. The first is the thoroughly enjoyable start of a "Trilogy of Terror!," but works well as a self-contained novel. The premise, cleverly developed if not completely original, is that Harry Keogh, a "necroscope," (one who can talk to the dead) is recruited by England's rather advanced ESPionage agency to help fight the bad Russians, in a sort of "spook versus spook" battle. Dragosani, the Russian's star esper, is a necromancer (one who rips apart the bodies of the dead to learn their secrets). Much to his regret, he has made a deal with a particularly slimy, science-fiction style vampire. Once you resign yourself to enjoy this luridly-written novel, you'll find that it's like those rare "great" B movies--a fast, fun time. The next one should be a real kick. Then, when you're done slumming, you can turn to Anne Rice's Queen of the Damned which completes her "Vampire Trilogy" and heralds the beginning of the "Vampire Chronicles." For those who liked the first two books, her sensual, evocative writing and grand Guignol plotting remain firmly in place. Better yet, there's no cliff-hanger waiting at the end this novel, and the finale is satisfyingly spectacular. The only problem is the reader's memory, since this is really just the second half of The Vampire Lestat. Artistic attempts to recapitulate the action from that novel won't fill all the gaps in most reader's memories. Soon enough, though, Rice's sensual vampires, Lestat and company, start to feel like old, cultured, friends. Wisely choosing not to self-destruct a bestselling series, Anne Rice does leave an option open, frankly stating that more sequels are on the way. If you haven't yet read the other books you have something to look forward to. On the other hand, if you read The Vampire Lestat, then you've probably already bought Queen of the Damned. In either case, you could do worse, and you'd be hard put to find better. In Cabal, Clive Barker introduces "The Nightkind," creatures who fit squarely between the slime of Necroscope and the sensuality of Queen of the Damned. Barker's writing is perhaps too artistic for hack'n'slash fans, and too gritty for the lace-lovers of Rice's vampires, but his fans will be ecstatic over Cabal, which combines the visceral horror of Books of Blood with the fantasy elements of Weaveworld. As a bonus, those who have not yet managed to sniff out an imported copy of Books of Blood, Volume 6, are given the contents of that collection in addition to this short novel. Barker's ability to write poetic prose describing extreme violence has deservedly earned him the "New [Stephen] King of Horror" badge. While there are some nagging doubts about descriptions that sound suspiciously like directions for special effects make-up, in the end this shapes up to be yet another remarkable contribution to the Barker's growing catalogue. City Jitters [****+] Christopher Fowler Dell Publishing, $3.50, 0-440-20115-2 More City Jitters [****+] Christopher Fowler Dell Publishing, $3.50, 0-440-20146-2 Blood and Water [****] Patrick McGrath Poseidon Press, $15.95 The Selected Stories of Charles Beaumont [****] Roger Anker Dark Harvest Press, $19.95 With the spectacular success of Barker's Books of Blood, the market for horror anthologies has exploded, as publishers begin to line up their candidates for "the next Clive Barker." While no writers with Barker's eye for poetry and violence have yet surfaced, a number of writers with similar promise but different sensibilities have made their mark. Patrick McGrath, in Blood and Water and Christopher Fowler, in City Jitters and More City Jitters, each establish themselves as possible heirs to their own throne, while Selected Stories of Charles Beaumont from Dark Harvest cements this late writer's place amongst the great influential writers of horror. The most unusual of these collections is McGrath's Blood and Water. This writer, most of whose pieces were published in "literary" magazines, covers a wide range of genres, from (almost) mystery to (nearly) science fiction, but the gothic sense of justice and retribution are most reminiscent of Poe. Very entertaining, tainted by a pitch-black sense of humor, Blood and Water is highly recommended to those looking for something different but not too strange. Christopher Fowler's City Jitters and More City Jitters also encompass a wide range of genres, but exhibit a "Twilight Zone-like" sense of revenge and the plot twist. The prose is excellent, the stories are fun to read, and the segues between the pieces are also enjoyable. Like Barker's Books of Blood, these books were first published as British paperbacks by Sphere Books, and are now available in the US from Dell Paperbacks--a major debut in a minor arena. And let us not take the name of the "Twilight Zone" in vain without mentioning the must-buy Selected Stories of Charles Beaumont, a writer whose name will be familiar to viewers of that series as the author/and or screenwriter of 22 of the most famous episodes. Beaumont's skill as prose writer alone would make the trip worthwhile, but the introductions by editor Roger Anker, and Dennis Etchison, Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, Roger Corman and others, tell the uniquely involving story of this writer's brief, tragic life. Top this off with the evocative black and white illustrations of Peter Scanlon and you have the best effort yet by Dark Harvest press, whose products seem to be getting better and better. Fine Frights [*****-] Ramsey Campbell Tor $3.95, 0-812-51670-2 The Best of The Horror Show: An Adventure in Terror [*****] David B. Silva 2 AM Publications, $9.95, 0-937491-05-5 Omnibus anthologies are often a hit-and-miss proposition--some stories are good, some are filler, and some are repeats from other collections. Two anthologies that buck this trend are Ramsey Campbell's Fine Frights: Stories That Scared Me and The Best of the Horror Show. Fine Frights is a case of truth in packaging, with every story a great, several unforgettables, and nary a familiar title in the bunch. "Child's Play" by Villy Sorenson tops the unforgettables, followed closely by Bob Shaw's "Cutting Down," David Case's "The War is Over" and Karl Edward Wagner's "More Sinned Against." Each of these stories will leave the reader stunned for a couple of hours after finishing them. Other notables include a horror story by Philip K. Dick, "Upon the Dull Earth," that ranks as one of his best in any genre, and Thomas Ligotti's very poetic and disturbing "The Greater Festival of Masks." The Best of The Horror Show, edited by David B. Silva, features Robert R. McCammon, Ramsey Campbell, Steve Rasnic Tem and others in short to short-short stories that have never been seen outside of the pages of this great magazine. The length, the variety, and the uniformly high quality of these stories make this a collection no horror fan should miss. If you're looking for swift, deadly fun, either of these anthologies is guaranteed to satisfy. The Fifth Child [****+] Doris Lessing Doubleday, $15.95 Hospital of the Transfiguration [*****-] Stanislaw Lem Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich, $17.95 One would not expect to see either Doris Lessing or Stanislaw Lem reviewed in a horror column. Both of these writer/philosophers are known for their forays into densely intellectual SF, but strictly speaking, both The Fifth Child and Hospital of the Transfiguration are not genre fiction. They are finely crafted, mainstream novels that lead the reader into a realistic world of emotional terror. In these books, the writers shed their philosophers' shoes, and create easily-read works of art. Doris Lessing's The Fifth Child is a stripped down look at family life and economic distress in modern day England. The protagonists, Harriet and David, rebel against the hip rebellion of the late sixties, deciding instead to marry young, buy a big house and have large, happy family--until the birth of Ben, the fifth child. For despite the doctor's assurances, despite what her friends and family say, Harriet is certain that he is not completely human. Ben soon becomes a force that helps to tear apart a family already under assault by economic pressures and criticism for their unpopular decision. Lessing theorizes that trolls, gnomes, and evil elves are not fairy tales, but the result of a "throwback gene" that gives birth to what we would now call "born criminals." The unsettling alternatives facing the parents of these creatures are institutionalization or responsibility for the child. There are no stereotypes of horror here--no evil changelings, no elves--but freedom of choice and the responsibility it entails are certainly terrifying enough. Hospital of the Transfiguration is Stanislaw Lem's first novel, a semi- autobiographical work that is not SF. Because of this, it seemed almost certain to be an inferior work. However, this novel ranks with the best of his SF, and includes many of the same features that make his SF so appealing--the dark humor, the philosophical speculations, and the observations of characters so real that despite cultural differences, they seem like people you know or might meet. How is this a horror novel? It's set in 1939, in Poland, shortly after the Nazi invasion. The protagonist is a doctor who takes up residence in an insane asylum to avoid the spectre of war. Now, if the state of brain surgery in 1939 is not enough to qualify this book for the horror genre, then Nazi executions of helpless inmates certainly are. Needless to say, this book isn't going to be competition for King, Barker, and Straub--but it's every bit as scary.