Haunting Columns #4 : October to December 1998

The roots of dark literature lie so far back in the mists of time that even the most experienced archeologist would have trouble digging them up, for they are psychological rather than physical roots. Dark literature is as old as stories themselves, the unknown or fear of the unknown has been ever present through both the evolution of humanity and its literature. This laid the foundations for the fables that became the basis for all our cultures, we are probably more of a facet of our stories and fables than they are a facet of us. With the written word our fables became less ephemeral, more able to be passed down through time, though frozen in time. Somewhere between then and now, someone wrote down the last story that will ever be written, or so some claim. As stories are finite and we have told them all.

So why do they endure? Why have we not lost our enthusiasm or our need for those very stories? Through reinvention, reinterpretation, and a strange kind of alchemy through which different stories become enmeshed, we have been able to keep our stories fresh. For ever person whose seen it all before, and read it all before, there are countless others who are encountering it all afresh. And no matter how much you believe that you have seen or read it all, you can still be surprised, even if only by being made to see that same old story through a different pair of eyes. Stories live and breathe as we do, it is in there nature to be alive, and while some stories die, others arrive to fill the breach. There is never a shortage of stories, merely a shortage of time.

Stories get herded like cattle into genres, divided up into subgenres, lined up neatly on shelves and sold as a valuable commodity. Collected together so you know what kind of story you are getting, making sure you don't get caught by surprise, for to be caught by surprise is a bad thing... or is it? We need to be less caught up in our categories than the stories themselves, give more respect to those that don't allow themselves to be constricted by the shelf on which they are placed. So when you pick up a book on the horror (or the fantasy, or literature, or...) shelf, and it does something a little, or even a lot, different, don't throw it aside crying "that's not a real horror/fantasy/literature book!". Instead give the author the respect they're due, for doing something you didn't expect. If your dislike merely stems from the fact it's a bad story, then fair enough, a bad story is a bad story no matter what cover it has. If however, you dislike it merely because it doesn't fit your preconceptions of what it should be, then maybe it is only your preconceptions that need changing.

Authors who have become associated with a certain genre, often merely because they have chosen to work within that genre, are often derided when they attempt to do something different or expand their outlook. By doing that people are doing a great disservice to the genre they claim to love, for it is only through such growth and experimentation that a genre can be expected to grow. Otherwise all that can be expected is stagnation and perhaps a slow and lingering death. The kind of people that deride such experimentation often claim to be true fans of the genre, have contructed a huge impenetrable box that contains that which defines the genre for them, and expect anything worthwhile to slot neatly within that box. The box may remain secure for years, decades, even centuries, while starved from air the stories within slowly suffocate. Fortunately though authors are a stubborn bunch, and for all those who are happy to fill the box, your find many more willing to cut away at the edges.

So onto my recent reading, the first was a recent young adult by Graham Masterton, the third in his Rook series called The Terror. It is perhaps the most accomplished so far of his young adult novels and works well within the constraints of that particular genre. It is a story about a student with the knowledge of a ritual that will remove the fears from those that take part, at first it seems harmless, yet of course it has its costs. Masterton weaves his usual magic, combining a contemporary setting with ancient mysticism, and the story itself is satisfying.

A second book that I have had for a while yet never got around to reading was a wonderfully presented small press collection of stories by James William Hjort. Ebon Roses, Jewelled Skulls is collection of exotic fantasy stories that are heavily influenced by Clark Ashton Smith, with a nod to Lovecraft along the way. Hjort is also an artist and the stories are illustrated with his often excellent drawings and paintings which have an enriching affect on the stories. The opening tale is Dragonride, a story about a man who takes on a Wizard's challenge in order to regain someone he has lost. The story has a twist in its tale, that ends in quite a satisfying conclusion, that shows Hjort has some of Smith's sense of irony but less of his cruelty. Following this is Cthulhu's Gold a story about a thief whose arrogance leads him to rob a strange cult, though of course an fate tinged with irony awaits him. Many of the tales have this same sense of irony, though perhaps too often the sting is lessened by Hjort's desire to neatly wrap up a story with a happy ending. Though sometimes, as with the final story The Orb of Xom-Orthon he allows the sense of darkness to remain. The prose is over poetic and filled with imagery, though it doesn't fall in the trap of trying to mimic Smith's style for Hjort definately has a style of his own. There are ten stories in all with very few lacklustre tales, most are as finely wrought as the art that accompanies them. Other highlights in the collection are the stories Dust of the Necromancer, Andalous and the Chimera and The Ebon Harp. The best of these is probably Dust of the Necromancer, a story about an outcast sorceror whose aid is required against an evil tyrant.

There are few more original voices than J. G. Ballard's and in The Drought that voice is as evident as ever. In a novel about a drought caused by a layer of chemicals covering the worlds ocean which leaves humanity as a group of dispirate individuals hoarding water and eventually creating some kind of uneasy order based around a salination plant on the coast. The main character is an outcast who is unable to fall in with the new order. A strange, yet compelling read.

One of my favourite books I have read this year was Signs of Life by M. John Harrison, an excellent novel revolving around two men who work illegally dumping waste, whether clinical, chemical or worse. Though the real plot of the novel revolves around their relationships, with the women in their lives and each other. More realism that fantasy pervades this novel, yet the beautiful writing carries with it an aura of its own. Things intensify as the novel progresses and both the relationships and the waste they dump become more volatile. A brilliant novel, and a highly recommended one at that.

The One Safe Place is one of Ramsey Campbell's most recent novels, an enthralling thriller set in England where a chance road rage incident leads to a conflict that touches the whole family at the centre of the novel. All through there is a pervading sense of menace and unease, that only intensifies as the novel progresses. One of the highlights of the novel is the scene where a child is kidnapped, seen through the child's eyes the world begins to twist and turn as you read it. The reason becoming apparant the more it continues but the incredible skill with which Campbell crafts the story gives it an edge that never dissipates.

That's all for this (long) "month", sorry for the delay but it was unavoidable, hopefully the monthly schedule will be back on for January now things have settled down.