Older kids will slurp this up.
Horror-master Reaves (Voodoo Child, 1998, etc.) jump-starts his narrative with a socko opener no later developments quite match.
In that devastating first scene, a 14-year-old Alabama girl, pregnant by her father, gives birth to—well, a great Rough Beast. In Greenwich Village, wealthy Rumanian orphan Colin finds that an intruder has opened his apartment’s secret wall and stolen the sorcerers’ three-part Trine. Found wandering the ruins of Vlad Tepes’s palace, Colin was taken in by the Scholomance and raised in Shadowdance. But it is the angel Zoel, whose solid silver eyes enrapture him, who enlists herself to help him recover the lost three psychic articles. Using a door that opens into space on the back of his apartment, the two “apport” to Paris, where they find one article, the Book, in the catacombs. The apportation door works only one-way, but Colin declines Zoel’s offer to fix it as a two-way portal. Meanwhile, back in the States, the novel divides into three other plotlines. One involves a serial killer known as Maneater (yes, a man-demon and Hannibal Lecter rip-off) who wakes from a lethal dose in the execution chamber and winks at reporter Liz Russell, vowing to chew into her at a later date. We’re also treated to the brain-dead rock group Lycanthropus, whose perversely scatological albums include “Suck Me Down To Hell” and “Hell on Earth.” Can the end of days be at hand? The Devil thinks so and, now reborn, has set the Apocalypse in motion. Once Colin recovers the Book, then the Stone, he must find the Flame at a hellish Las Vegas amusement park that features an underground roller coaster, The Balefire Express, a tour through hell itself in which the demon Pazuzu tells Colin, “I rather liked the way I was portrayed in The Exorcist.”
Older kids will slurp this up.Pub Date: May 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-345-42335-6
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2001
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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