Monsoon Hell Hole (The Black Eagles #16) by John Lansing. Originally published in 1988 by Kensington Publishing Corp. Approx. 243 pages.
Many times have I waxed nostalgic on those halcyon days of my youth; where drugstores boasted spinner racks brimming with pulpy horror, romance, and action books. The action media we consumed in the 80's; be it in film, TV, comic book, or novel form, was packed to bursting with men's men, blistering action, and, being the height of the Cold War, the Red Menace.
There are tons of these types of pulpy short novels out there. Continuations of the old dimestore novels, and hard case detective works. Series like the Mack Bolan/Executioner series (which I believe is still ongoing), Phoenix Force, and Mac Wingate, just to name a scant few. Long-running series in which various authors share a common pseudonym, and a common theme.
This is my first foray into The Black Eagles series (I know, it's #16, but you gotta work with what you can get), and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I mean, first of all, look at that cover. All the covers in the series showcase that skull motif in varying poses. You could re-release the Twilight books with covers featuring a leering skull with crossed M-16s with underslung grenade launchers and there's a good chance I'd buy them.
So you've got the badass cover. Check. A leader with a G.I.Joe-worthy name (Robert Falconi). Check. A group of tough-as-nails, diverse group of hard-cases ready to pick up their government-issued M-16s and tear VC's to ribbons? Check. A buxom, beautiful Eurasian agent who drops bodies and doesn't take names? Triple check. This book has it all. Let's gander at the back cover for the blurb.
That sums it up pretty nicely. The stakes are raised by the fact that the garrison served as housing for the families of South Vietnamese soldiers recently brought into the fold. Meaning, their continued fealty to the cause is contingent on the return of their loved ones. But, most importantly, the three nurses who ran the children's hospital (monsoon season = a lot of sick kids) all have relationship ties to the Black Eagles. There is no question; they have to be rescued. They can not be allowed to languish in the hands of the Commies.
With a setup like this, you'd think what follows would be 200 pages of bullets flying. It's not. There's plenty of action, indeed, and it's done pretty well. It truly has the feel of the Delta Force and Missing In Action series rolled into one. There are plenty of questions regarding plausibility, but when the popcorn factor is satisfactory, the reader can make allowances.
Also, there's a lot of backstory. Early on, there's a roughly 20 page recap of the events of the past books (mind you, that's approximately 10% of the whole book). There's also a lot of character backstory, which was especially appreciated by someone like me who's coming into the series late in the game.
The characters are tropey and enjoyable. Reading about the members of the Eagles, you feel like you're reading old G.I.Joe file cards. The Viet Cong and NVA leaders are interesting in their diverse methodologies, and we also have the introduction of a devious KGB agent.
And there you have it. Real American Heroes. Deadly, conniving, Commie Scum. Patriotism. Jingoism. Robust action. Purple Prose. Machismo. Wait, was that an eagle I just heard?
If you want a real blast from the past; easy, brainless action that you could probably finish in an afternoon, track down one of these books.
Cover:
Do I really need to say any more about that cover?
The Terminator by Shaun Hutson. Originally published by Star, 1984. Approx. 165pgs.
One novelization that has definitely been on my radar this year is for The Terminator. I mean, this movie remains iconic, even over thirty years after its initial release. So, the curiosity surrounding how the novel turned out is quite high. I knew that Randall Frakes had done the novel work, and also that this book runs very high in the secondary market (lowest prices rarely fall below $30). However, I didn't realize until perusing some blogs lately that The Terminator actually had two novelizations. Indeed, it turns out that the Frakes book is actually the second one released; the first being penned by British author Shaun Hutson, best known for spinner-rack horror novels (as well as WWII books and some Westerns). Better yet, it is the more affordable of the two (I snagged this copy for about $6, after shipping), and most reviews of it were positive. So, I got a copy and tore right through it. How was it? Read on...
As with other novelizations, we have no idea what version of the script the author had to work with, or if anybody had already been cast. I will say this; Hutson's novel adheres very closely to the finished movie. Also, the characters are described well enough to assign the actors too (especially Traxler). There are some minor differences in background characters, and certain locations have different names as well (sadly, Tech Noir is known as Stoker's in the novel).
Now, knowing that the novel plays out very close to the movie, what then is the draw of reading the novel? It all falls on the writing style of the author. I was not familiar with Hutson prior to this novel, and I was interested to see how a horror specialist would handle this story, which actually does have some horror elements in it (I can remember being pretty scared of the Terminator skeleton as a 10 year old back in '84). Here's the thing: Hutson has a really sharp, detailed writing style that moves at a brisk pace. He is very descriptive, and shrewd enough to focus on the details that matter. Case in point; when describing a rainstorm that breaks a few days of continuous L.A. heat, he also describes how that torrential downpour - something that should be a welcome respite - actually releases all the saturated stench of the City. Growing up in a major city, in the same time period, this gave me PTSD-level flashbacks. He also employs a kind of colloquial, conversational tone as well. For example, when discussing some of the food at the restaurant Sarah works at, he outright calls it "junk". It might seem like poor or puerile writing, but believe me, when you are flipping the pages, it is all part of the flow. You don't always have to use lofty terms such as "gastrointestinal abomination"; sometimes junk is just junk. Writing is about picking the right word at the right time.
The real area in which Hutson's extremely descriptive style yields noticeable dividends is when he is talking about wounds and injuries. It may be his horror chops flexing, but the man can write some serious gore. The shooting scenes from the movie are rendered here in such a realistic manner that you can almost see, feel, and even smell it. Even the scene where the Terminator is removing his damaged organic eye; the way Hutson describes it, it makes you wince, even though you know the Terminator doesn't register pain.
Also, the few sex scenes in the book are nicely squishy, and slightly over-broiled. I'm sure this was a nice draw for young male readers back in the 80's.
I mentioned before that the novel and the movie follow pretty much the same track. However, as with most novelizations, there are scenes in the book which offer more detail than what we saw on the big screen, and there are some additional scenes as well. One plus is that in the book we get more of Traxler and Vulkovich, who were always a great team. We also get to see the scene of the second Sarah Connor's murder, and there is also a moment where we realize that destroying Cyberdine was something that Sarah was contemplating from the beginning.
There really isn't anything that I can say as a negative regarding this novelization. I mean, it tells the story we all know and love, and it gives us some fresh takes on it, all slathered in gory gobbets. I will say this; I got my copy from a UK seller. So, there are some "British" variations on words here: dumpsters are garbage skips, apartments are flats, and speedometers are just called speedos (which gets weird, since there are numerous car chases, and when Kyle Reese "looks down at his speedo", you suddenly have a vision of him sitting there in a bathing suit). Also, Hutson has a tendency to use the term "precious seconds" very often. Car hitting a bump while speeding? It'll fly for "precious seconds". Terminator aiming a gun at your head? He'll be zeroing in for "precious seconds".
Oh, and the character is referred to as "Terminator". Not "The Terminator". "Terminator". It takes a little bit to get used to.
And, lastly, Arnie's iconic line is slightly different here. Be forewarned.
All in all, this is an excellent novelization, and it won't cost you your retirement fund to own. Hopefully, I can get a copy of Frake's version sometime this year and do a comparison.
Cover:
The cover of the novel is simply the movie poster. Given that this is one of the greatest, most iconic posters of all time (hell, I still want a pair of Gargoyles), it's a winner.
The Thing by Alan Dean Foster. Originally published by Bantam Books, June 1982. Approx. 250 pages.
What is it that captivates us about movie novelizations? Is it the potential of "finding out what happens" before all the other rubes waiting for the release of a movie? Is it the promise of some additional character background detail; expository nuggets that perhaps were not truly fleshed out in the film? Growing up in the late 70's and early 80's, before Wikipedia and Director's Cuts, these were legitimate draws. Heck, a movie novelization was often the only way to "re-watch" a movie if your family didn't have a VCR yet.
It's fairly safe to say that the heyday of the movie novelization has passed. They still exist, but their cultural significance is somewhat diminished. Video game novelizations, on the other hand, seem to be enjoying a robust market/audience.
The myriad novelizations of my youth run the gamut in quality. There are gems, and there are ones that pretty much put the draft of the script into paragraph form.
One thing is for sure, however. No discussion of movie novelizations will go long without mention of Alan Dean Foster; the man regarded as the best and most prolific in the genre.
I have no idea how much information is given to an author in advance; how many specifics or details on characters, places, etc. I will say this, though: ADF always turns in consistently detailed, vibrant settings in his works.
With the movie novelization diatribe done (I think I am going to try and revisit some classic ones this year), let's look at ADF's novelization of The Thing.
Well, before I get started, I need to clarify...does anyone need a plot synopsis for this? I mean, is there anyone left who hasn't seen this science-fiction classic? If not, go do so now, then come back and we'll discuss how this novel stands as both an independent work and as a companion piece.
Plot similarities and differences:
The core structure of both the movie and the novel are the same for the most part (bearing in mind that this is the novelization of a movie that is a remake of a movie that was a novella adaptation). If I remember correctly, the novelization is drawn from the second draft of the movie script; so while there are structural similarities, the spiritual essence is different (seeing the evolution of script drafts to final film gives you a good perspective of just how talented a filmmaker Carpenter is).
Some scenes from the film are not present in the book: I am assuming that they spawned from the collaborative process between Carpenter and Bottin.
Also, there are scenes present in the book which did not make it to the final film: most notably the "dog chase" scene (no, not the opening scene with the helicopter pursuing the "dog-thing"), and the suicide of one of the team members (giving the novel a distinctly 80's "splatter scene"). The dog chase scene is a good one, to be sure, however it has the distinct feel of a traditional Hollywood action scene. I can see where this might have been omitted for either being too costly a scene, not necessary to the overall plot, or both.
Other than that, the ending is fairly different. The location of the finale takes place in a different part of the compound, and the final moments themselves, well, I think they end on a most "positive" (not necessarily upbeat) note. It is slightly open-ended, but with a kind of salvation in sight; unlike the nihilistic, bleakly ambiguous ending of the movie.
Characters:
So, what information does a movie novelist usually get beforehand? I've seen some movie scripts, and I remember they might have a short paragraph description of each character as they are introduced. Is that all the novelists get? Do they get additional notes?
Well, to be honest, it's kind of difficult to reconcile the characters in the book to those in the movie. I mean, they weren't cast yet, so that's that. And it is a testimonial to what was some of the best ensemble acting that we've seen in cinematic history.
The problem is that these characters are hard to identify overall. And, again, I'm guessing that ADF didn't have a surplus of detail heading into this task.
I was going to gripe a bit about how lead character R.J. MacReady gets the thinnest characterization of all. He's fairly withdrawn, as in the movie. The best scenes in the book show hints at some mental trauma carried over from a stint in Vietnam. I was going to say how a little exposition would have enriched the depiction, but then I remembered - in the 80's, we all knew someone who had been messed up by the events in 'Nam. Usually, it was enough of an explanation just to say that someone had "seen some shit over there", and that was sufficient. Taking that into consideration, it remedies any complaints about the characterization.
My remaining complaint is that Childs is not the formidable figure that he is in the movie. Well, a lot of that has to do with the irrefutable coolness of Keith David, but a major part of the climax of the story is the "chess match" between MacReady and Childs. If they can't be seen as equals, it's all for naught.
Other than that, there are slight differences, but you can attach the faces from the movie, and it'll help a bit. Palmer is presented in the book as a more youthful grease monkey than the burned out stoner in the film, and the Clark we get makes you really appreciate all that Richard Masur put into his role.
Interestingly, the character of Windows is called "Sanders" here. This is funny, because it was originally supposed to be "Sanchez", and the character still speaks Spanish at points in the book.
Setting:
The one aspect where the book trumps the movie. Rule One in ADF's novelization playbook: make the setting come alive. Go back and read any of his novelizations. They usually start with an in-depth description of the scenery. Bringing the area to life will help draw the reader in.
I wonder how much research, how many phone calls and interviews back in the pre-internet age he had to undergo to compile what comes off as a very accurate description of living and working at an Antarctic outpost. The tools and machinery, the day to day protocols involving everything; even seemingly mundane but actually critical details like dressing properly to step outside.
Remember, in the movie, the team members are stepping outside in shirts, hatless, etc. I get it; we need to see the actors to recognize them. However, they are dressing lighter than we do for Upstate New York winters, and it doesn't add up.
In the book, the full ramifications of the environment are recognized - the unforgiving, killing cold, the months of impending darkness as winter sets in, the feeling of total and utter isolation as no help can be reached. The movie plays well on the distrust of the team members; the book utilizes the isolation and claustrophobia to a better extent.
The creature:
Well, there's no way the book was winning this one. The effects that Rob Bottin brought to the table in the film version are incomparable. He is a genius in his field, and The Thing is his magnum opus (with his effects for Legend coming in second). Again, what tools ADF had to work with, we'll never know. He does indeed create a quite formidable creature for the book; playing off the terrifying screeches and bizarre transformation effects. Also, ADF demonstrates the formidable physical power of the Thing, further making the dog chase scene a helpful addition to the book.
As a comparison to the movie monster effects, it's a no-brainer. But, if you evaluate this as a creature that features in a book randomly picked off of a shelf, it's not too shabby.
Final thoughts:
I always knew this was going to be a tough one to give an unbiased review for. When you consider the movie, there are so many elements that elevate it to the masterpiece level - and you really can't rank them. You are nowhere without Carpenter's direction, Bottin's vision, the ensemble acting, Morricone's score (again with Carpenter), and Lancaster's script. That Foster could churn out a novelization of this caliber from what we assume are a script draft, some notes, and maybe some sketches is pretty amazing.
The Thing: the movie novelization works as a companion piece to the movie. Not exactly "separate but equal"; it is both similar and different in equal amounts. It excels as a novelization. It works as a standalone sci-fi/horror title, albeit one with fairly thin characterizations. It even surpasses Peter Watts' annoyingly pretentious short story "The Things".
If you are a huge fan of the movie, or a movie novelization fetishist, this title is a must have. Be aware, the costs in the secondary market run fairly high.
Final Score: 8/10
Cover Score:
Plenty of covers abound for the novelization. This one is what it is. It's creepy, it's desolate, it works.
The Hunting Season by John Coyne. Originally published by Macmillan Books, January 1987. Approx. 245 pages.
Originally released in 1987, The Hunting Season is a horror novel by blog favorite John Coyne which focuses on what I believe to be one of the more fertile horror sub-genres - inbred backwoods maniacs (see Deliverance, The Hills Have Eyes, Jack Ketchum's Offseason, its sequels, and more). It centers on a young woman named April Benard; widowed at the opening of the novel, now remarried and looking to turn a house in the Catskills into a base of operations for a career-defining anthropological study.
After losing her husband in a horrific car accident, and with a newborn son depending on her, April needs to find a way to take charge of her life. Four years later, it looks like all of her ducks are finally in a row: she is newly married to a powerful lawyer, her career as an anthropology teacher is thriving, and best of all, she has her sights set on a career-advancing opportunity.
In her anthropological studies, April has learned of an insular society located in Upstate New York's Catskills Mountains; a community of inbreds that have been, for lack of a better term, "recycling" their genetic stock via consanguineous breeding for a term dating back to the late 1700's, when Dutch settlers first began mixing with the indigenous Indians of the area. Little to no extensive research has been done on this group, colloquially referred to as "Pumpkinheads" due to their bizarre appearances; deformities spurred by debilitating cacogenic reproductive practices. Her desire is to research, interview, and study these people; and eventually get her findings published.
As luck would have it, near this pocket of freakish folk is a region popular with NYC residents for buying summer homes, antiquing, and enjoying the country life outside of the concrete jungle. When an attractive property appears on the market, April persuades her husband Marshall to buy it, and she prepares a summer of intensive research.
Of course, soon after they move in, things do not go as smoothly as possible. Part of the plan included family bonding time, but Marshall finds himself pulled away and tied up in court cases, leaving April alone in an unfamiliar area, and contending not only with her own son, but with Marshall's teen daughter, who has thus far been resistant to accepting her new stepmother.
Then there is also the issue of the on-premises caretaker, Luke Grange. A by-product of the local incestuous stock who has evaded the myriad deformities of his peers, he possesses model looks, an insightful mind, and a moral obligation to his "people". His intentions seem good, but straightforward, honest answers are not always forthcoming from him. He is also filling April's son Timmy's head with frightening legends and local lore, making him believe that he is seeing monsters scampering around on the property at night.
Or, are those actually really there?
Worst of all, Luke's presence is cultivating some considerable sexual tension; not only with April, but pointedly with Marshall's daughter Greta. 14 is old enough to get married among Luke's people. What are his actual intentions in regards to her? Luke already enjoys infamy among the NYC vacationers, who casually indulge in some hedonism while in their summer retreats.
And, there are the pumpkin-heads. They turn out to be more horrifying in appearance than even April had imagined, and there is a palpable sense of danger regarding some of them.
As the summer progresses, the relationship between Marshall and April becomes increasingly strained, exacerbated by his frequent absences. Unable to connect fully with her fellow City vacationers, and growing more and more frightened of the pumpkin-heads, April begins to feel trapped in what was supposed to be her dream home.
But, just when you think that things can't get any worse, they do. Just as it seems April cannot feel more unsafe in her new home, a spate of brutal killings begins. Will April even be able to escape with her children?
I will mention now that there may be some SPOILERS coming. Nothing more than is mentioned on the blurbs and praises on the edition I read, but I just want to be forthcoming. That being said, let's talk about what works in The Hunting Season.
In an era when many a spinner rack was filled to bursting with horror paperbacks, Coyne earned his acclaim due to being, simply put, a good author. This is one reason why he has been so adept at writing across many different genres. And, he brings these skills to bear in The Hunting Season. While part of the climax seems somewhat incongruous to the rest of the narrative (more on that later), the rest of the novel works due to the strengths of people, place, and themes.
People: John Coyne's characters are memorable and enjoyable not for being strong, or "good", but for being well-rounded, actual human beings. His lead, April, is a good person, but like all real people, she is flawed. She makes mistakes, she is presumptuous at times, she compromises her morality, she is petulant and spiteful at times, in addition to being a strong, loving, career-minded woman/wife/mother.
The entire supporting cast is populated with an solid mix of well-rounded characters as well.
Place: All the times that I read Hobgoblin growing up, it always struck me how rich the Upstate locales seemed. It wasn't until I actually moved to Upstate New York that I realized how authentic the descriptions were. This is in play here, as well. The scenes in NYC ring with such an authenticity it is like I was seeing the City of my youth over the span of a few pages. It is not just about name-dropping a few street and store names. It is about capturing the legitimate, tentative trepidation that a young woman in the City in the 80's would feel before going on the subway. It is not just about knowing to stop at Zabar's on the weekend, but that to get the best bike, you needed to head up to the East Side.
The scenes in the Catskills are richly and beautifully rendered as well, with strong attention paid to the local flora and fauna. Coyne writes with an observer's eye put to fluid prose.
Themes: There are some interesting themes abound in The Hunting Season, and Coyne does his fans a great service by not ramming them down our throats. But they are always lurking uncomfortably, just out of sight. One central theme that runs throughout is the difference in class structure. There is a certain, mutually parasitic arrangement between vacationers and the locals in vacation areas. This is normal, and universal. But it is a little more glaring in this New York community. As Coyne mentions in the book, these areas were already declining, with the industries that defined them leaving them. I live in one of these areas now, and it is not a pretty sight. So, perhaps it is a bit egotistical for out-of-area benefactors to come in and expect to be regarded as "better" simply because they have the advantage of disposable income. To be fair, however, the locals can be equally haughty in believing that they have should be respected simply for having the birthright in the area. This comes to the fore in one scene that takes place at an estate auction; while the city folk look down their noses at the "local yokels", the area people turn up their noses at flighty city folk treating their local treasures as novelties. The smartest man in the whole place finally observes that he can use their (the city vacationers) money to get a new pickup truck, and better his life. Again, the themes aren't hammered home; they play out at their own speed, because they are necessary, and because they occur. The moral of the story is that just because two kinds of people can find themselves in the same vicinity, exchanging goods and moneys, it doesn't mean that they like each other.
Finally, we need to mention the fear factor aspect of this horror novel. I'll admit, it is hard to cobble together a visual representation of the pumpkin-heads from the cues that Coyne gives us; they truly are a frightening amalgamation of stunted odds and ends. To be honest, I took some inspiration from the locals around me; I swear that there is some hint of the same kind of inbreeding going on in these parts. A common local trait is a big, round head (like a pumpkin), with very close-set, circular eyes, and a pointy, beak nose. I just reverse engineered this, made them darker (for the Indian admixture), wrinklier, and more stunted in the limbs department, and, voila! Good old fashioned nightmare fuel.
And it is the best, and most frightening, scenes in the story that see these people skulking around. That's the allure of this niche genre, right? Monsters among us.
I can see some people having an issue with the climax of the book, however. Coyne kicks the happenings into overdrive with the initiation of the killing spree (again, not really a spoiler, it's mentioned on the jacket). Perhaps it's because "slasher" isn't really my thing. Don't get me wrong; the violence, as always, is beautifully written. Coyne does not simply paint the walls red arbitrarily. He stages horrific acts of violence with a poetic grace. And when those horrid pumpkin-heads are involved in the killing, the book really feels like a horror tome again.
So there you have it. The Hunting Season is a solid horror title, filled with fully fleshed-out characters, realistic scenery, tense, scary moments, and some jarring violence. The finale might have fit better in a story that was a dedicated stalker/slasher title from start to finish, but it still makes for a blood-soaked climax.
Final Score: 8.5/10
Cover Score:
Pretty standard fare. A glimpse of the Benard farmhouse as seen from the woods. There is an odd, ghostly head floating above the residence, and two pudgy looking figures ambling towards it. It doesn't really convey terror. A glimpse of a sinister pumpkin-head skulking in the trees would have helped immensely. And I can't really figure out the point of the stylizing on the "S" in Season. It's more distracting than enriching.
No, this isn’t a Halloween novel with Ghosts, Vampires, and Witches. This is a murder mystery, with bodies everywhere. From Connecticut, where young Scott attended Spencertown Academy to Flat Rock, a rural high school in Crossroads, New York. Scott and his beautiful Mom Barbara have moved south after his father Warren dies of a heart attack. The mystery just gets started as Barbara takes on the position of Historian for a medieval castle known as Ballycastle. Built by wealthy Irishman Fergus O’Cuileannain, who is a rather weird individual, cared for by another Irish Serf named Conor Fitzpatrick. Conor resembles a fast walking Hobbit always carrying on in his Irish Gaelic.
What a setting. Ballycastle is three hours from New York City and built in the 1930’s. Young 16 year old Scott is a master player as his classmates would shout, and his Hobgoblin game piece Brian Borù unstoppable. Brian Borù, a twenty-five level paladin, who had played dozens of adventures in the ancient land of Erin of long ago. The adventure of Hobgoblin is Scott’s life.
Yet when he and his Mom move to Ballycastle, he continues to live out the spirit of the Celtic knight and plans for more battles that Brian Borù could face and win . . . he is Brian Borù himself. Scott’s new and only friend at Flat Rock High is leggy Valerie. She is strong and stands up for her point of view, at times challenging Scott. And sometimes he takes on the Football Neanderthals like, Nick and Hank, who seem to be threatened by anyone with an IQ over 90.
The plot thickens and yes, Halloween is around the corner. Barbara begins to uncover strange events in Ballycastle’s past, where several very young women die within a year upon arriving at Ballycastle. There is even a small cemetery where the young Irish women, some as young as 16, were buried. And the “deathly departed” Fergus O’Cuileannain appears as the Black Annis out of the Celtic past.
I found that I could not put this book down, and later found myself having strange dreams of the little folks that make up Irish tales . . . one great and very special move into a murder mystery from a Celtic game board to a medieval castle in New York. Can’t say more or I give the ending away . . . check the body bags as events begin to roll."
Very nice synopsis there.
I recently got my copy of the new edition as well. All I have to say about it can be summed up in the picture below:
It's beautiful, and it looks very handsome on a shelf. My only complaint is that Dover isn't offering a hardback in the same size as well.
So anyway, if you are looking for a great last minute Christmas gift for the book lover in your life; especially someone that loves horror, 80's tales, RPG stories, or even fantasy lovers, get a copy of this new edition. And get one for yourself too.
It is very rare these days that a snippet of news gets me truly excited. You know, those announcements that stoke a new excitement, or tap a nostalgic vein and yank you forcefully down memory lane. On a recent saunter through some familiar sites, I spotted one such example.
I think I made it abundantly clear in my review of it how much I love John Coyne's 1981 fantasy role-playing inspired horror yarn Hobgoblin. If you haven't read my review yet, please give it a look here.
Well, on a visit to John Coyne's website (where my review is generously linked), I saw the news: Dover Publications is repubshing Hobgoblin, to be released on November 18th! Check out the great new cover:
Isn't that neat? I mean, I love the cover on my old copy, but this really taps into the influences of Celtic Mythology that is utilized in the book.
You can pre-order the new edition of Hobgoblin on Amazon here.
Hobgoblin by John Coyne. Published July 1982 by Berkley Books. 342 pages.
So last night I finished my long-overdue reread of John Coyne's fantasy-horror yarn Hobgoblin, and I will say right now that some aspects of my review will be tainted as it is a work viewed through nostalgia-colored glasses. This compact little terror tale has been present on a bookshelf in my home for the better part of three decades. Being a child of the 80's, as well as being someone raised on Dungeons and Dragons, a lot of the elements incorporated into the framework of the story resonated with me on a personal level. To the casual reader, today, some of the ideas, dialogue, etc., might seem corny and dated. Hopefully this same reader can put aside these biases and enjoy this well-written story.
Before we get into the review, let's take a peek at the description on the back, shall we?
Scott Gardiner is weird.
He thinks the monsters in his fantasy game are real.
He thinks he sees Hobgoblins at the castle where his mother works.
He thinks his girl friend is being stalked by the Black Annis because of what happened to her in the graveyard.
He thinks his high school is filled with blood-spewing Gorfs and flesh-hungry Groundbats from the darkness of Irish legend.
Scott Gardiner is right.
So he's throwing the biggest party of the year.
On Hallowe'en.
Reading this, as well as the (blatantly false) claims on the front:
The Dungeons are real.
The Dragons are real.
The Terror is here.
you might think that what you are getting is a sensationalist tale (like Rona Jaffe's Mazes & Monsters) playing on parental fears of their child becoming the next James Dallas Egbert.
Point blank; that's not what Hobgoblin is. At all. Back in the early 80's, there was fear born of urban legend, and apparently the opinion of someone's psychiatrist, that some of the introverted youngsters playing these RPG's would become so emotionally invested in them that their already fragile grasp on reality would snap and they would be rendered unable to separate reality from a fantasy world filled with goblins and bugbears. And people fell for this (then again these same people also believed that D&D was promoting devil worship due to the appearance of devils and demons in the original AD&D Monster Manual). And luckily, those same people were punished for their gullibility, in the form of a Mazes & Monsters TV movie 'starring' a young, desperate for cash Tom Hanks:
Not exactly Dr. Langdon's finest hour, but it serves him right.
We've had Dungeons and Dragons, and Mazes & Monsters, so what exactly is Hobgoblin (the game)? Actually, Hobgoblin was pretty ahead of its time. The fictional game that Coyne crafts for the novel incorporates three types of fantasy gaming; the "role-playing" aspect of D&D, the "card" aspect of games like Magic, and a "board" akin to Games Workshop offerings (yes, the use of figurines was huge in D&D, but using an actual crafted diorama to represent scale and events was more in line with British counterparts). Coyne also injects welcome authenticity by basing the lore of the Hobgoblin world on Irish mythology. A hack author might have been tempted to just insert 'made-up' names to pad out their D&D clones, giving us creatures with ludicrous names like "fecalite". By using established lore, Coyne makes Hobgoblin feel like a game whose supplements you would snatch right off the wall at The Compleat Strategist, as well as giving us a primer of some intriguing Celtic mythology.
Now, on to the book. Finally....
In Hobgoblin, we are presented with young Scott Gardiner. Scott is not exactly, as the back cover puts it, 'weird', but he does fit the 80's RPG'er template to a tee. He is introverted, repressive, awkward (especially regarding the fairer sex). He is a high-functioning student. Of course he wears glasses. So yes, the stereotypical gamer. But, stereotypes don't become stereotypes without an impressive track record of accuracy, and, on his appearance, Scott fits the bill. Many readers might find it difficult to sympathize and/or even like Scott. Tell the truth, it's kind of hard to warm up to him. He's not a gregarious kid, he's often sullen and even a bit boorish. But Scott Gardiner isn't mean, or vindictive. And actually, he has some good reasons to be withdrawn.
Early on in the book, Scott's father dies suddenly from a heart attack. At roughly the same time, away at his prep school, Scott's nearly invincible Hobgoblin character, legendary paladin Brian Ború, is slain in combat. In the fallout of these two soul-crushing events, Scott and his mother, Barbara, have to move, and find themselves in Upstate New York. This gives Scott an extra helping of stress, as he has to re-acclimate to a new environment and new people. And, honestly, being a resident of Upstate New York for the past three years, I can totally understand the horror he must have felt. Barbara Gardiner lands a job at an old Irish castle, Ballycastle, which was built (actually brought from Ireland stone by stone) by the Gatsby-esque Fergus O'Cuileannain, an Irish tycoon that died young and left a fortune in a Trust. As ominous and foreboding as the castle and the surrounding grounds are, Barbara is smart enough to realize that there is only so far a woman in the 80's can go with an art history degree (exactly the same distance that it goes in 2013).
The medieval Ballycastle serves as ample fuel for Scott's Hobgoblin fantasies, as does Conor Fitzpatrick, the sole holdover employee from O'Cuileannain's days, who gifts Scott with traditional Irish weaponry and regales him with tales of mythology of the Eire. This worries Barbara. She knows how impressionable Scott is. She knows he is dressing up and pretending to be Brian Ború. And she knows just how dangerous these tendencies can be.
In all fairness, she may be on to something....
Meanwhile, Scott is having trouble fitting in at his new school. The rural folk of Flat Rock are a far cry from the scions of money families that he was used to back at Spencertown Academy. Worst of all, he has become the center of attention for two malicious football players, Nick Borgus and Hank Simpson. Their level of bullying would be trying on even the strongest of souls, so Scott's misery is understandable.
And yet, things are not all bad. A lovely young lady, Valerie Dunn, has taken a liking to Mr. Gardiner. She can see the good behind the standoffish exterior. Unfortunately for both of them, their burgeoning relationship has caught both the attention and ire of Borgus and Simpson.
Love is also in the air for Barbara Gardiner. The young widow finds another chance at love developing with her boss, Derek Brennan, the executive director at Ballycastle. This poses a problem for her, though. Already facing difficulties communicating with her quiet son, what is perceived as bringing in a 'replacement' for his dead father only makes things worse.
Now, Hobgoblin would have been just fine as being a study in these peoples' lives; watching as they learn to cope with loss and learn to live again. But this isn't a character study; it's a horror novel. And after an opening act where we meet everyone, strange things start happening.
There are weird things going on at Ballycastle. And they aren't only in Scott's head. There is some kind of creature roaming the grounds. It tried to break into the house when Barbara was alone; it comes into the house when Scott and Valerie are spending time together, and, worst of all, it attacks Valerie when she is alone in Ballycastle's extremely creepy graveyard. All three also can agree that this being loping through the forest bears a resemblance to the Black Annis, another creature from the Hobgoblin game, and one of the more frightening nightmares of Irish lore:
Exactly what you want to be visited by while you are making out with your girlfriend.
While this is going on, Barbara is busy trying to get to the bottom of some mysterious happenings in Ballycastle's past. That same graveyard mentioned earlier is not only the resting place of Fergus O'Cuileannain, but also the burial grounds for a slew of young Irish girls that had died in his employ, poor girls that had been brought over from the old country and had passed in the prime of their youth. Will uncovering the truth behind their deaths endanger the future of the estate's Trust, or are the stakes actually much, much higher?
In an attempt to integrate Scott into Flat Rock life, and warm the students to him and his Hobgoblin-y ways, it is agreed for an upcoming school dance to be held at Ballycastle, where the event will be a dance/Hobgoblin-LARP hybrid. Here, Scott will finally come face to face with the truth, with reality, and with himself.
Coyne has created a work that boasts solid prose and remains gripping from beginning to end. This is no small praise; horror novels were a dime a dozen at the time, and most were spat out by third rate hacks. Many of these novels might feature decent writing in one facet of the story, like in the details of violence, or sexual situations, etc. Coyne, however, presents descriptive scenery, believable (even if at times unlikable) characters, and jarring scenes of violence. He is a solid writer of other horror works (The Legacy, The Searing, The Piercing) who is still going strong thirty years later, now writing about another of his passions, golf. I can say assuredly that I will be tracking down more of his horror work.
Coyne structures each chapter around Scott and Barbara, as the encounter situations that are not directly related, but essentially similar. As the story evolves, we watch as they both struggle with their 'new lives'. Scott's troubles have already been covered; but it bears remembering that Barbara is starting over as well. She had married young, and her deceased husband was a powerful, successful man that she was content and secure in following. Now she has a chance to solidify a career on her own, and re-discover romance with a man who is happy to walk alongside her, not just lead the way. By the end of the tale, we can see that Scott and his mother are actually very similar people, making all of their past estrangement unnecessary.
While I personally have no complaints about Hobgoblin, I can understand some readers having an issue with the final act. What Hobgoblin becomes in the end is not a psychological thriller, or a supernatural tale, but rather straight up slasher fiction. I mean, there are implausible scenarios throughout the tale (or maybe not, from what I've seen up here the levels of bullying and sexual harassment portrayed in the high schools might be spot on), but the ending goes pretty balls to the wall. It's handled nicely though.
Final thoughts:
Books like Hobgoblin and Mazes & Monsters caught some flak back in the day for being condescending and dismissive towards RPG's and their players. They seemed to associate salvation with 'growing up' and giving up on playing. Well, maybe that's true for M&M, but not so much here. Scott Gardiner is not at risk of getting lost in a steam tunnel, or in a mentally reclusive fantasy world. He is, however, a kid who is going through some tough times, and ends up a little overly-invested in a game that offers a little more fun that reality. Haven't we all felt that way about something, sometime?
Here's what it is:
Bar none, the authoritative "D&D Panic" novel. A masterful slasher-film in book form, that stands strong three decades after it was unleashed on the world.
Some sexual situations, so a little intense even for young adults.
Final Score: 93/100
Cover Score:
Ah the 80's. Epic VHS covers. Epic book covers. This one is no different. A two-page cover flap design, you can see the outer cover above, with what appears to be Scott trapped in a dungeon behind a portcullis gate (presumably showing how he feels in the 'real world'). Open the first flap and you see....
A beautifully done, vibrantly colorful rendition of Scott doing battle with some of the creatures from the Hobgoblin world. They really don't make stuff like this anymore. Sadly.
HachiSnax Note: As it is taking a bit longer than expected to finish up Double Eagle, I am re-posting another old review. Today's is for Armor, by John Steakley. This is a book that always seems on the periphery when people discuss military sci-fi classics, but there is some great stuff in here. Alas, Armor 2 will never see the light of day in its entirety, as Mr. Steakley passed away on November 27th, 2010. I posted this review originally on August 18th, 2010, and I hope you like it. Maybe one day I can get a chance to read Vampire$ and put up a review on that as well. Cheers, Hach.
Armor, by John Steakley. Originally published 1984. Approx. 432 pages.
Armor, by John Steakley. Originally published 1984. Approx. 432 pages.
Armor
Armor was the second book read this year, after the W40K pulpy masterpiece Gunheads.
When you are looking for good military SF to read, certain names and books invariably pop up. Orson Scott Card's Ender Books, Heinlen's Starship Troopers, Haldeman's Forever War, Scalzi, Weber, Drake, Abnett, Zahn, etc. And sure enough, if you check any Amazon Listmania! list of Military SF, you'll see a little book called Armor by John Steakley. Read some of the reviews, you see some serious accolades, a few claiming 'overhyped', and, a few "eh"'s. Some people claim that that battlefield depictions are the most realistic they've ever read. Let's see what all the hype and hate is about.
Steakley is a good writer, no doubt about it. He only has two published books, Armor and Vampire$, upon which the supposedly shitty John Carpenter's Vampires movie was based. Also, Armor 2 is rumored to be in the works.
Armor is primarily billed as the story of Felix, a talented grunt in Earth's battle against 2-meter tall ant-like aliens named, creatively, Ants. Be forewarned, the book actually has two completely separate storylines, with two protagonists as different as night and day, linked by one suit of armor. More on that later. As it is, Armor is broken down into 4 basic parts; the first records of Felix, our introduction to Jack Crow, the last records of Felix, and Jack Crow's stand to defend Sanction.
Sorry, can't complete this review without some spoilers. I'll try to keep it minimal.
Armor opens with Felix, a seemingly typical grunt, preparing for his first 'jump' onto a hostile, Ant-infested planet called Banshee. Banshee is named so for it's howling winds, poisonous, frigid atmosphere, and acidic waters. Not a nice place to say the least. Earth soldiers going into battle go wearing battle armor, with formidable blaster, high explosive grenades and an additional, nasty, last-resort goody. Felix has apparently performed so well in tests that his superiors want to put him on officer duty. When he declines, they stick him with an even more dangerous duty, that of a scout; a lightly armored, recon unit. (Personally, I imagined the battle armor as looking like Halo armor, and the black scout armor as looking like Dr. Calico's henchmen in the movie Bolt). When the soldiers land, there is of course more resistance than they expected. At times Felix finds himself alone, other times, he finds himself the most capable of his peers.
At all times, during battle, Felix, who normally appears apathetic about the war's cause and his life in general, allows his natural skills and instincts to take over. All independent thought stops, as he terms it, the "Engine" takes over. This engine mode carries him through the first jump, and all the subesequent jumps. Even though all laws of probability dictate he should die, he keeps surviving jump after jump, sustaining broken limbs, getting patched up and sent right back out.
Through this all, Steakley's prose shines. You feel like you are running behind Felix, desperately trying to find safety, not knowing where the next group of Ants will appear from, knowing that even if you survive you are still just a battlefield commodity to your superiors. Honestly, it's mentally exhausting.
Part 2 of Armor introduces us to Jack Crow, a smooth pirate rogue type. Actually, he's what Han Solo would have been if George Lucas could write worth a damn. Jack's portions of the book are written in first person, and he is a clever, funny, interesting character. So just prepare yourself as a reader, since it's such a jolting 180 fromthe tone of the first part. We meet Jack as he is breaking out of a prison mining planet. Aiding his escape is the notorious space pirate Borglyn, who 'insists' on Jack's help with a mission. Borglyn's ship is in the vicinity of a privately-owned planet called Sanction, which the military finances and runs a research center, as well as providing living facilities for refugees. Jack is to go to Sanction, meet Borglyn's contacts, made buddy-buddy with the military folk so that he can lower the shields for Borglyn to gas up and go.
As payment for his help, Borglyn gives Jack an abandoned ship he found, as well as some cash. On the ship however, Jack finds a suit of black scout armor, which he gives to the head military scientist, Holly, as he works to make buddy-buddy. Holly becomes obsessed with finding the secrets of this armor, and finally, he finds a way to link himself, his girlfriend, and Jack into the armor's archives. It should be a surprise to no one that this was once indeed Felix's armor.
This brings us to part 3, which shoots us back to Banshee and Felix. The Earth forces are getting confident now, and have gone so far as to create a bunker type base of operations on Banshee. Also, a ghost from Felix's past arrives, and we finally learn his backstory. In the end, overconfidence on the part of the Earth Forces and a crop of new recruits and scientists start poking around in places they shouldn't touch, and guess what happens. Part 3 ends as Felix's suit recording ends.
Part 4 brings us back to Sanction. Jack & Co. are understandably psychologically numb, they've been living Felix's memories through the suit. It affects every facet of their day to day lives. Finally, in the end, Jack has to help resolve issues with Borglyn, who is still hovering outside of Sanction with his plans. All the loose ends are wrapped up nice and tidy, and concluding with a few of the corniest lines I have ever seen in print.
But is it good? Yes, well, part by part, I'd say it's great, very good, very good and good.
Criticisms: Felix's backstory, first and foremost. The man you are reading about in part one is someone you can relate to. You feel his pain, his fear, his hesitance to connect to others, the notion that instinct takes over in horrid situations. After they shoehorn his backstory in, it turns him from a sympathetic character into an action figure. Big fumble. Second, the edition I got has a lot of typos, so not Steakley's fault, it's just annoying. Plus, if you like extensive backgrounds and explanations, look elsewhere. When they say the lakes on Banshee are acid, that's it. No reason, no contributing factors, nada. That's acid, don't swim there.
Overall: Like I said before, Steakley can write. The verbal exchanges are believable never corny or forced. People are flawed and fucked-up. They are scared, insecure, just like real people in wartime. Jack Crow is a hoot. Over the course of the book, his personal regard for different characters changes, and Steakley keeps his perspective constant. It just works. Like most said, a better ending would've been nice. Actually, I think the ending worked, except for the last few lines. You decide for yourself.
Armor. One suit of armor unites two different story threads.
For what it is: 3.5 out of 5 stars ***1/2
Here's what it is: The military sci-fi book that coulda' been a contender. If only Steakley hadn't dropped the ball with Felix's history. Still a solid read with some of the most jarring battle scenes I have ever read. R.I.P. Mr. Steakley.
Final Score: 72/100
I know I am being a bit harsh with that, but the low points of Part 3, some corny dialogue, and even the typos took their toll.
The Cover:
There are at least three covers for Armor that I have seen floating around. The original fashions the suit like a medieval knight about to bash an ant. I like that one. The most recent is more stylized, and in tune with today's technique. The one I got (pictured above), was from that awkward stage when cover artists hadn't mastered drawing tough military types without making them into 'roided monstrosities. This picture of Felix looks more like Guile from Street Fighter after a few too many trips to the Chinese buffet. The suit looks more like an astronaut suit, and the gun is an ungainly beast that is even a stretch as a design for a 99-cent store water gun.
