scottneumann's review
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.25
macabregoblin's review
3.0
markyon's review
4.0
Inspired by his Paperbacks From Hell summary of the 1970’s and 80’s Horror boom, I decided to read a book that I’d had around for a while, one that was a breakthrough novel from an author who’s a “writer’s writer”.
You may not've heard of Charles L Grant before, even though he’s widely regarded by those writers “in the know”. He’s one of those authors who amassed novels and sales while getting on with the job of writing during his lifetime without too much fuss, until his death in 2006. Stephen King, on writing about Charles, said that he was a professional:
“The one thing that does (and I suppose the stories also say this, but it is worth pointing out) can be summed up in five words of one syllable, none of them longer than three letters. It doesn’t take long to write or to say, but from where I sit, those five words say about everything that needs to be said: The man was a pro.” (Stephen King, Scream Quietly, PS Publishing, 2012)
It is often from fellow writers that the plaudits appear. Charles won a World Fantasy Award for his novella collection Nightmare Seasons, a Nebula Award in 1976 for his short story "A Crowd of Shadows", and another Nebula Award in 1978 for his novella "A Glow of Candles, a Unicorn's Eye". He was also the editor of the Shadows book collections from book 1 – 10 (1978-1987).
To many though, even genre readers, his name will not be recognised – his closest brush with fame and recognition is probably the two X-Files tie-in novels he wrote, Goblins (1994) and Whirlwind (1995). (Which I read at the time they were published and thought that they were just OK.)
With The Hour of the Oxrun Dead we’re reading Charles’ work from near the start. This breakthrough novel was the imaginary setting for many of his short stories and novels. Oxrun Station is typical “little-America”, a small-town place (described in the book as “a town that’s really a small village”) that perhaps Ray Bradbury and Stephen King have passed from time to time. Like Bradbury’s Green Town or King’s Derry, there’s a lot going on beneath the deceptively placid surface. It’s rather like Peyton Place on the way to the underworld. (Fans of Buffy’s Sunnydale might recognise it too.)
This story concerns itself with near-thirty something Natalie Windsor (nee Clayton), librarian. (See, you like her already!) Her husband, policeman Ben, was killed about a year ago in a gruesome manner. Since then Natalie has been a grieving widower, constantly watched over by Ben’s brother Sam (also a policeman) and her ex-sister in law, trying to get on with her life and her job. Her work colleagues are also solicitous and generally as expected – haughty boss Adriana Hall, nosy oldster Arlene Bains and young, vivacious Miriam Burke. Now a series of other grisly deaths, and in similar ways, suggest that, even with the original killer dead, something strange is a-stirring in Oxrun…..
First thought on reading is how Stephen King-like this is. (Less informed readers may think that Oxrun Dead is a deliberate King-imitator, but it is worth remembering that by 1977, the year of publication, Charles already had published over twenty short stories and another novel, and Stephen was just releasing his third novel, The Shining. Similar style, but not copyists.)
The most-striking thing is the emphasis on prose and plot. Throughout the novel there’s a clarity of prose that is quite refreshing. Even when the writer gives description, it is eloquent without being over-florid:
“THE LIBRARY still seemed spring-new after four New England years. A red-brick rectangle, it was fronted by two-story arcs of polarized glass weekly washed and giving it a distinctly churchlike appearance. Surrounding the building were three narrow concentric aprons of white concrete that served as footpaths between wire-braced saplings of birch and willow. Four large squares of lush grass still a summer green stretched from the steps to the sidewalk and were bordered by redwood benches, today occupied by several elderly men bundled in grey and brown and playing checkers. Natalie had never understood why they didn't prefer the municipal park that began only one block further on, but she liked to believe it was the stimulation of proximity to her books. Soon enough, however, the weather would add an uncomfortable dampness to its autumn bite and like aged birds too weary for migration, the men would retreat inside to one of the reading rooms off the main lobby where the warmth more often than not would put them quickly to sleep until closing.” (Chapter 2)
“At the end of the street was a low cyclone fence topped with a double strand of barbed wire. During the growing seasons it was camouflaged by untended shrubbery and several massive willows; during fall and winter it was slightly imposing—less for its size than the clearly visible expanse of carefully mown grassland that stretched for over a hundred yards toward the newest section of the Oxrun Memorial Park. Sans moonlight, the tombstones and scatterings of ornate mausoleums were invisible, and with the sun the closest seemed only to be nothing more than sculptured boulders.” (Chapter 2)
40 years on from the book’s first publication, there are elements that may jar a modern reader. There’s no talk of mobile phones or social media and very little about computers – home computers are still a few years away. (How easy these stories would be to sort with a mobile phone and the Internet!) Instead, we get a place where newspapers are still a prime source of information, newspaper copy is typed up on a typewriter, sometimes with carbon paper, and libraries use index cards for referencing. There’s a pleasant buzz of nostalgia for older readers but it may as well be a different planet for younger readers.
On the positive side, the characterisation of Natalie and her friend Marcus (Marc) Clayton is surprisingly good, though these days may be seen as predictable. Admittedly they can tend towards the cliched, and are not there entirely for their navel-contemplating capabilities, but there’s enough there to make the reader care. Natalie, despite her issues, is not the weak-willed victim as much as the stereotype would have us believe, although it must be said that she has her moments. By turns, her long-term friend Marc is good-humoured, dependable and acts as honourably as anyone who has been holding a torch for someone for an eon does. Their dialogue is charming and realistic:
"You know," he said, hugging himself as he wandered back toward the counter, "I never did see what anyone would want with a mausoleum like this." He stared up at the darkness above the light, glanced at the shadows of books and magazines on the racks to the right of the desk. "I mean, libraries are no fun anymore. No dust, no snoring old men at the newspaper table, things like that." When he reached the counter, he picked up a portion of the printout and waved it. "See what I mean? Computers and everything. Whatever happened to that rotten old lady who wouldn't let me read anything in the adult section because it would warp my impressionable little mind?"
"You're looking at her," Natalie said mock sternly. "Only, I don't particularly think of myself as rotten."
By comparison, the bad guys (and yes, they are mainly guys) of the novel are a little less fleshed out. More of a caricature, they look and act like we expect bad guys to do, almost hissing and snarling in the shadows like pantomime villains. It’s also never really explained why the things that happen have decided at this moment to appear, although we can always blame it on Halloween, I guess.
By the end of the book it all turns a little Rosemary’s Baby, with the creepy local family, under a veneer of manners and societal moirés, dominating local society circles and clearly up to no good. After such a great set-up, the weakest part of the novel for me was the ending, which is rather abrupt. The strange events that happen to that point are not explained nor entirely resolved. It feels that there should be more, though this may be taken up in future stories in the series.
Nevertheless, despite this, The Hour of the Oxrun Dead is a pleasant surprise. The development of character and place, through the plot, up to the conclusion allows the suspense to build throughout, to the point near the end when I was reluctant to put the book down. It’s also unexpectedly subtle in parts and not the gore-fest I was rather expecting.
And, as events in the novel come to a head at Halloween, you know that I’m going to recommend this as a read for this time of year. It’s perhaps not quite the work of an Award winner – yet. But the signs are there, and it means that I’m going to hunt out more by this author. It’s taken me a while to read his work, but I’m pleased I got there. (If you can't find the paperback, there's a very cheap copy available for Kindle!)
piajensen13's review
3.0
shane's review
3.0
Wasn't a bad read.