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A review by bunnieslikediamonds
Enter, Night by Michael Rowe
2.0
I like horror, I really do. I'm not a literary snob. I don't frown upon vampires or zombies or ghouls. That said, there is a lot of awful stuff being published in the genre, and I don't get it. Genre fiction can be well-written and original, it doesn't have to be clichéd and formulaic, so why is it? Finding quality horror - or supernaturalistic fiction, or speculative fiction or whatever you want to call it - is hard. When I do find it, I'm excessively excited and grateful and keep chirping about it for anyone who'll listen. "See, it can be done! And this is how!"
I had high hopes for Enter, Night, having read some glowing reviews. It had so much potential: the 70's small town setting in rural Ontario, a couple of interesting characters and a nice, creepy atmosphere, but it all added up to nothing. Rowe tries hard to give his characters a back story and some depth, but then lets them dissolve into shrill, overblown stereotypes (the sarcastic gay man, the noble Native American, the super-evil matriarch, the lovable nerdy kid and his faithful labrador). The metaphors are heavy-handed and the dialogue clunky. Much is made of the intolerant small-town mentality and the abuse suffered by the main players, but there is no catharsis or development. No horror, either - just a campy bloodfest that made me chuckle. The vampires are comic book vamps who obediently crumble when faced with religious artefacts and wooden stakes, and go poof when touched by daylight.
Perhaps it would work better as a movie. Or a horror musical, where the kitschiness could be safely unleashed.
I had high hopes for Enter, Night, having read some glowing reviews. It had so much potential: the 70's small town setting in rural Ontario, a couple of interesting characters and a nice, creepy atmosphere, but it all added up to nothing. Rowe tries hard to give his characters a back story and some depth, but then lets them dissolve into shrill, overblown stereotypes (the sarcastic gay man, the noble Native American, the super-evil matriarch, the lovable nerdy kid and his faithful labrador). The metaphors are heavy-handed and the dialogue clunky. Much is made of the intolerant small-town mentality and the abuse suffered by the main players, but there is no catharsis or development. No horror, either - just a campy bloodfest that made me chuckle. The vampires are comic book vamps who obediently crumble when faced with religious artefacts and wooden stakes, and go poof when touched by daylight.
Perhaps it would work better as a movie. Or a horror musical, where the kitschiness could be safely unleashed.