Cody's Bookshelf

As of late, I’ve become fascinated with video recordings of the explorations of abandoned places—psych hospitals, schools, shopping malls. There is a treasure trove of this type of thing on YouTube. (Dan Bell is my favorite, check him out!) Perhaps I am a little late to that particular party, but I have arrived all the same. Like most folks, I think the mystique of locations long forgotten is a powerful one, though I am too easily scared to explore such places in real life.

Widow’s Point, the upcoming novella by Richard Chizmar and son Billy Chizmar, plays on this interest: what if an acclaimed author of thirteen books about the supernatural were to spend three nights locked in the aged, possibly haunted Widow’s Point Lighthouse? And what if he were to record in real time his findings (or lack thereof)?

Due to an early camera malfunction, a good chunk of this story is told in first-person by author Thomas Livingston — he is using his trust audio recorder. Things are fine, uneventful . . . until they’re not. In the pages leading up to dizzying, throat-clenching climax Livingston informs whoever happens to hear his recordings when all is said and done of the lighthouse’s history: the murders that have happened there, the suicides, the vanishings, the possessions. The Chizmars do an excellent job of conveying the history of this lighthouse without getting bogged down in excessive detail or needless exposition. The weight and importance of this place, these possibly cursed grounds, are quite apparent from the first.

A rich and satisfying tale, Widow’s Point is a haunted ‘house’ story that utilizes the conventions of the genre while turning them on their heads, making for a totally original, frightening, and unforgettable tale of macabre, intrigue. No doubt will I revisit this nasty little bugger in the future.

Thanks to Richard Chizmar for the ARC, which was provided in exchange for an honest review. This is it.

Though this has been on my TBR for years, I was not expecting to read it any time soon. Honestly, Rebecca never called to me. I assumed it would be a stuffy, near-insufferable romance filled with stiff, unlikable creatures. Oh, I was wrong.

This classic 1938 is a titan of the gothic genre, and rightfully so. Daphne du Maurier is quite apparently a master of mood, setting, and pacing. Not once did I want to put this down — that iconic first line (“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again...”) grabs the reader and never, ever lets go. How is it possible to make an unnamed narrator so empathetic? How is it she, Maxim de Winter’s second wife, walks in the shadow of Rebecca, his first wife, and yet stand on her own? It is no small writing skill, that.

Because art is so subjective, I am hesitant to call any book ‘perfect,’ but I believe Rebecca is as close as it gets . . . for me. I might just have a new all-time favorite novel. Really. Shame on me for not reading this sooner. Shame, shame, shame.

Stuffed with quotable lines (try the whole friggin story) and memorable characters and delightful twists, this is a classic novel that retains all its original power; in fact, it could be argued this mighty tale has only gained stature over time. My highest recommendation.

I cheated in my Stephen King chronological reread series. Desperation was up next, but... I really dislike that book, okay? I wanted to get to a King novel I love before the year’s end, so here we are.

This was my third reread of Bag of Bones; this time it hit me deeper than ever before. Now that I’m familiar with Kong’s entire oeuvre, connections big and small (Thad Beaumont gets a shoutout, there’s a scene with Ralph Roberts and Norris Ridgewick, names like Polly Chalmers and Bannerman are mentioned) stood out, deepening my enjoyment of this novel.

This is King’s grief story. Yeah, his early ‘80s works deal in grief, too, but this 1998 tome is steeped in the blues. Four years after his wife’s death, author Mike Noonan moves from Derry to their summer home in TR-90. Dealing with writer’s block and haunted by ghosts both physical and metaphorical, it is a period of intense mourning. This has been a year of mourning, for me, so this particular narrative really hit me hard.

A gorgeous, spacious look at romance and small town life and mourning loss, this is a King classic. If it isn’t in my top five, it’s certainly in my top ten. This is when, I think, King went to a whole ‘nother level in his writing. The move to Scribner did him a world of good. Equal parts moving and terrifying, I cannot recommend this one enough.

The Five has been on my radar for at least four years, and I’ve finally read it. After also working through Boy’s Life, They Thirst, and Gone South this year, one thing is for sure: Robert McCammon is now tied with Stephen King as my favorite author. Really!

This tome follows The Five — an independent rock band — on the road during the final weeks. They are unsuccessful and financially strained; two members are taking flight and the future is uncertain. A chance interview leads to the band being stalked. Horror (and success) soon unfolds.

I liked this book, though admittedly not as much as I thought I would. Mister McCammon has said he feels this is his best book, and I just respectfully disagree. The ‘villain’ feels a little too 2-D for my tastes, and the supernatural elements are a bit haphazard, shoehorned in. And I do feel the story has a little too much junk in the trunk; I found myself skimming some, especially on toward the end.

That said, I did the core cast of characters — especially Nomad and Ariel. They are some of McCammon’s finest creations. His character developmental skills are on full display in this hefty book. I could have spent more time with them, even.

McCammon can’t write a bad book. Though this one does have faults, I did enjoy the ride. Being the music lover I am, The Five hit a lot of the right notes. You can’t ask for much more than that.

As I read this, Jane Harper’s debut novel, I struggled with how I wanted to rate it. It would grab me and lose me, grab me and lose me . . . I found myself skimming for chapters at a time, and then totally intrigued for a while. Talk about an uneven reading experience!

This is filled with elements I typically like in novels: at its heart is a seemingly unsolvable murder case, which happened in a small town filled with secrets. Federal Agent Aaron Falk — raised in the town — has returned after some twenty years, as it was a childhood friend involved in the murder and he, Aaron, wants to check things out. The Dry is very much about memory and growing up and life in a small town. All stuff I usually love, but for some reason it just didn’t click for me here. Maybe it’s me, where I’m at right now. Maybe I’ll reread this in a year or two and find I like it.

This novel is easily readable and has just enough hooks to keep the reader involved. I didn’t much care for it, but it isn’t without merit. Just not my cup of tea (for now).

I have a new favorite Robert McCammon novel. I didn’t know if anything could ever usurp Mystery Walk or Mine, but here we are. Gone South is a glorious, countrified character study; on display is one of McCammon’s most enthralling plots set against the swamps of Louisiana.

If I may humble brag for a moment, I am going to a McCammon reading/signing on Tuesday and will certainly take my first edition of this book for him to autograph. And I suspect I will be rereading it often — how could I not? A Vietnam vet’s life has crumbled to pieces, and he’s lost almost everything . . . except his will. After killing a banker in defense, he’s on the run from a couple of bounty hunters (a man with three arms and an Elvis Presley impersonator . . . trust me, it works) and in tow is a girl desperately searching for a miracle in the heart of the Bayou. McCammon’s characters are always well rounded and developed, but these folks are special. I feel McCammon created the characters first and worked from there. The result is a thrilling ride filled to the brim with people the reader can care deeply about.

Every Robert McCammon novel is an underrated masterpiece. This one especially. McCammon doesn’t get the attention he deserves, never has. Though this isn’t the horror or historical fiction he is known for, certainly check this out if you’re up for a boat ride through the swamps in search of redemption. But be careful of alligators.

I finished this book, but it was a mighty effort. The story and characters in and of themselves aren’t bad, in a vacuum — the plot is serviceable and the lead protagonists are fine. The writing is boring, without flair, pedestrian . . . but this is a debut novel. I didn’t expect this to be perfect.

The shameless ripping off of one Stephen King, though, I cannot abide. The story’s conceit is, to be charitable, familiar: the narrative switches between 2016 and 1986, and features a guy (named Eddie, wouldn’t ya know) dealing with dark events that happened in his childhood, events that shaped him and his friends into the people they are today. The gang is a nice hodgepodge of cliches ripped out of everything from It to Stranger Things to The Goonies. Add in an important character named Mr. Hallorann, a few references to something called “the deadlights”, a funeral scene featuring a casket falling to the floor, only for the casket’s latch to come undone and reveal the corpse’s hand, and you’ve got lukewarm reminders of everything the Master of Horror was doing better three decades ago. It’s not often I accuse authors of plagiarism, and I’m not calling into question this author’s character or intent — but damn, this story is anything but original.

It’s unfortunate, too. For a while I was mildly intrigued and wanted to like these characters. But I quickly found myself growing bored and frustrated. I was able to predict everything these jokers were going to say and do before they said and did it. That’s never good. Avoid this at all costs.

Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the free review copy.

Originally published in 1987, this is one of Joe R. Lansdale’s earlier works and it shows. Filled with cheesy dialogue and cardboard cutout characters and scares that fall flat, this is a dated and torturous read that is perhaps best left in the past.

This is a chase novel. Taking place over the span of three days, main characters Monty and Becky are staying at some friends’ cabin in an attempt at relaxing and getting over a recent rough patch in their marriage: Becky was raped and almost murdered by a gang of teenage boys, and they are coming after her again. The fight is on.

Luckily this novel is short and pretty compulsively readable — it isn’t good by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s also not challenging and easy enough to finish. As I loved Lansdale’s story collection, By Bizarre Hands (which features a chapter from this book), I was unpleasantly surprised to find I didn’t much care for The Nightrunners. It didn’t scare me; it only annoyed and disappointed.

This book is readable and maybe recommendable if you’re looking for something quick, and perhaps a bit of cheesy fun. But certainly buy it used and do not start reading Lansdale here.

Naomi Alderman’s latest bestseller is an intriguing and highly inventive piece of speculative fiction that dares to ask the question: What would happen if women were suddenly granted strength through their genes, thus flipping the societal power structure?

Seen through four points of view — a Mayor, a a Nigerian boy with aspirations to be a reporter, a British girl borne of crime, and a mixed girl from an adopted family that isn’t what she expects — this narrative unfolds at a brisk clip, and Alderman expertly gives the reader a sense of the sheer magnitude of this power, these changes. Revolutions begin. Wars are fought. Regimes fall, only to be replaced with new ones. All the once seemingly permanent rules of society are rewritten. And it’s breathtaking to bear witness to.

A fitting read for the current global political climate, this is an enthralling and important read. I couldn’t put it down, and I suspect you won’t be able to, either.

The year is 2044, and everyone is hooked up to an all-encompassing virtual reality program called the OASIS. The world itself has become broken and desolate beyond repair, thus pushing humans to full involvement in virtual living. Everything is available on the program. And the original creator, upon his death, left his entire fortune to the one lucky player who can beat all his challenges and find the egg at the end of the hunt. The prize? $280 billion. And an all-powerful, eternal avatar on the OASIS.

I really wasn’t sure if I would like this book, but seeing the movie trailer recently piqued my interest. I am glad I gave it a shot, as it was a delightful and enthralling departure from my usual reading. This one reveals in geek culture. I don’t game at all, nor do I hold any sort of nostalgia for the 1980s, but I still had buckets of fun. The main character, Wade, is a cool cat, as are his online friends. I was with them from the start.

I did have a few minor problems, though. I could have done with perhaps a bit more character development — I’m thinking all the characters not named Wade. His friends are fleshed out a bit, but not enough for my liking. Still, this is primarily an action/adventure/techno thriller, which means in-depth character development isn’t the first priority. That’s fine.

There’s also a bit of instalove here, and that grates my nerves. In fact, said instalove almost wrecked the ending for me, but whatever. These characters are teenagers and teenagers are prone to cheesy displays of affection and emotion. It’s fine. I sort of expected it from this, a YA novel in adult fiction clothing.

I enjoyed this one a lot. Cline’s sheer imagination is a power to behold, and the futuristic universe he has created is awe-inspiring and a lot of fun, even to someone who doesn’t like sci-fi — like me. If you’re feeling a rollicking geeky ride filled with 1980s references, try this out.

I don’t think Fredrik Backman and his translators can do wrong. I’ve read all but one of his published works and at least liked all of them . . . and most of them I loved. Published just in time for Christmas, The Deal of a Lifetime is a short story (though it is being marketed as a novella, with an $18 price tag to boot) about a successful father and his estranged son. The story is a letter written on Christmas Eve from the father to his son, in which he reveals all about himself: his triumphs and failures, both as a businessman and a parent.

Like most other Backman stories, this is a beautiful, heart-wrenching, and honest look at humanity and relationships. Written in sterling prose, this whole damn book is quotable. I found myself gasping in shock at least once a page at just how spot-on Backman’s writing is, and how real his characters feel. Though this story clocks in at a scant 66 pages, it has the depth and pay-off of a long novella, at least.

I am usually skeptical of purchasing such little books for hefty prices, but I feel I got my ten bucks’ worth and then some out of this. Backman never disappoints, and this has moved me to read Britt-Marie Was Here before the end of the year. A delightful and melancholy Christmas fairy tale, I suspect I will be reading The Deal of a Lifetime annually. My highest recommendation.

As I said in my review of Red Dragon, I’m one of the only people on Goodreads who, until now, hadn’t read Thomas Harris’s novels about that infamous cannibal, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. I’ve never seen the movie adaptations, either. Seriously.

So I don’t think it’s prudent I rehash this book’s plot; you know it. I will say I’ve been totally blindsided by how much I’ve fallen in love with Hannibal as a character. I’m obsessed. This dude oozes swagger. He sends ice through my veins. This novel featured him more than Red Dragon, and for that I am thankful. The other characters found here are good, too (who couldn’t love Clarice?), but I found myself always a little anxious for Hannibal Lecter to come back onscreen.

Part police procedural, part thriller, part horror, Silence of the Lambs is a more than worthy followup to its predecessor. While the murder case in these pages didn’t grab me quite as much as the one found in Harris’s precious release, that was made up for with more Hannibal. So, to me, the two books are equal. As I said on Twitter the other night, I am kicking myself for not reading this series sooner.

And now I must check out the movie...

Like a poisonous snake on the attack, this novel bites again and again and again, leaving its victim shaken and disturbed. I am somehow one of the only people in the known universe who had never read anything by Thomas Harris — I’ve remedied that, and am now moving on to this book’s follow-up, Silence of the Lambs.

Hard case mystery and bloody tale of the macabre in equal measure, Harris explores the sociopathic psychology without fear or hesitation: Frances Dolarhyde and Dr. Hannibal Lecter come alive in a way that is all too rare in modern fiction. And this novel’s protagonist, troubled investigator Will Graham, is fully fleshed out — his attempts at overcoming his past are heartbreaking and intoxicating.

One of the scariest books I’ve ever read, Red Dragon left me feeling throttled in a way dark fiction hasn’t made me feel in some time. This is worthy of all the praise it has received since its release in 1981. This one will stay with me for quite a while.

Oh, this book.

I didn’t really have much of an idea of what to expect going into this one, and I’m glad. This is a story of family, and heritage, and ghosts, and racism, and growing up, and the bad things that happen to us, all of us — told in illuminate, sparkling prose. Sing, Unburied, Sing reads like poetry.

This is the story of JoJo, a newly thirteen year old boy, and his mother — a woman preoccupied by her addictions and ghosts of the past — and their various other family members. An exploration of life and death, Jasmyn Ward’s storytelling ability is sharp as a tac, refined to perfection. From an editing standpoint, this novel has been whittled down to the bare essentials: nothing more or less is needed.

To say too much about this one is to risk spoiling it, or at least failing to do it justice. I don’t think this will be my favorite book of the year, but it’s up there. And this is an author I will be looking into in the future. Worth all the hype.

I have read two great haunted house novels this year. The Grip of It is one of them. (Without consulting my reviews, can anyone tell me what the other is? If you get it right, there isn’t a prize . . . except my undying love and admiration.) A dazzling, poetic, and challenging work, this is a literary masterpiece that deserves to sit on the shelves with the classics.

James and Julian have stumbled across a large, beautiful house for an excellent price — and they take it. The house gives them the change their marriage needs. But this house isn’t right. Impossible rooms and corners and corridors exist . . . and there are ghosts in the trees . . . and just who is that strange old neighbor who keeps staring out his windows at the couple?

Jac Jemc deals in dread. This is a novel of quiet, mounting terror — the scares don’t come from onscreen horror, but the anticipation of the horror. Jemc keeps her cards close to her chest and knows how to dole out just the right amount for maximum effect. And for me, as a reader, that works best. I don’t like to be shown. I don’t like for the author to hold my hand. I have a working and vivid imagination, and the scares it can conjure up are more effective than anything Jemc could have written. You see, this novel doesn’t give answers. If you like your haunted house novels to end with everything wrapped up nicely, you’d better move along. The Grip of It is a puzzle, and I suspect I will get even more out of it upon rereading.

A grim and despairing novels of haunts and a dissolving marriage, this thing pushed all my buttons. If you like to be teased and challenged by your scary fiction, give this a go. As for me, I will be checking out this author’s past novels as soon as possible.