Tim Powers is an author who seems to
forever fly under the radar of popular readership. And there doesn’t seem to be an obvious
reason. His stories are well crafted;
the prose has been revised numerous times until it’s a lean and brisk; and the
sense of the fantastic he utilizes is always vivid and invigorating. His 5th novel, Dinner at Deviant’s Palace, has all of these qualities on
display. Recently brought back to life
by Open Road Media after two decades out of print, the novel has everything a
genre fan could love, including one layer just beyond quality entertainment.
With echoes of Stephen King’s The Stand, Dinner at Deviant’s Palace is a post-apocalyptic novel in an
American setting. The story occurring in
the crumbling remains of L.A.
long after a nuclear catastrophe, humanity has reverted to pre-industrial
times. Cults roam the land, bandits and
brigands hide along broken roads, ragged buildings sag in the sunlight, and
people scrape by in whatever manner they can—alcohol the only dependable
currency. Wandering the decrepit scene
is Gregorio Rivas. Once a redeemer but
now a musician for hire, Rivas assumes his past is behind him, that is, until
preparing for a gig at Spinks one evening.
Made a most inviting offer that involves redeeming a former lover, Rivas
can’t refuse 5,000 temptations, and he’s suddenly back in the saddle on a
mission to rescue the kidnapped woman.
Walking the tightrope with an evil drug, tangling with creatures mutated
by the nuclear catastrophe, and attacked by hooters and pocalocas, the cult of
the Jaybirds he must infiltrate will only kill or make him stronger.
If a wandering musician on a quest to
find a woman rings a bell, it should. Dinner at Deviant’s Palace is a
variation on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.
But like Jeff Vandermeer’s treatment of it in Veniss Underground, Powers spins his novel in a unique direction—a
post-apocalyptic one. And the ending,
well the reader will have to read to find out whether Rivas gets his girl and
survives. The author not interested in
merely paralleling the myth, there are more than enough twists, turns, and
surprises for the age-old tale to be inspiration at best, Powers writing an
enjoyable tale.
If there is a fault to Dinner at Deviant’s Palace it’s that the
novel breaks little new ground. Based on
myth, utilizing or combining known science fiction/fantasy tropes, and told in
vivid yet straight-forward terms, the story is readily accessible. That being said, Powers does genre
right. Working within the perceived and
unperceived limits of story, he shows, as in his other novels, a fine eye for
structure and balance. Knowing when to
expand and when to fall back upon ideas already presented, the plot of the
novel evolves smoothly toward the titular encounter before receding into
bittersweet satisfaction. Like Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Powers plays within the existing bounds of the genre but
does so with the eye of a craftsman, the reader benefiting as a result.
Thankfully, gone are the days of ebooks
prepared from unedited Dragon Reader scans.
Open Road has formatted and proofed the story into a proper ebook that
will not feature in Amazon reviews as “The one star rating is not for the
story, but for the format in which I received this on my Kindle…” It’s good to see the industry not only
adapting to new modes of media, but caring about presentation and readability.
In the end, Dinner at Deviant’s Palace is solid science fiction/fantasy that
proves a relaxing, entertaining read.
But, Gregorius Rivas is not a typical hero in a typical setting. Having
to fight his way across a southern California
laid waste by a nuclear catastrophe, L.A. is not as we know it. Eerie cults, vampiric specters, “all natural”
drugs, bicycle gangs, and a lot of other strangeness impede Rivas as he tracks
the woman he used to love. The writing
and storyline are not as original or strong as The Anubis Gates, Last Call,
or Declare, but Power’s sense of
style allows him to propel his story from what would be mundane in the hands of
lesser writer to something page-turning.
In the context of other post-apocalyptic novels, Dinner at Deviant’s Palace does not possess the moral intensity of
McCarthy’s The Road nor the
personal/social foundation of George Stewart’s Earth Abides. But it does
bear something in common with Stephen King’s The Stand for storytelling and Vandermeer’s Veniss Underground for grounding in the Orpheus/Eurydice myth and
macabre imagery. But for overall
outlook, nothing can compare like Mad Max.
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