Review of I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

There are numerous readers of speculative fiction whose brains are not activated by horror.  I am one of them.  Sophisticated interrogations of the human psyche can be engaging, but the cheap thrills of fear (and let’s be honest, fear is the foundation stone of the building of horror) are too narrow in aim for me to engage with as a genre.  I don’t get scared. I don’t even get a feeling of discomfort or lingering sense of wonder reading such stories.  Philip K. Dick, yes, but Stephen King, no.  Thus, take my review of Richard Matheson’s 1954 I Am Legend with a grain of salt.  A driven story, but oh so empty…

I Am Legend is the story of Robert Neville.  The lone survivor of a vampire-zombie apocalypse, he lives in a barricaded home what remains of Inglewood's suburbs.  Watching the clock each day, he must be home before sunset.  The unearthly remnants of humanity climbing into the dark to hunt for fresh blood, they assault his home and conscience throughout the night, threatening to not only drive him insane, but kill him if they can get their fangs into his body.  Hammering wooden stakes through the vampires he encounters while collecting food and supplies in the daylight, the meaning and purpose of life deteriorate with each sunset, moving him to drink and depression.  The arrival of a mangy dog on his doorstep one day changes everything, however.

Review of "All the Birds of Hell" by Tanith Lee

It may be short, but Tanith Lee’s 1998 novelette “All the Birds of Hell” is one of those pieces that smolders in the brain long after the final word has been read.  The imagery, the atmosphere, the sentiment—individually and combined have an impact felt beyond the page.  Opening with a man arriving at one of the world’s most unique museums for a six-month stint as curator, he’s given a quick rundown of the facilities by the exiting curator and left to himself.  Russia in the depths of a fifteen year winter, his lonely outpost, a former mansion, houses the sealed bodies of two lovers who took sleeping pills and then exposed themselves to freezing temperatures.  Their frozen, lifelike corpses on display for those able to make the lengthy trek to the rural mansion, the man’s lonely duties are of quiet and contemplation.

From the howl of wolves to the chill of loneliness seeping off the page, “All the Birds of Hell” eases its way to a haunting conclusion.  Thoughts set moving, one gives way to the next about what it means to the characters, and to the meta-story.  Its essence of dark fairy tales and science fiction, something undeniably human nevertheless binds the pieces together.  Overall, an eerie, affecting story not easy to forget.

(See here for a better review of the novelette at MPorcius Fiction Log.)

Review of "The Night of Long Knives" by Fritz Leiber

One of the key moments in the Nazi’s rise to power was an evening dubbed “The Night of Long Knives”.  Numerous key opposition leaders attacked and killed, the resulting vacancy was a political hole Hitler and his minions swept in and filled, eventually resulting in their complete takeover of German government.  In 1960 Fritz Leiber, an American writer of German heritage who often interrogated aspects of WWII in his writing, decided to take a look at the logic underpinning such aggression and penned a novella of the same name. 

A dark, edgy story, Leiber deconstructs the madness of such aggression in turns overt and subtle.  Ray is a Deathlander wandering the nuclear wastelands of the American west when we are introduced to him.  Armed to the teeth and wary of every step, any movement in the corner of his eye is enough to set his heart pounding in fear someone is out to kill for his food and weapons.  A woman, likewise armed and wary, appears on his path, and after a silent, ritualistic disarming to prove one to the other their intentions are non-violent, proceed to socialize the only way they know how.  A strange, hovering airplane landing beside them the next morning, out steps a beautiful specimen of humanity.  The man, though appearing more civilized, is likewise armed and distrustful of the couple.  But conversation does not get far as Ray’s instincts take over.

Review of Kiteworld by Keith Roberts

If the dear reader has spent any amount of time in Southeast Asia, or read about the cultures existing there, they will be aware of the prayer flag.  If one has been even luckier and able to travel to the Tibetan Himalayas, they will have wonderful memories of the strings and strings of colorful flags stretched across valleys, hanging from bridges, and flapping in the wind atop mountains.  Prayers inscribed on each flag, they believe the words of mankind are blown to the heavens for blessings and protection from the gods.  Employing a similar scenario in in his 1985 Kiteworld, Keith Roberts extends the Christian church steeple into the sky: manned kites fly above an England rebuilding in the aftermath of destruction.  The perspective downward rather than upward, however, the colorful objects sent aloft are for watching over the land rather than bringing humanity closer to the heavens.

The land ravaged, and civilized society only beginning to rebuild itself, the setting of Kiteworld is a futuristic, post-nuclear war England wherein the Church has absolute power.  Though berms and walls are established that separate normal society from the wilds, it is not enough; protection is also needed against the demons that roam the badlands and traverse the skies.  Establishing bases along mountain ranges and the coastlines which form natural boundaries, massive manned kites are kept flying continually aloft, watching for invaders and shooting them, as necessary.  Aristocracy getting permission from the Church to fly kites from their own palaces and mansions, colorful streamers can also be seen amongst the towns, villages, and cities.  And the kitemen, no matter working in the private sector or directly for the church, are given exclusivity and absolute respect by the populace.  Like soldiers, they are considered guardians of the land, and due to the uncertainty of their lives, awarded with admiration, even hero status.  Tossed on the currents of wind and facing evil demons, indeed many meet an untimely end.  Law, taxes, civil government, and other aspects of civilization slowly settling back into place as the Kitemen guard over the land, Kiteworld tells the stories of a handful of the men and women living the uncertain reality of post-war times.

Review of The Long Tomorrow by Leigh Brackett

If indeed social movements occur in cycles that over time have a net result of zero, what then is the value of scientific pursuit?  If humanity will inevitably revert to primitivism, of what use is maneuvering toward that fuzzy idea of ‘civilization’?  Is it just to give us something to do with our time on Earth?  Is it an innate, unavoidable aspect of being human we should shun? Is it just false hope?  Or, is there a light at the end of the tunnel?  These questions and more Leigh Brackett examines in her oft-overlooked 1955 magnum opus The Long Tomorrow.  A simple tale, it nevertheless lays bare one of the most fundamental questions we face: to what goal should humanity strive?

Post apocalypse, The Long Tomorrow posits an America where technologically advanced civilization was put to blame for the catastrophe of global nuclear war that followed upon Hiroshima.  Religious groups jumping into the void of leadership that followed, new laws were enacted to prevent cities from developing larger than 1,000 people.  Large gatherings of minds seen as the root cause for the development of such destructive technology, in the years that followed America became a scattering of pastoral micro-communities of religious groups of varying fervor.  Neighbor keeping close watch over neighbor, technology such as radios and tvs is the work of the devil, the simple life of farming the norm.

Review of "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy

Winner of the Pulitzer prize, Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 The Road is powerful storytelling.  Set in a post-apocalyptic America, the stark reality of the setting highlights the strength, love, and courage a father and son must sustain to not only stay alive, but remain true to each other in trying times. The mood dark and bleak like so many of McCarthy’s books, the speculative wasteland the duo cross only benefits from the author’s deft pen, striking harder at his thematic goals and telling a bittersweet story in the process.  

 The Road, like McCarthy’s prose, is simple but highly effective.  The earth having been engulfed in a catastrophe that killed the majority of people, it is the story of a never-named father and son as they make their way across the destroyed land.  Ashes swirling in the air, the two push their shopping cart of meager possessions down empty roads and highways, heading south where they believe a group is forming a new government.  Grueling to exhaustion, the pair spend their days with one eye over their shoulder wary of the evils that roam the land, the other on their stomachs trying to avoid starvation.  The father’s belief in family tested greater than any parent’s rightfully should, every ounce of strength is required if he and his son are to avoid the lawless gangs and find hope once again.

Like Margaret Atwood and her narrow view of genre fiction, McCarthy has likewise implied his dislike of The Road’s categorization as science fiction.  Naturally debatable, the fact remains that the novel’s setting is as post-apocalyptic as the sub-genre gets. Along with the imagery of falling ash and empty highways, the majority of people who survived the world-razing catastrophe are reduced to animal status, scrapping for food, shelter, and even companions.  Macabre remnants of mankind await in run-down homes, bands of bandits roam the land, and feverish eyes burn in the dark—all the scenes the boy and his father encounter poster material for the sub-genre.  

McCarthy’s claim/hope that The Road is not genre fiction is founded on the belief his book has less entertainment and more substance than such works as Stephen King’s The Stand or Max Brook’s World War Z.  And he’s right.  Theme burns a hole through the novel.  Fighting off bandits, scrounging for food, and staying warm, everything the man does is for the benefit of his son.  And it is precisely these sacrifices which press home the importance of parenthood and family in tones that any zombie apocalypse never could.  

In the end, The Road is one of the best sci-fi books of the new millennium and something every father should read in preparation for children.  Unsurprisingly overlooked by speculative fiction awards but lauded by literary pundits, McCarthy’s background as a writer of literary realism plays a strong role in imbuing the novel with simple but strong dialogue and descriptions that fully flesh out the otherwise post-apocalypse setting.  Fully in the vein of Walter J. Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz, George Stewart’s Earth Abides, even Camus’ The Plague, McCarthy’s novel, whether he wants to admit it or not, is science-fiction—literary sci-fi, that is—at its best.  Readers can only hope that other writers of realism take more dips into the genre.

(An afterword on the film: Hillcoat’s adaptation of McCarthy’s novel is amazing.  He remains faithful to the story throughout, including focus on characterization, plot development, bleak setting, and the overall atmosphere of desperation and despair driving those still alive in the haggard world.  Viggo Mortensen is solid as the father and Kodi Smit-McPhee as the son is promising in his big screen debut.  The novel is still better, but Hillcoat has nothing to be ashamed of in transcribing the story to the screen, the film well worth watching.)