Review of Armageddon Rag by George R.R. Martin

George R.R. Martin's Armageddon Rag (1983) has been sitting on my to-read pile for years, literally years—not because I didn't want to read it, rather because of expectation. With positive reviews and words like 'hidden gem' being bandied about, I wanted to save Martin's unknown novel for the 'right' moment. The right moment came last week. After such weight of expectation, better be good, right?

Armageddon Rag channels 60s and 70s arena rock in fantastika fashion. Think Black Sabbath with a spark of the occult. It's told through the eyes of Sandy Blair, a former journalist at a small-time version of Rolling Stone called the Hedgehog. It's now the 80s and Blair is writing novels rather than articles. He Blair gets a call in the opening pages from his former editor at Hedgehog with a gig offer. A famous music promoter from one of the 60s biggest bands, The Nazgul, has been murdered in a remote Maine cabin and the editor wants Blair back on the payroll to cover it. Mystery, as they say, ensues (with a big splash of rock-n-roll).

Despite its hippie roots and examination of counter-culture, (or at least an attempt at examination), Armageddon Rag feels like a B-movie. Blair, in the course of investigating the promoter's murder, follows a heavily prescribed series of events. Introduce Character A (likely a former Nazgul band member). Blair travels to interview them, in the course of which Character B is discussed. Travel to Character B, interview B, and discuss C. Travel to C, and so on. While traveling to the next variable—sorry, character, Blair has a minor adventure, for example hooks up with an old lover, has a run in with another music promoter, etc. This pattern will have the reader gritting their teeth: Get on with it! Your strategy is too blatant, Martin! It's only the final third of the novel which breaks free of this formula, and the story truly comes to life. The climax is anything but predictable. Whether or not that is too late will be up to the reader.

Whatever opinion you may have about the novel's predictable structure, you cannot criticize Martin's prose. It's crisp, clean, and gets the A then B then C journey over the finish line—the novel's saving grace.

Thematically, Armageddon Rag would have itself be a examination of 60s counter-culture, albeit loose. Mild spoiler: in the course of the novel, the Nazgul reunite and start touring again. It's through these contrasts, i.e. the 80s with the 60s, and the band's age and spirit against that of 80s music and culture, that Martin prods the underlying substance—the socio-politics—of the hippie movement. This prodding doesn't have the sharpest tip it could have due to the B-movei plot shenanigans, but the climax dies a lot to balance this. The closing sentiment is mature despite the overt nature of the narrative. I would be remiss not to add that Martin likewise looks into the allure of the lead singer—how ugly fuckers like Mick Jagger or Tom Petty can make thousands and thousands swoon. It's charisma, baby. Teach your kids.

In the end, despite the (relative) strength of Martin's deeper dive into counter-culture ideology, and despite the strength of the prose and on-page representation of music (an extremely difficult thing to do), the novel's structure and neon spandex 80s feel knock it back to normality. The reader's likelihood of enjoying this novel will depend on a couple things: patience for the novel's obvious structure and investment in 60s music—Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Black Sabbath, and the other arena-sized bands of the time. I'm not sure Armageddon Rag is a hidden gem, but for the right (read: niche) audience, it will be a treat.