I'm still picking away at Fatal Inversion on my coffee breaks and The Mysteries of Udolpho some evenings.
Udolpho and Daughter of the Forest are Halloween Bingo Books. The rest on are my Planned for 2018 list, fulfilling various book challenges.
Friday nights are for comfort--I plan to spend my Friday evening in my jammies with popcorn on hand and Staked as my "trashy" book for the event. It may have to substitute for When Darkness Comes, which I had selected for the Deadlands square of my Bingo Card. Whoever has that one out of the library is now 5 days late in returning it! Usually when that happens, the book is lost. Our library has only one copy, so I am less than optimistic.
In the meantime, my favourite used book store is having an anniversary sale--30% off to celebrate 30 years in business. I'm seriously considering stopping in there this evening on the way home.
Happy reading, friends!
I´m apologizing to the Halloween book bingo gods in advance for using this book for the “Modern Masters of Horror” square. Thomas Olde Heuvelt might be a lot of things, but a modern master of horror he isn´t. At least in my opinion. Because I did not like this book. Hex is the most nonsensical piece of writing I have read in a very long time.
Due to a curse the townspeople of Black Spring are forced to live with the town witch Katherine, who suddenly appears in their homes, standing in a corner with her sewn-up eyes and her sewn-up mouth. Over the time the townspeople have become very creative in making Katherina disappear, one of the few Dutch traits the authors has kept regarding his characters, before rewriting the book for an American audience:
“I loved the Dutch setting, and I loved the utter Dutchness of the book. Not in the sense that the witch smoked pot or stood behind some Amsterdam red-framed window; I´m talking about the secular nature of small-town Dutch communities and the down-to-earthness of its people. If a sane person sees a disfigured seventeenth-century witch appear in a corner of the living room, he runs for his life. If a Dutch person sees a disfigured seventeenth-century witch appear in the corner of the living room, he hangs a dishcloth over her face, sits on the couch, and reads the paper. And maybe sacrifices a peacock.”
Yeah sure, if Dutch people have smoked some pot they might act this way. Otherwise I´m sure they would act as every other sane person would do.
Besides the witch there are a bunch of crazy townspeople, the organization Hex who is keeping an eye on the witch 24-7, a weird connection to the government which is funding the whole Hex operation, a town council consisting of religious nutjobs and teenagers, who want to expose the witch as a non-dangerous entity, because they aren´t allowed to use twitter because of her.
Nothing of this made any kind of sense and Heuvelt´s writing (or maybe the translation) felt incredibly disjointed.
And Heuvelt´s use of imagery went completely over my head. There are foreheads, Griselda´s pate, nipples, nipples and more nipples and a variety of animals, who all have to suffer in this book (except the rats) and the deeper meaning of this repetitiveness has eluded me until the very end of the novel. But this didn´t stop Heuvelt to merge the different images into one big collage of yuck:
At a certain point a totally surreal illusion had appeared before his eyes. In the middle of the town square, all the children of Black Spring were tightly swaddled in cocoons of white linen, some small, some a little bigger, and bound together in an enormous, upright network of tightly stretched sheets. The structure reached high in the sky and shaped like a rounded cone, much like a female breast. […] On top of the breast was Katherine, like a gracious maternal nipple, pouring warm milk from a silver jug. It trickled down on all sides like a perfectly symmetrical fountain and was licked up by hundreds of eager children´s tongue.
[…] But then the image had flickered, and it wasn´t Katherine with her milk jug who crowned the nipple on the woven breast but Griselda Holst, the butcher´s wife, naked as the day she was born. Fat and fleshy, she towered over the parents of Black Spring. Just as she had always offered them her meat, now she was feeding it to their children. She was giving birth to it. Streams of paté gushed endlessly from her womb like afterbirth and dripped down the sides of the fountain, staining the perfect linen and sticking in globs to children´s faces.
Ugh, pass me the brain bleach, please. AGAIN! I´m sorry, but a book that contains drivel such as this doesn´t deserve more than a half star from me.
As for the ending: it was too preachy and moralizing for my taste and I wasn´t over the moon over by it. But then
everyone is dead
so actually one thing I was hoping for has come to pass. Consider me satisfied on that account.
From the acknowledgments:
Working on the book in a language that´s not my mother tongue gave me strong new insights into the plot, the most important of which was about the ending. It had to go. It felt off. There was a much scarier and better way I could end this tale.
So that´s what you´ve just read. The last several chapters, from the moment things pretty much start going downhill for Black Spring, are all new. I wrote them in English, and I had a blast while I was at it. In my opinion, it´s become a better book.
Um, no. I´m sorry if i have to be blunt about it, but this book and especially those very last chapters were a complete shitshow.
"Do you see Colton Mathers here?" He almost screamed these words. It was her forehead - it distracted him. He couldn´t stand it. Claire had knotted her hair so tightly in the back of her head that it looked as if her face might tear loose from her skull at any moment and have to be secured with stitches.
Char, I´m getting your point about the high forehead ;D. That dude clearly has other things to worry about. But no, her high forehead is the true evil in town.
At this point in the book I´m lost for words. How on earth is it possible that a renowned publisher has published this book?