Good vampires vs. evil vampires on the ante-bellum Mississippi—with a fat, tough old steamboat captain perilously caught in between. This reluctant hero is Abner Marsh, once-prosperous owner of an ill-fated steamboat fleet—who can't resist an offer from pale stranger Joshua York in 1857 St. Louis: York will finance the building of a luxurious new steamboat for Marsh to captain . . . but there are to be no-questions-asked about York's eccentric doings on-board. And eccentric they are: York never appears in daylight aboard the Fevre Dream; he has an odd gaggle of similarly inclined traveling-companions; he orders the boat stopped in weird spots along the way; and . . . what about those bloodstains or that ledger-book filled with newspaper reports of murders Well, vampire-readers will catch on promptly—especially since sf award-winner Martin, in alternating chapters, offers the grisly goings-on at the Louisiana bayou manse of Damon Julian, a "bloodmaster" of the most vile sort. But it takes Capt. Marsh a good while to figure out that York is indeed a vampire. (York at first claims that he's just hunting vampires; he even appears in daylight, risking death to prove his humanity.) And when the secret is bared at last, York tells an eventually sympathetic Marsh the whole truth—including the fact that youngish vampire York (b. 1785) has, after much struggling, concocted a blood-substitute for the accursed vampire species: "I conquered the red thirst!" York's mission, then: to locate the world's vampires, to give them all the elixir, and to make vampire/human brotherhood possible. Rival bloodmaster Julian, however, is quite happy to keep his followers going with cannibalism and bloodsucking. So, when the Fevre Dream reaches New Orleans, there'll begin a series of violent showdowns—as Julian takes over the boat and imprisons York & Co., surviving assorted attacks by Marsh (who's forced to flee). And finally, after Marsh revs up his old, creaky steamboat to search for the Fevre Dream, the good vampire and his now-devoted pal will undergo grim ordeals before vanquishing kinky, sadistic Julian. Despite a few super-gory moments and a slightly too-leisurely pace—the best vampire novel since Suzy McKee Charnas' The Vampire Tapestry: generally understated, firmly grounded in the Twain-worthy steamboat setting, abundantly creepy . . . and modestly resonant in the portrayal of inter-species camaraderie.
Pub Date: Oct. 8, 1982
ISBN: 0553383051
Page Count: 484
Publisher: Poseidon/Pocket Books
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1982
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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