Sometimes, I really think I ought to read more slowly. I find
myself – and not for the first time – with two
books to review in quick succession. In my defence, I’ve been on something of a
Gothic fiction reading spree in preparation for my contribution pieces to the
Edinburgh eBook Festival 2014 (coming soon, as they say). That entailed reading
a lot, and fast. Anyway, on to business . . .
My first great self-published Gothic fiction find is J.D.
Hughes’ And Soon the Song.
(Disclosure time: J.D. is an acquaintance, and an occasional visitor to my blog. As always, I’ve tried not to let this influence my evaluation of the
book.)
Hearthstone Hall, in rural Derbyshire, is a large
Gothic-style mansion, which is described as “a mouth of darkness waiting to
suck in the innocent.” Sure enough, during the course of the story the innocent
– and the not-so-innocent – duly get sucked into something of a living
nightmare. Hearthstone is “bursting with the acquired detritus of nine hundred
years of aristocratic banditry” and “full of echoes.” Yet this is not the
stereotypical haunted house; what lurks here is altogether stranger and darker.
Amongst those being pulled into this heady mix are Charlie, a New York
photojournalist, and Tom, an ex-paratrooper haunted by his own past.
Hearthstone – or rather, perhaps, the beings that inhabit Hearthstone – seem to
be reeling these disparate individuals in for purposes which aren’t immediately
obvious, but can hardly be good.
As in much Gothic-style fiction, Hearthstone contains a
terrible danger from the past that simply will not be laid to rest. The de
Courcys, the Norman family who originally made the Hall their home, still
continue to throw a very long shadow over the house and those who live there.
More to the point, they continue to influence
the present and those who live in it. Though dead, they still exert the power
that has been their birthright for so long, and which they have bequeathed to
the last straggling descendants of their line.
This, of course, will have immense implications for the
ragtag group of individuals who are pulled into the house’s magnetic field, all
of whom have their own unique take on the experience. Telling a story from so
many viewpoints, encompassing so many characters and events, is tricky, at
least if it’s to be done well. I’ve tried it, and failed, on several occasions,
which is perhaps why I prefer to concentrate on the small-scale and the
intimate. Hughes, much to his credit, succeeds admirably here. Each of the
characters adds something vital to the equation, and all are realistic and
well-drawn. Even the bad guys – Elyssia (“mad, dead, something hovering in a
purgatory between death and release”) and the brutal Angel – have depths that
prevent them being stereotypical villains. And have back stories that help to
round them out, just as the house and the de Courcys do; and though all of
these elements flesh out the story, they never weigh it down.
For all the fast tempo of the novel, there are plenty of
ideas thrown into the mix, some of them expressed quite beautifully, like this
one: “Truth is a shifting rainbow that we can see from the corner of our eye.
When we turn to look fully it becomes something else.” This is a novel with
substance: alternate realities, Northern Ireland’s tortured history, the social
structure imposed on Saxon England by Norman invaders all come in for attention
here, and never seem like padding or a distraction from the story.
Hearthstone Hall itself is beautifully conveyed – the
atmosphere, the threat, the history. And (again, a feature of much Gothic
fiction) it is a place that dominates the human characters. The Hall is a
character in its own right, influencing human actions and moods. The building
sense of dread and tension is irresistible, the ending explosive. This is a
horror/thriller you won’t want to miss.
Meanwhile, providing a fascinating new twist on an iconic
story, is Simon Cheshire’s The
Frankenstein Inheritance. Set in the year 1879, the story opens with a
kindly scientist, Professor Marchbanks, arriving in London with his young
charges, two eerie children known as Victoria and Albert. Victoria and Albert
are unnerving simply because they are different, and inexplicable. They are
highly intelligent, and yet their memories extend only to the previous few
days. They are immensely physically strong and resilient, and yet their bodies
are covered with what appears to be stitching. Even Professor Marchbanks, who
does his utmost to care for them, is afraid of them. And yet – in an echo of
Mary Shelley’s novel – this dread is essentially unjustified. Victoria and
Albert have a strong sense of morality, and are capable of great kindness and
loyalty. Within minutes of their arrival in London, Albert has, with great
foresight and bravery, saved the lives of a woman and child.
What follows is a breathless steampunk/Gothic
horror/thriller, told in the epistolary style of Dracula, and delving deep into the foetid heart of Victorian London.
The premise of The Frankenstein
Inheritance is intriguing: the original Dr Frankenstein’s work has not only
been continued, but considerably expanded, by his descendant. Now the
Frankensteins’ experiments involve far more than just reanimating the dead;
indeed, the original Frankenstein’s work seems rather crude compared to that of
his grandson. Wolfgang von Frankenstein has, instead, worked to perfect not
just the revivification but the manufacture
of biological material.
Our original insight into Frankenstein’s world is akin to
our introduction to Count Dracula. His castle, in middle Europe, is “a
fortress, guarded by a small band of hired thugs and almost impossible to get
into or out of except via the huge iron portcullis at its gate.” The action
soon shifts to London, however: the iconic Victorian London to which we all
have imaginative access, the London of Jack the Ripper and Sherlock Holmes.
However, this book transcends its historical setting quite easily; the issues
raised here are more relevant now than ever before. Frankenstein, working in a
makeshift laboratory in London, initially speaks of his work as something
benign:
“The blind shall see
with mechanical eyes, the injured shall have their limbs regrown and their
scars healed. Pills to soothe the brain. Fresh hearts and replacement lungs . .
. The clamouring masses will demand freedom from disease and disfigurement.
Improvement and repair will be within their grasp at last.”
This sounds like the wholly benevolent treatments which are
being pioneered by doctors all the time, and who could object to such? However,
as soon becomes clear, Frankenstein’s ultimate aim is altogether more sinister:
“Soon, improvement and
repair will no longer be enough for the human race. Then, I will offer them
perfection . . . Artificial flesh, new bodies, from modern factories. No more
death! . . . The choice will be an easy one: stay human and die, weak and
broken and diseased; or become one with the new flesh, my creation, and live in
health and beauty for eternity. Once Mankind makes that choice, Nature will
have been defeated, forever.”
Here we are faced with a highly modern concern: at what
point does the justifiable quest to improve lives cross the line into
unjustifiable meddling? This is the ambivalence that informed Shelley’s classic
novel; it informs The Frankenstein
Inheritance, and has never been more relevant.
This is a great thriller in its own right, the kind of thing
you might devour in one reading. It’s also, I understand, technically a book
for young adults, though I tend to think of that as being little more than a
handy label for booksellers. Adults can, and should, read it too, because
there’s much here to keep you thinking. When Frankenstein’s developments meet
capitalism and finance, a nightmare world erupts: a world in which greed, human
frailty, and scientific advances converge in a truly unholy alliance. A world,
in short, arguably not very different to our own...
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