Getting old has many advantages. To be fair, I’ve yet to
experience any of them – the only changes I’ve noticed thus far are a
musculo-skeletal system that seems to take a couple of hours longer to wake up
than my brain (at which point it does nothing but complain anyway) and an increased
desire to wave my fist and shout “gerroff my lawn!” at passers-by. Something
else it’s brought however, is a wave of nostalgia which has manifest itself in
a longing to revisit the books I read in my youth, to rekindle my love of the
horror genre by reading the works that hooked me in the first place.
Joy then, greeted the news that PS Publishing have re-issued
a book from one of my literary heroes, Stephen Laws, with a swanky new signed
hardback and trade paperback edition of Chasm.
First released in 1998, I not only read it then but attended a launch for it in
Newcastle. The fact that Stephen hails from Newcastle, and set the majority of
his novels in the North East played a big part in my admiration of him but not
so much as the skill and imagination he employed in his writing did. Each of
his novels – whilst grounded in the familiar tropes of the horror genre –
always presented something original with new and entertaining ideas crammed
into every intricately constructed plot.
Such is very much the case with Chasm, Stephen’s tenth novel, an epic (in every sense) tale of the
aftermath of what appears to be an earthquake which strikes the town of
Edmonville. Following the vividly described destruction, the town’s surviving residents
find themselves marooned on isolated pillars of rock, the rest of the town
having disappeared into what appears to be a huge crevasse.
The crevasse is, of course, the Chasm of the book’s title.
And yes, I’ve used a capital C – exactly as the author does throughout the
novel, and for good reason. This is no ordinary chasm, is in fact…
To say more would of course be a huge spoiler. Much of the
joy of the novel comes from working out exactly what has happened alongside the
book’s characters. Alongside the physical dangers faces by the protagonists, a
host of supernatural threats are also thrown into the mix, most notably the Vorla, the darkness that dwells within
the Chasm. The Vorla is a brilliant
creation, a tour de force of imagination, a truly original monster.
The characters facing up to the horrors within Chasm are all
skilfully drawn – real people thrown into an unreal situation and reacting in
exactly the ways their characters dictate. The book’s protagonist is Jay O’Connor
(whose initials – minus the O’ - may or may not be significant) whose journal
entries provide a framing device for the novel. Jumping between these journal
entries and the narrative itself (told in third person) lends a fragmented
nature to the novel, something I loved as someone who appreciates form as much
as content in a novel. This effect is further enhanced by introducing what
appears to be a completely separate storyline in the early part of the book,
the “Ordeal of Juliet Delore” before cleverly bringing the two strands
together.
A feature of Stephen’s writing is the cinematic feel he
brings to his stories. His prose is so precise and his powers of description so
skilful that it really does feel as if you’re watching a film as you read the
book. There are some who will throw their hands in the air at this, or possibly
wring them theatrically as they cry out, protesting that books and films are
different art forms but personally I greatly appreciate any author who has the
skill to paint pictures with their words that put images directly into my head.
Chasm is a prime example of this
skill, with a whole host of brilliantly rendered set-pieces to enjoy.
Chasm is a long
book, but so tightly written and with so much action contained within that you’ll
fly through it. The fractured structure lends itself to plenty of cliff-hangers
(including one thrilling literal example) which keep the reader hooked. The
supernatural horrors are a joy to read – a mix of originality and new
variations of established tropes – but it’s the introduction of some human
monsters in the book’s third act that ushers the reader towards the conclusion.
I vaguely remember a feeling of disappointment when I first
read Chasm that the horror had
switched tone but on my re-read now see that it was in fact a master-stroke.
Throughout, the book is beautifully constructed, edited to maintain pace
wonderfully, storylines and characters interacting to brilliant effect and so
it is that the introduction of the Caffney family provides the catalyst for the
novel’s dénouement, disrupting the tenuous status-quo the narrative had fallen
into.
There’s heroism, redemption and action galore in the
conclusion of Chasm and, ultimately,
the explanation both characters and readers have been searching for. If I have
any criticism of the book it’s probably that the huge ideas the events
described in the novel are based on are covered relatively quickly. It’s far
from an info-dump but perhaps a little more time spent on the revelations may have
been better.
I loved re-reading Chasm,
enjoyed it more this time round. Given it was written in 1998, I had concerns
that it may have felt a little dated given that this is the original text of
the book. To be honest, this isn’t the case. True, there are no mentions of the
internet or mobile phones – smart or otherwise – but, given the cataclysmic
events which occur disable all means of contact with the outside world this isn’t
really an issue. At one point a Ford Cortina appears but this only added to the
nostalgic glow I was seeking anyway.
I’m so happy that Chasm
has been given a new lease of life and is available again to a new generation
of readers. It’s a thrilling, terrifying, thought-provoking read – pretty much
everything I want from a horror novel.
You can – and should – buy it here.
