Monsters. I love ‘em. Of all the myriad variations of horror,
it’s the monsters I love the most. They were my first love, my gateway drug if
you like, and it’s a love which has endured for many years now. I recently saw
an online discussion about the need to suspend disbelief in horror
movies/books, the implication being that it was a hindrance to the enjoyment of
a piece of work. To some extent this is true, if an author asks too much of a
reader then it can ruin the reading experience but I’ve always regarded the
suspension of disbelief as a vital part of my enjoyment of horror. I read
horror as an escape from reality, as entertainment, and the books I enjoy the
most are those which present alternative realities, worlds in which monsters
can, and do, exist.
(And yes, human beings can be monsters too. But that is reality and God knows there’s enough
examples in the world right now to make reading it in a piece of fiction pretty
much redundant).
(I blame Scooby-Doo. The disappointment I felt as a child when
the ghost/mummy/zombie was revealed as a real person has stayed with me all
this time).
Which self-indulgent rambling brings me to At the Mercy of Beasts, a collection of
three novellas by Ed Kurtz. The joy I felt at discovering this book was pushed
to almost unbearable limits (I know, but bear with me, suspend your disbelief) when
I found out that each of the stories took place in historical settings. Surely
this was too good to be true?
No, it wasn’t. I loved every bit of this book; the period
detail, the characters, the plotlines and - of course - the monsters.
The opening story is Black’s
Red Gold, set in the Texas of 1919 and detailing the exploits of a pair of
oilmen, Black and Wells, whose drilling operation uncovers a rich seam of the
titular substance, a fluid similar to oil – though different in colour – but which,
it turns out, burns for much longer.
The fluid is biological rather than geological however,
emanating from the first of the collection’s beasts, a huge tentacled monster
residing underground. The knowledge that the Red Gold comes from an animal
(from huge vesicles on its back) does nothing to deter Black in his efforts to
extract the fuel, his desire to become rich over-riding any concerns for the
welfare of the beast.
It’s a tale of exploitation then, and one which becomes
darker when the beast fights back and the men sent down into its lair become
infected with bubo-like sacs which are filled with the same fluid. It’s a
development which gives a whole new meaning to the term Human Resources…
It’s a strong start to the collection, the story’s political
allegory sitting very comfortably and unobtrusively within a cracking, and at
times darkly humorous, narrative.
Next up is Kennon
Road, which takes place in the early years of the twentieth century in the
Phillipines shortly after the Phillipine-American war. It’s a story which,
unlike the first which created a new monster (albeit one which put me in mind
of Gla’aki), uses an established myth – that of the manananggal – to provide
its creature.
And boy, what a creature. Reading a cold description of the
manananggal in Wiki or suchlike fails to bring out the true horror of this
vampire-like monster but that’s certainly not the case in this incredibly
atmospheric tale. Kurtz’s take on the mythology results in a truly disturbing
creation and the passages in which it features are deeply unsettling. Anyone
who thinks monsters are old-hat and have lost their power to terrify should
definitely read this novella.
The story takes the form of an investigation into a series
of grisly murders, a template which allows exposition with a natural feel to
it, a few twists and turns along the way and a number of incredibly effective
set-pieces.
Deadheader rounds
of the collection and is the most contemporary of the three novellas being set
in 1977. The title has nothing to do with fans of the Grateful dead but refers
to the practice of truckers taking on a cargo without going through the usual
formalities and paperwork. The trucker in this case is Pearlie Pearce, a
brilliantly realised character who picks up hitchhiker Ernie Kinchen, a Vietnam
veteran haunted (literally) by his time in the warzone.
It’s a fast-paced, incredibly pulpy story featuring car
chases and fights. The monsters here are vampiric in nature too, modelled on
the chupacabra, fittingly given the story’s US/Mexico border setting.
Deadheader provides
a thrilling end to a superb collection of stories. Along with Kennon Road it provides ample proof that
there’s plenty life in the old monsters yet. Honestly, all those publishers who
state “no vampires (or other monsters) in their submission guidelines are
missing a trick. It was a joy to read At
the Mercy of Beasts and it’s a book I recommend highly.