Wolf's Hill

Wolf’s Hill is the third book in the four volume Black Road series written by Simon Bestwick and published by Snowbooks. The previous two volumes are reviewed here and here.

Events in the post-nuclear-apocalyptic world have thus far seen the formation of a rebellion against the ruling Reclamation and Protection Command led by the wonderfully named Helen Damnation ably assisted by a host of other characters, not least the Grendelwolf Gevaudan Shoal. Added to this is a heady concoction of science and ancient magic as the military commanders seek to procure the ultimate weapon to use against the rebels.

Both previous books did an admirable job of creating a fully realised post-apocalyptic world populated by realistic, fully rounded characters (with detailed back-stories) whilst at the same time sustaining a narrative which hurtles along at breakneck speed. Wolf’s Hill is no exception to this; indeed, it expands the world Simon has created and also introduces a raft of new characters. Reading this book, I was perhaps even more impressed than I already have been at the work involved in creating the world and its huge cast of characters. I have visions of a huge piece of paper, probably covering an entire floor of a room, covered in names, locations and events with arrows and lines connecting them all like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Here we’re introduced to the Garalakh Tep Sharhr, the “Dwellers beneath the Hill” – a whole community hitherto unknown who, it’s implied, will play a huge role in what is building up to be the decisive battle between the two opposing forces. It’s a bold move, waiting until the third book to introduce them but it’s one that pays off and which is handled very cleverly – their presence revealed in one set of characters’ timeline, their history in another. I was put in mind of Simon’s Black Mountain series of stories whilst reading these scenes – no bad thing. Their introduction also feels part of the natural progression of the narrative, not bolted on for convenience.

Make no mistake, this third volume in no way treads water, is not simply filler before the big finish. There’s more plot here than you can shake a stick at, not least the very bold move to present divisions within the rebellion and a threat to them from an unexpected source.

Whilst Helen faces up to these problems, Tereus Winterborn begins strengthening the alliances between the regional commanders using a mixture of politics and thinly veiled aggression. It’s here that I had my only problem with the book as Simon has chosen to name his commanders after notable personalities in the indie horror world. Granted, he has changed the sex of many of them but I found it took me out of the story as I was reading these scenes – imagining Jim McLeod as a woman will do that to a person.

Such minor criticism aside, there’s still so much to enjoy between the pages of Wolf’s Hill. I particularly enjoyed the character development of Dr Mordake, whose back story is presented here. The good doctor is set to play a major role in the conclusion so it was good to see him get a starring role here.

I loved Wolf’s Hill; it’s no mean feat to keep up the pace and energy of a series this far into it but Simon has succeeded admirably in so doing. It’s not hyperbolic to describe the series as epic – there can be no denying that it is. This really is a massive achievement and deserves no little respect for that. This is a major work and should be recognised as such. The best thing is, of course, there’s more to come - and I can’t wait to see how everything concludes.

Devil's Highway

Devil’s Highway is another(!) new novel from Simon Bestwick and is published by Snowbooks. It’s the sequel to last year’s Hell’s Ditch and is the second volume in the Black Road quartet of post-apocalyptic novels.

I reviewed Hell’s Ditch here ending with the statement that I looked forward to the follow up books so I was more than chuffed that I was offered an advance review copy of Devil’s Highway. I was also chuffed to see that this second book in the series contains a brief re-cap of the events of the first one – something I wish other publishers would do. Hell’s Ditch featured a huge cast of characters in multiple plotlines so it was good to be reminded of who was who and who did what… Dumbing down? Nope – the refresher acted almost like a teaser trailer, setting the new book up very nicely.

So… what happened next?

Much of the narrative of Devil’s Highway is taken up by a battle between the rebels and forces of the military dictatorship running the country. This is, in effect, a siege of the rebel stronghold, the location of which has been discovered, and is told at breakneck speed from multiple viewpoints. It’s a technique, I have to say, that’s difficult to cope with – the rapid changes in scenes, characters and viewpoints is a lot to take in and led to a wee bit of confusion from time to time…

Which, of course, shows just how effective a technique it is. Once I’d settled into the rhythm of the writing, I was put in mind of the night-time bridge bombardment sequence in Apocalypse Now, a confusing amalgam of noise and visuals in which no-one, characters in the film and viewer alike seems to have any real idea of what’s happening. Such is the impression I got with these opening scenes in Devil’s Highway, the fog of war recreated on the page to impressive effect.

All of the characters who survived Hell’s Ditch return, Helen Damnation, Thereus Winterborn, Gevaudan Shoal and all the others but there’s also the introduction of the Catchmen, part human, part robot – relentless killing machines created by the Tindalos Project. I loved the concept of the Catchmen – was put in mind of the old TV programme The Nightmare Man, particularly in the scenes involving a one-on-one combat between Helen and one of the monsters. An army of the Catchmen is the military’s secret weapon, deployed to devastating effect during the siege. The ability to reconstruct themselves even when destroyed renders them virtually indestructible…

As the battle reaches a crucial moment, Simon make the bold move to interrupt the action and begin a series of flashbacks, taking the story back to the fall of the first bombs heralding the beginning of the nuclear destruction.

A bold move, yes – but one which pays off handsomely. Here we have the origins story of not just Helen but also other key characters within the narrative. I loved these scenes, from the description of the bombs hitting to the “oh my God” moments – of which there are many - in the development of the characters. Context is everything and the whole series is, I believe, strengthened by its inclusion here. It’s a grim read, conjuring up images of the worst of mankind, and the horrors of previous conflicts with its descriptions of extermination squads and mass graves. This part of the novel is its strongest, a welcome break from the onslaught of the battle scenes and world-building of the highest order.

Who lives? Who dies? These, and many more questions will be answered within the pages of Devil’s Highway as the battle ends and the survivors make plans for the future. The book fulfils the role of the middle volume of a series admirably, progressing the narrative whilst setting things up for the final instalment. The back-stories add an extra edge to the inevitable showdowns and the introduction of a shadowy and mysterious character raises the expectation of new horrors in prospect.

I look forward immensely to how the quartet of books will conclude, can’t quite believe I’ll have to wait a year to do so…

The Feast of All Souls.

The Feast of All Souls is the new novel from Simon Bestwick and is published by Solaris Books. The titular feast is, of course, Hallowe’en so it makes absolute sense to release the book in December. Actually, it does given the central theme of the novel is the non-uniformity of space-time. Oh yes, there’s a great deal of quantum mechanics and physics to be getting on with here. Luckily, there are also malevolent ghost children, ogres and mysterious red-cloaked figures…

The story begins with the return of Alice to her home town, attempting to pull her life back together after the death of her daughter and the break-up of her marriage. Her new home, 378 Collarmill Road, has a history though with a former resident Arodias Thorne, a Victorian mill owner a prominent part of it. When ghostly apparitions begin to appear – most notably the malevolent children seemingly hell-bent on attacking Alice – that history begins to reveal itself.

This process is enabled by a switch in the narrative between the events of the present day and the “confession” of Mary Carson, employee – and ultimately lover of – Arodias Thorne. It’s all nicely atmospheric stuff which I enjoyed, but all the while I was concerned that the book would turn out to be a variation of James Herbert’s The Secret of Crickley Hall – not that that would be too bad a thing but certainly not what I would have expected from Simon.

Those fears, of course, proved to be foundless as the novel incorporates this well-worn trope into a much bigger narrative, one which turns out to be an extremely potent blend of science fiction, horror and thriller.

378 Collarmill Road is a special place, a portal to other realities and dimensions and it’s the journey through these shifting realities which forms the intricate and twisting plot of the Feast of All Souls. There is, it has to be said, a lot going on in this book, a mixture of themes and genres and in the hands of a lesser writer it could have turned out to be a car crash. This isn’t the case here though, Simon keeps full control over all the themes and ideas, merging them perfectly into a gripping – and horrific – whole.

Towards the conclusion of the book, there’s a break from the action to present Alice’s back-story and I have to say this was my favourite part of the book. The writing here is incredible, presenting a tragic and horrifying scenario in a deeply moving way. It’s placement in the narrative is perfect, a moment of quiet and contemplation before the conclusion.

The plot requires a fair bit of exposition from the characters but this is handled about as well as it can be, never an easy task but the theories expounded are certainly interesting ones, creating  logical – if highly imaginative – explanation for the supernatural goings-on.

I really enjoyed The Feast of All Souls, loved the imagination on display. Scary, thrilling but in places also incredibly moving. 

Hell's Ditch: Blog Hop - War Without End.

I was honoured to be asked to review Simon Bestwick's new novel, Hell's Ditch (you can read the review below this post) and equally as honoured to be asked to participate in his blog tour promoting the book.
So here is the latest instalment, a thoughtful essay on a different kind of fall-out, and a salutary reminder that the consequences of military intervention last far beyond the end of hostilities...

War Without End

When I was working on my new novel Hell’s Ditch, set in the aftermath of a nuclear attack, I watched Peter Watkins’ ‘after the bomb’ film The War Game. It touched on an aspect of post-apocalyptic fiction that often gets overlooked: the psychological.

Along with the physical casualties of nuclear attack in the film – victims of blast, heat-flash or firestorm, and those suffering lingering deaths from body burns, radiation poisoning, malnutrition and previously treatable disease, Watkins also depicts thousands of survivors suffering ‘complex states of shock’ following their experiences – PTSD, as we’d call it now.

For most of them, of course, the help they’d need would be sparse to non-existent. Similar figures – ‘Spacers’ – appear in Robert Swindells’ 1985 novel Brother In The Land. The country will be filled with the emotionally damaged and shattered, while the children growing up in the aftermath are potentially feral or psychopathic.

There are those who deride PTSD as a wholly modern phenomenon, the product of namby-pamby liberal minds: “Trauma?” one former WWII soldier once said to me? “We didn’t have any of that – we just came home and got on with things.” But coming home and getting on with things doesn’t mean those problems don’t exist; they may be better hidden, may resolve themselves differently, but they’re still there.

Throw that into the mix, and then you also have to take into account a whole new way of life, one that’s a desperate, non-stop struggle for survival. There aren’t any supermarkets any more: food is in short supply. If you want to eat, you grow it, forage it, catch and kill it, or you receive it as a reward for work. Those are the grim realities of a society whose infrastructure has been shattered.

Everyone is, in one way or another, mad; the lucky ones have simply found a brand of neurosis or psychosis that can make a world like this bearable.

In a country like America or Australia, with huge expanses of comparatively unspoilt wilderness, it would be possible to escape the war and its after-effects – not just the ruins, wreckage and corpses, but the awareness that they exist – and start over. Before you can even begin healing from a trauma, getting yourself out of that situation is essential. But in a small country like Britain, where could you go? Nowhere would be untouched: wherever you fled, the ruins would be there. Existing wildernesses would be contaminated; new wildernesses formed out of the rubble and ashes. Wherever you looked would be the ruins of homes like the ones you’d lived in, or dreamed of living in, of shops from which you’d once bought the means of survival or acquired consumer goods you didn’t need with money you didn’t have.

Everywhere you looked, you’d be reminded of the people and the way of life you’d lost. You’d be in a state of permanent trauma, and permanently surrounded by triggers. Small wonder, then, that in the world of Hell’s Ditch people see ghosts: in fact, almost everyone does. They take it for granted; they live with it, and call it ‘ghostlighting’. Wherever you look, it brings the past alive; memories awake, and come to prey on you.

Even with the best will in the world, many who’ve managed to survive horrendous experiences – the refugees fleeing Syria now, or survivors of the recent massacre in Paris – will have memories that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Hell’s Ditch takes that to its logical conclusion: everyone in this world is fighting a war without end.

You can buy Hell's Ditch here.

Hell's Ditch

Hell’s Ditch is the new novel from Simon Bestwick and is published by Snowbooks Ltd. It’s the first in a planned series of four books and is set in post-apocalyptic Britain. The apocalypse in this case has nothing to do with zombies but is instead a result of nuclear war (something that was certainly a concern during my youth and therefore strangely, if not disturbingly, nostalgic) which has eradicated most of the human population and laid waste to huge swathes of the country.

The dominant force in this new Britain is a military dictatorship which has naturally led to the formation of a resistance and although both factions have their share of the narrative, it’s the latter who take precedence, with the narrative focussing mainly on the wonderfully named Helen Damnation, returned to the rebel fold after a closer than normal brush with death. There’s a hint of a resurrection theme to Helen’s story – or rather, backstory – which I’m guessing will be expanded upon in the follow up novels and which confers a messianic vibe to her.

As the first in a series, Hell’s Ditch has a lot of groundwork to do, introducing the new world but also a host of characters. There are plenty of them, operating in three different narrative strands but Simon does a great job of marshalling everything so that at no point do you feel lost, wondering what’s going on or who’s who.

Helen Damnation may be the main focus of the book but another of the characters is possibly the most memorable. He has a great name too – Gevaudan Shoal – which, if my suspicions are correct, nicely combines the two central themes of the book – nuclear warfare and err… wolves. (He could have been called Perigord Niblick but I think Simon chose the right combination). Much fun is to be had with many of the names in this book actually – the secret research programme which makes up one of the narrative strands is called Tindalos which will ring bells with students of Frank Belknap Long (and even Lovecraft) whilst the Styr – mutated creatures found deep underground – have a name which also provides a tenuous link to the consequences of radioactive fall-out.

Gevaudan is the last of the Grendelwolves (yes, I’m guessing – a reference to that Grendel) who becomes a powerful, lycanthropic ally to the rebels but also provides some of the more contemplative moments in the book. Death abounds here – much of it violent – but it’s Gevaudan’s own personal situation that provides some meditation on its true nature.

This is a book bursting with ideas. I particularly liked the idea of ghostlighting – the ability of characters to see the spirits of dead family - but all of them are good and bursting with imagination. The world Simon has created is entirely believable as are the characters who inhabit it. There’s even a little bit of politics – the naming of the military squads as Reapers seems too close to Drone terminology to be a coincidence and one character utters the immortal phrase “we’re all in this together” – and even a bit of ancient Celtic mythology thrown into the mix for good measure.

I loved the time I spent on the world of Hell’s Ditch and I look forward with much anticipation to the follow ups. It’s a book I recommend highly.

Back to Black.

All good things must come to an end and so it is with the Spectral Press serialisation of Simon Bestwick's Black Mountain. Fittingly, the end came on Hallowe'en with the release of the last installment, The Dancers in the Pines - and it's hard to believe that the saga began way back in December of 2013. I reviewed the "work in progress" here so it seems only fitting to complete that process now that the last words of the novel have been committed to... err...the virtual ether.
It's taken another six episodes to complete the story of the eponymous Welsh mountain since that last review which described the fate of Russell Ware, the journalist who'd coined the phrase "The Bala Triangle" to describe the area around Mynydd Du, a place where unexplained phenomena and mysterious deaths and disappearances are rife.
The subsequent installments follow the same pattern as the first five, presented as transcripts and testimonials, presenting the evidence accumulated by Ware and, as the progressing story reveals, earlier visitors to the region. The book as a whole is the literary equivalent of a Matroyshka doll, revealing layer upon layer of information, digging deeper and deeper into the history of the region (episode 9 - Ancient Voices - takes the story back to the Roman occupation of Britain and even then hints that the evil goes back even further than that).
I'll state again how complementary the episodic release of the story has been to this style of presentation. Each episode works as a story in its own right but also reveals enough new information to keep the reader hooked and desperate for the next installment.
The story began way back in 2013 with the introduction of the author himself as the narrator and as the book neared its conclusion I had concerns as to how this device would work. All I will say is that it does work - and in an extremely clever and entertaining way. Call it post-modern, meta-fiction even but however you look at it, it's bloody good and rounds off the ten month journey in style.
Mention needs to be made too of the stunning art work which adorns the covers of the individual episodes, provided by Neil Williams. It's great news that a print version of the complete book will be produced next year so that the art - as well as the words - can be fully appreciated. The cover image I've used for this review (episode 10, The Watcher) is my favourite of them all - and is possibly my favourite of the episodes too. I mentioned the "found footage" analogy in my previous review and this device is used within the story itself in this installment to great effect. I had to put the kindle down at one point, so effective - and downright scary - was the imagery being presented. That hasn't happened since I read Adam Nevill's Last Days - so kudos to Mr Bestwick for that.
If you haven't already, you can buy Black Mountain here (and visit the Spectral site for the first installment) - you really should.

Killer Serial.

Having played a significant role in re-establishing the chapbook as a viable medium for literature, it’s heartening to see Spectral Press trying their hand at another format – that of the serialised novel – with the publication of Simon Bestwick’s Black Mountain. The serial novel has a long – and distinguished – history with Dickens and Conan-Doyle probably its most famous proponents. I’m old enough to remember – with much anticipation I have to add – the release of the instalments of Stephen King’s The Green Mile which was originally released in this format too.

Given the quality of both the publisher’s and author’s previous work, it was with the same degree of anticipation that I approached this series and with five of the ten episodes now available here it seems an appropriate time to review the ongoing saga of strange and mysterious goings-on centred around the titular Welsh location.

The story begins with The Red Key which introduces us to the narrator, a certain… Simon Bestwick. It’s a nice touch although Simon has admirably resisted the temptation to add a Fargo-esque “This is a True Story.” As a device I guess it’s the literary equivalent of cinema’s “found footage” – a trick that worked well in Blair Witch but which has seen diminishing returns pretty much ever since.

Part One introduces Rob Markland, a friend of Simon’s, now confined to a psychiatric ward, terrified into hiding from the world. What exactly it is that he’s seen and experienced which has had such a profound affect on him is what provides the narrative thrust of the story as - via the discovery of notes and transcripts belonging to Rob himself but also another investigator Russell Ware in whose steps he’d followed – evidence is presented of a history of strange phenomena occurring around the Black Mountain, or Mynydd Du to give its more romantic and atmospheric Welsh name.

The “found footage” technique is built upon as the narrative progresses as much of what is presented to the reader is a series of extracts and transcripts from recordings and notes made by the two investigators. It’s a brave decision to do it this way as there’s always the risk that the opportunity to create atmosphere could be lost but it’s an unfounded fear as the passages are so well written that the character of the interviewees – and their emotions – are conveyed perfectly to the reader. I even found myself shivering at some of the footnotes and comments (supposedly) written by the investigators themselves.

It’s a complex structure, in effect a story within a story within a story, and there’s plenty going on with suggestions of devil worship, strange glowing lights in the woods and shape-shifting monsters thrown in for good measure. In a way, the serial structure benefits this, each story is full to the brim with incident and further revelations – possibly too much to take in were the novel to be read in its entirety at one go. Having a chance to pause between episodes allows assimilation of what’s just happened, what the new plot developments are and – most importantly – leaves you wanting the next episode to come along to find out what’s going to happen next.

In these days of instant gratification and binge TV watching courtesy of box sets and online streaming, it’s refreshing to return to a more sedate form of entertainment. Some things are worth waiting for (it could be argued that all the best things are…) Black Mountain is a bold venture but one which in my opinion is paying off wonderfully. Although only available electronically, the production values we’ve come to associate with Spectral Press are still apparent, not least in the wonderful cover designs by Neil Williams. Above all it’s the writing that makes this serial adaptation so worthwhile and the style and substance Simon has brought to all his previous work is here in abundance. The dialogue (both internal and external) which has so far carried the story is pitch perfect and – even though it’s only half way through – Black Mountain is already an atmospheric, intriguing and, most importantly, downright scary piece of writing.

I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Though obviously I will…

The Condemned.

The Condemned is a collection of six novellas by Simon Bestwick and is published by Gray Friar Press. These aren't new stories - the oldest dates back to 2001 and the most recent is from 2010 - but they were all new to me and, given my admiration of Simon's other work, it was a collection I was very much looking forward to reading.
World War One is a bit of a fixation for me so you can imagine my delight at discovering the first of the stories, Dark Earth, used those events as its backdrop, a first person narration by Private Bill Sadler, giving testimony at his court martial for murder, mutiny and desertion (thereby the most literal of the "condemned" in this collection). The story doesn't hold back on its descriptions of the horrors of war (the concept of battlefields being made up mainly of human remains a particularly chilling one) and benefits from the use of first person - and the unreliability frequently associated with it - to present an alternative explanation as to why the madness was perpetuated. It's a barn-storming start to the collection with strongly drawn characters which manages to be thought-provoking amidst the blood and guts.
There's a change of tone in the second story The Narrows which tells of a small group of survivors escaping a nuclear blast by entering an underground canal system. Unlike the visceral horrors of the first story, this is more a psychological horror, expertly creating a palpable sense of claustrophobia as the group travel deeper and deeper into the underground darkness. It's unremittingly bleak and utterly encapsulates the feeling of despair felt by its protagonists, a story that slowly chips away at the reader, drawing them into the nightmare unfolding before them.
A Kiss of Old Thorns comes as some (relatively) light relief after the intensity of the first two stories, employing the trope of Arcane Ritual To Defend Against Ancient Evil to good effect, the arrival of an escaping gang of bank robbers disrupting the world of this story's guardian - to devastating effect. It's probably the most conventional horror story of the collection.
The Model returns to more psychological themes but has a wonderful creation in Ken, a shadowy figure who employs life models but who takes much more than just sketches from them. It's an atmospheric tale, hinting at its horrors rather than explicitly showing them.
And then there's The School House, the highlight of the collection for me and up there amongst the best stories I've ever read. Reading this story is like having a waking nightmare; it's full of disturbing images - and acts - and moves seamlessly between past and present, dreams and reality in a confusing, overwhelming and utterly terrifying way. In his story notes, Simon explains his attempts to "evoke the feel of someone going out of his mind as intensely as possible". He has succeeded admirably in this - The School House is one of the most powerful stories I've read and is a wonderful piece of writing.
The Condemned is - given the author - fairly free from political statement. There's comment on the futility of war in Dark Earth of course, and it's no coincidence I'm sure that the protagonists in many of the stories are homosexual, "condemned" not in their own eyes but by the attitudes of others. The last story in the collection however, Sleep Now in the Fire, grabs hold of political metaphor and symbology and has a whale of a time with them. The demonisation of the inhabitants of sink estates takes on a more literal meaning within this tale and I smiled when I saw that the "monsters" here were called BLUEboys and that the weapon used to combat them them were red stars (along with a socialist concept of co-operation and revolution). Not as much as I laughed when the location of the source of the evil was discovered mind you... There's even a nice little dig at religion. It's a rollercoaster ride of a story with its tongue firmly planted in its cheek and makes an entertaining conclusion to an excellent collection of stories.
I heartily recommend The Condemned, horror writing at its best.

Let's Drink to the Dead.

In much the same way as The Sisters of Mercy spawned The Mission and err... Ghost Dance, so Simon Bestwick's novel The Faceless has given rise to this collection of three short stories  set in the town of Kempforth and featuring some of the characters from the book which was my choice as best novel of 2012.
There's a twist in the tales though as they're all set in the eighties, long before the contemporary events described in the novel. It's a ploy that works extremely well, not only establishing the history - the dark history - of the town but adding insight to the characters themselves, describing events that moulded and formed them, adding depth.
This is most effective in the opening story, The Sight, a story that's about as dark as it can get telling of the childhood horrors experienced by Alan and Vera, a tale of abuse and the abused which is unremittingly disturbing. It reminded me a lot of Joe Lansdale's Night They Missed the Horror Show, a story in which a dead dog being tied to the back of a car is the least horrible thing to happen in it. It's the strongest of the three stories and a powerful start to the collection.
The second story Gideon is the least effective of the three, using the trope of Hitch-hiker Given Sanctuary By Creepy Stranger to allow an exposition-heavy account of the history of Ash Fell in the post war years. It covers a lot of ground already explored in the novel but despite this is a nicely constructed, creepy story with some disturbing imagery.
How Briefly Dead Children Dream is the final story, the longest of the three, and tells of a battle between "The Shrike" - a wonderful creation, fusing human and supernatural evil - and two elderly residents of Kempforth over the souls (and bodies...) of two children. It's a thrilling end to the collection and even manages some moments of poignancy amidst the mayhem and horror.
It's not vital to have read The Faceless to appreciate these stories but I would recommend that you should read the novel before delving into them. (I'd recommend it anyway because it's a brilliant book). I'm not sure if they were written prior to, during or after the novel but they're a wonderful companion piece to it.
Disturbing and horrifying, Let's Drink to the Dead is another brilliant piece of writing from Simon Bestwick. Buy it you should, and you can do that here.

The Faceless.

The Faceless is the new novel from Simon Bestwick, published by Solaris Books and is proof that Simon is one of the best writers of horror fiction currently plying their trade. In fact scrap that, it's proof that Simon is one of the best writers  - of any genre - currently plying their trade. This is a great book, one that I thoroughly enjoyed (if that's the right word) reading. It has everything, a great - and, it has to be said, fairly intricate - plot, wonderfully drawn characters - not all of whom are sympathetic, or even likeable, and dialogue that seems natural and uncontrived even when the inevitable spectre of exposition rears its ugly head. Simon is a classy writer with wonderful style, something I first appreciated when I read his collection Pictures of the Dark, where the intense nature of many of the stories was leavened by beautiful, almost poetic prose. It's no mean achievement to maintain stylish writing over the course of a novel but he does, The Faceless is a perfect combination of style and substance.

The plot is multi-layered and told from the viewpoints of a variety of characters, including a psychic only slightly more sympathetic than Gary McMahon's Trevor Pumpkiss. When mist settles on the Lancashire town of Kempforth, people start disappearing whilst at the same time there are sightings of the local bogey-men known as the Spindly Men. The police investigation into the disappearances creates the main narrative thrust of the story but gradually the supernatural elements are added to the mix, culminating in a climax in an abandoned sanitarium.

The book is beautifully written, yes. It has a great plot, yes. Most importantly though, it's scary as hell. Some of the images created in this book will stay with you long after you've finished reading it. The Spindly Men are brilliant creations, drifting through mist-shrouded streets and deserted hospital corridors... The book's title refers to these creatures (who wear masks to disguise their lack of features) but it also sums up the main underlying source of unease and horror generated by the novel. The abandoned hospital - Ash Fell - was used to treat the wounded of World War One, in particular those with facial disfigurement. The fear we feel at seeing someone with such disfigurements - either as a result of injury or disease - is real but is not based on anything so crass as "they look a bit scary". It goes deeper than that, our face is how we communicate with one another, anything that affects that ability causes us unease, we can't interact fully with someone if we can't read their expressions. This is why clowns (or evil bastards as I call them) are so troubling. They could be wearing the hugest of grins, painted all over their faces, whilst at the same time plotting to kill and eat you.

Anyway, I digress... Anyone who's read Simon's story The Slashed Menagerie will find echoes of it in some of what actually went on at Ash Fell. Suffice to say, it's the sanitarium that is at the heart of the story, the source of all the strangeness affecting the town of Kempforth.

Scattered throughout the text are testaments from soldiers wounded in the Great War, later to become residents at Ash Fell. I thought these interludes were brilliant, written in a disjointed, rambling way to reflect the pain, confusion and bitterness of the men involved, adding to the story and providing some sort of rationale for the events that unfold. (My one criticism of the book is that this device is used in the book's coda in a way that took away some of the impact of the earlier entries). The theme of sacrifice runs throughout the book - most profoundly in the testaments of the soldiers who question whether the sacrifice they made was worth anything - and it's fitting that the end of the book is a contemplation of that same theme.

I loved this book, and I thoroughly recommend it - go and buy it now! There's a resurgence in horror at the moment which is to be relished and Simon Bestwick is at the forefront of that. To digress slightly (again!) I wonder if a lot of my appreciation of this book comes from the fact that many years ago I wrote a novel (this in the days when everything was saved on a floppy disk!) about evil deeds performed just after World War One and involving an abandoned sanitarium. Strange but true... I still have the rejection slips but now I know why I got them - The Faceless is a much, much better book than the one I wrote. Damn you Bestwick...