Book Review - Demogorgon (Brian Lumley)

(This review contains spoilers)

Today I look at Brian Lumley's 1987 occult thriller Demogorgon. Charlie Trace is a cat burglar with no real future and a past he'd like to forget. One day he's approached by a mysterious Greek with disturbing news – Trace is the son of the Antichrist, who's now hunting for him. At first dismissive, Trace slowly realises that he's a tool in a plot to revive an ancient evil spawned from Satan himself.

I was drawn to Demogorgon by its author's name. I'd previously read Lumley's Necroscope, which showed his knack for fast-moving prose and plotting that whisks the reader along on an engrossing supernatural trip. Demogorgon doesn't quite reach its heights, but it's still a lot of fun for all that.

The characters are not especially deep but they're engaging enough. Trace starts off as a man who only looks out for number one, having been abandoned by his father and losing his mother to a nervous breakdown. Thieving gives his life purpose, not to mention experience in dodging the lords of the Underworld – the criminal one in this case. As horrific events start building around him, Trace becomes a more traditional, morally pure hero. He never really becomes an action hero though, spending much of the third act drugged up to his eyeballs – which I thought hampered the plot a fair bit. He also doesn't do much in the climax, leaving it up to the more interesting secondary characters to save the day.

I really wish Dimitrio Kastroumi had got his own novel. He has a backstory which really could have done with some fleshing out – he stabbed a man in a fit of romantic envy for marrying the woman he loved, but the impact of this on him (like guilt?) isn't really touched on. Plus he spends thirty years researching and tracking down the Antichrist. You could write a whole saga on that!

We're also teased with some social context. There's an establishing section of the story set in Cyprus in the 1950s, where emnity between the Greeks and the Turks is boiling over into violence and vigilantism. It's only here that we see the effect the Antichrist has on the wider world – the rest of the time, “Khumeni” (as he goes by here) is only interested in his own rejuvenation. Perhaps Lumley didn't feel there was time to expand beyond his main characters.

Lumley also tries to work in a love story between Trace and the mysterious Amira Halbstein. Unfortunately, like Trace, she also becomes less active in the plot as the story goes on. There's some brief tension as you wonder what side she's really on, but it quickly turns into a trite “falling for the mark” subplot. Her feelings for Trace are kind of out-of-the-blue (maybe that was just Trace's devilish charm working on her sub-consciously?).

Also Trace – when he realises she's working for Khumeni – orders her to strip for some reason. Because . . . fanservice?

Her role in Khumeni's plot doesn't make much sense either. She was sent to seduce Trace to make him come to Israel with her, where Khumeni would be lying in wait. But Khumeni sends some thugs with her to bring Trace by force if he proves troublesome. He eventually does and has to be doped to come along with them. So why didn't Khumeni just do that before? Wouldn't it have made more sense to keep Amira near him so he could keep an eye on her?

And jumping to the end, that coda felt a bit flat too. Trace, finally succumbing to his dark inner self, calls on Satan's power to destroy some thugs who beat him up, and his ex who went over to their side. The trouble is, none of these characters are developed enough so their deaths felt a bit off. I wasn't sure what I was meant to feel. Was there supposed to be some grim satisfaction to watching them get struck by lightning? If so, Lumley could have built up their unpleasantness a bit more.

The supernatural side of the book is handled better though, and it's clearly here that Lumley has the most interest, so I won't hold his character issues against him too much. The Antichrist's absorbtion of his victims is a wonderfully gruesome sight – and it also lets Lumley play on the old image of the devil as having goat legs. We also get walking lightning, a terrifying but awesome way to kill someone. Lumley plays with biblical stereotypes here as well – here it's Satan's wrath that comes from the sky as lightning, not God's.

The climax though feels a bit too neat. Khumeni is just about ready to be fully revived and then . . . Satan just abandons him? Why? He threw away his chance at world domination. Had he thought Khumeni had failed him in some way? Did the Prince of Darkness suddenly decide his grandson would make a better agent? Again, Lumley could have set this up better by showing Trace as more overtly villainous.

Khumeni is thus left the ignominous fate of being turned into a pig-man and falling off a cliff to his death. Kind of a shite way to treat your villain. It's not really a case of “God out of the machine” so much as “Satan exits stage left.”

Alas Demogorgon has many problems. But I still had fun.

Book Review - Cross Bones (Kathy Reichs)

When Avram Ferris, a Jewish trader, is shot in Montreal, forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan is given a photograph by a mysterious man who claims it holds the key to the murder. The photo is of a skeleton, and as Brennan searches for its identity, she fears she might stumble on a millenium-old secret that could cause worldwide chaos.

First things first, the story's not as melodramatic as I just made it sound. One of the most entertaining things about this story was thinking it was going down the Dan Brown route, only to wrongfoot the reader completely. Cross Bones is pretty innovative in that regard - “brave” is probably too strong a word, as it's not that the book really does anything to subvert expectations, rather it doesn't do a certain thing.

It teases that it's going to feature sinister, ancient conspiracies, with Jewish, Christian and Muslim groups all having a moment in the dark spotlight. Two iconic moments from Christian and Jewish heritage – Christ's crucifixion and the siege of Masada – play a central role in Brennan's investigations, implying that they're going to be central to the story's resolution. Before the story begins, Reichs gives us a detailed timeline of a real Israeli archaeological dig that happened in the 1960s, and the weird aftermath that would have any conspiracy nut in a lather. I won't say how the novel deals with all this, but I imagine some readers will be impressed by the unexpected turn, while others will be sorely disappointed.

But enough about intrigue, let's talk about the more concrete details. First of all, I really liked Reichs's prose. It's very efficient, with no time for purple prose, which is a big turn-off for me. In fact, there are times when the wording feels a little too clipped. Reichs also loves giving single sentences their own line, as if to show that they're really significant.

But she does this so much it loses its effect quickly.

It starts to look a bit melodramatic after a while.

She also loves to end chapters with thunderingly unsubtle teasers for the next chapter. Typically, someone will be explaining something to Brennan, and the chapter will end on something like “What he said next made my jaw drop” or words to that effect. Not only does this get excessive, but it comes off as really unnecessary given we can just turn the page to find out what exactly was said. It's not like we're getting each chapter in weekly installments and are being forced to wait in suspense for the next one.

All these are minor gripes thought. Honestly, I do love the writing in this book. Reichs has a very easy-going style and humour that made up for the slightly convoluted plot. There are number of skeletons involved in the story, and it can get a little confusing trying to remember who's who. At points, she loves to go into excruciating detail about how a skeleton is examined. This isn't surprising given how Reichs is basing this on her own work, but it made me skip over a few pages as I went.

Fortunately, Reichs's characterisation makes up for these dry moments. Brennan gives the profession a very human quality, and her frequent quips stop the book from taking itself too seriously, while also avoiding coming off as obnoxious. We find out a lot about Brennan's life and backstory through occasional tidbits, so she feels well-rounded without having to bury the reader under a tonne of exposition. I also liked her tongue-in-cheek relationship with Andrew Ryan. It's nice to read a crime novel where the protagonist's romance is playful instead of angsty.

Jake Drum was a bit of weak character in my opinion. He spends a lot of time grumbling and holding things back from Brennan, which starts to get a bit repetitive. That was one of my biggest gripes with the book and made the second half a bit of a slog as he features more prominently there.

That said, I still liked Cross Bones over all. It's fun and it has some great character-work, which is always good in a book, and it. I say pick up a copy if you get the chance.

TV Review - Better Call Saul S02E02 & S02E03 "Cobbler" & "Amarillo"

Apologies on the lateness of this review. College work has been sucking away all my energy over the past two weeks, but now I'm back to talk about the next two episodes of Better Call Saul. And to be honest, there isn't a whole lot to talk about. We're still at the stage where the foundations of the season's plot are being laid, before events really kick off.

The main thread so far is Jimmy trying to adjust to working in a large, professional law firm. From the way he carries himself in board meetings, it's clear why Jimmy would be such an attractive asset to them, given his magnetism and gift of the gab. We see it in slightly less scrupulous ways as well, like Jimmy ambushing a group of seniors in Texas, hoping to score more clients in Davis and Main's push against Sandpiper. We also get to see Jimmy's first major clash with the firm when he airs a commercial without their consent, adding the first nail to his coffin as a reputable lawyer.

Jimmy's most entertaining moment is undoubtedly where he's forced to explain away Warmolt's bizarre behaviour to the police. The show has a great way of forcing its characters into tight situations and getting them to come up with novel solutions; we saw it last season when Jimmy was kidnapped by Tuco, and again when he was forced to find the “abducted” Kettelmans. Here, Jimmy's explanation for Warmolt is hilarious in its sheer Would-I-lie-about-this? brazenness, while also ending on a more serious note when Kim lectures him on doctoring evidence. This is more a teaser for a major plot point than a plot point in itself, but like the Davis and Main commercial, it gives a credible explanation for how a lawyer as committed as Jimmy could end up getting kicked out of the firm.

It also causes some cracks in his relationship with Kim. I like how their relationship has become a lot more open since last season, with their romantic feelings becoming more overt as they get more comfortable with each other. Seeing how great the two work together obviously adds to to the tragedy of the whole thing, since the relationship can only end in disaster.

Chuck McGill (Michael McKean) returns, with a much frostier relationship with his little brother, understandably. While Chuck was characterised as the straight-laced brother back in Season 1, I couldn't help notice a slight change in his presence here. We first see Chuck struggling to occupy himself playing the piano in his darkened home. In the board meetings, he has to silently watch while Jimmy dominates proceedings. Maybe it's my imagination, but I wonder if Chuck is going to resort to more underhand techniques this season, not so much for the good of the firm, as out of resentment at watching his more reckless brother become more successful than him. It wouldn't surprise me – given how envy and bitterness was at the heart of Jimmy being forced to leave Cicero – if Gilligan and Gould decided to link the two brothers together thematically.

Mike's subplot also gets a bit more development here. Staking out his daughter's house to protect her and Kaylee from a gang is exactly the sort of compassion mixed with cold determination we've come to expect from him. It also links in again with Mike's disillusionment with the police; he does it himself since the Albuquerque cops don't seem that concerned. The “twist” where it's hinted that Stacey (Kerry Condon) may have imagined raises more questions: is she becoming paranoid? Is Mike going to have to become more involved with his family? How is he going to square his responsibilities to them with his further forays into the Albuquerque Underworld?

Episode 3 tantalisingly ends with Nacho offering Mike a job to “make someone disappear”. My first instinct was that it might be Tuco or even Gus Fring (just a little something to get viewers even more lathered up). But I guess if that were the case they would have shown just who Nacho wants bumped off – I suppose whoever it is is someone we haven't met before. It would also be a little too soon for Mike – who even in this episode is reluctant to get involved in anything too deep – would suddenly start playing politics by jumping from one crime lord to another.

I suppose Mike's plot at this stage, like Jimmy's, is not about linking Better Call Saul in with its parent show. Right now it seems more of a personal story, showing how Mike gets dragged down further into a life of crime. Unlike Jimmy, his weakness isn't recklessness, but his sense of duty to his family.

For the moment, the season is proceeding at a slow enough pace. But it's certainly not skimping on deepening and developing its characters.

Book Review - Century Rain (Alastair Reynolds)

Century Rain is a futuristic sci-fi thriller from Alastair Reynolds. It opens in the 23^rd century, where humanity has divided into two factions – the machine-augmented Slashers and the more conservative Threshers – and the Earth has been deserted in the wake of a machine-led catastrophe. War between Slashers and Threshers is looming, especially over who gets to possess the Earth, which has been overtaken by machines. An archeologist named Verity Auger is approached by the Securities Board of the Threshers (aka, the secret service) to investigate a secret phenomenon; an immense metallic sphere capable of housing a planet. Inside is a replica of the Earth set during an alternate 1950s. Auger is called on to retreive some top secret documents from Paris, while evading the hostile Slasher forces that have already penetrated the planet.

One thing you can say for Alastair Reynolds is that he knows how to convey a sense of scale. Like his other works, this book spans vast swathes of space, sometimes even bending the laws of reality to give his universe an even greater scope. Even then, this feels like only one portion of a much bigger story. We keep getting hints of other events, like the past wars between Slashers and Threshers, and the Nanocaust which destroyed the Earth. The biggest event is the creation of the spheres, which we're kept in the dark about. We never find out who created them, or “how” or “why” for that matter. While it can feel like a bit of cheat to string the reader along for 500 pages with no clear answer, I like how Reynolds keeps certain things back, making his universe feel so much bigger. He's tackled similar themes in other works like Pushing Ice, where another super-advanced civilisation creates an enormous structure capable of containing a planet. I imagine you'd have to read all his novels to really understand it, given how he likes to loosely thread them together.

The alternate Earth is a different addition to his other books. This is the first time I've read Reynolds trying to write a “historical” piece. The concept of averting WWII has been around a long time, but Reynolds handles it in a fascinating way here. Here the War hasn't been averted, but greatly shortened, lasting a few months as the Nazis failed to take France due to unseasonally heavy rain (caused by the artificial climate of the sphere). Without the arms race that followed, the human race didn't progress technologically and is still stuck in a 1930s type world without television, computers, and most crucially, spacefaring technology that would reveal the truth about their world. Technology is not the only change though; because the Nazis never got as far as the Final Solution, there was no widespread condemnation of Fascism and global movement towards civil rights. The alternate France is clearly moving down the Fascist route again, while our protagonist (an American PI named Wendell Floyd) can only helplessly watch.

While Reynolds loves to play around with his universe and invent all sorts of weirdness, I didn't think his characterisation was that strong. It's not that he doesn't try; we spend a lot of time with Auger and Floyd, finding out about their pasts, their motivations, and their relations with the other characters. Reynolds does a lot to make these people three-dimensional and interesting, but for some reason, I didn't feel as invested in them as I should have. I suppose the hyperfuturistic setting is part of the problem. Reynolds's universe is certainly alien, but it's so alien that I sometimes struggle to connect with the people in it. The constant presence of technology, which has become almost omnipotent in its development, also makes the universe feel a bit too dettached from ours, as technologically-driven as our world is.

The scenes in alternate Paris were the best for me, as here the characters felt strongest. The relatability of the setting may have helped here. Floyd's situation was one that I think almost everyone can relate to. He has a choice between continuing his life in France with its – limited – security, or he can go to America with his one-time flame, Greta, and risk starting a new life there. Between a corrupt society, precarious job and unfulfilled ambitions, this is certainly not easy reading, but it's still the part of the book I feel works the best. I thought the slow-burning romance between Auger and Floyd was decently handled. I'm glad Reynolds didn't make it too saccharine, or go the other extreme and have them clash so much that their feelings didn't feel plausible. That said, I didn't think their relationship was remarkable – it didn't stay with me long after finishing the book – but it was enough to fill up the middle portion of the story.

Something else I feel this story could have needed was a bit more humour. Reynolds doesn't often try for humour, and when he does it's usually characters quipping in life-or-death situations, a style I don't really care for. Most of the time, his work comes off as po-faced and too serious, which can make be hard to engage with sometimes.

The technobabble can also be overbearing sometimes. Reynolds spends a lot of time discussing wormholes, nanotechnology, secret communications, and God knows what else. It's just about legible if you pay attention, which can be difficult when the plot slows down. Be warned, the plot slows a lot in this book, especially near the beginning and the end. The final section consists of our heroes travelling through space, trying to stop a superweapon being deployed on Floyd's Earth. It lasts about a hundred pages but I feel it could have been pared down a bit. This is another tactic Reynolds uses to show how enormous the universe is, by having his characters take ages to get from A to B, which is understandable if you want to convey realism. But did it really have to be done this much? By this point, I was just trying to finish the book as quickly as possible.

One last thing I want to touch on are the villains. The most predominant are those weird kids on Floyd's Earth, who in reality are genetically-modified soldiers which have stuck around a bit longer than their sell-by date, and are now starting to malfunction in psychotic ways. I love to see this sort of genre-bending, and Reynolds uses it to great effect here. The children behave like ghouls from European folklore, yet also serve as a warning about the limits of technology – the merging of Old and New World symbols is definitely one of my favourite things about this book.

However, these are only grunts. The real villains, the ones pulling all the strings are far, far less interesting. In fact, we only meet one of them briefly, and for the rest of the story, all we see of them are the tail-lights of their receding spaceship. Hardly what you'd call memorable.

With all that said, I'd still reccommend Century Rain for any sci-fi fans out there. Its eye for the grandiose and spectacular may feel alienating, especially when it comes to making the story feel more personal, but it's still well worth checking out.

TV Review - Better Call Saul (S02E01) "Switch"

It's hard to believe that already a year has gone by since the premiere of season 1 of Better Call Saul. Season 2 opens with a reminder of where Saul (Bob Odenkirk) ended up after escaping the carnage wrought by Walter White; working at a Cinnabon cafe in Omaha. The episode opens with some tropes we've come to expect from Vince Gilligan; extreme close-ups, ironic soundtrack, and a dreary disillusionment with modern society. At the end of another long day, Saul gets locked in the dumpster area, where the only way out is an alarmed fire escape. His dilemma in the opening scene reflects the deeper one he faces in Albuquerque; should he wait around for someone to get him out (or offer him a job), or should he plough ahead and take a risk (in this case, getting arrested or fired)?

The episode then cuts back to where Saul (still going by Jimmy McGill) was at the end of Season 1; turning his back on the legal profession to live out a life of directionless hedonism. Jimmy's forced to question every choice he's made since coming to Albuquerque; if all his efforts to become a lawyer have been to win his brother's approval, why should he bother when Chuck has no faith in him anyway? The possibility of redemption arrives in the form of Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn), the one person who still refuses to let Jimmy throw his life away. As Kim tries to talk Jimmy into taking up the offer to work at Davis & Main, Jimmy rebuffs her with his own philosophy. Both arguments make sense given the characters' situation, and the episode toys with the audience's expectations about which way Jimmy will go in the end.

The scene leads to a lengthy sequence where Jimmy and Kim con an obnoxious stockbroker (Kyle Bornheimer) into treating them to dinner, in exchange for spinning him a yarn about their long-lost wealthy uncle. The script wisely doesn't tell us why Jimmy approaches him in the first place, or what his angle is when he plays up the role of a dupe. It's only when Jimmy and Kim run out on the check that Jimmy's motivations are made clear to us, and to Kim: scamming people is fun, and when life doesn't reward you for your hard work, why not have a little fun? This scene plays out like a lawyer's patter, with snappy dialogue and exuberant performances to lull the viewer in, not getting to the point until the very end. The closest analogue I could think of from last season was Jimmy's meltdown at the retirement home, where an innocent game of bingo turns into a truly unpleasant sob story. It's a form of storytelling that Gilligan clearly enjoys, and it's used to excellent effect here.

We also see it in the episode's other plot. Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks) is unimpressed with the decisions made by his “boss”, Daniel Warmolt (Mark Proksch), and, in a most characteristic way, calmly walks away when he knows it's not worth his time. Warmolt had only a small role last year, but there are hints that he could become more central here. I certainly hope so, as this is a character with a lot of mileage – with his luminous runners and outrageous compensatory Hummer, one could read him as a more comical Walter White (if we didn't already have one). His Fargo-esque accent underlines how much of an outsider he is in sunbaked New Mexico. Endearingly, Warmolt lacks the most basic understanding of how to be a successful criminal, like not to call the cops when you've clearly got a dark secret in your home.

Tuco's lieutenant, Nacho (Michael Mando) also returns, still as menacing as ever. Interestingly, it's periphary characters like these that are currently driving the plot, as Jimmy, Kim and Mike don't really do much this week. Not that I'm complaining. The season's only just beginning and it's already itching to go places, throwing all manner of questions at us.

How does Jimmy go from a respectable lawfirm to a strip mall? What does Warmolt have behind his wall? Why wasn't Jimmy supposed to turn off that switch?

Answers to all these and more coming soon!

Book Review - The Maltese Falcon (Dashiell Hammett)

Private investigator Sam Spade is hired by a young woman to find her sister, fearing her disappearance is connected with her troublesome boyfriend, Phil Thursby. When his partner is shot while tailing Thursby, Spade starts to unravel a much deeper and more complicated case, centering around a coveted black falcon, a medieval artefact worth millions of dollars . . .

Being a noir novel, The Maltese Falcon is not without its complexity when it comes to plot. However, I feel the story works because of its relative simplicity. Dashiell Hammett's prose is less grandiose than the likes of Raymond Chandler. He doesn't add philosophical musings to the story, but merely describes what is happening in the present.

Although the book follows Spade, we aren't given an insight into his thoughts unless he talks about them out loud. Hammett likes to describe Spade's facial expressions, but leaves it up to the reader to decipher them. In this way, the characters are constantly kept at arm's length, keeping their motivations in the dark which leaves the reader more freedom to interpret them how they want.

Because the book avoids introspection, Hammett's focus on external description is heightened. He has a keen eye for detail and creates a vivid impression of what his characters look like. Spade is described at the start as a “blond satan”, and the V's of his face – eyebrows, nose and mouth – are emphasised (something here). Other characters, like Gutman or Joel Cairo, also get in-depth descriptions, which makes the world of the text feel more vivid, and its characters more memorable.

The lack of introspection also leaves Spade's relations with other characters often open to interpretation. I thought his relationship with his secretary, Effie Perine, was the most interesting. There's a mutual affection there, though friction sometimes comes into it. Spade likes to play at being brash and cocky, whereas Effie is more straightforward and can find Spade exasperating sometimes. Hammett gives away enough to keep the reader interested, without making explicit if their relationship has romantic potential, or is more of a friendship or avuncular dynamic.

I thought there were also seeds of an interesting dynamic between Spade and his partner, Miles Archer. Spade clearly doesn't like Miles, and doesn't respect him either as he has an affair with his wife, Iva. However, Miles is killed early on in the story, and Iva only appears in a few scenes, meaning this subplot is not explored as much as I think it could have been.

I also thought Bridgit O'Shaughnessy, the woman who comes to Spade at the start, could have been developed more. She milks the damsel in distress trope a few too many times, and her teary pleas for help come off very repetitive. Hammett at least doesn't take long to show she's not as innocent as she lets on, but the fact that it doesn't lead to any big change in her personality or behaviour leaves her feeling a bit flat as a character.

Despite its weak points, I'd still reccommend The Maltese Falcon to any crime fans. I'll also make sure to check out Hammett's other works in the future.

Book Review - The Space Vampires (Colin Wilson)

“Have you ever killed anyone, Benjamin? It's like sex only there's a winner.”

--- Mr Hyde, Jekyll (2007)

The Space Vampires has a deceptive title. I got my copy at a booksale and was told I could take ten books for €5; I only took this one to fill that quota. From the title and the blurb – about a sex-crazed lady who starts seducing men to their destruction – I was expecting a bit of disposable pulp.

I was surprised to learn that the book was in fact a philosophical tract written by a man who seemed to garner some controversy in his lifetime. I don't know much about philosophy, but I am interested to see how writers infuse their personal beliefs with their stories. Therefore, I approached Mr Wilson's book with more interest.

The plot of The Space Vampires is what you'd expect; a team of astronauts discover a derelict spacecraft built and abandoned by some formidably intelligent alien race, yet somehow harbouring humans in suspended animation. Three of these specimens are brought down to Earth, wherein they break free and start preying on any humans they find by seducing them and possessing their minds. The fate of the world lies primarily in the hands of Olof Carlsen, commander of the team that discovered the “vampires”, and Dr Hans Fallada, who becomes fascinated by their hunting techniques.

One thing I'll say for this story is how effectively it shifts between different genres. The opening chapters, from Carlsen's exploration of the space derelict (christened the Stranger) to Fallada's experiments with life-fields, are situated well within the science-fiction genre. Wilson gets the plot off running almost instantaneously with the Stranger's arrival, and creates an oppressive feeling of dread when the team embarks on it. Fallada's experiments with sea creatures creates dread of a different sort, where the simple act of an eel eating an octopus becomes an almost sexual act, as depicted by Fallada's “life-streams”.

This section seems to be inspired by the controversial theory of the physicist, Harold Saxon Burr, who argued that all organisms have an electromagnetic field surrounding them that corresponds with their physical state. Wilson uses this theory to add to the philosophical argument of his own work – he parallels the life-field theory with his own depiction of the mental/sexual relationship between the vampires and their prey. The concept of an interconnected universe is explored by the text in various ways, from the life-field experiments, to Carlsen's newfound telepathy, to the aliens' own concept of sexual attraction.

The story shifts into Gothic territory when Carlsen and Fallada travel to Sweden in the search for answers about the vampires. They come to a secluded mansion, owned by an eccentric count named Geijerstam, who has a trio of young, eager female students to greet the newcomers. Wilson undermines our expectations here; the count has all the trappings of the Stoker-like vampire but turns out to be benevolent and helpful. Instead, it's Carlsen who is the vampire – or more precisely, has a psychic connection to one of them after a brief encounter.

The act of seduction itself is the text's replacement of blood-sucking; it's through this method that the vampires infect their victims. Rather than bloodlust, it's sexual lust that the victims are overcome with, and Carlsen finds his personal magnetism skyrocketing in the wake of this new power. Unsurprisingly, he has to fight to keep a hold of this humanity in the face of this temptation.

I liked how the text subverts the classical vampire trope and transplants the Gothic theme into a form that contemporary readers could relate to. However, it really could have been handled better. Carlsen tries to use the thought of his wife and children to stop himself giving into his desires. I found this potentially moving development lacking, as we really don't see much of Carlsen's family life. His relationship with them isn't explored much, and so I found it hard to get too invested in this part of the story.

This point in the novel throws up a bigger problem, however. Wilson bases the vampires' methods around his own perception of men and women's sexual relations. The book uses the standard “Men are from Mars, women are from Venus” argument; in this case, “Men are inherently sexually aggressive, while women are submissive”. At one point, Geijerstam takes Carlsen to a psychic to examine the vampires' connection to him. She does this by hanging a pendulum over him, and Geijerstam explains that there are subtle differences in the experiment when it comes to men and women. In this case, the text seems to be arguing that a person's mental state is somehow connected with their gender. I'm not an expert on gender politics, but I wasn't much convinced by Wilson's argument here. For one thing, it completely ignores LGBT people. The argument comes off as very archaic and simplistic

Thankfully, the story does pick up again in the third act, where the truth about the vampires' origins is revealed. Wilson not only conveys how truly alien the vampires are, but how much of a culture shock it would be to meet them. When Carlsen is shown just how much of the Universe they have explored, it puts the Planet Earth in a rather obsolete perspective. Carlsen's nihilistic reaction to this – and to the vampires' unexpected fate – left quite an impression on me. Wilson also draws a broad outline of the aliens' culture, how they became vampires, and also of their intentions in coming to Earth. It's enough to make the novel feel richer, but not too much that it gets bogged down in technical details.

The theme of interconnectedness returns to the novel's climax. Near the start, Fallada showed how the life-fields of predator and prey work in harmony as one is consumed by the other. Here, the vampires' own predatory nature is a result, not of connection, but isolation. Cut off from their own world, they're forced to take genocidal measures just to survive. I couldn't help feeling some degree of sympathy for the vampires, but Wilson manages to avoid downplaying the horror of their acts.

The Space Vampires is an interesting if uneven novel. I didn't agree with all of its arguments and the characterisation is pretty thin. Where it succeeds is building a feeling of weirdness and horror, while hinting at some deeper, groundbreaking themes.