30 Days of Night (Steve Niles)

This was an interesting story. There were some polarizing elements to it in that there were definitely things I really liked, and then there were also things I thought were really lacking.

I loved the vampires in this story. They were scary. They hungered for domination over the living. They were arrogant, to the degree that it was an actual weakness, and for the most part, they were blind to it. Save for Vicente and perhaps other elder vampires that weren't in the story. Vicente's wisdom made him truly a powerful villain. I loved the idea that he and the other elder vampires had strived for so long to make vampires seem as myth. The younger vampires ignoring or not even conceiving of this notion was what this story was really about. The wisdom of old age versus the brashness of youth. I loved how this story portrayed that.

The characters had good depth for such a short piece of work. The description and setting were well done too. There were moments of gore, moments of suspense, moments of tension, and a heck of a lot of action.

What didn't work for me was how Eben was able to inject himself and control himself after becoming a vampire. Nothing led me to believe this was possible, and yet he not only did it, he planned it as if he knew he could do it. And of course, it all just went according to plan. Blah.

I didn't think the stuff regarding New Orleans was really necessary. It was somewhat interesting, and could have possibly been given more meaning, but as the story was written, none of the stuff about getting pictures back to the old lady mattered. All of that could have been taken out of the story and it wouldn't have affected it one bit. Its not that it bothered me much, but it just didn't seem to have a purpose that meant anything to the story.

I was also a little curious about why Vicente was so worried about humans not thinking vampires were myths. Don't get me wrong, I loved that premise. But based only on what we got from the story, I didn't see a reason why the vampires needed to be in hiding. They were certainly apex predators. Perhaps he was simply worried that the vampires, left to actually rule the world, would quickly exhaust their food supply? Because they certainly didn't have anything to fear from the humans. Sure, the vamps had to hide during the day. The humans would most definitely have to hide during the night. Had the vampires decided to come out and declare war on humanity, I think they would have won easily, with just a bit of strategic planning. I guess I'm just saying I'd like to know why Vicente was so worried about the humans realizing vampires were real. If the humans wanted to try and hunt them into extinction, I think the vampires taking the fight to the humans would result in a whole shit load of new vampires. So, the only thing I can think of is that Vicente was afraid the vamps would hunt the humans to extinction. But his sentiement didn't feel like that. He seemed to actually be afraid of the humans for some reason... like if they found out vampires were real, they had some kind of upper hand. If there was even just some other weakness they had, that he was afraid the humans would learn of, that would significantly tip the odds in the humans' favor, then I'd have been happy.

Overall though, this was a good read... a good example of monsters and a decent enough story.

Relic (Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child)

This was a good book.

It didn't necessarily start out that way though. I think there was a bit too much time establishing the characters, and too much writing devoted to technical description. I quickly grew tired of Meg and her dissertation. And Smithback and his writing projects. And even when it got to technical stuff, there was too much information. It was impressive, and I'm sure accurate, but I don't think I needed the names of all kinds of DNA equimpent, for example. Either the authors were writing from a place of legitimate first-hand knowledge, or they really did their homework. Either way, I applaud their knowledge. But I really felt like those kinds of things slowed the book down considerably, and, had I not had to read this book for class, I probalby would have dropped it early on.

And that would have been a mistake. Once I got about half-way through, the reminders of the dissertation or book-writing became minor annoyances. I was sucked into the plot, and enjoyed the ride as the characters unravelled the mystery. And I'd like to mention that this book had a serious mystery vibe to it. I kinda think it was more a mystery/thriller than a horror book, even though there were definitely some horror vibes going on. Where it differed from a mystery though was that, in a mystery, you're tyring to figure out "who done it." And there might be legitimate clues or even red herrings that make it seem like there's a supernatural element responsible for what's happening, but the point of the mystery is that its logical, and the supernatural stuff isn't real, and in the end, the culprit ends up being human after all. The reader has to try and figure out who and how before the book ends. This book wasn't a mystery in that regard, because there really was a monster in the end. But everything else about the book felt like a good mystery. And here's the one thing that I was disapointed in, and it wasn't the book's fault at all. I read this book as part of this "Monsters" class. So, going into it, I already knew there was a monster. I was sure of it. But, what if I had read this book on my own, without the benefit of knowing from the beginning the monster was really there. I think this book would have unfolded much differently for me. I probably would have been more like Pendergast, who after hearing Dr. Frock's inital theory of a monster, dismissed it. I'd have been trying to figure out who was responsible for the death's, and would have looked at the monster and the Mbwun figure as red herrings. This book was the only thing we read where the fact that already knowing there was a monster affected how I received the book. I really wish I wouldn't have known, because I think my reaction would have been even stronger when I found out there really was a monster.

What I liked most about this book was its believability. A great example of it is what I referred to earlier, with Dr. Frock's inital theory of the monster, and more importantly, Pendergast's dismissal of it. Too many times in a story, someone comes up with a one-in-a-million explation for the crazy supernatural thing that is going on, and everyone suddenly buys into it and acts as if the tenuous theory was as solid and true as the grass being green. And guess what. The one-in-a-million theory ends up being dead on. I hate that. In this book we had the DNA extrapolation program. I rolled my eyes at that a little, not gonna lie. But this book gave that program warts. It wasn't perfect. It didn't get the results perfect. The group didn't accept it as gospel. And most importantyly, Pendergast didn't even believe Dr. Frock's theory. He didn't believe there was a monster until he saw it. The extrapolation program's biggest impact was only in helping Meg figure out a way to defeat the monster by shooting it in the eye. I found it so refreshing that this book didn't just have everyone fully understand the monster and act accordinly based on conjecture and a DNA program.

The mystery elements worked for me in this book. I knew there was a monster, but they didn't, or at least weren't sure of it, and it was fun watching them piece things together. Like I said earlier, I wish I didn't have the outside knowledge that this book actually had a monster in it, so I would have been more with them figuring it out than watching them figure it out.

I liked that there wasn't some crazy nefarious plot on the part of Wright, Cuthvert, and Rickman. They were just selfish, pompous asses trying to cover things up. They weren't sure about Monatague, but they also didn't kill him. They just wanted to save their asses and keep bad publicity away from the museum. I just found the extent of their involvement so much more believable, because it wasn't over the top.

There were some other things that bothered me, outside of the annoying dissertation and book deal stuff. Namely, the damn sized of the museum itself. I couldn't keep track of where anything was. It sounded waaaay too big to be a real place. It had like 2,500 employees? What? Didn't they measure some of the halls in yards? I mean, this place was just too big. I started tuning out regarding where anything was and just went with the flow. How many floors did it have? Wasn't it like five? How many basement levels? At least two. I get the part about them not having accurate blueprints for the basement, though they ended up with some in the end somehow, but really, the place was just way too big to make sense to me.

Some of the characterizations were stubbornly one-dimensional. Coffey was a prime example. I get it that he is supposed to be kind of a heel. He was an ass. The reader isn't supposed to like him. Got it. But as an FBI agent put in charge as something as big as what happened at the museum, he maintained the idiot ass persona for too long. At one point, he thought Pendergast AND D'Agosta AND whoever the guy was with D'Agosta he tried to put in charge, where all playing a prank on him about the monster. I get it he didn't believe in monsters. I'm not saying he should have. But Pendergast wasn't with the other two... he basically got too completely seperate eye-witness reports about a creature, and he dismissed them completely. He might not like Pendergast, or D'Agosta for that matter, but I don't think he ever thought them actually incompetent. But the authors just had to keep him as an ass, and I just had a hard time accepting the rigidty of that character. And I don't think it needed to be that way. He started worrying way too much about how this disaster needed to be Perndergast's fault, and not worrying about dealing with the crisis effectively. FBI agents don't get put in charge of situations like that when they can't can't deal with crisis. I'd have much rather seen Coffey have to step up his game and be part of the solution, than what actually transpired on the page.

Another thing that REALLY bothered me was the fact that we got up and personal with the final fight with the monster--Meg using the miner's light and Pendergast trying to shoot out the legs--up until the climactic moment. Then we switched over to Bailey ( I think it was Bailey, maybe Garcia or Waters) and them being scared in the security room, and then Pendergast and Meg show up and we learn that they killed the monster with a final shot to the eye...second hand. SECOND HAND! WTF? It boggles my mind that we get so much desctiption in other places in the book, and we get alot of great action, and you can't frickin' describe the action of the killing shot to me in real time??? That was the one unacceptable part of this book to me. Show me the damn final conflict that you've spent all the previous pages building to. I mean... damn!

Whew. Back to stuff I liked. The monster was kick-ass. And the reveal at the end that it was Whittlesey was nice. I actually wondered about it early on... that perhaps the monster was him... but it was more of a hunch. And I forgot about it before I got to the end, so it was kind of like an "I knew it!" moment for me.

And speaking of the end, I really liked how Kawakita ends up being a real villain. This book did the cliffhanger thing perfectly. They completely set you up for a sequel, but did not hold back on the ending to do it. The book stands on its own as a COMPLETE. story, yet the authors will still able to tell me that, yeah, there's another book, and yeah, you might want to think about reading it. Very well done.

I enjoyed this book. It had some flaws, but I am glad we read it.

The Blob

I hadn't seen this movie before. The monster was pretty bad-ass. I wasn't sure how effective it would be, since it was just this big blob of goo. I figured it would be easy to outrun, and would have to rely on victim stupidity to kill. I was wrong about that. Initially, it did need a little help, which the old homeless guy provided. But once we got  into the movie, it held its own pretty well. I liked how it clung to the ceiling and how it would form appendages and lash out. And once it touched someone, it was pretty much over for that person. I was wondering if they blew it up, if it would just blow up into pieces scattered all over, each attacking victims on its own. That would have been pretty cool to see. I thought fire would hurt it, but it seems that cold was its only weakness. I can live with that. Fire gets overused anyways.

As for the rest of the movie, there were definitely issues. The characters were pretty flat. I did like how the good guy football player was killed pretty early on. I figured he'd make it to the end, so his early death surprised me. Loved that the other football player got it good. Seeing the sheriff suddenly dead inside the blob was a good twist too. But overall, the characters were one dimensional, and to me, that meant they were all fodder for the blob. I might have preferred an "Alexis ending" where they all got it in the end, because I really didn't like any of the characters.

I'm not a fan of the "no one believes my story" cliche, but that was used against Meg. And when they had Flagg down at police HQ, it made little sense that they suspected him of doing anything, when half the old man's body was eaten away as if by acid. Speaking of Flagg, with his motorcycle (that he only needed a set of sockets to fix???), how did he manage to cover all the ground he did by walking? And then, of course, this movie has the scenes were people just happen to show up right when they're needed (Flagg came in when Meg needed him and Meg picked up Flagg right when he needed it). I've heard it said that in writing, coincidences can be an author's best friend. I hate them. I find them abused, and this movie had it in spades.

Another cliche that I'm not a fan of is the "evil government agency" crap that never makes sense. Perhaps its because I work with these kinds of agencies in the real world, but I scratch my head at how ridiculous they get.

Lastly, I've never seen a snow-maker in the form of a truck. In PA, we have snow-makers all over the place. just about every ski resort has them. But they are not mobile. Why would you even have one like that in the first place. And then, even if you did, I'm pretty sure blowing it up wouldn't make it snow. Ridiculous.

So, overall, it was a let down of a movie. The monster itself was its only saving grace.

Lovecraft Short Stories

The Outsider - I am going on the idea that the arc to this story is pretty simple: a creature who thought he was human realizes he isn’t when he sees himself in the mirror for the first time. That’s pretty much the story. And this story provided a little bit of a learning experience for me. I tend to think of simple ideas like that as not being enough to center a story on. And in some ways, I think I’m right. I saw the ending coming half-way through, and kept hoping there would be something more to it by the end, and was a bit let down when there wasn’t. My initial response was, “that’s it?” But, as I thought about the story more, it was still a bit of an entertaining ride. There was a lot of setting and mood in this piece. And even though I realized the main character was a monster, and that he didn’t know it, pretty early on, it was still the hints I got in the story that showed it to me. The way the tallest tower was described, with no stairs, and how the main character climbed up, I knew he couldn’t be human. It was interesting to see how that dangerous climb was described. The creature was afraid of falling, but didn’t realize that in telling us about the climb--that he not only attempted it but succeeded at it--he was telling us he wasn’t human, even though he himself didn’t realize he wasn’t human while he told it. There were a few things I didn’t understand from a logic standpoint. It sounded like there was a ground level where he lived, but then after climbing that tallest tower, that there was another ground level up at that elevation too. Also, given how ghastly the creature must have appeared to have provoked such strong reactions from the humans above, I find it hard to believe the creature thought he was human, despite not having a mirror to see himself in. You can see most of your body directly, without the use of a mirror. I imagined this creature as a true beast. To be able to climb the way it did, and to get those strong, immediate reactions, I just felt like there would be more than just his face that would look inhuman, and he would have at least noticed that while growing up. But overall, this was a powerful piece in regards to mood setting.

Pickman’s Model – This story was a little all over the place. It started with the names. I believed he used the name Eliot to refer directly to the reader, and expected the reader to know who Oliver’s grandfather was. He talked about Boston in a way that seemed to expect that I knew the layout of Boston. That kind of thing. It also took me a bit to realize that Thurber was the narrator, too. Once I got acclimated to how Lovecraft was telling this story, it got a bit easier to follow. When they went down into the studio, I started having Poe flashbacks of the Cask of Amontillado, and was trying to convince myself that the narrator was going to meet with some sort of demise, while the logical part of my brain was telling me that was impossible, because the narrator was telling me the story right now like we were chatting together face-to-face. The logic side ultimately won out, because nothing bad happened to the narrator (except for psychologically scarring him for life), but boy, this gave me the feel of the Poe story for some reason. I guessed at the ending, but only just before it was revealed, so I think Lovecraft did a great job there. I knew the photo was going to be of the monster and not a background before he told me, but I think it was more a hunch, once I realized that nothing physically bad was going to happen to the narrator. Lovecraft did a lot of leaving the imagery to the imagination of the reader, which is great, but because the narrator was telling us just how amazing Pickman’s painting skill was, it got to be a little annoying that he copped out with the “words can’t describe it so I won’t try” attitude. I loved the part about the circle of nameless dog monsters with a stolen baby, and the changeling they left with its family, so the times he did describe I felt were rewarded. I did find a little trouble with the prose in general, and I had to re-read sections frequently just to understand what was being said, but then again, this story was written in 1926, so I’ll chalk that up to the effects of time.

The Call of Cthulhu – I was looking forward to reading this story (I had always thought it was a novel!) and it didn’t disappoint. I had seen images of Cthulhu many, many times, and knew a little bit about it from its entry in the first edition Dungeons and Dragons Deities and Demigods book, so I was happy to read this. Lovecraft does a good job of building up suspense the way he tells this story, starting with the narrator being the executor of his great uncle’s will, up until he reads Johansen’s memoir document. It is just about as much a mystery story as it is a horror story, which is an excellent combination. Most of the sleuthing was done by his great uncle, but the narrator picks up where Angell left off and adds the information from the “Madness from the Sea” section, to include connecting the dots that match dates to events that happened in other places in the world.

The setting descriptions were a real strength to this story, from the swamps in Louisiana to the magical island that was Cthulhu’s prison R'lyeh. I had enough information to really visualize where I was. I enjoyed the description of Cthulhu as well:

“when It lumbered slobberingly into sight and gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity

through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness.”

Physically, Cthulhu was imposing--a monster of titanic proportions. Yet this creature could affect the minds of people located anywhere on Earth, while he submerged in a prison at the bottom of the sea. It is a compelling major monster--like a mix of the Kraken and Freddie Kruger (Freddie worked through dreams if I recall). The difficulty in comprehending the architecture of R'lyeh was interesting as well, and spoke of an intellect far greater than man had.

“and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in those crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance shewed concavity after the first shewed convexity”

But my favorite line of all was this one:

“There are vocal qualities peculiar to men, and vocal qualities peculiar to beasts; and it is terrible to hear the one when the source should yield the other.”

This line is so well crafted, and at its heart, it truly is a chilling thought. I pondered which would be worse… to hear the animal and see the man, or hear the man and see the animal. I could not make up my mind.

I’d have to say that I enjoyed my introduction to Lovecraft. Some of his writing takes some effort to understand, but he really does a good job with crazy, and he does a good job at helping the reader to visualize the crazy.

Godzilla

I came away from this movie unimpressed. I guess, with it being done in 2014 and all, maybe I was too hopeful. The things they can do with CGI and special effects these days is just so much better than they could do with the movies I watched as a kid. And don't get me wrong, the special effects were good in this movie. But the increase in technology was offset by the movie kinda being Godzilla-less. I mean, Godzilla didn't show up until the movie was about half way done.

As a stand-alone movie, it wasn't bad. The plot was a little predictable, but the characters had depth and it isn't as if the movie didn't have story. As a monster movie, it was pretty good. The MUTOs were very cool, and they probably did the most work out of carrying the movie. But as a Godzilla movie, I don't know. Godzilla seemed to be a secondary character, and that shouldn't happen in a Godzilla movie. I wanted more. I did think it was way better than the 1998 Mathew Broderick movie (Bueller? Bueller?). I was extremely disappointed with that one, where Godzilla was supposedly a mutant iguana and laid eggs asexually. Talk about ruining Godzilla. So, yeah, it was better than that one. But you'd think with what they are capable of nowadays, they'd be able to make the kick-ass Godzilla movie of your dreams. It just hasn't happened. I remember seeing the old movies as a kid. I was always so excited to see them, and I guess as a kid, you do tend to overlook a lot of problems. But I liked them all, save for the one where Godzilla fought King Kong and lost (What? Godzilla can't lose!). That was also the only one I can remember where he wasn't kind of a hero-like monster that worked with the humans, even if it was more of a things just worked out kind of thing (and ignoring the financial burden the humans would have to pay in rebuilding cities!).

In this movie, he did save the day, and was kinda with the humans, but also, in a things just kind of worked out as an enemy of my enemy is a friend sort of way. And that's probably staying true to the character of Godzilla. In the old movies, he wasn't really a friend of the humans, but ended up saving them kind of as aftermath. One thing to note, and not sure how relevant it is to true Godzilla fans, but in the old cartoon in the late 70's and early 80's, Godzilla was absolutely a friend of the humans, and was actually called by them to fight dangers.

I think in my perfect Godzilla movie, he'd be more like that cartoon version. Not as campy, but actually working with the humans in some sort of cooperative way, but then maybe going rogue when he had to... when human error or betrayal (from "bad guys") caused him to. In a way where he figures out what the humans can't, and goes on his own to accomplish what must be accomplished. He's Godzilla for a reason.

This movie did have Godzilla as a bit of a hero, and in that I was happy. But this movie had far too little of Godzilla in it to really appease a Godzilla appetite.

Snow (Ronald Malfi)

For me, this was the best book we've read so far.

The monster was fantastic. Or at least initially. I loved the idea of something like snow having to be something that is feared. When a bit of snow fluttered in through a pipe, you knew it was a monster coming. That kind of thing. The descriptions of the small snow tornados as they formed was great too. The materialization of scythe hands that stabbed people through the backs was very cool. They said it took a lot of the creatures energy to materialize like that, so I guess its a weakness, but not one that they were really able to take advantage of. If one started to materialize, you simply knew trouble was coming. The pulsing sliver lines reminded me of jellyfish or something, and it was just a really well-described monster. Taking over humans as skinsuits added to the whole brilliance of the monster, because once one settled into a body, other characters had to worry if a person was still human or not. It gave us a bit of what we liked in the movie "The Thing" but with more understanding of how it did it. Everybody had to worry if others had their back sliced or not. The oddity of how it affected kids was interesting, but I'd like to have seen a little more purpose for it--why there faces were the way they were, etc. Did they have a role in trying to achieve the creatures' overall objectives?

I liked the overhead cloud thing too. I'm still not 100% what it was, and I don't think I was supposed to be. But the idea of all the skinsuits standing like manikins in communication with it was great. It gave an extra creepy feel to what was going on. Again, like The Thing, the skinsuits seemed to have a shared collective consciousness going on, which the characters were able to take advantage of with diversion tactics. Diversions worked really well against them because the creatures would all run to the spot. Not good if you're actually alone and in trouble, but great if you're going for a diversion. Malfi was able to use the idea effectively both ways. The cloud moving to hover over different places was a very effective way to bring more intrigue and tension to the story.

Where the monster lost me a little was with the giant snow creations and the worms. It started feeling like new stuff was just being thrown at us to amp up the tension and wonder. But I didn't think it was necessary. The skinsuits and floating snow tornados, not to mention the overhead cloud, were plenty enough for me. I never felt like anything about the giant snow creature, the Bugs Bunny burrowing things, or the black worm thing in the sully every really resolved or made sense with the initial monsters. Not sure why they were added.

The characters were well done. I was sad to see Shawna die, especially in the manner she did (climbing the stairs in safety only to lose it all by opening the basement door), and was disappointed that Molly wasn't killed (I couldn't wait until she was made into a skinsuit... guess I'll have to hope for a sequel). I definitely found myself rooting for Todd and Kate, and was happy they made it out like they did. I expected Todd to be reunited with Justin at the end because there were so many times Justin was brought up. But I liked that. Not everything has to be a surprise.

There were a couple of places where the narration went from close third person to omniscient, and I didn't enjoy those parts. They felt like info dumps and I just wanted to get back to the live action. It was something I noted, because I wonder about adding things like that to my writing, and after experiencing it in a novel like this, now I think its something I want to avoid. I imagine Malfi wanted to add backstory and give characters more depth, but I found that I didn't care enough to have the story pause for it. Getting characterization through the action and dialog was plenty good enough for me.

Funny how this book had to have a veterinarian character to help with medical emergencies. Breeding ground had that too. I guess that's a staple in these survival-type horror stories? Can't have a doctor... lets make the character a veterinarian!

Still, it was a good book. I'm wondering how Bone White is. Anyone read it?

The Thing

I'm happy we were assigned this movie, and was looking forward to watching it when I saw it on the syllabus. I remember liking it when it came out, but I hadn't seen it since then, and over the years, my memory of what happened was more than a bit fuzzy.

I noted in my Term Self-Assessment essay that one of the things I really picked up on and improved at (in my opinion) was my appreciation for getting to the story quicker. In a nutshell, in my essay I spoke of how I thought I also enjoyed a slow burn to getting to the story--what's wrong with some world-building and character work first, and then get to the story? Over this last term, I've come to accept what the program emphasizes, and that getting to the story quicker is something to strive for.

This movie gets to the story write from the very start. Guys are trying to shoot and kill a dog from a helicopter flying over the arctic. Right off the bat, you have tension and urgency and mystery. Why would you devote such resources to killing a dog? You find yourself rooting for the dog because you have no idea what's going on, so you side with the underdog (no pun intended). You're already involved in the story and we haven't finished the opening credits yet. Very well done.

And the movie doesn't really let up. By the time you get to know the characters, the helicopters been blown up, the pilot killed, one of the "good guys" shot, and you're really wondering what's up with the dog.

Then its gore and horror, over and over again. With a ton of character mistrust and "who done it?" going on. I loved the special effects, especially given that the movie came out in the 80's. I love how the characters were set against each other. I liked the fact that you basically understood the creature that was the thing, yet didn't know enough to exactly know what it was or how to defeat it. Very realistic. The characters didn't just put together some crazy explanation that proved to be true and then went with it like it was fact and defeat the monster. They suspected things. They tried testing them. It was all plausible. And you were still left wondering a bit about what the creature could actually do.

We talked about humor in horror, and this movie nailed it with the head-spider scene. I mean, that whole seen from when the doc gets his arms bitten off by the chest of his patient until Windows was a charred crisp was top-notch. And in the middle of all that tension, you get the crazy head-spider, which was funny and broke up the rest of the gore and tension in a good way. It was the epitome of how to do humor in horror right.

What didn't I like? Well, I'm mixed about Bailey. When he went all ape-shit destroying stuff, I felt that as an extreme over-reaction. Yeah, maybe destroying everything would have been the right call. But it didn't make sense that he would just snap and do it himself instead of bringing it up to the group and getting their buy in. There has to be some kind of event to set someone off like that, and they didn't show one. He just snapped. But, one possible explanation, and what I'm gonna go with, is that maybe he was already infected by then, and it was the thing's idea to do the sabotaging. Its the only way that him suddenly going crazy like that makes sense.

So what exactly was the nature of the monster? I think its like a shared sentience kind of thing. Like it can have many forms at the same time--human and animal victims--and somehow it can transmit its knowledge, or at least its emotions, to the rest of its disconnected bodies. It reminds me of the Borg from Star Trek thinking about it like that. "You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile." Except it didn't seem to have that level of intellect. But what happens to the victims? Obviously they still know the things they knew before being taken over. But is the victim for all intents and purposes already dead, and the thing just has access to not only the body, but the knowledge of the victim? What an excellent monster.

I loved when Baily at the end put his hand in Nauls face and just like, connected to him after spidering his fingers underneath his skin. Then he walks off dragging Nauls behind him, hand and head connected as if he were born that way. Super cool.

This was a great movie.

An American Werewolf in London

This movie fell flat to me, and I'm not really sure why. I guess its because everything about it was predictable. I had never seen this one before, but it still felt like I already knew the whole storyline.

Since this is a class about monsters, I'll talk about the werewolf first. I liked it. I liked that they showed the changing from man to werewolf, and the effects weren't totally bad, especially for a movie made in 1981. In the last scene with the werewolf, I was at a crossroads. Part of me thought it looked pretty neat, and it kind of really dated the movie as being early 80's--like gremlins or E.T. But then another part of me thought it was almost comical, and that the werewolf would have made an excellent stuffed animal. But overall, the werewolf, and the movie had a strong 80's vibe, and I have a soft spot in my heart for the 80's.

There was another monster of sorts in this movie: the undead. I wasn't expecting them and I'm not really sure how their presence made sense. Jack was completely ravaged by the werewolf, so I could see him just being dead. And then if the idea is that anyone killed by a werewolf must walk the earth as a ghost type creature that looks like a zombie, I can live with that. But the other victims that David killed, they didn't seem to be as badly wounded. I guess I'm just trying to understand why David didn't leave one or two of them alive to pass on his lycanthropy similar to what had happened to him. In David's case, I guess he was saved from being killed by the folks from the village that shot the werewolf. Does that mean werewolves always completely kill unless they are prevented by some third party? I guess it makes sense... just kind of thinking this through as I write. I always thought that a werewolf attack caused a person to rise as a werewolf, and never really thought about whether or not the person was killed in the act or not. I kinda figured they died and rose as a werewolf like vampires. But as I think of it now, I'm not sure why I even thought that. Werewolves die like anything else living, and if the attack kills you as a person you don't rise as a werewolf because you're already dead. Yet the victims rise as a ghost... an interesting ghost that apparently decomposes as the former body does. Interesting idea. But why do these ghosts suddenly know all about the werewolf lore and know that they need the werewolf's line to be terminated in order to find peace? Did they get a "Rules for the Dead" kind of book like in Beetlejuice to explain it to them?

What was up with that creepy town? I loved that, but logically, I couldn't understand why it was so important for them to hide the fact there was a werewolf about. I'd think they'd have wanted help dealing with it. But regardless, I did like the vibe. You knew something wasn't right in the village, and especially at The Slaughtered Lamb, but wasn't sure of the underlying reason. Yeah, you knew it was about the werewolf, but didn't know much beyond that. Turns out, by the end of the movie, you still didn't know.

So, is lycanthropy hereditary? Is it possible Alex now has a werewolf pup or two growing inside her? :)

Alien

It was nice to watch this movie again. After seeing all the sequels, you start to forget what happened in which movie. This one and the one with the marines are my favorites, not counting the predator cross-overs.

One of the things that makes this movie so good is that the audience knows how bad-ass the alien is, but never really gets to see much of it. In fact, the movie itself is so intentionally dark. A character just walking down a passage alone is scary in this movie. Ridley capitalizes on that with scenes where the cat jumps out and scares them. I loved the suspense, but the cat I could have done without. Its presence on the ship was illogical. Who's cat was it anyways? I think the cat was in the movie just to be able to have that scene where it jumped out and scared everybody. But, did that scene work? Hell yeah. The whole movie, once the alien was out and about, was a long ride in suspense and tension. It didn't matter that you already figured out everyone was going to die, except for maybe Ripley, the protagonist... you weren't sure until it happened, and the suspense to it happening was awesome.

As a minor critique, I don't understand how the alien could grow from that little eel-looking thing that burst out of Kane's chest, to a creature over six-feet tall, in less than 24 hours. Living organisms need to consume to grow. What did it consume that could have allowed it that kind of growth in such a short period of time? Not saying something couldn't be part of the alien's story there... just wish it would have been explained in the movie somehow.

I had a little bit of a "Barbara" flashback (from Night of the Living Dead" with the Lambert character, though she wasn't even half as bad as Barbara. But there was a little bit of a similarity there, and I probably wouldn't have picked up on it had Barbara not just annoyed me so much recently. :)

As far as a monster goes, the alien is at the top of the mountain. It may have company there, but its at the top. Fierce, practically indestructible, relentless, and offensive defense in its acid blood, and extra rows of teeth. A truly spectacular monster. Its the kind of thing that keeps coming, even after you thought you stopped it... but it always makes sense that it keeps coming. The first time I saw the movie (who knows when?), when it got burned in the flame from the shuttle and swung up, I thought it was going to re-enter the shuttle from some other point of access, even if it made its own way in. It was one of those... can I go ahead and breathe now?... moments. I wasn't even sure it was over til I saw the credits. That's a powerful monster.

Night of the Living Dead

Gotta love the old black and whites. You know you're in for some laughs when you see that. I watched this with two of my kids. Fun times.

The zombies were great. Like, real zombies. True zombies. They were exactly what I think of when I think of zombies. Slow. Beatable one on one. And coming in swarms. Eating people. I would have loved to hear one call for "brains!' This story had the best zombies of everything we've covered so far.

But, the characters were terrible. They were so flat. I wasn't sure I was going to make it far enough into the movie to see Barb die because she was driving me crazy. Such a poor, one-dimensional portrayal of someone dealing with tragedy. I couldn't wait for her to die.

Same thing with Conner. It was interesting to see Ben shoot him while he was alive, and kill him. I wasn't expecting that. I was happy to see him go but, honestly, I wish he would have been the one stabbed over and over by his daughter instead of his wife.

The knucklehead and his girlfriend, who couldn't see that he was going to die when they were in the house and Judy was like "But why does it have to be you?" I'm like, yeah, he's dead. That the girl was stupid enough to ad hoc the plan and run out there, and then get stuck in a seat belt... good riddance.

Ben was the only character I actually cared about, and he was the only one that had a little more dimension to him. He was all business about trying to solve the problem. He also tried to talk reason into Barb, until he just gave up on her. He started his relationship off with Conner reasonably. Tried to work with him and the other guy as a team. But because they were idiots, he turned to violence (at least on Conner), but had every reason to. He adapted. He was cool.

The ending was rough. It was like, hey, we want to kill all the characters in this movie, but we made Ben too good to die. Let's have him be accidentally killed by the rescue party. That was so lame. The movie showed its age, but it still stood on solid ground plot-wise (well, except for the stupid explanation of a satellite returning from Venus that was irradiating the eastern third of the US). It's crazy how a lame ending can undo all the hard work done in the middle. Of course, the only one doing the hard work was Ben. The rest of the crew was terrible. And the acting would best be described as "over-acting." The dude who played Ben though, he was as calm and cool as the character he played.

Very cool shout out to Greensburg in the movie! When I was hearing all the references to places around Pittsburgh, I was wondering if Greensburg was going to show up. It sure did. I thought that was cool.

World War Z (Max Brooks)

World War Z (Max Brooks)

I’m not going to say this was a bad book, but I don’t think it was a good example of a horror novel. There was a monster type present, and it was zombies. Similar to I am Legend, which had vampires that came about due to a virus, the zombies in World War Z came about by a sickness. In many ways, these zombies were like the vampires too. So much so, that I don’t really think there is much of a distinction. They both “pro-created” exponentially by infecting their victims. Some of the vampires could talk, none of the zombies could, but neither had the capacity for actual thinking. There was a second type of vampire in I am Legend that did form a society, but they were only involved in the ending of that book. Regarding the actual zombie monster of this book, I felt like we’ve already been there, seen that.

But it wasn’t a horror novel. Brooks went into incredible detail with the geopolitical representation of the world. He definitely put a lot of research into the governments and diplomatic relationships of countries like Afghanistan and Pakistan, China and Taiwan (and its ambiguous status), Cuba, Russia, and Israel and the Palestinians. The book was really about how countries might respond to an epidemic like these diseased zombies more than it was about zombies. Isolationism and long-standing political tensions were what this book was about, and I never felt like I was reading a horror book. Sure, zombies were in the book, but Nazi concentration camps were also terrible. You wouldn’t classify a book about them as “horror,” though they were plenty horrible. This book felt like reading about something like that.

The journalistic approach of having multiple “survivors” give interviews was the other main factor that, for me, made this book anything but a horror novel. Everyone was telling the reporter their stories, and the problem with that is that you already know every one of them survived. There was zero tension in the book for me. There were a few scenes that described goriness, but I don’t think that is the definition of horror.

I was impressed with some of the things Brooks knew and put into this book. For instance, he knew the nickname for the B-52 as a BUFF, though the true breakout of the acronym is Big Ugly Fat Fucker. Fat Fellow was only used in situations where swearing would be frowned upon. I’d have thought in a book like this, the true breakout would have been more appropriate. But hey, like I said, I was impressed he got it in his book at all. His military terminology was very good. I think he did a lot of serious research for this book that showed. However, I found it hard to believe the story of the female pilot who parachuted down to the Louisiana swamps. Fighter pilots, which she was initially, don’t wear parachutes, but they have ejection seats that include parachutes. However, cargo aircrews on prop cargo planes, which is what she was when the plane accident happened, do not wear parachutes as part of their job. Maybe they “changed the rules” after the zombies or something, but if so, he should have called that out. It’s just not normal for an aircrew of a heavy (the term used to describe the large military planes like transports, recon, command and control, and tankers) to wear parachutes. Many heavy aircrews don’t even have parachutes. And then she also apparently wore a survival kit that included an electronic GPS, a radio, and a hammock, among other things. She had to have been wearing it, because she had just relieved herself in the piss tube when the back end of the plane broke off and she was sucked out the back. Wasn’t like she grabbed this stuff on the way out. I can’t even envision what she looked like relieving herself with all this supposed stuff on. Comical. So, what Brooks is implying is that these pilots wear parachutes and survival kits with all this equipment, at all times, in the course of their duties. That’s not the way it works. The plane will have an inflatable emergency raft or two, and bound up with those quickly deployable rafts would be survival kits that contain things like radios, water, compasses, desalination kits, and... well… no hammocks… but whatever. My point is that you don’t wear all this stuff. It would be impossible. I know I’m not really talking about the monsters here, just nitpicking the military stuff, but the book wasn’t really about monsters either.

Not a bad book, but I just didn’t feel like it was horror genre. More like a what-if scenario involving a plague and how countries would react to it.

I do have to give one major shout out to Brooks for including the metal band Iron Maiden and the song The Trooper in this book. Second best rock band of all time and one hell of a song. Bravo, Mr. Brooks.

The Yattering and Jack (Clive Barker)

I liked this story. I'm a big fan when you get into rules that demons or devils and angels have to follow, and how they either try and be successful within the rules and then fail (like the Yattering) or how they try to manipulate the rules or trick people with rules to their benefit. You could probably throw genies/djinn and efreeti into that as well, but I prefer the Hell-based creatures like the Yattering. As a minor demon, the Yattering was a very well-done creature. Going to or being from Hell is supposed to include suffering, and even though the Yattering is the predator here, you can tell its not all fun and games for him. He is suffering more than his victim, which is a really cool twist. The idea of the psychosomatic leprosy that the lower demons were susceptible was a very neat weakness and really helped round out the Yattering as a character. I loved the idea of the academy and of teaching the rules of Hell through beatings, the fear he had for even talking to Beelzebub, and the "obscenities of the ear" method of terrorizing victims. There was a good deal of world-building in this short story and I am a big fan of that, especially when it can be done so seamlessly in the overall story.

I was not quite as sold on Jack. The idea of him knowing what was going on and waging his own war back the the Yattering was cool. But what bothered me about it is that we have no idea how Jack got the knowledge he had of all of this. How did he know the Yattering was there in the first place? How did he know the rules of Hell so well? Who taught him? Why was he taught? His daughters were like normal people, why wasn't he? I don't mind that he wasn't freaked out and was able to wage the battle in a way that not even the Yattering realized his opponents knowledge, but without telling me anything at all about how he got that knowledge and/or why he has it, I lose some amount of trust with the author. Once we learned that he knew all about the Yattering, and there was no explanation for it, I felt cheated.

This story definitely had the "add some humor to the horror" vibe going for it, and I think it served as a good example as to how to do that. Conversely though, I don't know that I would actually classify this as horror. It wasn't scary at all, and the blood and gore was relegated to animals. Maybe I don't fully understand the definition of horror? But in any event, the humor in this one worked. The turkey dance was way cool, and I loved the three Freddys.

This was one of the best things we read in class. I have to say that I am glad to have been exposed to Clive Barker. I'm going to have to read more of him... when I get a chance to pick my own reading material again.. someday... ;)

Cycle of the Werewolf (Stephen King)

This short book was pretty cool, and I am glad we got to read something by Stephen King. Right off the bat, I liked the title. The story is about a werewolf and it starts at the beginning of a year. It runs through the cycle of months, Jan-Dec. Add to that the fact that the antagonist changes into a werewolf during the full moon (like all werewolves do), and you have another cycle. Though we only see one cycle of a year in the story, its still part of a cycle. Twelve cycles of the moon and one cycle of the year. I find themes that have multiple tie-ins like that interesting.

The story itself started off real slow. We got a victim, we got the werewolf, we got a killing. Repeat. Each time was a different person, different family. It wasn't until about May or June when we finally received pieces that really tied in to other pieces enough that we could extrapolate a story out of it. I was beginning to get worried that it was just going be twelve very loosely related killings. But the second half of the book was much better. Once Marty put the werewolf's eye out with the firecracker, we finally had a real story. Marty survived. And he knew the whoever the werewolf was only had one eye. At that point, I started enjoying the story. The Halloween discovery, the letters, the righteous priest coming to grips with the fact that he was the werewolf, and then trying to justify it. It became a decent story at that point. Surprisingly, the ending did not have much of a surprise to it. Uncle Al made the silver bullets, Marty shot the werewolf. All just like the reader figured it might. I was a little disappointed with that. I'd like to have seen one last surprise by Mr. King, some twist I hadn't thought of. Perhaps if Marty's sister was the one who had the crush on the reverend, instead of the barmaid Elise who sang in the choir, and then at the end, Marty sees a bit of wolf fur under his sister's door or something. I don't know, just something that would have made me say "Woah!" And whatever happened to Elise? She didn't even reappear in the story. That bit of info on her having a crush on Lowe was a bit of a Chekhov's gun.

I would have liked to have see a little bit more about the monster itself. When Lowe had the dream about the werewolf, it was King giving the reader the hint that he was the werewolf. It was pretty heavy-handed. And that's okay, but if he was ready to let us figure that out so early, then why not let us then really jump into Lowe's character, and the werewolf, even more. Give us cravings. Give us explanation of how he came to be a werewolf. Give us more reason to understand beyond any doubt that he is the werewolf, and not just rely on the missing eye. I'd like to have seen wolfish features. Cravings for meat. Maybe a pack mentality with other church members. As it was, the werewolf was just a simple werewolf. And Lowe was a typical man who turned into a werewolf and didn't know it at first but figured it out. This was were I found the story lacking. Perhaps it was just because there was an implied limit on story length, given how this story was written with the illustrator. I don't know. But I could have used more monster. My favorite part was when Lowe felt the "strange, trapped feeling... the way he imagines a fox must feel when it realizes that the dogs have somehow chased it into a cul-de-sac." That was Lowe fully accepting what he was, and thinking like the monster. I wanted more of that.

Given its short length, this book is definitely worth the read. But I think anyone expecting King at his finest would be let down.

Rawhead Rex (Clive Barker)

Wow. What the heck did I just read?

Let me start of by saying that this was my favorite read in this class so far. I know there were sub-themes and some things probably represented other things... lots of it about religion. Whatever. This story was just straight up nasty. I think it's the first story in our Monster class that actually featured a monster.

Rawhead Rex was an amazing monster. Bad ass. Scary. Gory. All of it. I've never read anything from Barker before, but I'm gonna have to read some more of his stuff. I love that he gave us glimpses of the story from Rawhead's POV. I loved that he showed us, through that POV, the monster's fears and weaknesses. And Barker killed it with the descriptions of Rawhead through the other POVs. We didn't get it all at once, but certain things, like Rawhead's teeth, were brought up several times, each time cementing the image of his mouth.. impossibly big... getting bigger... with those two rows of teeth. Loved it. This is the kind of antagonist I want to put in my fantasy writing. A creation that the reader gets to know through internal POV, yet still fears the unknown (and even known) aspects of him when he's rampaging. I was very impressed with this monster, and doubly so how effective Barker was of engaging me with it.

Barker's in-your-face way of writing this story was interesting. Nothing was held back and anything was on the table. Chow down a kid? Check. Piss on a newly recruited follower as a baptism? Check. Jack off into a fire? Check. Rip of a dude's junk? Check. Thirst for newborn babies? Check. Rape women to create hybrid offspring? Check. Like this bad guy was B-A-D bad. But every now and then, you got to see inside his head, and Barker gave him connections to the reader. His loneliness at being buried alive. His fear of the stone from the altar. The way he learned from his surroundings... the petrol "blood" of the boxes, the realization that the bullets were hurting him and he had to run. He was as an arrogant god, yet we got to feel his fear. I thought this was all so very well done.

I want more stories like this. It was a master class in monster creation. Bravo, Mr. Barker!

On the down side, I did have a little trouble with the POV hopping. Don't get me wrong. I wanted the POVs we got (especially from Rawhead himself). But this was one area that I think Barker could have done a little cleaner. Just the inclusion of some kind of typed marker--three asterisks or something--would have made the overall reading smoother for me, because I'd go from one paragraph to another and be momentarily stunned or distracted, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. It got a little easier once I realized Barker was going to jump around from person to person, but I just would have liked a little more understanding earlier on what was happening, and better clues that it was happening. But what I DID learn from this was that, as a reader, I liked getting the different POVs, and that is something that was important to me, as my thesis is being written from five POVs. As I'm writing it now, each chapter is from a different POV. I thought that mixing POVs within a chapter wouldn't work. But Barker showed me that it can. I think what he did can be improved upon, as I noted earlier, but that doesn't mean it can't work as a method. And it makes me want to experiment with that technique in my thesis. For a short story read in a RiG, that's about as successful an assignment as you can get.

And it wasn't even the best part. I want to write a monster like Rawhead Rex. Something to be feared, and yet related to, at least on some scale. These kinds of examples are priceless.

Breeding Ground (Sarah Pinborough)

I had mixed feelings about this book.

The creepiness and overall tension was done excellently. Pinborough is very vivid with the downfall of the women, especially Chloe. It started with the unexplained fatness, even though she hadn't eaten in a week. Then it increased to the bulges on her body moving under the skin. When she stocked the fridge with liver and other animal organs, it was getting pretty creepy. Then when she ate it, Pinborough really captured the disgust of it so well. As the grotesqueness of the story strengthened, so too did the tension. You knew something was wrong, but you didn't know just what. First person POV was perfect for this book because we only got to know things as Matt did. And he didn't know shit. When the fetus hit the floor, you pretty much knew anything was in bounds for Pinborough.

The aliens, or whatever they were, were done extremely well. Their description was built over time, getting just a few bits every now and then, teasing the reader, until you had a good understanding of them. One complaint I had though was not having a much better picture of them (what they can do and where they came from) by the end of the book. But I'll talk about that later. The widows were excellent monsters: giant translucent spidery creatures with banks of red eyes, telepathic powers, disease inducing bites, and who knows what else. They reminded me a little bit of the aliens from Aliens, the movie. Maybe they are easier to kill, but I think they are going to prove to be a bit more cunning, which makes them potentially that much worse. We know very little about the black male widows, and that's a shame. I know there is a second book, but the first book needs to answer some things. But I really liked these monsters, and Pinborough did an excellent job in describing them, and their by-products. The gooey translucent spider webs were an awesome touch to the creepiness factor, and the same kind of translucent goo that came out of people over time after bitten was also way cool. An excellent monster, to be sure.

I did have some issues with the book though. For one, Matt was a tool. I wanted to like him, but he just wasn't someone I could sympathize with. The big turn off for me was how he claimed to be so in love with Chloe, and really, kinda proved it at the beginning of the book. I bought that he was a good guy. But after Chloe died, he was banging Katie like three days later. He blamed it on how the world had turned upside down or whatever, but I'm sorry, that excuse rings hollow. I don't know that it was all on Matt either. I think Pinborough herself let me down there. Matt is inconsistent. At least from what I could tell. He was not the same nice guy who started the book. I don't think his change was natural, and I don't think it could be blamed on the catastrophe that happened. People's true colors come out when the hard times hit, and I don't think Matt's true colors were in the ballpark of some kind of lustful playboy. There were three women of age in this book, and he had all three of them. I didn't think that was his character, especially given the short time line between them all. I was very disappointed with this aspect of the book because it made me not trust him across the board.

While I'm talking about Matt and the women, I was also really surprised at a rated X scene in the middle of this rated R novel. Not like offended or anything, but, was the full blown description of sex with Katie really necessary? It got pretty darned detailed, and I'm not sure what it added to the story. That part had me scratching my head.

I had a few logic problems. Why did the dog go to their protected base? How did it know to go there? How did it know humans were there? Why did it sit in front of that gate for so long? I thought maybe the widows were somehow controlling it, but no. It just happened to travel all those miles to wait in front of a gate with no humans around that it could know of. Didn't make sense.

I didn't believe Rebecca would have ran in front of Nigel to protect him from a mercy killing so he could suffer dying via his widow-inflicted wounds. I'm personally glad that he did die that way, but I don't believe it was in Rebecca's character to do that. I think Pinborough isn't in touch with all of her characters, to tell you the truth. She establishes them well, but goes against their apparent natures just to feed her story line.

And what about the end where Matt and Rebecca choose to just go ahead and leave the base to travel to Edinborough on their own? And George decides to go back down by London on his own? Call me stupid, but the last time they traveled, in a much larger group, they got their asses handed to them. The first night, the widows destroyed their vehicles. Dan got bitten. Shit hit the fan. But now by the end of the book, we're just supposed to believe they can go on their own like that?

And this brings me to my biggest issue: the ending. Or lack thereof, to tell you the truth. This book did not end. It felt like a chapter ended. There was no climax or resolution to the story. We still don't know how the widows came about (they talked about hormone enhancement in food.. ha!... but even that lame theory wasn't proven in the book) or really, what happened. I know there is a sequel. Whoop de doo. I need some kind of resolution in the first book to call it a first book. Not a first half of a book, which is what this was. I don't know if I will read Feeding Ground or not. I want to know the why, but I don't know that I trust Pinborough to give it to me.

It was a hell of a ride, but endings like this one kinda piss me off. If all you want is creepiness, horror, and gore... this book is for you. If you actually like a structured story that builds to a logical ending, I'm thinking you might want to pass on this one. It started off so promising...

The Funeral (Richard Matheson)

This was an enjoyable read. It didn't take too long to get to the meat of the story: a sentimental vampire wants the one thing he never had--a funeral. It's a solid idea for a short story, and I think Matheson did a great job with this one. It's a humorous tale, and the very premise of it sets that tone. I guess it is debatable whether he should have qualified for a funeral or not. Vampires are undead. That is the very definition of not dead, and you have to die before you can have a funeral. However, if you were living, and then you are no longer living, then you're dead. Either undead or dead, but some kind of dead. If you look at it from that point a view, it makes sense that the vampire could feel cheated out of getting a funeral like all the other dead people got. I kind of side with the latter view point, and found myself rooting for the vampire to get a nice funeral.

The comedy hit its peak with the cast of characters that were apparently his friends: a witch and her cat, a hunchback, a werewolf, and the white-haired gentleman (not sure what type of monster he was supposed to be). They all had distinctive characters, but the witch really stole the show. They turned what is normally a sad and depressing event into a reality-TV show-like scene of one person who is trying to deal with something serious and meaningful in his life (the vampire and his funeral) and everyone else being so self-absorbed that they getting caught up in their own lives, at the expense of all but ruining the event.

The vampire takes it all in stride though, apparently satisfied enough with the outcome, and recommends the funeral home and its director to his friends, ensuring a new form of regular clientele to Clooney’s Cut-Rate Catafalque.

I thought there were some strong contrasts in this tale. The first is whether or not the vampire deserved to have a funeral in the first place. I could see the argument against it. Vampires generally remember the days they were a live. In many ways, the never did die. That's why they're called undead. But what about a zombie? They're also undead, but I'd think they would probably deserve a funeral. And what about a ghost? They might need a funeral to find eternal peace. Another contrast was the setting versus the characters. A funeral is as solemn an event as they come. It's just not a place for humor. Yet the characters bring such a disregard to the solemness of the funeral, their actions are more out of place and hard to believe than the monsters themselves, given where they are and what the funeral means to their friend. Finally, you could say there were two vampires in the story. The way the funeral director is portrayed, and really, that line of work in general, it was akin to sucking grieving victims dry. That concept is contrasted by the actual vampire, who seemed to have more feeling, sentimentality, and even humanity than the living man did.

I am Legend (Richard Matheson)

You know how they say the book is better than the movie? Not this time.

I was excited to read this book, but after a few chapters, it started to wear on me. It was a lot of Neville wanting sex. Then drinking. Playing music. Wanting sex again. Over and over. Maybe Matheson was trying to make you feel the monotony of Neville's situation by being monotonous with the writing, but that didn't work for me. Had this not been a mandatory read, I'd have put it down pretty quickly.

The vampires in the first half of the book--meh. I'm not a fan of zombies that are called vampires, and that is what they felt like to me. Kudos to Matheson for putting in the standard vampire weaknesses of garlic, crosses, running water, and stakes. I even liked that he tried to explain them, even if it ended up a bit like Star Wars midichlorians (I loved the Force in the first three Star Wars movies... yeah, Luke can stand on his head and move rocks, Yoda can lift an X-Wing out of a bog... the Force surrounds and is created by life. Cool. Dig it. I can buy it. But then in Episode 1, when Obi Wan and Qui Gon measure little Anakin's midicholrines and they attempt to explain the Force in technical terms? And little Anakin has more than Yoda? Sorry, but I don't need to know exactly how the force works. But I digress...). Neville's vampire understanding, and rationalization on their weaknesses started to border on telling me too much. I want to be afraid of the vampires. If I completely know how and why they are what they are, then you really have to work harder as a writer to find a way to scare me. And that didn't happen.

The one shining member of the early vampires was Ben Cortman. Why? Because he was personal. He called to him, every night. I had flashbacks to watching Salem's Lot when the two vampire boys were floating up in front of the second floor bedroom window beckoning the occupant to come out. Ben and Neville knew each other. And Ben remembered him after turning into a vampire. That brought some level of scariness to the book. But it NEVER PROGRESSED! I was so let down by that. Then somewhere later in the book, the narrator tells us that Neville actually captured Cortman and did some tests on him. WHAT?! You couldn't write that part in the book? I was thinking Cortman was going to be the main villain. Then Neville gets the best of him, tests him with the cross, then lets him go, and you tell me as a flashback?

The whole thing with the dog was poorly done. Its mangy. Its limping. Its skittish. Okay, fine. Matheson takes a very long time to go from first seeing the dog to Neville finally getting it in the house. A very... long... time. (In SpongeBob talk, it would sound something like "Two... weeks... later.")  Then, after he finally gets the dog somewhat under control, and you think the guy might finally have a companion, we get this awesome sentence. "A week later, the dog died." What? Why did we spend all that time just to get that? I guess it was Matheson's way of setting things up with Ruth's appearance, because that went a little similar at the beginning. But to spend all that time recruiting the dog, and then to have it dismissed so quickly... it was just very disappointing. Again, I wonder if Matheson is trying to make the reader feel the disappointment of Neville's situation by actually disappointing the reader. Not sure, but the problem with that tactic is... YOU DISAPPOINT THE READER!

Ruth seemed off at first, but then that was pretty much explained once she said she was a spy. Honestly, that whole thing came out of left field to me. I thought she might be a vampire, but then that would just lead to Neville having to make a decision. But the revelation that she was a spy first felt weird. Then I was like, oh... there is a society of these things? Finally, this could get very interesting. And then a few chapters later, Neville takes suicide pills. Story's over.

I liked the movie I am Legend. I thought the stuff with the dog in that movie was very good. I hated seeing the dog die, but it was a powerful moment I will never forget. I am looking forward to forgetting the dog scene in the book.

I think it was Asimov who said writers should start their stories as close to the end as possible. This novel is a clear case of needing to apply that adage. Start with a chapter of vampires in the lawn, keep it personal with Ben, and then get to Ruth as soon as you can. Then finish the book with all that extra page space with good scheming vampire writing. Keep them limited to night time so Neville can still do his defensive preparations and vampire learning during the day. Having that "ticking time bomb" every single day could be effective if you use it to keep things tense.

I'm also not sure we needed to cover three years. Especially if we are going to skip most of it and just fast forward in time. Seemed kind of arbitrary to me.

Looking forward to the next book!

So it is written... so it shall be done...

Welcome to my lair.

Here you will find my reviews for books containing monsters. Together, we will investigate them, inspect them, compare them... simply get to know them. But do not trust these creatures, or let them leave the confines of my lair with you when you depart, lest you be haunted by your nightmares for all eternity.

You have been warned.