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Mar. 1st, 2009 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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darkling_talesWell, it's been a long time since I posted anything here, apart from the occasional pedantic comment and spasm of heavy-handed community moderation. So I thought I'd share my thoughts on one of PS Publishing's latest releases: Shrike by Quentin S Crisp.
Shrike is a novella about Brett Stokes, an author 'in the middle of his lifetime' who finds himself somewhat adrift in the world. Having recently split up with his girlfriend he decides to go on holiday to Japan, where he stays at the home of the Kunisadas, a childless couple who once took him in as an exchange student. Mr Kunisada has recently died, leaving Brett in the exclusive company of Mrs Kunisada. Like her late husband, Mrs Kunisada has long viewed Brett as a sort of surrogate son and showers her guest with kindly attentions without ever being too obtrusive. She arranges several day-trips for Brett but also leaves him free to relax, and most importantly write, for large parts of the time. Once Brett has paid his respects at the shrine of Mr Kunisada according to the dictates of Japanese culture (a particularly haunting scene), everything seems in place for a lovely restful holiday.
But Brett has neglected to leave his own personal demons behind in Britain, and soon falls prey to obsessive, anxious ruminations on his place in the Universe, his failure to get to grips with the concept of love and his consequent relationship disasters and loneliness. He begins to spend a lot of time in the Kunisadas' pleasant garden, only to find that it really isn't as pleasant as all that. After Brett comes across a series of small animals impaled on the spikes of thorn bushes, Mrs Kunisada tells him that a shrike must be in the area, with the dead beasts serving as its grisly larder. Matters soon come to a head when the despairing Brett is apparently granted his wish for death and enters a trance state where the shrike and other denizens of the garden appear in strange disguise...But who or what can save Brett from himself?
I found Shrike a very interesting and unusual read. Fans of Crisp's earlier works (such as his acclaimed anthology Morbid Tales) will recognize many familiar themes. Having spent some time in Japan himself, Crisp has set several of his tales there, and once again his thorough knowledge of the country and its traditions is in evidence. More importantly, though, his affinity with the culture really shines through - it's hard to put my finger on it exactly, but there is something of Japan in the way that he writes. I have always found his Japanese stories to be his best and most convincing work, although I must confess straightaway that I have never been there myself! Perhaps it is the blend of Brett's exotic, twisting, sombre inner landscape and the ordered, formal world of the Kunisada household that causes Crisp's writing to remind me of Nippon authors such as Yukio Mishima. And indeed, the Japanese novel is a fairly significant theme in the book, with Brett visiting the decaying museum of a mediocre local author (which does nothing to lift his flagging spirits) and contemplating the 'I-novel', a curiously self-absorbed literary genre that's apparently Big In Japan.
In fact, Brett spends large tracts of time slowly being absorbed into himself. His fears and desires are not of a kind commonly described in common-or-garden horror fiction and long passages of the book are given over to some abstract and (to me) rather complicated ideas. Again, this is a feature of many of Crisp's heroes - he appears to have an especial fondness for the lost, educated, deeply pensive, no-longer-quite-young man. These trains of thought are counterbalanced to a degree by the clarity of Crisp's descriptions of Brett's surroundings - the images of a glowing station at night, a walk by the river bank, a patch of garden - which provide well-timed breathers from these long journeys into inner space, which could otherwise perhaps intimidate some non-literary types! In any case, everything changes when Brett 'dies'. Here, he is faced with horrors from the world of Egyptian mythology (which I certainly didn't expect, although the book's cover should've been a giveaway) distorted into even greater monstrosities through the prism of Brett's obsession with lost love and meaning and his grim experience in the pretty, neat garden. There is nothing abstract about these surreal beasts, in fact they seem only too tangible! For me, the novella falls into three main sections - before the death, during death, and after death - and the final section sees a return to the complex thought patterns of the opening chapters, but this time the carefully-woven web of consciousness is rent by a simple and savage act which startles and horrifies in equal measure.
I should also warn animal lovers that cruelty to animals, both at the hands of man and other animals, is another recurring theme! I generally tend to shy away from horror stories that involve children or animals in any capacity, because they tend to be either mawkish, exploitative or just downright depressing, but in the case of Shrike you can certainly not accuse Crisp of going for the cheap shot. Nature's apparent hatred of itself is an overarching theme of the novella, and as a great admirer of all birds of prey I found the shrike as captivating as it is cruel (unusually among birds, the shrike tends to hoard food and often waste it, in the manner of another creature that walks on two legs...)
All in all, if you enjoyed Crisp's Morbid Tales then you should pick up a copy of this - while some themes are familiar and there is no sharp deviation from his earlier writing style, you don't get the feeling that he's treading over old ground either. It's more a case of him developing ideas and imagery that he touched upon in his shorter fiction. At just ten quid for a hardback version with beautiful typography, it's hardly a financial gamble either!
Shrike is a novella about Brett Stokes, an author 'in the middle of his lifetime' who finds himself somewhat adrift in the world. Having recently split up with his girlfriend he decides to go on holiday to Japan, where he stays at the home of the Kunisadas, a childless couple who once took him in as an exchange student. Mr Kunisada has recently died, leaving Brett in the exclusive company of Mrs Kunisada. Like her late husband, Mrs Kunisada has long viewed Brett as a sort of surrogate son and showers her guest with kindly attentions without ever being too obtrusive. She arranges several day-trips for Brett but also leaves him free to relax, and most importantly write, for large parts of the time. Once Brett has paid his respects at the shrine of Mr Kunisada according to the dictates of Japanese culture (a particularly haunting scene), everything seems in place for a lovely restful holiday.
But Brett has neglected to leave his own personal demons behind in Britain, and soon falls prey to obsessive, anxious ruminations on his place in the Universe, his failure to get to grips with the concept of love and his consequent relationship disasters and loneliness. He begins to spend a lot of time in the Kunisadas' pleasant garden, only to find that it really isn't as pleasant as all that. After Brett comes across a series of small animals impaled on the spikes of thorn bushes, Mrs Kunisada tells him that a shrike must be in the area, with the dead beasts serving as its grisly larder. Matters soon come to a head when the despairing Brett is apparently granted his wish for death and enters a trance state where the shrike and other denizens of the garden appear in strange disguise...But who or what can save Brett from himself?
I found Shrike a very interesting and unusual read. Fans of Crisp's earlier works (such as his acclaimed anthology Morbid Tales) will recognize many familiar themes. Having spent some time in Japan himself, Crisp has set several of his tales there, and once again his thorough knowledge of the country and its traditions is in evidence. More importantly, though, his affinity with the culture really shines through - it's hard to put my finger on it exactly, but there is something of Japan in the way that he writes. I have always found his Japanese stories to be his best and most convincing work, although I must confess straightaway that I have never been there myself! Perhaps it is the blend of Brett's exotic, twisting, sombre inner landscape and the ordered, formal world of the Kunisada household that causes Crisp's writing to remind me of Nippon authors such as Yukio Mishima. And indeed, the Japanese novel is a fairly significant theme in the book, with Brett visiting the decaying museum of a mediocre local author (which does nothing to lift his flagging spirits) and contemplating the 'I-novel', a curiously self-absorbed literary genre that's apparently Big In Japan.
In fact, Brett spends large tracts of time slowly being absorbed into himself. His fears and desires are not of a kind commonly described in common-or-garden horror fiction and long passages of the book are given over to some abstract and (to me) rather complicated ideas. Again, this is a feature of many of Crisp's heroes - he appears to have an especial fondness for the lost, educated, deeply pensive, no-longer-quite-young man. These trains of thought are counterbalanced to a degree by the clarity of Crisp's descriptions of Brett's surroundings - the images of a glowing station at night, a walk by the river bank, a patch of garden - which provide well-timed breathers from these long journeys into inner space, which could otherwise perhaps intimidate some non-literary types! In any case, everything changes when Brett 'dies'. Here, he is faced with horrors from the world of Egyptian mythology (which I certainly didn't expect, although the book's cover should've been a giveaway) distorted into even greater monstrosities through the prism of Brett's obsession with lost love and meaning and his grim experience in the pretty, neat garden. There is nothing abstract about these surreal beasts, in fact they seem only too tangible! For me, the novella falls into three main sections - before the death, during death, and after death - and the final section sees a return to the complex thought patterns of the opening chapters, but this time the carefully-woven web of consciousness is rent by a simple and savage act which startles and horrifies in equal measure.
I should also warn animal lovers that cruelty to animals, both at the hands of man and other animals, is another recurring theme! I generally tend to shy away from horror stories that involve children or animals in any capacity, because they tend to be either mawkish, exploitative or just downright depressing, but in the case of Shrike you can certainly not accuse Crisp of going for the cheap shot. Nature's apparent hatred of itself is an overarching theme of the novella, and as a great admirer of all birds of prey I found the shrike as captivating as it is cruel (unusually among birds, the shrike tends to hoard food and often waste it, in the manner of another creature that walks on two legs...)
All in all, if you enjoyed Crisp's Morbid Tales then you should pick up a copy of this - while some themes are familiar and there is no sharp deviation from his earlier writing style, you don't get the feeling that he's treading over old ground either. It's more a case of him developing ideas and imagery that he touched upon in his shorter fiction. At just ten quid for a hardback version with beautiful typography, it's hardly a financial gamble either!
