The Fog By James Herbert

The Fog

By James Herbert

1975 Signet
Paperback, 275 pages

 

I’ve voiced my opinion that James Herbert tends to over-write in the pages of Midnight before, so I’ll just leave that here and shut up.

 

The Fog is Herbert’s first follow-up to his masterful The Rats and the first half of the book is pure, batshit crazy Herbert greatness. A fissure erupts in the middle of a small town, sucking half of the buildings and inhabitants into it. If that’s not bad enough, the rift also releases a yellowish fog, a mist that when it comes in contact with a person, it makes them insane. Suicide, murder, rape and all sorts of nasty behavior is lovingly depicted, and the fog grows bigger with every mind it destroys. Naturally, it’s headed toward London.

 

The set-up to this story is superb and the descriptions of the fog’s effects are gruesome and horrific. I’d have been happy with another 100 pages of just that. I don’t need an explanation or any science; just give me the mayhem. But we do get the reason behind the fog and the main character (a survivor of the fissure), and his crew of bigwigs try to solve the dilemma. Herbert is a good enough writer where he won’t leave you high and dry while they seek answers. There are exciting and dangerous treks through the fog while the crazy Londoners who are out of control lurk around every corner.

 

Herbert revisited some of this idea in his later book The Dark, though that had a supernatural bent. This one gets a little bogged down in the second half, but is still a highly recommended classic. I have the attention span of a tsetse fly and that might be why I started to lose interest while I awaited the finale, but for those of you with more brain in the pan than I, it might be (or become) a favorite.HerbertH

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Dollies By Pat Graverson

 

Dollies
By Pat Graverson
1990 Zebra Books
Paperback, 288 pages

                I don’t often step outside of my comfort zone of nature-run-amok novels full of gore and entrails, but every now and then I do, and sometimes I get rewarded. While Dollies might look like a typical Zebra scary brat book, it is much more than that.

 

                Real estate agent and divorcee Kit has a tough house to sell; the Bern’s house is an oddity as are the Bern’s themselves. So are the “beautiful and hideous” dolls that old man Bern collects. After he gifts one of his dollies to Kit’s daughter Jodie, Kit’s life, which was already pretty messed up, starts to unravel even further. Kit can’t seem to get rid of the doll. It keeps turning up. And the Berns will not take it back.

 

                Pat Graverson had a few novels under her belt when she wrote Dollies, and she drew upon her own experience in the real estate business to start this book. She crafts a moving story that never sags, and gives us a solid, believable main character. Kit is flawed but overall, a good person who loves her child and would lay down her life for her. The danger she is in doesn’t deter Kit from trying to unravel the mystery that will inevitably save her daughter.

 

                I gotta say, there are some really creepy moments in this one. This scratching and pitter-patter of little dolly feet from the other side of the closed door caused a frisson or two. Between the dolls, her ex-husband fucking her baby-sitter, the insidious Berns themselves, and dying friends, Kit has a really shitty time of it. But she doesn’t quit. I admire her character.

 

                Stepping outside of my comfort zone worked well with this one. I’ll likely give some more of Graverson’s work a shot. This one was good. It also has a nifty embossed cover sporting some nice Richard Newton art.

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The Ghoul By Marc Ronson

 

The Ghoul
By Marc Ronson
1980 Hamlyn
Paperback, 202 pages

 

                My wife was reading The Plague Pit by Marc Ronson at my recommendation. That was a pretty good book. One day, I was looking at vintage horror paperbacks online (as I am wont to do) when I stopped on Les Edwards’ cover of Ronson’s The Ghoul for Hamlyn Books. Great cover, indeed. So, I called Andrea over to see the cover and she said, “It looks like he missed arm day.” Skinny arms… he missed arm day at the gym. For some reason, I thought (and still think) that is the funniest goddam thing ever. I immediately found a cheap copy and bought it, if only to enjoy the cover.

 

                While not as fully satisfying as The Plague Pit, this one is still very enjoyable. It is about the unearthing of a tomb in the Valley of Jinn in the Middle East. The archaeological team digging it (led by a woman, not a common thing is 1980s pulp horror) encounters hiccups in the form of a nearby hippy cult, scared locals, and the titular ghoul. A dozen moderately interesting characters weave throughout the story, keeping the pages turning if only to find out why they’re there at all. That’s not a knock, just an observation; this is pretty ambitious for a 200-page book.

 

                One thing that slows me down in a book of this sort is the exotic names of people and places. I hope I don’t sound xenophobic when I say that I tend to sound out the exotic Arabian names in my head, decide it’s too hard, then mumble the name as I read… “Rmm-nn-mmm”. I’m lazy. I found relief when the archaeologist’s father Max was around, though his character is far less interesting than the locals of Abu Sabah.

 

                Still, this is a fun, quick book with plenty of intrigue, claustrophobic horror, a love triangle, and deceitful characters making the ol’ opening of a tomb premise sparkle a little bit. One gripe… not enough ghoul. He isn’t in it as much as I’d like. We need more ghoul. Maybe he was at the gym, trying to work up those arms.

 

                The abrupt ending all but promises a sequel, but that never materialized. Marc Ronson (Marc Alexander) passed away in February 2020.

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