The Auctioneer By Joan Samson

The Auctioneer
By Joan Samson
1977 Avon
Paperback, 301 pages

                                                       

    Like many other people, I suffer from anxiety. I take plenty of pills to keep it (more or less) under control. Then why the hell did I submit myself to such a frustrating, nerve-wracking read as The Auctioneer?! I must be mad! But holy crap, this is a good book.

    John and Mim Moore, with their 4-year-old child Hildy and John’s Ma, live and farm in the backwoods town of Harlowe, New Hampshire. They work hard, living mostly off the land like their neighbors do, and they all have for generations. Into town blows Perly Dunsmore, a slick city-boy who has chosen the town to live in. He starts weekly auctions to raise money for Harlowe, initially to pay for deputies for Sheriff Gore. Why this tiny town needs deputies is a question pondered by the Moores, but they, like everyone, look around their homes for stuff they can get rid of and offer up for auction.

    The auctions are a hit, pulling in money from outsiders and vacationers and soon the deputies and Perly himself come around to sweet talk more and more knick-knacks and furniture from the townsfolk. From the townsfolk who haven’t been deputized yet, that is. It is getting out of hand and the Moores have had enough. Other families that felt the same have been suffering bad accidents, however, and it becomes clear that a nefarious plot has been unraveling.

    This book is a classic slow burn and then all of a sudden, you realize that you’re on fire. Perly is wonderfully hateful villain, hooking the yokels with his smooth talk and crooked promises. When John realizes that his family is trapped, so is the reader right along with them. I swear, my heart rate was soaring by mid-book, just hoping that insidious city-slicker would get his comeuppance. Deep breath… deep breath… it’s only a story.

    Samson is one hell of a talented writer, and every word feels perfect as she weaves the story, revealing the plot little by little until you are stuck and frustrated right along with the characters. This is her only novel and sadly, she died shortly after its publication in 1976. It was a best-seller back in the day and has been resurrected by Valencourt in recent years, as part of their Paperbacks from Hell series. A proposed film adaptation doesn’t appear to have materialized.

    I usually never go for a book with so many blurbs on the front and back covers (and pre-title pages) saying how great the book is but in picking this book up and devouring it, I gave myself a memorable reading experience. And a few late nights and some slightly higher blood-pressure.

Spore 7 By Clancy Carlile

Spore 7
By Clancy Carlile
1979 Avon Books
Paperback, 280 pages

                This one had been on my shelf for a long time. Every once in a while, I’d pick it up, think it looked great, then start a different book. I finally gave this one the green light and it turned out to be a pretty satisfying experience. Not perfect, but good.

                It starts right off and hits the ground running. A disease is running rampant in Mendocino, California. People are losing their shit, going feral and becoming slime mutants. What caused this to happen? Germ warfare? Outer space meteor shit? Something far more sinister? All of these theories are pursued, and a case could be made for any of them. But while everyone tries to understand and solve the problem, the disease is running rampant, spreading like wildfire, and time is of the essence.

                The military move in and block off the area but as always, things aren’t that easy. If it sounds to you that a lot of meetings with scientists, doctors, generals, and the president take place, you’re not wrong, but it never drags the story down too much (I’m looking at you, Edward Jarvis’ Maggots). Carlile manages to keep the reader interested and emotionally invested as the mystery is unraveled.

                One point to nit-pick… the main character, a middle-aged doctor, is romantically linked with a 19-year-old girl. At no point in the story does her being almost underaged come into play; she could just as easily have been 25. To me, her being just 19 speaks more to the author’s wish-fulfillment than anything else.

                That aside, Carlile delivers a page turner with an ending that plays like an intense 80s action flick. Some might find it preposterous, but I found it fun and exciting. This is the only novel by Carlile that would interest me. He is best known for the book, then screenplay, to Honkytonk Man, the 1982 Clint Eastwood film.