Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts

December 9, 2012

Ghost Stories for Christmas - Part 9

Cold Christmas by Nina Beachcroft (1974)


Yes, it's a kids' book rather than a film, but "Cold Christmas" is one of the few books which I read when I was in the intended age range for it. As someone who was reading James Herbert instead of the patronising and unrealistic "approved" books in English lessons when the teacher wanted some peace and quiet, I still think that "Cold Christmas" is one of the best of its kind.

"Cold Christmas" is out of print, but there are plenty of copies available to buy from eBay and Amazon. I got mine from a church jumble sale back in the early '80s. I don't have it now as I passed it on to another jumble sale along with all my other paperbacks in the early 2000s. "Cold Christmas" is not a rare book by any stretch of the imagination although I can't tell you how many times it has been reprinted. I had the Piccolo version as in the picture above which I know didn't have the original cover art.

I don't understand why nobody ever thought of adapting "Cold Christmas" into a TV miniseries or a film except that maybe it would have turned out to be too much like "The Amazing Mr. Blunden" (1972) or "The Watcher in the Woods" (1980). Nowadays, with filmmakers cloning every other success, this wouldn't even be an issue.

"Cold Christmas" isn't really like "The Amazing Mr. Blunden" or "The Watcher in the Woods" though. It doesn't have quite the same childish vibe to it. Give or take some of the dialogue, if it's similar to anything then it's a lot like Robert Westall's books in the way it handles the perspective of a lonely child caught up in a more adult situation than the child realises. The closest thing to it that I can think of would be Robert Westall's "The Scarecrows" (1981) which was, of course, written later and meant for slightly older readers, but there are superficial similarities to a lot of Enid Blyton's stories, Barbara Sleigh's "Jessamy" (1967), Penelope Farmer's "Charlotte Sometimes" (1969), Antonia Barber's "The Ghosts" (1969), and even Philippa Pearce's "Tom's Midnight Garden" (1958). Most children's fantasy books are in the same vein, but "Cold Christmas" feels a little bit more modern.

So what's it about? Basically, due to changes in her family circumstances (i.e. remarriage), a neglected little girl named Josephine spends Christmas in a large Georgian mansion, and discovers that the mansion is haunted. Just like every other children's ghost story, it features an alienated lead character and the "Cassandra" trope as what Josephine sees isn't believed by the grown-ups until the very end.

Apparently, Nine Beachcroft saw a house in a Hertfordshire village called "Cold Christmas" and was inspired to write a story about it. The real house has no such legend, but it's described so well that the you can really imagine the place existing and having a ghostly mystery to solve.

The atmosphere is very sad, and the whole family situation is very "upper working class" or even "lower middle class", but that's hardly a hindrance to a child's imagination. I'd hazard a guess that the book was intended for girls, but that doesn't matter so much either. How many boys have read "Twilight" or "The Hunger Games" in recent years? Gender specific books don't seem to phase anyone who wants to read something. Hell, I used to read "Misty" comic along with my weekly "2000 A.D." because the girls' comicbook was the only thing with horror stories in it at the time.

It's a pulp children's novel for sure, but if you've never read "Cold Christmas", I recommend that you do so. It's one of the great Christmas ghost stories no matter what your age is.

Here's the Amazon link: Cold Christmas: A Ghost Story

September 6, 2012

James Herbert's "Ash" (2012) - a book review



"The World Grand Master of Horror cordially invites you to an idyllic Scottish retreat with beautiful rooms, luscious gardens, a breathtaking view... and a basement full of secrets."

I don't often write book reviews, but since "Ash" is the very latest novel by my favourite horror author, James Herbert, I thought I'd better say something about what kept me occupied for nearly two days instead of watching more DVDs.

Because "Ash" has only been available to buy for less than a week now, I'll try to avoid giving too many spoilers just in case you are less ignorant than me and still like to read books. I read the Kindle version of "Ash" because, basically, I don't like to leave the house unless I really have to. I also swore to give up collecting the hardback first editions of James Herbert's novels after how appalling "The Secret of Crickley Hall" turned out to be. I still can't believe that "The Secret of Crickley Hall" has been turned into a BBC TV miniseries which is due to be shown this year around Hallowe'en. Out of all of his books to dramatise, they certainly chose one of the weakest. I will, of course, still watch it and review it eventually.

Even the worst James Herbert books are still better than anything by Stephen "I-can't-do-endings-so-I'll-just-add-a-monster-spider-or-the-devil" King, so I was hoping that he was going to completely amaze me after not publishing anything since 2006. With all the delays, probably due to various rewrites and edits, I'd been looking forward to reading "Ash" for over a year. The same thing happened with "The Secret of Crickley Hall" so, the longer it took to appear, the more concerned I got that it was going to be another disappointment.

While definitely not as horrific as James Herbert's earlier novels such as "The Rats" or "The Fog", "Ash" still had several good moments. Unfortunately they were few and far between. The trouble was that it all came across like a YA horror novel rather than something truly terrifying for adults, and I felt like I had read most of it before. Bearing in mind that I'm one of the few who has read all of James Herbert's books as they came out over the years, the similarities to "Others" plus the "meta" references to "The Rats" at the end were a bit of a let down which most new readers wouldn't notice.

If you want to know how thoroughly I read this book, let me just tell you that there was a printing error early on with the word "table" missing the "t" at the beginning: "Pritchard didn’t rise but extended a hand across the able." It was the only one I found, so fair enough, but as with all James Herbert books, I devoured this thing and somewhat foolishly hung on every word.

Although "Ash" more than made up for the lacklustre "The Secrets of Crickley Hall", it was still overlong, kind of stupid, too far-fetched, and several chapters full of reworked conspiracy theories were unnecessary padding. The chapter involving a policewoman provided some of the most unnatural dialogue and exposition that I've ever had the misfortune to read, and its placement in the story was ill-timed. It didn't help that the most important subjects of that chapter then turned up immediately afterwards with no mystery left to who they were whatsoever. In fact, with the details then hammered home yet again for the hard of understanding, the dumbing-down was quite obnoxious.

There were even a couple of stylistic annoyances which reminded me of the earlier "'48", but I'm willing to bet that James Herbert did that for an in-joke. The biggest problem I had with "Ash" was that the whole thing seemed to be either the script for a really bad movie or a badly written parody of everything James Herbert has written before. The plot was so weak that, if I wanted to, I could write a synopsis of the entire story in one sentence and save you the trouble of reading this book at all, but I won't.

I've never liked the David Ash character or, to be completely honest, any of the main characters in James Herbert's novels. The Pan Macmillan site calls David Ash "one of James Herbert's best-loved characters" which I assume to mean that James Herbert loves that character because I don't know of anyone else who feels that way. Really, how can you love a character who is distant, often hypocritical, and whose internal monologue is a mass of inconsistent self-doubt and guilt?

The vignettes in the novels have nearly always been more interesting than the main action, but, alas, they felt censored somehow in "Ash" compared to the really raw and perverted scenes of, for example, "The Fog". Were they toned down intentionally or has James Herbert just become a lot tamer as he's become an old man? His written style certainly hasn't improved either because, if I didn't know any better, I would swear that "Ash" was a piece of fan fiction written by a twelve-year-old for other twelve-year-olds. Really, it was that bad, In fairness, most of his books had the same style, but I didn't notice when I was younger. I read most of them between the age of eight and twelve-years-old myself.

Imagine, if you will, that someone took four other James Herbert novels, namely "Others", "Sepulchre", "The Spear" and "Domain", pulled out all the pages, stuck them all back together in a random order, added a ton of boring stuff about the British Royal family, and tied it all together with the David Ash character who appeared to be a rewritten version of Kelso from "The Jonah". That's exactly how "Ash" was for me and don't even get me started on how predictable it all was. I even noticed the obligatory reference to James Herbert's wife when she appeared as the preferred physical type of a former priest/IRA member. How touching.

I did find it slightly amusing that James Herbert was so stuck for characters that he named one of them after the computer from "Family Fortunes" and created a living version of "The Visible Man" anatomy model for another. The tastelessness of the latter character's identity will undoubtedly come to bite James Herbert on the ass especially when coupled with the disrespect he showed to the Royal family in this book. I assume James Herbert only put them in because he recently got an OBE. He'll probably lose it just as quickly if the Royals ever read this guff. Not that I even care since I've never had any respect for the Royal family either.

I found "Ash" particularly revolting for other reasons. Since I love cats, it was because of the wildcat-filled chapters (55 and 56) that, lamentably, after spending most of my life as a James Herbert fan, he caused me to never want to read another of his books ever again. These chapters were almost as vile as something by Nick Sharman and definitely up there with the Mattie Devore moment from Stephen King's "Bag of Bones" which made me throw the book across the room and vow never to read another thing which that author ever writes either.

As far as scary books go, "Ash" turned out to be more like some kind of political/spy novel rather than a ghost story especially with its inclusion of a hitman who was repeatedly said to look like Donald Pleasance. The fat man in charge of Comraich Castle was, in my mind, the spitting image of Auric Goldfinger. Blofeld and Goldfinger in the same novel? This was more James Bond than James Herbert. The secret organisation with their private jets, helicopters, heavily-armed platoon of security guards, assassins, and "The Prisoner"-style retreat were hardly original. The setting just wasn't scary and the descriptions in the gorier scenes were rather tame in comparison to the overwritten descriptions of everything else.

Its ending noticeably owed more to "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" as far as the main protagonists were concerned although, with three further epilogues, one reeked of contrived horror movie finales, and the truly final, more comedic scene delivered what is undoubtedly James Herbert's own message to his once loyal fans.

James Herbert has always appeared to be a very nice man in TV interviews, but ever since he made a fortune from his last great horror novels of the early '80s, the increasing contempt which he has shown for his readers through his poorly written books has been extremely disappointing.


"Ash" was released on August 30th, 2012. I don't recommend that you buy it unless you are a diehard James Herbert fan, but if you're not, by all means still go ahead and find out for yourself just how low "The World Grand Master of Horror" has sunk as a writer. With the novel currently at number two in the UK's "Bestselling Books" chart, either the marketing worked very well or British people have become very stupid and/or desperate for something new to read. What a shame.