THE GRIN OF THE DARK
Iíve made no secret of the fact that I find Ramsey Campbellís recent novels uninspiring. Campbell, of course, is Britainís greatest living horror writer, but his best work in my view was done back in the seventies and eighties. While Campbellís newer books SILENT CHILDREN, THE DARKEST PART OF THE WOODS and SECRET STORY were all solid works, none for me come close to matching the terror and brilliance of what came before, while THE PACT OF THE FATHERS and THE OVERNIGHT flat-out donít work.
Thus I was doubly startled by THE GRIN OF THE DARK, easily Campbellís finest book in years. Itís certainly the only one of his recent novels that can stand alongside early masterworks like THE FACE THAT MUST DIE, INCARNATE and THE COUNT OF ELEVEN--indeed, it may even surpass them. It amply demonstrates why Campbell is widely considered the absolute best at what he does: the man really knows how to scare, not via empty shock value but by inducing a far deeper, all-encompassing sense of psychological dread.
In the manner of most good horror tales, THE GRIN OF THE DARK sneaks up on the reader. It begins in amiable enough fashion, introducing its first person protagonist, laid-back film buff Simon Lester, with the ingratiating chapter heading ďIím Not a LoserĒ and an apparently sincere determination that ďIím going to take charge of my life.Ē Things certainly seem to be looking up for this even-tempered slacker when heís assigned to write a book about Tubby Thackery, a forgotten silent film comedian.
The prose in this section, echoing the nature of the narrator, is among the
most relaxed and confident of any Campbell book in recent memory, free of any
trace of overwriting (as in THE OVERNIGHT) and the need to throw in a gratuitous
cliffhanger at the end of every chapter (as in PACT OF THE FATHERS).
Much of the remainder of the book is concerned with Simonís attempts at tracking down Thackeryís films, which prove to be extremely elusive--and contain a macabre history that only comes to light after itís too late. In this respect the story is reminiscent of Campbellís 1989 novel ANCIENT IMAGES, about the search for an elusive film with supernatural connections--that book, alas, was marred in my view by an underwhelming third act. You can rest assured Campbell doesnít make the same mistake here.
In fact, the final hundred or so pages of THE GRIN OF THE DARK, in which poor Simon completely loses his mind and the horrific truth about Thackeryís films comes clear, contain some of the finest writing Campbell has ever done. Herein the creeping unease of the first two thirds explodes into outright horror, and Campbell, as is his custom, puts the reader firmly in the driverís seat as total insanity overtakes the protagonist. I honestly canít recall ever experiencing a more unnerving depiction of reality displacement then that presented here.
What gives the book its power is the ordinariness of its situations and surroundings. A bank is the setting for a particularly harrowing set piece--harrowing because what occurs there, involving an emptied-out account, could happen to any of us. Itís happened to me. Iím also familiar with the experience of an online war of words of the type Simon engages in with the pesky Smilemine, a running thread in this book that comes to take on increasingly horrific dimensions.
The internet, for its part, is paramount to Campbellís story, as malignant
a force in its way as the possibly supernatural specter of a long-dead
comedian. Thus Campbell manages to unite the old and the new in a manner heís
never attempted before, while crafting one of the most profoundly disquieting
tales heís ever told. By the end of it the protagonistís sanity is in tatters,
and yours may very well be too!
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