Traveling Into Humanity's Demise in H.G. Wells' Magnificent Cautionary Tale, "The Time Machine"

What a masterpiece! The aspect that struck me the most about this tale was the darkness and sorrow of the traveler's trek through the future and downfall of mankind. It bore very little resemblance to the two movie adaptations, although I love them as entertainment in their own right. A major difference between the original story and the epic films was that the Hollywood adaptations WERE so 'Hollywood'--constructed much more as action/adventure/fantasy romps. Popcorn flicks but still excellent ones! The time traveler of the Hollywood imagination becomes a futuristic swashbuckler whose main motivation to make change in Eloi society was his love for an Eloi woman. 

That wasn't at all the message that Wells wanted to impart to his readers. 

The time traveler of the book is a much more cerebral observer of *not* only the degeneration of man. Man's end is where the deep and abiding sorrow enters, beyond even the state of the Morlocks and Eloi, but rocketing even FURTHER into the future, showing *spoilers* the continuing physical and mental degeneration of both branches of the human race. It is one of the most despairing pieces of literature I have ever read in a science fiction tale, particularly from the classic or Victorian era. They are slithering and hopping creatures of the earth who've lost functions that even the Eloi and Morlocks had such as *semi* structured societies, speech and/or remaining emotional cognizance, and the ability to express human emotion itself such as tears, malice, laughter and affection. This is something the films have never represented probably because it would've been far too traumatizing to see onscreen for audiences of 1960 when the George Pal version was released, and maybe even too much for the 2002 version that reworked the main plot altogether. 

What the two film adaptations also didn't tackle was the erosion of the planet and all remnants of civilization as well as the expansion of the sun which ruled the land with its massiveness. The original story deserves a faithful adaptation and not a 1 shot 2 hour movie. I could see it as a limited series, 10 episodes at least, because the breadth of the story needs to be authentically represented from beginning to end.

Les Edwards, The Time Machine at the End of the World

I'm still a HUGE fan of the movies because while not totally accurate, it showcased some of the finest creativity in storytelling and performance (particularly the 1960 Pal version) within the scifi genre. Wells' exploration of multiple factors that would (or at least could) drag humanity down to their lowest level and result in civilization's demise makes it obvious that he was a writer of formidable intelligence and insight. The entire text is charged with the power of his critical thinking skills and observation of the class, social and political aspects of what makes humanity both survive AND excel, which is why when they're removed, the entire collective disintegrates like one of the crumbling books the time traveler discovers in the 1960 Pal version. That scene *did* manage to tap into the recurring theme of the true sadness present in Wells' tale--sadness at the loss of what makes humanity and life on earth special, running throughout the depiction of everyone and everything in this book. 

And interestingly enough, George in the forsaken Eloi library, staring in shock and horror at the crumbled books and shouting about the abandoned dreams and goals of humankind, was my very favorite scene out of the entire film. There was a poignancy to his speech, which is even more intense in the book.

H.G. Wells was one of the literary giants of history. I can only imagine how shook up the Victorians must've been when this book was published! It spans throughout the eras, affecting the minds and hearts of readers now. If you want to go straight to the source of this magnificent tale, I'd definitely recommend picking up H.G.'s novel and going from there in the enjoyment or appreciation of it. The movies are wonderful, they're fun and exciting fantasy, but the book is a sharp socio-political statement on how human society runs and how people relate to each other...until they allow themselves the loss of ability to RELATE at all. Intelligence and compassion is the glue holding us together. We must never lose it.

You can also read this review over at Goodreads and connect with me there!

An Epic Battle Between Good & Evil Plus Old Hollywood Darkness in Graham Masterton's masterpiece, "Mirror"

Sometimes, old Hollywood doesn't seem quite real. The grand melodramas, the over-the-top musicals, the larger than life personas of those glittering screen stars who seem to be made of smoke and legend a bit more than human flesh. At least, that's what the glamorous, teetering on surreal, world of classic cinema seems like to me at times. In Graham Masterton's 1988 horror tour-de-force "Mirror", the question is asked: what if those old screen stars didn't even quite view themselves as altogether real, and became shrouded in darkness because of it?

There are so many deep allegories for the greed, arrogance and corruption that has always run through Hollywood throughout the years that I barely know where to begin. But it all starts with an angelic little boy called "Boofuls" and the reign of terror that is somehow unleashed 50 years after his savage death. He was a bright, shining child star, a beacon for hope and optimism during the demoralizing days of the Great Depression. He was an exuberant musical star bringing cheer to the thousands of the American movie-going public; with his rosy cheeks, blond curls, and sweet face, he was dubbed the "boy Shirley Temple" but he meant even more to the public than just being a musical star. He touched a deep emotional chord with all of them, random women *literally* wanting to be his mother. In the midst of all this fame and all of this adulation, this dynamo "Boofuls" was caught up in something utterly horrific....which lead to his grandmother descending on him one evening after he returned from shooting his latest musical, and slaughtering him.

Hacked to death with absolutely no warning of madness from the grannie who up until then, had cared for him, bringing him to Hollywood in the first place where he had enchanted the audience in one hit after another, little Boofuls becomes a dark memory of this star maker land. His name is silenced, his movies are buried, and he is forgotten by generations of actors, producers, directors and writers. Until Martin Williams, a desperate, more than slightly obsessed screenwriter whose life has taken a turn for the worse, scoops up a mysterious mirror that once hung in Boofuls and his grandmother's mansion. Martin may be slogging along writing scripts for the mediocre TV shows of the day (the late 80s, an era where I was just beginning to open my eyes and set it on the small screen), but his hopes for fame and stardom of his own has never burned more brightly. And he is determined to find it in the life and death of the child who once cinematically rallied a nation.

When does dedication become dangerous? Martin finds out the depths of wrongness and evil when he buys this artifact. A man who is half in the past, the other half in the present, all he can see is the piece of history he is buying, his screenplay, his 'magnum opus', based on the short life and demise of the child propelling him on what he feels is his personal destiny towards notoriety. 

I can tell you right now--what you get in this novel is FAR from what you would be expecting. Boofuls actually comes back to life because of the mirror Martin purchases as "inspiration", but this is the furthest thing from a mere ghost story. It is a representation of all that is unholy and wicked hiding in the crevices of a world beyond our imagining. And all of it unravels because of the actions of a thin, stressed-out writer with a penchant for corny musicals.

Imagination is the biggest part of movies. It can transport you to a different place, a different time. It can shape your emotions, lift you up or drag you down. Movies are the most useful tool of media and one of the most powerful platforms for change. With the legacy of Boofuls', there was something very powerful in his small presence back in the late 1930's, but that curious charisma he had as a musical star is what Martin discovers, is directly connected to his grisly death. That power and ability for change is heightened like nothing ever seen before with any other actor in film because of the horrifying and previously unknown details of the kid's life...and it is being used to come straight at the heads of audiences in Martin's time.

Martin Williams finds the mirror hidden in the dusty corners of an elderly woman's basement, in her down at the heels, garish retro house. Like a wilted, once elegant lady, her house has seen a better time. It's become an outdated monument to the past she shared with her late husband, frozen in the 1960's. That scene with the old woman who, kinda like Martin, has one foot in the past and the present (but just in a different way), is a brilliant little introduction to the surrealism he's entering. Before he's even stepped into the bizarro world of Boofuls', he's, in a sense, left his previous reality behind. The old woman's father-in-law had purchased the murdered child's furniture at a ghastly auction that was immediately held after his death and his grandmother's subsequent suicide, and has been languishing in her and her late hubby's home for the past 50 years. Martin can only afford one piece, the mirror, which he gleefully takes home to his small second floor apartment. From there, a little piece of hell opens up.

As Martin's carting his new prize possession away, I couldn't help wondering if the old lady had known something was....not quite right, sinister, with the mirror and was fobbing it off on her unsuspecting buyer. She had lived with it for decade after decade, it was a beautiful antique yet it was tossed aside, collecting grime. The little things in Masterton's story that are left unsaid are almost as intruiging as the obvious plot elements! The nuances are fascinating, as if the reader is peeling back the skin of a rotten piece of fruit, going down to the fetid core.

Back in 1939, Hollywoodland had been buzzing with production of Boofuls' musical Sweet Chariot. One of the biggest movies of its time, as famous as he was, the kid was poised to transition to a whole new level of superstardom when he was killed by his grandmother in the middle of it. Using the little boy's angelic face to their advantage, Hollywood had cast him as a singing, dancing street urchin turned angel, ready to sweep the country into the 1940's. Sweet Chariot is the unfinished chapter of this child's life that Martin's particularly obsessed with in his whole filmography. He has collected memorabilia from the making of the doomed project, and has included the last limo ride away from the set in his screenplay about Boofuls' life (tastefully leaving out his bloody demise).

The minute Martin places Boofuls' mirror in his home, the memory of the child comes back to LIFE. The mirror is crackling with life, the boy's energy, and it will not contain him any longer than Boofuls wants it to. After a series of events which include the abduction and trapping of Martin's landlord's five year old grandson Emilio (read it and you'll see where), and the yowling appearance of a monstrous cat in Martin's apartment, Boofuls' himself, in all his undead glory, appears in front of the terrified writer one fateful night. And he is here to stay this time.

Horror, truly fantastic horror, the kind that reaches deep in the reader and stirs up the most primal of emotions, bypasses what's just a good read and enters the realm of explosive. This is what Graham Masterton's achieved with his ode to classic cinema that shatters the rosy aesthetic in the most insidious way. You are sucked into this realm of deceit when one star after another of the golden era of Hollywood is revealed to be a part of the larger plan this magnetic little boy had set in place with the help of one woman, only called "Miss Redd"

His plan doesn't involve just the making of movies. At some point, Boofuls became someone and someTHING else...something that has made a promise to the illustrious stars the endless fame of their dreams, if ONLY they would help him in a supernatural mission that will encompass the world and the fates of every man, woman and child on it.

This is why Boofuls has returned, in 1988, in front of the screenwriter who wishes now that he'd never heard of the kid, picked up the mirror and unwittingly entered this contract Boofuls has arranged. You see, the kid is BACK and he wants to make the movie he never got to finish, Sweet Chariot, and he refuses to take no for an answer and head back to deads-ville. Or I should say, and you the reader will discover, is the realm of dark reflections.

What Masterton does here I was really surprised to see works so brilliantly because he is simply cramming SO much into this story! I'm not just talking about word count or number of pages but the sheer number of themes, ideas, perspectives, spiritual, emotional, intellectual and even psychological threads that you would think might result in a jumbled mess. The appropriately named Masterton is a master however because instead is this mind-blowing (and yes, I said mind-blowing--I use this word sparingly) work of art that is not only visually arresting but encompasses small yet significant nuances that keep your brain whirring, excited and yeah, in a little bit of shock, after you've read the last word.

What the essence of this horror tale is, is the cosmic battle between the forces of good and evil, darkness and light, the utter wrong and the pure, unvarnished right. How does an average man deal with this perpetual, ancient struggle for humankind’s collective immortal soul, especially when it’s captured within a child? Boofuls is not really ‘Boofuls’, the happy-go-lucky star of whimsical musicals but a disgusting little entity who has been manipulating everyone around him to do the wrong thing and do it gleefully because they’ve been promised BIG rewards. Imagine Damien from “The Omen” if he actually pretended to be lovable. The disturbing power of Masterton’s tale comes from how someone who seems so innocent can be so evil. Who’s more innocent than a child? What I also thought was a genius touch in the book was how *media* was used as the tool to conquer people’s minds and hearts and how easily corruptible the movie-making machine, Hollywood itself, is at its core. While I love film, and actually consider myself an old movie buff, I have also observed how many disturbing stories there’ve been to the history of Hollywood and filmmaking and the inner world of the movie stars themselves...scandals of abuse, exploitation (particularly of actresses and the old child stars who encountered mental/emotional abuse on the sets), and the drug and alcohol addictions of many stars that originated with the massive pressure and manipulations they faced as the ‘money-making machines’ of the old studio system. On the outside looking in, at first, classic Hollywood at first may seem like an enchanting palace filled with wonder and magic, but when the outside layers are peeled away, a lot of sordidness, misery and trauma becomes apparent and has destroyed the lives of many people in old Hollywood. Masterton takes the grime that could’ve very well been floating around the waters and gives it this paranormal punch. What can come out of the corruption that exists within a world that serves ONLY the superficial, which is comprised of men and women who exist only to represent their own image, but who are aging and petrified of the days when their fame and power run out? When irrelevancy consumes them and these images they’ve so carefully constructed, fade into half-remembered memory? What happens when they are so empty inside and obsessed with the vanity of their image that they decide to sell their very souls for the privilege of endless adulation? Not only is “Mirror” a phenomenal horror novel, it’s what I consider a fairly ruthless commentary on the narcissism which has always been present in Hollywood -  actors and actresses who have lost themselves so thoroughly that they’ve mentally disconnected from the rest of humanity and view themselves as not just entertainers but elevated entities perpetually needing the feeding of their egos. ALL of this is directly tied into what the child star Boofuls had orchestrated back in the late 1930's before his death and not so surprisingly what he’s been able to organize in 1988 Los Angeles after his ghostly return. In "Mirror", these movie stars simply take their obsession with glory to a whole ‘nother level...and it’s mind-blowing, posing an extinction threat to the entire world.

I can’t say anymore about the book without spoiling the journey Graham Masterton takes you on and I wouldn’t want to! It kept me up for hours, it scared the hell outta me and most importantly, it caused me to think about important matters (albeit placed in a fictional construct) in a unique manner as a reader, writer and classic film fan. It made me think of very specific aspects of darkness vs. light and how it relates to this spiritual battleground called earth, the evil of the out of control ego (which goes back to the old Biblical theme of the ‘sin of pride’) and even the importance of not living in the past, as the screenwriter Martin Williams actually brings about his personal nightmare and ultimately the nightmare of thousands of people because he cannot relinquish the memory of this dead star and the screenplay he’s written that revolves around his life and demise. All of it combines into a magnificently compelling read and to be honest, richly deserving of a quality film adaptation. I came away thinking I’d read one of the best horror novels of the late 20th century in “Mirror”. I hope that you will enjoy this read as much as I did. Fair warning though--keep a lamp on when you get through it! The chills won’t stop coming with this one.

You can also read this review over at Goodreads and connect with me there!

Book Review: "Syndrome E" By Franck Thilliez

There's a lot I can say about Franck Thilliez's epically twisted thriller Syndrome E. Was it one of the best contemporary suspense novels I've read in the past five years? Oh yes! Was it wickedly original, the plot masterfully crafted down to the last stunning little detail? You bet. But there's one very important thing I can and must say about this novel. It is not an easy read. It plumbs the depths of humankind's cruelty to one another, and baby, them depths are pitch black.

This is what unfolds in Syndrome E. It's a mind-bending tale of brainwashing, mutilation, globe-trotting insanity, all linking back to a frightening little film from the 1950's showing odd and nauseating symbolism. It's a novel first and foremost about the power authority figures have over the most vulnerable members of society...and with that, come heinous abuses of that power, the wreckage of human minds and maybe even spirits. 

It starts with a middle-aged Belgian film buff called Ludovic Senechal who, after the purchase of a mysterious old film reel from the son of a deceased collector, unexpectedly goes blind only moments after watching part of the footage.

At first, this is something that may seem to the reader a tragedy extending from the most surreal corner of the supernatural realm, but hold on! Everything in this book is rooted in the most cold-hearted and devious of human actions. 


The film is basically handed from one person to another and the main people surrounding this piece of footage, like poor Ludovic's ex-girlfriend, Lucie, a police detective, and Inspector Franck Sharko, who's got one hell of a mental battle he's facing already, run head-first into this hidden monster of a crime within the movie. The film plays around these bizarre layers of imagery, the surface being a woman who gets her eye slashed open and a little girl acting like she's in a drug-induced haze, squaring off against a bull who stops in mid-attack. This is all, like I mentioned, on this surface layer of film that the director carefully constructed to hide a much deeper and freaking terrifying meaning. What can be even scarier than what I just mentioned? Yeah...you'll find out soon enough. And the backdrop to this fifty+ year conspiracy is in the current day, being violently protected by barbaric murderers who at some point, literally rip the guts out of a person close to discovery of their sickening secrets.

There's a parallel investigation going on with the enigmatic character of Inspector Franck Sharko, a diagnosed schizophrenic grieving intensely over the death of his wife and daughter. He is enmired in a hellish world of unearthed corpses, their skulls sawed off, the mutilated state of their bodies surely pointing to the calculating methods of a serial killer. How this links up to the case Detective Lucie Henebelle is involved in is ingenious, as moment by moment, the clues connecting two seemingly incongruous situations loop together in a series of events that point to a mind-blowing (literally!) scientific explanation.

The killer/s are and have been engineering BOTH sets of crimes, all to cover up a massive atrocity which took place with orphans in the 1950's, which goes back to the dazed and glassy eyed little girl and the bull in the creepy footage, causing the poor Belgian's blindness. And the thing about the blindness is that...strangely enough, you think it's going to be the prominent storyline, the big mystery that is the focal point of the entire plot, but what it amounts to is a clever entry into a wider, darker, and infinitely frightening universe where one horror leads to a bigger horror, culminating in the ultimate horror.

What I liked about this thriller is the supreme attention to detail. This is one of the best reads in the genre that never doubts the readers' intelligence, but also doesn't sink into overly-plotted, convoluted writing.

You keep hurtling down the tracks at a near-frenetic pace but it never becomes overwhelming. Whether Sharko is fighting off a paid agent in the Egyptian desert who has dragged him there to torture information out of him or whether Lucie is ducking an orchestrated attempted murder of herself and an informant in hiding in the Canadian woods--every moment of action feels real, totally authentic. The relationship between the characters of Lucie and Sharko is also beautifully written. I really liked how there was a gradual build-up to this burgeoning romance between them, but one that didn't feel like it was awkwardly, randomly inserted. We see these two working together as friends and allies on this bewildering and disgusting case, both put in horrible danger and both dealing with emotional baggage, one much greater than the other, but both trying their hardest to move forward into a somewhat uncertain future.

Lucie is a vibrantly written female character. Props to Franck Thilliez for writing a woman who is third-dimensional and confident in her abilities! She is a mother who can go from tenderly caring for her sick child to shooting her way out of a burning house (a GREAT scene). She's extremely perceptive and dedicated to her work, seeking love, but not making it the center of her existence. She leapt off the page, I could pretty much see the film rolling in my head as I read her dialogue and actions. The same with Sharko who is such a miserably haunted man, in contrast to Lucie's relative normalcy. He battles with visions of a little girl called Eugenie, who is a mental amalgamation of his worst shame and regret. Eugenie pops up during his most stressed-out moments and is actually a crucial little character in the book, often playing out as a voice of warning. It was fascinating! Never dipped into the ridiculous or satire, which could've been the case in the hands of lesser authors. Both Lucie and Sharko are fully-realized characters who are struggling to understand a widespread, organized criminal act that cannot be quickly resolved. The layers to this are peeled away, one by one, to reveal an infected center.

During their investigation, and the murders which occur--one man is disemboweled, another man and his girlfriend are stabbed by what looks like a maniacal butcher--the film footage from the 1950's links up to a mysterious hospital in Canada and an old yet official plan to render the existences of orphaned children as nothing more than slaves and captives. How this intersects with the blank-eyed child star of the old footage, whose name is later uncovered to be Alice Tonquin, is the key that unlocks everything.

And Christ, does it. The levels that human beings will sink over money and control never ceases to amaze me. The book takes it to the heights and in the process, very few people were able to walk away from what happened in 1950's Montreal, with their hearts, minds and souls clean. In fact, certain individuals would go on to further filthy themselves by perpetrating generational monstrosities.

This book was an excellent example of top-level thriller/suspense writing. I am dying to read the sequel, Bred To Kill, and continue following the kick-ass crime solving skills of Lucie Henebelle and Franck Sharko. 

A big thumbs up to Thilliez for creating a work of crime fiction that was never boring, not even for a minute, and never cliche. A strong 5 stars.

You can also read this review and connect with me over at Goodreads!