Good day fellow scribes and readers. Back after a very sudden and unexpected break from last week. Never fear, just some work related issues I had to handle.

So, without further ado, here's this week's review of...

Joe Hill's name has often come up for me when I've gone reading through the submission guidelines of magazines and anthologies. Editors say that they want contemporary urban horror, and have cited him as an author who produces the kind of stories they're looking for. I'm glad I've finally read something by him, because I can see that their praise and hunger for more work like his is completely well deserved.

Snapshot, 1988 is the story of a mechanically inclined teenager named Mike, a self-described "overweight geek", living in the year 1988. One day, while working on one of his inventions, he sees an old woman who used to clean his house stumbling through the street looking lost. He recognizes that she is obviously suffering from some Alzheimer like symptoms and steps up to help walk her back to her house. On their way there, she warns him in a conspiratorial whisper, telling him to watch out for the Polaroid Man, setting Mike on an adventure of self-discovery and supernatural horror.

One aspect of this novella that I really, really enjoy (and one that other writers should take note of) is how the dialogue exchanges between characters help to develop and express who they are as people. When writing first person narratives a lot of the characterization comes from the internal insights and reflections a character has with the people, events, and environment they interacts with. Another way of providing characterization, one that can help flesh out the entire cast of a story, is to demonstrate how your main character behaves and speaks with different characters. It allows for a fresh set of eyes to be applied to him, his appearance, and his actions, broadening the world it takes place and giving depth to not only the main character, but to the side characters that inhabit the world. Joe Hill makes great use of this narrative trick, giving each character a unique voice that reinforces Mike, the main character of Snapshot, 1988, feels about himself and the world around him. It makes the story feel very real, as though it is a snapshot taken from a town with living, breathing, vulnerable people. If I were grading this on a rubric, with each category of narrative elements getting its own rating, the character writing for Snapshot, 1988 would receive a definite 5/5.

The story is also very emotionally driven, capturing the feeling of bitter-sweet reflection that is the story's narrative style. He recalls the feelings dark sympathy he had when he watched someone who was once so very strong lose themselves to age and mental deterioration, the guilt of having not recognized someone's love and sacrifice, and the bitterness of having been failed by people who were meant to take care of him. These are very relatable feelings, at least to me. They give the story a dreary mood that slowly envelopes the reader, enhancing the developments of the plot.

As for the plot itself, I'm a little conflicted on it. There wasn't a single moment in the story that felt rushed or boring. The story has a kind of languid pace that moves from event to event in a very organic way, though the climax does happen quite early in the story. What happens later is an exploration of the aftermath, a slow and sorrowful withering that, in another story, I might've thought drawn out. It fits with the content and themes of this story however, and shows how well tied together it all really is.

Some of Mike's remembrances struck me as odd at first. They never failed to be interesting, and they certainly provided more information on what was like as a person, but part way through I was questioning their relevance. As I pressed on further into Snapshot, 1988, however, I began to see how these flashbacks (and flash forwards) tied into its somber themes and, to great effect, served to provide foreshadowing into some of the events near the story's conclusion. They eventually became an element of the story that I really enjoyed.

When I began these reviews, I wanted to be sure not to let out any spoilers that might discourage a reader from pursuing the stories I've been analyzing and enjoying. I don't plan on breaking that mission, but I do want to discuss some elements and tropes that tie in to the story's conclusion. So, the following spoiler portion of the review may become a recurring feature where I take a short moment to look at what makes the endings, whether it ends in a bloodbath or just a big monster, so fascinating.

<spoiler>The man with the Polaroid camera, who Mike comes to call the Phoenician, is immediately recognizable as a bad man. With a dead script tattooed across his body and a camera that sucks out memories, he very well could be a modern occult sorcerer, preying upon the vulnerable. He's essentially the medieval witch giving hapless villagers with her evil eye, but with a modern spin. Writers who are interested in writing urban or modern horror should look at this as an example of providing a new twist for old tropes.</spoiler>

<spoiler>What lurks within the camera the Phoenician uses is also an interesting example of eldritch horror crawling into the modern era. When the adult Mike drives over the camera, thus destroying it, he finds that it was merely the shell containing a black ooze with a demonic eye that looks within him. Exposed to the open air, it shrivels and hardens into a silvery metal. It then communicates to him, offering him everything he could possibly want if he just crafts him into a thinking machine, one of the "com-PUH-ters" that the modern age has produced. It promises to reveal every secret, every mystery, if he just gives it the body that can do this kind of work. He hucks it away in revulsion, and later dumps it into the ocean. Whether its a demon, eldritch abomination, or even some kind of wish granting fairy is never revealed, but it does present another example of how supernatural elements can be introduced through modern means. It was, essentially, a cursed camera, possibly bound in that form by the Phoenician. So then, what other appliances could be corrupted by techno-demons and leather clad warlocks, and what ways would they lash out to spread misery and suffering in the world of Modern Man?</spoiler>

Overall, I'm very impressed with Joe Hill's novella, and will actively be seeking out his work in the future. The magazine I read this from was heavily advertising one of his newest books, The Fireman, so that might be a good place to start. As for my poorly thought out quantifiable rating system (that I'm still unsure if I'm going to stick with), I have to give this story a resounding 5 out of 5.