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Nightwing
Vampire bats: Evil. Clever.
Deadly.
Driven by blood-hunger across the American landscape, they bred and multiplied, unseen and unsuspected, each one a grisly messenger of death. No warm-blooded creature is safe from their thirst. Now, as darkness gathers, the sky is filled with the frantic motion, the maddening murmur of . . . Nightwing.
Deadly.
Driven by blood-hunger across the American landscape, they bred and multiplied, unseen and unsuspected, each one a grisly messenger of death. No warm-blooded creature is safe from their thirst. Now, as darkness gathers, the sky is filled with the frantic motion, the maddening murmur of . . . Nightwing.
Paperback
First published January 1, 1977
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943 people want to read
About the author
Martin Cruz Smith
53 books1,271 followersMartin Cruz Smith (AKA Simon Quinn, Nick Carter, Jake Logan, and Martin Quinn) was an American writer of mystery and suspense fiction, mostly in an international or historical setting. He was best known for his 11-book series featuring Russian investigator Arkady Renko, who was introduced in 1981 with Gorky Park and appeared in Independence Square (2023) and Hotel Ukraine (2025). [Wikipedia]
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 119 reviews
November 25, 2017
I’ve stopped being surprised by terrible reads which are way overhyped, and deluged with five-star ratings. By the same token I’m no longer surprised by very good reads either ignored completely, or rated too low. I read this novel as a teenager when it first came out decades ago, and gave it another read recently.
It is a very entertaining read in many ways, and while by no means a masterpiece, it held up fairly well. Nightwing is very reminiscent in many ways of Tony Hillerman's Joe Leaphorn/Jim Chee mystery novels. The atmosphere is very similar, in fact, right down to the Four Corners location and the mysticism of the Navajo and Hopi Indians. There is also the same social commentary in regard to the exploitation of the tribes for the resources on Indian lands. Mainly, however, this is an old-fashioned thriller marred to some degree by an okay but certainly not great ending.
Most readers who like Jim Chee will like the Hopi protagonist, Youngman. Most readers who enjoy the Leaphorn/Chee novels will find a great deal to like here, in fact, though it is a switch in genre from the Hillerman series. Perhaps other reviewers who haven't read (or don't like) the Hillerman mysteries, or were expecting another Gorky Park type of work from Cruz were surprised by this earlier work, and it lessened their enjoyment of this old-fashioned, lean and involving story.
Nightwing certainly isn't perfect, but it has many good moments to recommend it. I rounded up to four stars rather than down to three because the atmosphere overcame the conclusion for me. Others have gone into the plot, which you can read in the book description, so I’ll refer you to that on this occasion. If you don't like Hillerman, however, you won't enjoy this, as it has the same feel as that series, but moved sideways into another genre. A good book to curl up with on a stormy night. It won't bore you, it's just not one which will blow you away.
It is a very entertaining read in many ways, and while by no means a masterpiece, it held up fairly well. Nightwing is very reminiscent in many ways of Tony Hillerman's Joe Leaphorn/Jim Chee mystery novels. The atmosphere is very similar, in fact, right down to the Four Corners location and the mysticism of the Navajo and Hopi Indians. There is also the same social commentary in regard to the exploitation of the tribes for the resources on Indian lands. Mainly, however, this is an old-fashioned thriller marred to some degree by an okay but certainly not great ending.
Most readers who like Jim Chee will like the Hopi protagonist, Youngman. Most readers who enjoy the Leaphorn/Chee novels will find a great deal to like here, in fact, though it is a switch in genre from the Hillerman series. Perhaps other reviewers who haven't read (or don't like) the Hillerman mysteries, or were expecting another Gorky Park type of work from Cruz were surprised by this earlier work, and it lessened their enjoyment of this old-fashioned, lean and involving story.
Nightwing certainly isn't perfect, but it has many good moments to recommend it. I rounded up to four stars rather than down to three because the atmosphere overcame the conclusion for me. Others have gone into the plot, which you can read in the book description, so I’ll refer you to that on this occasion. If you don't like Hillerman, however, you won't enjoy this, as it has the same feel as that series, but moved sideways into another genre. A good book to curl up with on a stormy night. It won't bore you, it's just not one which will blow you away.
October 13, 2025
Night falls, and vampire bats rise from caves in the deserts of the American Southwest to launch massed attacks – first against livestock, and then against people. It may sound like a standard horror-novel premise; but in the hands of novelist Martin Cruz Smith, Nightwing (1977) spins a resonant, mythic, and terrifying suspense story, set against an authentic portrayal of the challenges that faced Native Americans in the late 20th century.
Martin Cruz Smith may be most well-known for his best-selling series of suspense novels featuring the Russian detective Arkady Renko. Those novels, which started with Gorky Park (1981), are compelling narratives that draw a meticulously crafted picture of life, crime, and political intrigue in the country that was once the Soviet Union and is now the Russian Federation.
I enjoy the Arkady Renko novels, but I am even more partial to those works by Smith that relate to his Native American heritage (he is part-Pueblo, and his mother was an Indigenous Rights activist). Those works include The Indians Won (1970), an alternate-history novel in which the Indigenous nations of the North American West defeat U.S. forces and establish an independent nation; Stallion Gate (1986), an atomic-age thriller in which a Pueblo man is caught up in nuclear-weapons intrigue at Los Alamos, New Mexico, at the time of the Manhattan Project; and of course Nightwing, where one Hopi man expresses his determination to end the world, and another Hopi man, of part-Pueblo heritage, may just be able to save it.
The protagonist of Nightwing is Youngman Duran, a sheriff’s deputy for the Hopi Nation. Like Arkady Renko from the Gorky Park novels, he combines a stoic disposition and a sometimes prickly personality with a stubborn core of ethical integrity. Having served a couple of years in Vietnam (and more years in stockade, for refusing to abide by Army regulations and drop bombs where they were supposed to go), Youngman has returned home to Hopi lands. As a sheriff’s deputy on an Indian reservation where there’s not much crime, Youngman leads a quiet life that, for the time being, includes a passionate but seemingly ill-fated romance with Anne Dillon, an Anglo woman who left a wealthy background in Phoenix to do some nursing work on the reservation.
But those quiet times end when Youngman’s friend Abner Tasupi, a 90-year-old Hopi priest who is widely feared as a “witch,” tells Youngman, “I’m going to end the world” (p. 17). In setting forth his reasons for planning to use his magic to bring an end to the world – and you’ll note that I’ve not yet said a word about the vampire bats in this vampire-bat novel – Abner evokes Hopi mythology, religion, and eschatology in a manner that might remind some readers of folklorist Harold Courlander’s classic study The Fourth World of the Hopis (1971).
As Courlander describes it, the Hopi world-view centers around a belief that the world will go through a series of cycles of growth, destruction, and re-creation. In each of a series of ages or “worlds,” a golden time of peace and prosperity will be undone by human corruption, leading to an apocalyptic catastrophe that will kill everyone on Earth except for “a few good Hopis,” who will then undertake the renewal of humankind. In our time, we are said to be living in the fourth of nine worlds – hence the title of Courlander’s book.
Youngman dismisses as nonsense Abner’s end-of-the-world talk – but then Abner turns up dead, covered in blood and sharp cuts; it looks as though Abner was the victim of some sort of animal attack, but no tracks can be found. The reader, of course, knows that vampire bats are the culprits, but the characters in Nightwing don’t – except for one Hayden Paine, a mammalogist who specializes in the study of vampire bats.
Youngman finds Paine seeking to extract a tissue sample from Abner’s dead body. Youngman stops Paine, pointing out that “You were desecrating a body when I came in and you still haven’t told me why” (p. 50), and confiscates the tissue sample, in spite of Paine’s insistence that “I need that sample! You don’t know what you’re doing!” (p. 52).
It turns out that Paine, whose gung-ho approach to his bat research has resulted in tragedy in the past, is carrying a letter of reference from Walter Chee, the 38-year-old chairman of the Navajo Tribal Council. The wealthy, well-connected, and business-minded Chee brings to Nightwing an example of an ongoing conflict, in modern Native American communities, between “tribals” and “traditionals.”
As writers like Peter Matthiessen have described it, “tribals” are Native Americans who have decided to accept (perhaps somewhat uncritically) the changes of the modern age, to embrace the business ethics and the money mindset of the contemporary U.S. economy, and (in effect) to beat the whites at their own game. Chee embodies that mindset. “Traditionals,” by contrast, seek to preserve, as much as possible, the traditional ways of the ancestors, as practiced during the millennia before the coming of the Europeans. Youngman (who observes, accurately, that Chee’s Navajo authority does not extend to the Hopi Nation) suspects at once that there is some sort of financial motivation behind Chee’s sending of Paine into Hopi country.
I still haven’t gotten to vampire bats yet, have I? Alright, here we go. Smith provides a wealth of information regarding the taxonomy and the behaviour of Desmodus rotundus, the common vampire bat. And just as, for Gorky Park, Smith drew upon the innovative research of a Soviet forensic scientist to give Arkady Renko a way of solving a seemingly unsolvable crime, so Smith in Nightwing plays with a fascinating bit of trivia: while vampire bats’ distribution range extends as far as northern Mexico, the bats have never crossed into U.S. territory – not yet. And they prey upon warm-blooded animals individually: they do not carry out massed attacks.
For Nightwing, of course, they do. Do they ever. As mentioned above, foreshadowing is provided through the vampires’ attacks on livestock like horses and sheep; but when they do attack humans, Smith’s depictions of those attacks are vivid and dramatic. In one crucial scene, Anne Dillon, who has faced the unhappy duty of shepherding a singularly unpleasant group of missionaries around the Hopi Nation in hopes of securing some funding for medical initiatives for the Hopi people, watches a night-time picnic around the fire turn into a scene of horror:
A muffled sound streaked over the campfire. Claire Franklin swayed, her hands up to her head. She took her hands away. A gouge ran from her left eyebrow to her right temple, and from the wound, over her eyes, ran a sheet of blood.
“John!” she screamed. “Help!”
Franklin swung the blanket, and stumbled as something like a fist hit him between the shoulder blades. He felt teeth slice into his back….
“Maude!” Henry pitched on the ground, two bats on his neck, and watched one rip open his hand. Beyond was his wife, on one knee, screaming in a coat of bats. A bat fixed on her cheek. Another bat landed on the ground. It drew up its wings and scuttled toward Henry like a spider.
The ground was covered with running bats. Claire Franklin rose from the ground, a statue in red. Another figure, seemingly two-headed, ran through the fire. Franklin and another man spun like maddened dancers. (p. 105)
The situation grows worse yet when it comes to light that the vampire bats carry bubonic plague: Abner’s end-of-the-world scenario seems ever more likely to come to pass. Youngman, a good detective, notes that Navajo leader Chee hired bat scientist Paine, seemingly out of nowhere, and puts the pieces together, asking Chee an important question: “[I]f it is an epidemic, Chee, you’re ready, aren’t you? That’s what interests me. You’re so goddamn ready” (p. 150).
Youngman, Anne, and Paine eventually form an alliance to fight the bat invasion; and Youngman, returning to the traditional ways of the ancestors, ingests the hallucinogenic datura root that Abner was wont to eat while casting spells. His doing so leads to mind-bending scenes like this one in which Youngman gets to see, and converse with, a dead friend:
Sunspots danced over Youngman’s eyes. As he dropped to rest he saw waiting for him, sitting high on a sandstone outcrop that jutted over the road, the silhouette of a small man wearing nothing but a ragged cape.
“Hello, Flea,” Abner said.
“Hello.” Youngman pulled himself to his feet and walked under the outcrop. Looking up at Abner he was looking directly into the sun, but he could make out dimly the features of his old friend and the dried blood on Abner’s chest. Abner had been smoking mesa tobacco and listening to a transistor radio. He put out the cigarette and turned off the radio.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked.
“Not really.” Youngman spat the datura from his mouth. “Since I was stupid enough to eat that, I expected to see something.”
“You can’t see anything here without datura,” Abner reprimanded him mildly. “You shouldn’t fight it.”
“I’m fighting you, uncle.” (p. 205)
Are Youngman’s visions nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination? Or has he truly entered the spirit world to communicate with his dead friend who is still trying to end the world? It is that ambiguity that causes Nightwing to enter into the realm of the mythic, as the novel moves toward its singularly exciting and powerful conclusion.
I first read Nightwing as a 16- or 17-year-old, when the book first came out. It impressed me like few other books from those times, for the way it enriched the standard tropes of the contemporary horror novel by invoking the archetypes of the Indigenous cultures of the American West. I re-read Nightwing more recently – on an Arizona trip that enabled me to spend some time on the Navajo Nation – and I found it even more impressive. Nightwing is one of the best horror novels ever written.
Martin Cruz Smith may be most well-known for his best-selling series of suspense novels featuring the Russian detective Arkady Renko. Those novels, which started with Gorky Park (1981), are compelling narratives that draw a meticulously crafted picture of life, crime, and political intrigue in the country that was once the Soviet Union and is now the Russian Federation.
I enjoy the Arkady Renko novels, but I am even more partial to those works by Smith that relate to his Native American heritage (he is part-Pueblo, and his mother was an Indigenous Rights activist). Those works include The Indians Won (1970), an alternate-history novel in which the Indigenous nations of the North American West defeat U.S. forces and establish an independent nation; Stallion Gate (1986), an atomic-age thriller in which a Pueblo man is caught up in nuclear-weapons intrigue at Los Alamos, New Mexico, at the time of the Manhattan Project; and of course Nightwing, where one Hopi man expresses his determination to end the world, and another Hopi man, of part-Pueblo heritage, may just be able to save it.
The protagonist of Nightwing is Youngman Duran, a sheriff’s deputy for the Hopi Nation. Like Arkady Renko from the Gorky Park novels, he combines a stoic disposition and a sometimes prickly personality with a stubborn core of ethical integrity. Having served a couple of years in Vietnam (and more years in stockade, for refusing to abide by Army regulations and drop bombs where they were supposed to go), Youngman has returned home to Hopi lands. As a sheriff’s deputy on an Indian reservation where there’s not much crime, Youngman leads a quiet life that, for the time being, includes a passionate but seemingly ill-fated romance with Anne Dillon, an Anglo woman who left a wealthy background in Phoenix to do some nursing work on the reservation.
But those quiet times end when Youngman’s friend Abner Tasupi, a 90-year-old Hopi priest who is widely feared as a “witch,” tells Youngman, “I’m going to end the world” (p. 17). In setting forth his reasons for planning to use his magic to bring an end to the world – and you’ll note that I’ve not yet said a word about the vampire bats in this vampire-bat novel – Abner evokes Hopi mythology, religion, and eschatology in a manner that might remind some readers of folklorist Harold Courlander’s classic study The Fourth World of the Hopis (1971).
As Courlander describes it, the Hopi world-view centers around a belief that the world will go through a series of cycles of growth, destruction, and re-creation. In each of a series of ages or “worlds,” a golden time of peace and prosperity will be undone by human corruption, leading to an apocalyptic catastrophe that will kill everyone on Earth except for “a few good Hopis,” who will then undertake the renewal of humankind. In our time, we are said to be living in the fourth of nine worlds – hence the title of Courlander’s book.
Youngman dismisses as nonsense Abner’s end-of-the-world talk – but then Abner turns up dead, covered in blood and sharp cuts; it looks as though Abner was the victim of some sort of animal attack, but no tracks can be found. The reader, of course, knows that vampire bats are the culprits, but the characters in Nightwing don’t – except for one Hayden Paine, a mammalogist who specializes in the study of vampire bats.
Youngman finds Paine seeking to extract a tissue sample from Abner’s dead body. Youngman stops Paine, pointing out that “You were desecrating a body when I came in and you still haven’t told me why” (p. 50), and confiscates the tissue sample, in spite of Paine’s insistence that “I need that sample! You don’t know what you’re doing!” (p. 52).
It turns out that Paine, whose gung-ho approach to his bat research has resulted in tragedy in the past, is carrying a letter of reference from Walter Chee, the 38-year-old chairman of the Navajo Tribal Council. The wealthy, well-connected, and business-minded Chee brings to Nightwing an example of an ongoing conflict, in modern Native American communities, between “tribals” and “traditionals.”
As writers like Peter Matthiessen have described it, “tribals” are Native Americans who have decided to accept (perhaps somewhat uncritically) the changes of the modern age, to embrace the business ethics and the money mindset of the contemporary U.S. economy, and (in effect) to beat the whites at their own game. Chee embodies that mindset. “Traditionals,” by contrast, seek to preserve, as much as possible, the traditional ways of the ancestors, as practiced during the millennia before the coming of the Europeans. Youngman (who observes, accurately, that Chee’s Navajo authority does not extend to the Hopi Nation) suspects at once that there is some sort of financial motivation behind Chee’s sending of Paine into Hopi country.
I still haven’t gotten to vampire bats yet, have I? Alright, here we go. Smith provides a wealth of information regarding the taxonomy and the behaviour of Desmodus rotundus, the common vampire bat. And just as, for Gorky Park, Smith drew upon the innovative research of a Soviet forensic scientist to give Arkady Renko a way of solving a seemingly unsolvable crime, so Smith in Nightwing plays with a fascinating bit of trivia: while vampire bats’ distribution range extends as far as northern Mexico, the bats have never crossed into U.S. territory – not yet. And they prey upon warm-blooded animals individually: they do not carry out massed attacks.
For Nightwing, of course, they do. Do they ever. As mentioned above, foreshadowing is provided through the vampires’ attacks on livestock like horses and sheep; but when they do attack humans, Smith’s depictions of those attacks are vivid and dramatic. In one crucial scene, Anne Dillon, who has faced the unhappy duty of shepherding a singularly unpleasant group of missionaries around the Hopi Nation in hopes of securing some funding for medical initiatives for the Hopi people, watches a night-time picnic around the fire turn into a scene of horror:
A muffled sound streaked over the campfire. Claire Franklin swayed, her hands up to her head. She took her hands away. A gouge ran from her left eyebrow to her right temple, and from the wound, over her eyes, ran a sheet of blood.
“John!” she screamed. “Help!”
Franklin swung the blanket, and stumbled as something like a fist hit him between the shoulder blades. He felt teeth slice into his back….
“Maude!” Henry pitched on the ground, two bats on his neck, and watched one rip open his hand. Beyond was his wife, on one knee, screaming in a coat of bats. A bat fixed on her cheek. Another bat landed on the ground. It drew up its wings and scuttled toward Henry like a spider.
The ground was covered with running bats. Claire Franklin rose from the ground, a statue in red. Another figure, seemingly two-headed, ran through the fire. Franklin and another man spun like maddened dancers. (p. 105)
The situation grows worse yet when it comes to light that the vampire bats carry bubonic plague: Abner’s end-of-the-world scenario seems ever more likely to come to pass. Youngman, a good detective, notes that Navajo leader Chee hired bat scientist Paine, seemingly out of nowhere, and puts the pieces together, asking Chee an important question: “[I]f it is an epidemic, Chee, you’re ready, aren’t you? That’s what interests me. You’re so goddamn ready” (p. 150).
Youngman, Anne, and Paine eventually form an alliance to fight the bat invasion; and Youngman, returning to the traditional ways of the ancestors, ingests the hallucinogenic datura root that Abner was wont to eat while casting spells. His doing so leads to mind-bending scenes like this one in which Youngman gets to see, and converse with, a dead friend:
Sunspots danced over Youngman’s eyes. As he dropped to rest he saw waiting for him, sitting high on a sandstone outcrop that jutted over the road, the silhouette of a small man wearing nothing but a ragged cape.
“Hello, Flea,” Abner said.
“Hello.” Youngman pulled himself to his feet and walked under the outcrop. Looking up at Abner he was looking directly into the sun, but he could make out dimly the features of his old friend and the dried blood on Abner’s chest. Abner had been smoking mesa tobacco and listening to a transistor radio. He put out the cigarette and turned off the radio.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked.
“Not really.” Youngman spat the datura from his mouth. “Since I was stupid enough to eat that, I expected to see something.”
“You can’t see anything here without datura,” Abner reprimanded him mildly. “You shouldn’t fight it.”
“I’m fighting you, uncle.” (p. 205)
Are Youngman’s visions nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination? Or has he truly entered the spirit world to communicate with his dead friend who is still trying to end the world? It is that ambiguity that causes Nightwing to enter into the realm of the mythic, as the novel moves toward its singularly exciting and powerful conclusion.
I first read Nightwing as a 16- or 17-year-old, when the book first came out. It impressed me like few other books from those times, for the way it enriched the standard tropes of the contemporary horror novel by invoking the archetypes of the Indigenous cultures of the American West. I re-read Nightwing more recently – on an Arizona trip that enabled me to spend some time on the Navajo Nation – and I found it even more impressive. Nightwing is one of the best horror novels ever written.
October 10, 2022
Another classic horror novel that Grady Hendrix should consider for his Paperbacks from Hell collection...
Humans have been telling horror stories around the campfire about the dangers of the creatures of the night probably since before there were campfires. Second only to stories of creation (the “why” and “how” of how we got here), scary bedtime stories (the “what if” of survival in the big bad world) have probably been the most popular form of entertainment for humans. They still are.
Specifically, “Man vs. Nature” horror stories---stories in which Mother Nature shows her dark side and seeks revenge against humanity for its many wrongs against her---have always been popular because they play upon a fear that has never adequately been, nor will ever be, allayed, no matter how hard humans have tried: the fear that our place within the natural world is not only fleeting but has, indeed, passed us by.
Like the dinosaurs and many millions of other species in Earth’s history, humanity has outlived its usefulness. We are nearing extinction. We’re just in denial.
The literature of the 19th and 20th centuries, especially, is replete with stories of vengeful nature and nature run amok. It’s no coincidence that the rise of the number of these stories are directly proportional to the rise of industrialization and almost-unstoppable advances in technology and science.
Nowhere is this most prevalent than within the horror genre. Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” and Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”---arguably the most popular horror novels of their day and the first true “mainstream” novels of the horror genre---are both basically about men whose hubris in defying nature and their crimes against nature invite deadly and tragic consequences.
In “Dracula”, the titular character whose perversions against nature are so vile that nature essentially punishes him by turning him into a vampire: a creature with an insatiable thirst for blood who is destined to never again walk in daylight.
In “Frankenstein”, the protagonist is a scientist who, in the process of playing God, denies his own creation and invites the creature to righteously seek vengeance against a world that he did not ask to be brought into.
Both novels are morality fables about the dangers and deadly consequences of disrespecting nature, but, then again, so are every other horror novel ever written.
In the horror genre, nature is often an unfeeling force with no compassion for humanity. But determining who the “good guy” and the “bad guy” is in man vs. nature stories isn’t always easy.
We are a constant threat to nature’s survival via our rampant ecological devastation, rise of industrialization/mechanization, and so-called “progress”. Nature, which is inherently devoid of moral qualifiers, is nevertheless always (and ironically) personified as Evil. Nature is always being made the villain, whether in the form of birds (Daphne du Maurier’s “The Birds”), great white sharks (Peter Benchley’s “Jaws”), or rabid St. Bernard dogs (Stephen King’s “Cujo”).
But is nature the real villain? Even in real life, wild animals are always the ones to blame, whether a gorilla in a zoo or an alligator on a Florida beach. When a child feels the brunt of nature’s indifference, it’s always nature’s fault, but the gorilla and the alligator are simply doing what they’ve been doing forever: marking their territory, protecting the herd, preying on the weak. The result is nonetheless tragic for the child injured or killed, but it’s almost-universally unacceptable to even hint that the destruction of a gorilla or the killing of alligators is equally tragic.
Martin Cruz Smith, a novelist best-known for his mystery series involving Russian police detective Arkady Renko, wrote a creepy little horror novel in 1977 called “Nightwing”. Perhaps riding the wave of popularity of Peter Benchley’s 1974 novel “Jaws”, or perhaps because he simply has a thing for bats, Smith wrote the quintessential novel about a swarm of killer vampire bats.
While the blurbs on the cover make the comparison to Benchley’s “Jaws”, a perfectly reasonable and appropriate comparison, Smith’s novel has more in common with Joe Dante’s movie “Piranha”, which came out a year after “Nightwing” was published.
Benchley’s book was tame compared to the blood and guts of “Nightwing”. Smith was certainly not afraid to be very liberal and graphic in his descriptions of huge vampire bats rending the flesh and muscle of its victims. Us gorehounds thank him for that.
A lot of fascinating but overall diversionary stuff involving Hopi Indian legends and supernatural mythical creatures populate the book, owing to its New Mexico setting on a Hopi reservation. It’s a blatant attempt by Smith to add a mystical element to his story, one that is purposefully undermined by the real message.
The vampire bat attacks are brilliantly written and terrifying stuff, but the real horror lies in the scientific plausibility of the story. Because just when the survivors think they are safe, they succumb to a virulent strain of bubonic plague, of which the vampire bats are unwitting carriers.
The characters in the story are almost stock horror movie tropes: the down-and-out alcoholic cop hero, the brilliant but slightly mad scientist bent on the bats’ destruction, the damsel in distress, and, of course, the corporate CEO villain whose greed and self-interest has led to environmental destruction and ecological mutation that ignited this story of nature run amok.
The moral of the story hardly needs to be stated. It’s the same moral for all these stories, from the horrors of Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick” to Michael Crichton’s “Jurassic Park”: respect nature. Learn to live WITH nature, not AGAINST it. Stop messing with the environment, or the environment is going to kick our ass.
It’s a moral that has been, and will continue to be, ignored by humanity until the day we breathe our last breath.
Humans have been telling horror stories around the campfire about the dangers of the creatures of the night probably since before there were campfires. Second only to stories of creation (the “why” and “how” of how we got here), scary bedtime stories (the “what if” of survival in the big bad world) have probably been the most popular form of entertainment for humans. They still are.
Specifically, “Man vs. Nature” horror stories---stories in which Mother Nature shows her dark side and seeks revenge against humanity for its many wrongs against her---have always been popular because they play upon a fear that has never adequately been, nor will ever be, allayed, no matter how hard humans have tried: the fear that our place within the natural world is not only fleeting but has, indeed, passed us by.
Like the dinosaurs and many millions of other species in Earth’s history, humanity has outlived its usefulness. We are nearing extinction. We’re just in denial.
The literature of the 19th and 20th centuries, especially, is replete with stories of vengeful nature and nature run amok. It’s no coincidence that the rise of the number of these stories are directly proportional to the rise of industrialization and almost-unstoppable advances in technology and science.
Nowhere is this most prevalent than within the horror genre. Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” and Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”---arguably the most popular horror novels of their day and the first true “mainstream” novels of the horror genre---are both basically about men whose hubris in defying nature and their crimes against nature invite deadly and tragic consequences.
In “Dracula”, the titular character whose perversions against nature are so vile that nature essentially punishes him by turning him into a vampire: a creature with an insatiable thirst for blood who is destined to never again walk in daylight.
In “Frankenstein”, the protagonist is a scientist who, in the process of playing God, denies his own creation and invites the creature to righteously seek vengeance against a world that he did not ask to be brought into.
Both novels are morality fables about the dangers and deadly consequences of disrespecting nature, but, then again, so are every other horror novel ever written.
In the horror genre, nature is often an unfeeling force with no compassion for humanity. But determining who the “good guy” and the “bad guy” is in man vs. nature stories isn’t always easy.
We are a constant threat to nature’s survival via our rampant ecological devastation, rise of industrialization/mechanization, and so-called “progress”. Nature, which is inherently devoid of moral qualifiers, is nevertheless always (and ironically) personified as Evil. Nature is always being made the villain, whether in the form of birds (Daphne du Maurier’s “The Birds”), great white sharks (Peter Benchley’s “Jaws”), or rabid St. Bernard dogs (Stephen King’s “Cujo”).
But is nature the real villain? Even in real life, wild animals are always the ones to blame, whether a gorilla in a zoo or an alligator on a Florida beach. When a child feels the brunt of nature’s indifference, it’s always nature’s fault, but the gorilla and the alligator are simply doing what they’ve been doing forever: marking their territory, protecting the herd, preying on the weak. The result is nonetheless tragic for the child injured or killed, but it’s almost-universally unacceptable to even hint that the destruction of a gorilla or the killing of alligators is equally tragic.
Martin Cruz Smith, a novelist best-known for his mystery series involving Russian police detective Arkady Renko, wrote a creepy little horror novel in 1977 called “Nightwing”. Perhaps riding the wave of popularity of Peter Benchley’s 1974 novel “Jaws”, or perhaps because he simply has a thing for bats, Smith wrote the quintessential novel about a swarm of killer vampire bats.
While the blurbs on the cover make the comparison to Benchley’s “Jaws”, a perfectly reasonable and appropriate comparison, Smith’s novel has more in common with Joe Dante’s movie “Piranha”, which came out a year after “Nightwing” was published.
Benchley’s book was tame compared to the blood and guts of “Nightwing”. Smith was certainly not afraid to be very liberal and graphic in his descriptions of huge vampire bats rending the flesh and muscle of its victims. Us gorehounds thank him for that.
A lot of fascinating but overall diversionary stuff involving Hopi Indian legends and supernatural mythical creatures populate the book, owing to its New Mexico setting on a Hopi reservation. It’s a blatant attempt by Smith to add a mystical element to his story, one that is purposefully undermined by the real message.
The vampire bat attacks are brilliantly written and terrifying stuff, but the real horror lies in the scientific plausibility of the story. Because just when the survivors think they are safe, they succumb to a virulent strain of bubonic plague, of which the vampire bats are unwitting carriers.
The characters in the story are almost stock horror movie tropes: the down-and-out alcoholic cop hero, the brilliant but slightly mad scientist bent on the bats’ destruction, the damsel in distress, and, of course, the corporate CEO villain whose greed and self-interest has led to environmental destruction and ecological mutation that ignited this story of nature run amok.
The moral of the story hardly needs to be stated. It’s the same moral for all these stories, from the horrors of Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick” to Michael Crichton’s “Jurassic Park”: respect nature. Learn to live WITH nature, not AGAINST it. Stop messing with the environment, or the environment is going to kick our ass.
It’s a moral that has been, and will continue to be, ignored by humanity until the day we breathe our last breath.
June 18, 2021
-Demasiado elaborado para ser solo un thriller.-
Género. Novela.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Alas de noche (publicación original: Nightwing, 1977) nos presenta a Youngman Duran, un indio hopi que trabaja como delegado, una especie de sheriff sin serlo, en una reserva de Mesa Negra. Su amigo Abner, un anciano acusado de brujo por otros hopis y navajos, decide que dará fin al mundo y, simultáneamente, una marea murciélagos muy agresivos que portan una plaga letal se acerca a esa zona.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
http://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com/...
Género. Novela.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Alas de noche (publicación original: Nightwing, 1977) nos presenta a Youngman Duran, un indio hopi que trabaja como delegado, una especie de sheriff sin serlo, en una reserva de Mesa Negra. Su amigo Abner, un anciano acusado de brujo por otros hopis y navajos, decide que dará fin al mundo y, simultáneamente, una marea murciélagos muy agresivos que portan una plaga letal se acerca a esa zona.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
http://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com/...
July 26, 2012
In Rob Nixon's superb book Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor he asserts that there isn't a great anti-oil novel/movement the same way there's a great body of anti-coal/industrialization literature. That might be a fair assertion. But then I read Martin Cruz Smith's Nightwing, which is not a great novel, but is a good pulp novel very interested in American corporate industrial exploitation of the Hopi and Navajo Indians. Yes, it's a horror novel about hordes of vampire bats, a concept that fully embraces the absurdity of pulp horror (don't read horror if you want plausibility and realism; the whole point of the genre is often to destroy those boundaries). But beyond its basic premise, is a study of corporate-colonial greed that I really appreciate, especially since the Navajo tribe's oil and gas acreage is the second largest the United States.
Smith isn't Hopi or Navajo, but he does have Pueblo ancestry, which doesn't make him an expert, but does underscore the obvious intent to draw attention to injustices done to these tribes. I'm not a Native American scholar and not very well read in Native American literature, so I can't really comment on his portrait of these tribes and cultures. But his intent is commendable and his anger toward the oil industry's exploitation is completely understandable. Vampire bats, their origins and connections to humans, play into that commentary and metaphor of corporate greed and its power to destroy entire peoples. The ending makes that rather abundantly clear. Thankfully, Smith doesn't cast Native Americans as helpless victims, but presents a much more dynamic story than that. The story also excels in being quick and direct -- it's short and you can rip through it really fast. It could probably be even a touch slimmer.
Given the wretched history of capitalist exploitation of tribal natural resources in the twentieth century (see Judy Pasternak's book Yellow Dirt about the corporate and military greed surrounding uranium extraction during the Manhattan Project and the Cold War, as well as Donald Fixico's The Invasion of Indian Country in the Twentieth Century for some sobering reading), I'd say Smith's book is an appropriate and much-needed literary contribution to criticizing America's continued exploitation of Native Americans. Perhaps Nixon is right that there isn't a great body of anti-oil literature. Or maybe Nixon just isn't looking in the right place. If "high" American literature is still largely determined by white American males (and it certainly would have been in 1977 when this novel was released), then is it much of a surprise that a pulp novel about issues on a Native American reservation would be overlooked? Maybe pulp is where we'll find a solid body of anti-oil, anti-capitalist literature. Sure, stories like Nightwing aren't masterpieces of literary excellence, but there's a democratizing potency to their style that makes them of immense social value.
Smith isn't Hopi or Navajo, but he does have Pueblo ancestry, which doesn't make him an expert, but does underscore the obvious intent to draw attention to injustices done to these tribes. I'm not a Native American scholar and not very well read in Native American literature, so I can't really comment on his portrait of these tribes and cultures. But his intent is commendable and his anger toward the oil industry's exploitation is completely understandable. Vampire bats, their origins and connections to humans, play into that commentary and metaphor of corporate greed and its power to destroy entire peoples. The ending makes that rather abundantly clear. Thankfully, Smith doesn't cast Native Americans as helpless victims, but presents a much more dynamic story than that. The story also excels in being quick and direct -- it's short and you can rip through it really fast. It could probably be even a touch slimmer.
Given the wretched history of capitalist exploitation of tribal natural resources in the twentieth century (see Judy Pasternak's book Yellow Dirt about the corporate and military greed surrounding uranium extraction during the Manhattan Project and the Cold War, as well as Donald Fixico's The Invasion of Indian Country in the Twentieth Century for some sobering reading), I'd say Smith's book is an appropriate and much-needed literary contribution to criticizing America's continued exploitation of Native Americans. Perhaps Nixon is right that there isn't a great body of anti-oil literature. Or maybe Nixon just isn't looking in the right place. If "high" American literature is still largely determined by white American males (and it certainly would have been in 1977 when this novel was released), then is it much of a surprise that a pulp novel about issues on a Native American reservation would be overlooked? Maybe pulp is where we'll find a solid body of anti-oil, anti-capitalist literature. Sure, stories like Nightwing aren't masterpieces of literary excellence, but there's a democratizing potency to their style that makes them of immense social value.
March 6, 2016
This is a horror thriller which made my skin crawl with its intense and vibrant descriptions of blood thirsty vampire bats. They kill everything living - animals and human beings, and carry rabies and the plague. It begins with a disillusioned elderly Indian, Abner, casting a spell to bring the world as it currently is to an end. This covers the way many Indians behave and live, political corruption and corporate greed. Deputy Duran is present when the spell is cast but does not take it seriously.
Abner dies in what appear to be strange circumstances and all hell is let loose. People and animals meet their deaths in grisly ways. Deputy Duran eventually believes that Abner has let loose this horror and risks everything to put an end to this. Only read this book if you have a strong stomach. Ultimately I feel ambivalent about this book. I prefer the author when he is writing about Arkady.
Abner dies in what appear to be strange circumstances and all hell is let loose. People and animals meet their deaths in grisly ways. Deputy Duran eventually believes that Abner has let loose this horror and risks everything to put an end to this. Only read this book if you have a strong stomach. Ultimately I feel ambivalent about this book. I prefer the author when he is writing about Arkady.
April 13, 2023
I saw the 1979 movie. Parents took us to the drive inn. I actually have memories of it.It was scary to 9 year old me. A couple of years ago I came across the book and had to get it. I think it came out around the same time as Jaws, and I think it was a thing at that time to make animals scarier than they should be. Bats are very important we know that. I read this while in Phoenix, so it bought the story a bit closer for me. I also visited the Heard Museum so it just made things stick out that I think would have not meant as much. Lets just take this at face value:
I enjoyed it. It kept me on edge of my seat.
I grew up in the desert and it all felt real. I also know a bit about reservation life and it painted an accurate picture, the government has not help up their end of the terrible bargain. Look around at the reservations in this country.
I am going to watch the movie.
I enjoyed it. It kept me on edge of my seat.
I grew up in the desert and it all felt real. I also know a bit about reservation life and it painted an accurate picture, the government has not help up their end of the terrible bargain. Look around at the reservations in this country.
I am going to watch the movie.
September 30, 2021
Not really my cup of tea, but for anyone interested in a ton of bat education, this one is for you. It sort of has a Stephen King feel to it...this is the end of the world, there are a lot of characters all dealing with the evil-doer in a different way and they all feel like they are the smartest people on the planet know how to take care of it. Very well written, great characters with nicely developed relationships. I just don't particularly enjoy knowing this much about bats and fleas. Good to know how to deal with them, though, in case things go south with them 😋
June 27, 2023
I was looking in a second hand bookshop when I came across this book, a “creature feature” horror story about bats. Then I realised I had just recently watched a movie about bats called Nightwing, released 1979. I found the book the movie was based on! The book was first published 1977. This then reminded me of Jaws. Another book (published 1974) where I saw the movie (1975) first. Also, a “creature feature” book just like Nightwing.
However, Jaws and Nightwing are not your traditional pulp horror books. Nightwing features the Navajo and Hopi native American communities and their relationship with corporate industrial white America. There are several well written characters that reflect each different culture.
It starts with a disillusioned elder native American, Abner, who casts a spell to destroy the world. How will this happen? With blood thirsty vampire bats taking over and killing all animals and humans in a spooky gory way. The bats also like to spread a plague they carry. It’s down to the several characters to battle with the bats and stop them before it’s too late.
The story is an interesting mix of horror and politics with an informative take on the bats. I would rate the book and the movie the same.
However, Jaws and Nightwing are not your traditional pulp horror books. Nightwing features the Navajo and Hopi native American communities and their relationship with corporate industrial white America. There are several well written characters that reflect each different culture.
It starts with a disillusioned elder native American, Abner, who casts a spell to destroy the world. How will this happen? With blood thirsty vampire bats taking over and killing all animals and humans in a spooky gory way. The bats also like to spread a plague they carry. It’s down to the several characters to battle with the bats and stop them before it’s too late.
The story is an interesting mix of horror and politics with an informative take on the bats. I would rate the book and the movie the same.
October 4, 2016
This is a really excellent novel. Smith is a great writer. His books are detailed, filled with simile, great characters, and his prose pulls you into the scene effortlessly.
Nightwing can be described accurately by reference to other mystery icons: Nightwing is Jaws, but set in the desert, and written by Tony Hillerman. Only Smith is a much better writer than Hillerman and much more creative than Peter Benchley.
Like Jaws, the mystery and disaster in Nightwing is of nature's making. Benchley exaggerated great white sharks for Jaws and it made a great story. I don't know if Smith has exaggerated his natural phenomenon, but it doesn't matter. The story is completely believable.
Add interesting heroes and villains, plus all the cultural and natural wonders of the Navaho and Hopi reservations in the southwest and this is the most exciting mystery I've read in a long time.
A movie, exactly like jaws except set in the desert, should have been made of this novel, but could not be made now, due to the proliferation of bad horror flicks--Jeepers Creepers comes to mind--that have preempted the field. Jaws would never have been a movie if there had already been fifty cheesie movies about mutant fish eating people.
Sad that there was no way to make a sequel, or maybe it's fortunate: Smith's next endeavor was Gorky Park.
Nightwing can be described accurately by reference to other mystery icons: Nightwing is Jaws, but set in the desert, and written by Tony Hillerman. Only Smith is a much better writer than Hillerman and much more creative than Peter Benchley.
Like Jaws, the mystery and disaster in Nightwing is of nature's making. Benchley exaggerated great white sharks for Jaws and it made a great story. I don't know if Smith has exaggerated his natural phenomenon, but it doesn't matter. The story is completely believable.
Add interesting heroes and villains, plus all the cultural and natural wonders of the Navaho and Hopi reservations in the southwest and this is the most exciting mystery I've read in a long time.
A movie, exactly like jaws except set in the desert, should have been made of this novel, but could not be made now, due to the proliferation of bad horror flicks--Jeepers Creepers comes to mind--that have preempted the field. Jaws would never have been a movie if there had already been fifty cheesie movies about mutant fish eating people.
Sad that there was no way to make a sequel, or maybe it's fortunate: Smith's next endeavor was Gorky Park.
June 14, 2021
Not sure what blurb turned me on to this book but it was nothing that I was anticipating. Oddly it’s a book following a plague epidemic started by bats on a Native American reservation. I was under the impression this was a horror novel, but it was just a formulaic thriller that wasn’t all that thrilling. Not one of my favorites.
September 28, 2013
I am quite a fan of Martin Cruz Smith's more recent books, so I've been working on picking up his older ones as well. This one, however, I'd recommend giving a miss. I recognize that horror often depends on taking ordinary things and making them somehow "spooky," but "Nightwing" engages in fearmongering that could be genuinely harmful to a necessary and helpful population of bats that are in delicate balance if not actively threatened, often by presenting fictional information as though it were scientific fact.
The plot has to do with a Native American deputy caught between two worlds. His girlfriend is Caucasian, but his best friend, an old shaman, is disgusted with the modern world, and threatens to do a magic working that will end the world, leaving only the people of his tribe to start again. The deputy, naturally, thinks this is just bluster - but when a bat-spread plague begins spreading to epidemic proportions, doubt sets in. He might be able to do something to stop it - but that would also be a betrayal of his people.
The book is reasonably well-written, and (just barely) stays on the right side of the line as far as stereotypes of native Americans - but the portrayals of bats and their behavior patterns are nothing short of libelous. Even though this was written quite some years ago, I believe the author should step up and make a hefty donation to the cause of combating the bat plague - that is, the plague that is seriously wiping out the bat populations of the Northeastern US.
The plot has to do with a Native American deputy caught between two worlds. His girlfriend is Caucasian, but his best friend, an old shaman, is disgusted with the modern world, and threatens to do a magic working that will end the world, leaving only the people of his tribe to start again. The deputy, naturally, thinks this is just bluster - but when a bat-spread plague begins spreading to epidemic proportions, doubt sets in. He might be able to do something to stop it - but that would also be a betrayal of his people.
The book is reasonably well-written, and (just barely) stays on the right side of the line as far as stereotypes of native Americans - but the portrayals of bats and their behavior patterns are nothing short of libelous. Even though this was written quite some years ago, I believe the author should step up and make a hefty donation to the cause of combating the bat plague - that is, the plague that is seriously wiping out the bat populations of the Northeastern US.
May 25, 2015
A good early effort from Martin Cruz Smith. Plague-ridden vampire bats invade the southwest, but fortunately there is a conflicted Hopi policeman and a driven bat-hunter on hand to confront them. Well written and displays the interest in other cultures that would serve Cruz so well later in his Arkady Renko series. Good pulp fun.
March 28, 2014
Like a less successful equivalent of Michael Crichton, Martin Cruz Smith’s story tries to tell of a disaster whilst at the same time dealing with scientific facts, medical jargon, and deeply-detailed passages of description and behind-the-scenes examination. All of this serves to perhaps give the book greater credibility than it deserves.
Essentially its just another nature-run-amok story, but the level of authenticity means that you’ll never mistake this for a book by, say, Guy N. Smith. But at the same time, it seems Smith has forgotten to make his book interesting to the casual reader, so passages of action and excitement are limited.
There are some good bits – the scenes of desert survival, etc., but there are far too few engaging characters to become really caught up in the story. The central character, Youngman, is an Indian with a chip-on-his-shoulder who’s always getting up people’s noses, including the reader. Violence and bloodshed are kept to a relative minimum for this genre, whilst the final solution to the problem is boringly predictable. Even the widespread disaster hinted at by the blurb is missing, the action always small-scale. Definitely a lesser addition to this overworked genre.
Essentially its just another nature-run-amok story, but the level of authenticity means that you’ll never mistake this for a book by, say, Guy N. Smith. But at the same time, it seems Smith has forgotten to make his book interesting to the casual reader, so passages of action and excitement are limited.
There are some good bits – the scenes of desert survival, etc., but there are far too few engaging characters to become really caught up in the story. The central character, Youngman, is an Indian with a chip-on-his-shoulder who’s always getting up people’s noses, including the reader. Violence and bloodshed are kept to a relative minimum for this genre, whilst the final solution to the problem is boringly predictable. Even the widespread disaster hinted at by the blurb is missing, the action always small-scale. Definitely a lesser addition to this overworked genre.
September 23, 2024
I revisited Nightwing after a conversation with a friend about some of Martin Cruz Smith’s other books. I first read Nightwing in high school, just after its release and before Marin had the success of Gorky Park. I didn’t remember much beyond the burnished orange voer cover, the Southwest U.S. setting, and my struggle to understand the main character’s motivations (was he a good guy or a bad guy?) or the book’s hallucinatory elements.
Having re-read it, I appreciate it more, especially for its vivid desert setting and the depth of the main character’s motivation.
Youngman Duran, the Indigenous deputy sheriff of a Hopi reservation in Arizona, investigates a deadly infestation of vampire bats. The story is more Jaws than Dracula, blending mysticism, Indigenous culture, and ecological disaster as the bats, carriers of the bubonic plague, migrate steadily into the U.S. While I can’t speak to the accuracy of the depiction of life on the Hopi reservation, I’m aware that Smith is part Indigenous, and the portrayal feels authentic.
The book leans heavily on Duran, a wonderfully complex character—a solitary alcoholic who rises to the challenge of stopping the bats. The novel's hallucinatory quality comes from Duran’s use of peyote, which connects him to Abner, a shaman who dies early in the story, and to Darata, an ancient Hopi prophecy foretelling the world’s end due to an imbalance between nature and humanity.
I enjoyed the book immensely and didn’t find it dated—two thumbs up to a novel by a favourite author early in his career.
Having re-read it, I appreciate it more, especially for its vivid desert setting and the depth of the main character’s motivation.
Youngman Duran, the Indigenous deputy sheriff of a Hopi reservation in Arizona, investigates a deadly infestation of vampire bats. The story is more Jaws than Dracula, blending mysticism, Indigenous culture, and ecological disaster as the bats, carriers of the bubonic plague, migrate steadily into the U.S. While I can’t speak to the accuracy of the depiction of life on the Hopi reservation, I’m aware that Smith is part Indigenous, and the portrayal feels authentic.
The book leans heavily on Duran, a wonderfully complex character—a solitary alcoholic who rises to the challenge of stopping the bats. The novel's hallucinatory quality comes from Duran’s use of peyote, which connects him to Abner, a shaman who dies early in the story, and to Darata, an ancient Hopi prophecy foretelling the world’s end due to an imbalance between nature and humanity.
I enjoyed the book immensely and didn’t find it dated—two thumbs up to a novel by a favourite author early in his career.
January 7, 2020
I thought the writing was hypnotic at times. It took me to a different time and mystic place but still with the greed and corruption of today. I learned about bats but feel like I missed the point or connection of plague/fleas/bats. I’ll be afraid to go outside after dark for a few days.
March 31, 2021
Was a good book. Cruz Smith had a feeling for the suspense. Also a book over bats killing people is just in this time a not really uncommon topic.
October 24, 2023
3.75 rounded up to 4
November 2, 2024
I remembered this book from my teenage days. I remember loving it as a teen. It is definitely a book from the 1970s. A nature out of control because of human greed or hubris. The story mirrors other popular novels of the day, like Jaws: We've got to close the beaches/put the tourist attractions in quarantine. Unlike Jaws, the threat in this book is multipronged. I'm not sure how realistic are, but okay, I'll go with that. My horror formative years come from the 1970s.
The gross bloody scenes are well-done and exciting. The love story is a little weird and overdone, with glistening torsos and shivers of delight. Titillating! But again, I'm from the 1970s, so I'll go with it. It has a good back-story.
But the end is so overwritten that I found myself skimming through entire pages of text.
Otherwise, the book is well written and exciting. My vague memory of the book stands, but I'm not surprised that I remember it anymore. It's excellent. Until the end. And I can forgive that.
The gross bloody scenes are well-done and exciting. The love story is a little weird and overdone, with glistening torsos and shivers of delight. Titillating! But again, I'm from the 1970s, so I'll go with it. It has a good back-story.
But the end is so overwritten that I found myself skimming through entire pages of text.
Otherwise, the book is well written and exciting. My vague memory of the book stands, but I'm not surprised that I remember it anymore. It's excellent. Until the end. And I can forgive that.
April 9, 2011
Cheesy as can be but a lot of fun.
October 31, 2018
i learned a lot about bats.
it's not particularly scary, but it's definitely informative.
it's not particularly scary, but it's definitely informative.
December 14, 2022
A year or so before I finally succumbed to Goodreads, I sent several horror novel reviews to friends and family under the general banner of “Mass Market Mayhem.” Since I’ve already met my goal for the year (so it doesn’t feel like cheating), I’ve decided to copy those reviews here. I’ve edited them only lightly.
Mass Market Mayhem — Episode Four
Continuing the theme of cultural appropriation ... although not really, because it turns out this next author IS part Native American. Go figure. He does flirt with the white savior narrative, but has some interesting tricks up his sleeve in that respect. And this is another example of my fave — the animal horror sub-genre — but not as simple as it seems in that area, either. This book's a bit tricksy.
Nightwing by Martin Cruz Smith
Smith is primarily known for mysteries and police procedurals, many of them set in Russia and featuring detective Arkady Renko (the first, Gorky Park, features one of my favorite opening lines ever: "All nights should be so dark, all winters so warm, all headlights so dazzling."). Nightwing was Smith's first and, I believe, only horror novel. Which is a shame, because it's pretty damned good.
The pitch: Vampire bats, Hopi Indians, End of the World.
Seems pretty straightforward, right? For most writers tackling a killer bat story in the late 70s, it probably would have been. But Smith has a lot more on his mind, and he very skillfully manages to hide his larger story inside the trappings of the genre — all within just a couple hundred pages. Ah, the joys of an unpadded horror novel!
The story centers around a cynical Hopi reservation deputy who's a bit lost in the world. He has an Anglo sort-of girlfriend and one sort-of real friend — an ancient Hopi shaman who decides, at the start of the book, that he's done with all of the bullshit — white and Indian alike — and decides it's time to bring about the end the world and start over. So, you know, obviously a book that I can easily get behind.
The (potential) end of the world arrives, not necessarily as the old man planned, via a swarm of very hungry vampire bats crossing the Mexican border and descending upon Arizona.
The bats are MAYBE something of a McGuffin in the story (I won't say how in case anyone decides to read it), although they certainly inflict plenty of immediate and visible damage. Smith gives the bats some excellent scary moments (often with what you just know was a bright twinkle in his eye as he was writing) and some really effective but well-modulated gore. A professional writer writing professionally — what a concept!
Smith seems determined to undermine expectations at every turn. The hero who isn't sure heroism is the right choice. The white savior who maybe isn't. The human villain whose motivations might almost be heroic. Lots of stuff going on here beyond a basic killer vampire bat rampage.
Nightwing was made into a movie in 1979, memorable primarily for causing my nephew Jimmy to spend much of that summer walking around saying, "Bat pissssssssss!" He must have been, like, twelve at the time, and man, did he find that single line of dialogue hilarious.
The book is much better, and contains many lines and descriptions and moments that I would be happy to quote just as endlessly. Here are a few examples:
"It's my theory that religion is like a disease. A great religion's like an epidemic. Take Christianity, Mohammedanism, Buddhism. Just like epidemics. Start in one place, always spread along the trade routes, flourish for a few hundred years and die out. Or get overrun by a new epidemic. I was sent here like a germ, to infect you people. Instead," he shrugged, "you infected me." "With what?" "A very dry mouth," Selwyn tipped his flask again.
“The white took off his sunglasses. His features were broad and pink, drawn with the eraser end of a pencil.”
“The Painted Desert appealed to Paine. He appreciated the false sterility that masked such desperate adaptations of life as limbless lizards and giant saguaros. More than that, he savored the loneliness, the sense that he could go days, months if he wanted, without seeing another human soul. Other people, no matter how different, were mirrors of one's self. Paine wanted no reflections.”
Grade: Solid A and aging like a fine wine. Just reissued as a lovely trade paperback.
Back when it first came out, Stephen King called Nightwing "one of the best horror novels in the last twenty years." But don't let that dissuade you. That was back in the days when King didn't blurb literally every scrap of paper that crossed his desk, and his opinion on this one was totally legit.
Mass Market Mayhem — Episode Four
Continuing the theme of cultural appropriation ... although not really, because it turns out this next author IS part Native American. Go figure. He does flirt with the white savior narrative, but has some interesting tricks up his sleeve in that respect. And this is another example of my fave — the animal horror sub-genre — but not as simple as it seems in that area, either. This book's a bit tricksy.
Nightwing by Martin Cruz Smith
Smith is primarily known for mysteries and police procedurals, many of them set in Russia and featuring detective Arkady Renko (the first, Gorky Park, features one of my favorite opening lines ever: "All nights should be so dark, all winters so warm, all headlights so dazzling."). Nightwing was Smith's first and, I believe, only horror novel. Which is a shame, because it's pretty damned good.
The pitch: Vampire bats, Hopi Indians, End of the World.
Seems pretty straightforward, right? For most writers tackling a killer bat story in the late 70s, it probably would have been. But Smith has a lot more on his mind, and he very skillfully manages to hide his larger story inside the trappings of the genre — all within just a couple hundred pages. Ah, the joys of an unpadded horror novel!
The story centers around a cynical Hopi reservation deputy who's a bit lost in the world. He has an Anglo sort-of girlfriend and one sort-of real friend — an ancient Hopi shaman who decides, at the start of the book, that he's done with all of the bullshit — white and Indian alike — and decides it's time to bring about the end the world and start over. So, you know, obviously a book that I can easily get behind.
The (potential) end of the world arrives, not necessarily as the old man planned, via a swarm of very hungry vampire bats crossing the Mexican border and descending upon Arizona.
The bats are MAYBE something of a McGuffin in the story (I won't say how in case anyone decides to read it), although they certainly inflict plenty of immediate and visible damage. Smith gives the bats some excellent scary moments (often with what you just know was a bright twinkle in his eye as he was writing) and some really effective but well-modulated gore. A professional writer writing professionally — what a concept!
Smith seems determined to undermine expectations at every turn. The hero who isn't sure heroism is the right choice. The white savior who maybe isn't. The human villain whose motivations might almost be heroic. Lots of stuff going on here beyond a basic killer vampire bat rampage.
Nightwing was made into a movie in 1979, memorable primarily for causing my nephew Jimmy to spend much of that summer walking around saying, "Bat pissssssssss!" He must have been, like, twelve at the time, and man, did he find that single line of dialogue hilarious.
The book is much better, and contains many lines and descriptions and moments that I would be happy to quote just as endlessly. Here are a few examples:
"It's my theory that religion is like a disease. A great religion's like an epidemic. Take Christianity, Mohammedanism, Buddhism. Just like epidemics. Start in one place, always spread along the trade routes, flourish for a few hundred years and die out. Or get overrun by a new epidemic. I was sent here like a germ, to infect you people. Instead," he shrugged, "you infected me." "With what?" "A very dry mouth," Selwyn tipped his flask again.
“The white took off his sunglasses. His features were broad and pink, drawn with the eraser end of a pencil.”
“The Painted Desert appealed to Paine. He appreciated the false sterility that masked such desperate adaptations of life as limbless lizards and giant saguaros. More than that, he savored the loneliness, the sense that he could go days, months if he wanted, without seeing another human soul. Other people, no matter how different, were mirrors of one's self. Paine wanted no reflections.”
Grade: Solid A and aging like a fine wine. Just reissued as a lovely trade paperback.
Back when it first came out, Stephen King called Nightwing "one of the best horror novels in the last twenty years." But don't let that dissuade you. That was back in the days when King didn't blurb literally every scrap of paper that crossed his desk, and his opinion on this one was totally legit.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 8, 2019
*** Possible Spoilers ***
I quite enjoyed this book. It had action, adventure, a serious plague threatening a substantial part of the United States and probably beyond. The author kept the story moving right along and the characters were interesting. Villains weren't cut and dried. Some who seemed villainous weren't all that bad in the end. The protagonist was a bit of an anti-hero but not one who emoted page after page of angst so the tone never became maudlin. There were drug-induced hallucinations which may have been real and, in the end, a grand explosion.
The year of publication is 1977 which explains why people didn't pull their phones from their pockets and make calls that would have left the author without much in the way of a plot.
There were a couple of things I thought were a little questionable. In one scene the protagonist sends his two companions on a wild good chase because he needs to do a little exploring on his own. There's a physical separation between them yet suddenly on the next page they're talking to one another. I had to check to see if the book was missing a page but such was not the case. You would thing the author might have ended the one scene with something like, 'Turning, he left the mesa and started walking in the direction of the valley.' but no such bridge existed. Another thing I thought a little questionable was having a character freeze in a moment of panic. This character needed to turn a switch to connect a battery to some wires which would protect the team from danger. I can understand panic but I think it would more likely result in the battery being turned on too early rather than not at all. Still these were small things and the overall story was pretty good. I recommend it for those who like adventure with a dash of the supernatural.
I quite enjoyed this book. It had action, adventure, a serious plague threatening a substantial part of the United States and probably beyond. The author kept the story moving right along and the characters were interesting. Villains weren't cut and dried. Some who seemed villainous weren't all that bad in the end. The protagonist was a bit of an anti-hero but not one who emoted page after page of angst so the tone never became maudlin. There were drug-induced hallucinations which may have been real and, in the end, a grand explosion.
The year of publication is 1977 which explains why people didn't pull their phones from their pockets and make calls that would have left the author without much in the way of a plot.
There were a couple of things I thought were a little questionable. In one scene the protagonist sends his two companions on a wild good chase because he needs to do a little exploring on his own. There's a physical separation between them yet suddenly on the next page they're talking to one another. I had to check to see if the book was missing a page but such was not the case. You would thing the author might have ended the one scene with something like, 'Turning, he left the mesa and started walking in the direction of the valley.' but no such bridge existed. Another thing I thought a little questionable was having a character freeze in a moment of panic. This character needed to turn a switch to connect a battery to some wires which would protect the team from danger. I can understand panic but I think it would more likely result in the battery being turned on too early rather than not at all. Still these were small things and the overall story was pretty good. I recommend it for those who like adventure with a dash of the supernatural.
March 9, 2021
This was a refreshingly different kind of story from a novelist I've come to admire. There is nothing Russian here, no Arkady Renko faux-bumbling his way through an investigation. But there is the careful, detailed Smith study of an exotic culture, and the plodding of another reluctant hero through murderous proceedings. The greatest difference between this and other Smith works is whereas they tend to be rigidly procedural police dramas, this is in fact a horror story, and the investigation involves unorthodox methods, as befits the crime's supernatural elements.
I borrowed this from my mother, who had nothing but contempt for it. She castigated Smith, one of her favorite authors, for what she characterized as a haphazard mix of scientific and supernatural features. In particular, she ridiculed his explanation for the arisal of the agents of destruction. But I started reading it anyway, and found that his description of bat behavior and evolution is in fact spot-on. (At least given the state of paleontological discovery as of the time of writing, in the late 70s, which to my knowledge hasn't advanced beyond what he claims.) The fact of the matter is that some suspension of disbelief is always called for in reading horror, and if you can compartmentalize the supernatural elements from the scientific, this makes for quite good reading.
As there always is with this author, there is cultural collision and deep philosophy to be waded through. One might almost say that the story is secondary, a mere backdrop to the deep musings he wants to share with you. But if story's the thing for you, then you can't go wrong with this one.
I borrowed this from my mother, who had nothing but contempt for it. She castigated Smith, one of her favorite authors, for what she characterized as a haphazard mix of scientific and supernatural features. In particular, she ridiculed his explanation for the arisal of the agents of destruction. But I started reading it anyway, and found that his description of bat behavior and evolution is in fact spot-on. (At least given the state of paleontological discovery as of the time of writing, in the late 70s, which to my knowledge hasn't advanced beyond what he claims.) The fact of the matter is that some suspension of disbelief is always called for in reading horror, and if you can compartmentalize the supernatural elements from the scientific, this makes for quite good reading.
As there always is with this author, there is cultural collision and deep philosophy to be waded through. One might almost say that the story is secondary, a mere backdrop to the deep musings he wants to share with you. But if story's the thing for you, then you can't go wrong with this one.
September 8, 2023
Nightwing is interesting from the perspective of reading a Martin Cruz Smith book not set in the USSR or post USSR. It was a stand alone that appeared in 1977 not too long before Gorky Park. That probably accounts for some of the attitudes and the fact that our hero has a copper colored refrigerator.
I had to shake my head at first. It is so unlike Arcady Renko trudging through snowdrifts. The hero is Youngman Duran a Hopi deputy (actually Tewa Pueblo) and the action takes place in the desert Southwest. Duran has problems with the neighboring Navajo and with Pahans (whites). His love interest is a white woman which naturally involves issues. He’s not happy about big oil, coal and U.S. government interference on the reservation. There is a mysterious scientist hanging around and did I mention bats—vampire bats.
It’s awfully convoluted and the narration can be pretty overheated, but what the heck, it’s fun. The science and culture are interesting (and sometimes not altogether right—bats). By the way, MCS’s mom was a Pueblo woman so I think that probably helps with authenticity. Another thing that may interest fans who are interested in Tony Hillerman’s Navajo detective books—this is a very dark view of that tribe. Hillerman in negative. It is just as interesting from a cultural perspective though. If the author had only continued with this detective the Hopi (Martin Cruz Smith )and Navajo (Hillerman) the two tribes could have had an interesting time disagreeing with each other.
I had to shake my head at first. It is so unlike Arcady Renko trudging through snowdrifts. The hero is Youngman Duran a Hopi deputy (actually Tewa Pueblo) and the action takes place in the desert Southwest. Duran has problems with the neighboring Navajo and with Pahans (whites). His love interest is a white woman which naturally involves issues. He’s not happy about big oil, coal and U.S. government interference on the reservation. There is a mysterious scientist hanging around and did I mention bats—vampire bats.
It’s awfully convoluted and the narration can be pretty overheated, but what the heck, it’s fun. The science and culture are interesting (and sometimes not altogether right—bats). By the way, MCS’s mom was a Pueblo woman so I think that probably helps with authenticity. Another thing that may interest fans who are interested in Tony Hillerman’s Navajo detective books—this is a very dark view of that tribe. Hillerman in negative. It is just as interesting from a cultural perspective though. If the author had only continued with this detective the Hopi (Martin Cruz Smith )and Navajo (Hillerman) the two tribes could have had an interesting time disagreeing with each other.
May 14, 2024
I went into this book thinking horror and I am sure that kind of set my expectations up to high. Sure, there are some gruesome scenes but there is just as much, if not more, reservation politics between the Hopi and the Navajo with a side of revenge thrown in.
Youngman Duran is the MC of the book. He was in the service for a while and then returned to the reservation. He now works in law enforcement and is not sure exactly where he fits in. He is semi-dating a humanitarian nurse who has been there for two years to help improve the medical services the natives are able to access. One day Duran's good friend, 90 some year-old Abner, creates a mysterious ritual and is found dead the next day, appearing to be savaged by some animal. You also have Chee, who wants the Hopi land to make it "whiter" and mine the minerals located beneath the land. And finally, you have Paine, a scientist. His father was killed in a cave while trying to exterminate some bats and since he has become a loner obsessed with eradicating them. And then finally, last (and actually least) you have the bats themselves.
This book didn't actually create a reading slump, but it did contribute to me starting four other books. I think I was doing what I could to avoid finishing it. The few scenes which featured the bats were very gruesome, but there weren't enough of them for my tastes. I did enjoy reading a lot about the indigenous customs and history, but the writing style was very heavy-handed, if that makes sense.
I finally forced myself to finish this book on Saturday and was I ever glad to be done. It wasn't a total bust, but if you ever decide to pick it up for whatever reason, just know it's more of a suspense thriller than an actual horror or creature feature.
Youngman Duran is the MC of the book. He was in the service for a while and then returned to the reservation. He now works in law enforcement and is not sure exactly where he fits in. He is semi-dating a humanitarian nurse who has been there for two years to help improve the medical services the natives are able to access. One day Duran's good friend, 90 some year-old Abner, creates a mysterious ritual and is found dead the next day, appearing to be savaged by some animal. You also have Chee, who wants the Hopi land to make it "whiter" and mine the minerals located beneath the land. And finally, you have Paine, a scientist. His father was killed in a cave while trying to exterminate some bats and since he has become a loner obsessed with eradicating them. And then finally, last (and actually least) you have the bats themselves.
This book didn't actually create a reading slump, but it did contribute to me starting four other books. I think I was doing what I could to avoid finishing it. The few scenes which featured the bats were very gruesome, but there weren't enough of them for my tastes. I did enjoy reading a lot about the indigenous customs and history, but the writing style was very heavy-handed, if that makes sense.
I finally forced myself to finish this book on Saturday and was I ever glad to be done. It wasn't a total bust, but if you ever decide to pick it up for whatever reason, just know it's more of a suspense thriller than an actual horror or creature feature.
July 25, 2022
This was an entertaining thriller and perfect as an exercise complement. It takes place on two Native American reservations - one Hopi, one Navajo. It is an interesting mixture of horror and politics. On the political side there is the issue of exploitation of Native Americans and the wretched services available to them on reservations. (Note: I do believe the situation is better for those tribes who have been able to take advantage of the federal Indian Gaming Law.) On the horror side, there are some vampire bats who pass on some very nasty diseases like Bubonic Plague and do so using very sharp and long claws.
The hero is Deputy Doran, the "law" on the Hopi reservation. His friend Abner, an old medicine man promises that he will thwart the white man's plans to mine for oil on the reservation with a spell that will kill everyone. Abner seems to have died while casting the spell and for a while it looks like everyone will die. A mentally disturbed bat hunter thinks he can kill the bats carrying Plague but turns out he needs the help of Deputy Doran to accomplish the dead.
The hero is Deputy Doran, the "law" on the Hopi reservation. His friend Abner, an old medicine man promises that he will thwart the white man's plans to mine for oil on the reservation with a spell that will kill everyone. Abner seems to have died while casting the spell and for a while it looks like everyone will die. A mentally disturbed bat hunter thinks he can kill the bats carrying Plague but turns out he needs the help of Deputy Doran to accomplish the dead.
May 12, 2019
Before Gorky Park, before Red Square, before Arkady Renko, there were over a dozen novels by Martin Smith and Martin Cruz Smith. "Nightwing" preceded "Gorky Park" by about four years, one of a clutch of stand-alone novels.
Reality needs only a small genetic tweak for "Nightwing" to be about real creatures. As it is, vampire bats exist in the wild as mostly harmless critters who get along with other bat species and rarely cause trouble, with the exception of carrying rabies. But plenty of animals carry rabies. Out in the southwest desert, Smith created the perfect isolated arena for his unfolding drama. Take a few native Americans, mix in some oil company execs and a cave full of huge, mean, plague-carrying vampire bats, dump it all into the capable hands of a developing master writer: you get a page-turning guarantee.
Recommended.
Reality needs only a small genetic tweak for "Nightwing" to be about real creatures. As it is, vampire bats exist in the wild as mostly harmless critters who get along with other bat species and rarely cause trouble, with the exception of carrying rabies. But plenty of animals carry rabies. Out in the southwest desert, Smith created the perfect isolated arena for his unfolding drama. Take a few native Americans, mix in some oil company execs and a cave full of huge, mean, plague-carrying vampire bats, dump it all into the capable hands of a developing master writer: you get a page-turning guarantee.
Recommended.
May 5, 2022
This was outstanding.
Author Martin Cruz Smith is Native American allowing one of the few experiences of reading Native American characters in vintage genre fiction that isn't co-opting their beliefs.
As a result you get a very angry, well thought out book that really focuses on the plight of reservation life told through the lens of an animal attack novel.
The characters are all well thought out, with great arcs.
The animal attacks deliver in spades. There were many truly creepy scenes that will get under your skin. I'd be interested to see if the Hollywood adaptation managed to capture the vibrant life found in this book.
I was reading this in the park and I read into the onset of the night. As I put down the book and looked up I could see the bats roaming the skies. The perfect caper to one of the best animal attack books I've ever read.
Author Martin Cruz Smith is Native American allowing one of the few experiences of reading Native American characters in vintage genre fiction that isn't co-opting their beliefs.
As a result you get a very angry, well thought out book that really focuses on the plight of reservation life told through the lens of an animal attack novel.
The characters are all well thought out, with great arcs.
The animal attacks deliver in spades. There were many truly creepy scenes that will get under your skin. I'd be interested to see if the Hollywood adaptation managed to capture the vibrant life found in this book.
I was reading this in the park and I read into the onset of the night. As I put down the book and looked up I could see the bats roaming the skies. The perfect caper to one of the best animal attack books I've ever read.
September 19, 2017
Oh, the horror of the night!
An early offering and an assured thriller with a memorable hero in the part Hopi maverick policeman at odds with world and his people. Beautifully depicted desert landscape, crazy old shaman, fanatical hunter, slippery politician and gutsy heroine. Add ancient legends, oil fields, and vampire bats scarier than Dracula. Some of the images depicting those animals covering their prey turned my stomach but I read on. I had to know the outcome. A true horror story and my only regret is Smith did not write a dozen more stories of the Hopi policeman. Grit your teeth and leave on all the lights when you read this one. A real chiller, this tale of the true Children of the Night.
An early offering and an assured thriller with a memorable hero in the part Hopi maverick policeman at odds with world and his people. Beautifully depicted desert landscape, crazy old shaman, fanatical hunter, slippery politician and gutsy heroine. Add ancient legends, oil fields, and vampire bats scarier than Dracula. Some of the images depicting those animals covering their prey turned my stomach but I read on. I had to know the outcome. A true horror story and my only regret is Smith did not write a dozen more stories of the Hopi policeman. Grit your teeth and leave on all the lights when you read this one. A real chiller, this tale of the true Children of the Night.
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