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Phoenix
Vietnam 1967.
Something monstrous has risen from the ashes of war…
When the US marines enter the hidden village of Mau Giang, they unleash an ancient darkness from within its temple walls. A fearful secret kept for generations by the native Montagnard tribespeople.
Abraham Curtis travels to Vietnam to visit his sister Jenny, an aid worker in Saigon. Together they join a humanitarian convoy into the Central Highlands, where Jenny is to adopt a child orphaned by the conflict.
But the influence of the breached temple is spreading its contagion across the combat zones of Vietnam like gangrene through flesh, and soon it will destroy Bram’s world. Pursued by a bloodthirsty cult, he must search for his missing sister through the war-torn wastelands, his only companions deserters, rebel soldiers and a woman who may not be quite human.
Across the world, protestors line the streets. The battle lines are drawn - war and peace, hawk or dove. Is this the apocalyptic coming of the Man of Blood, prophesied by Nostradamus?
Something monstrous has risen from the ashes of war…
When the US marines enter the hidden village of Mau Giang, they unleash an ancient darkness from within its temple walls. A fearful secret kept for generations by the native Montagnard tribespeople.
Abraham Curtis travels to Vietnam to visit his sister Jenny, an aid worker in Saigon. Together they join a humanitarian convoy into the Central Highlands, where Jenny is to adopt a child orphaned by the conflict.
But the influence of the breached temple is spreading its contagion across the combat zones of Vietnam like gangrene through flesh, and soon it will destroy Bram’s world. Pursued by a bloodthirsty cult, he must search for his missing sister through the war-torn wastelands, his only companions deserters, rebel soldiers and a woman who may not be quite human.
Across the world, protestors line the streets. The battle lines are drawn - war and peace, hawk or dove. Is this the apocalyptic coming of the Man of Blood, prophesied by Nostradamus?
434 pages, Paperback
First published November 10, 2012
2 people are currently reading
13 people want to read
About the author
Steve Byrne
8 books7 followersSteve Byrne was raised on horror novels, horror movies, and horrible music. It shows. He’s still passionate about all of them, despite being slightly twisted, slightly jaded, and slightly deaf. He is the author of “Phoenix”, a dark horror thriller set during the Vietnam War, and “Craze” a tale of black magic apocalypse. Steve also has a number of short stories released in various small press publications and anthologies. While plotting the destruction of everything you hold dear, Steve can be found picking through the urban wastelands of the West Midlands.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
July 24, 2013
Bram Curtis is in Saigon in 1967, to visit his sister Jenny who works in an orphanage. He’s left England, disillusioned and wants to try and find himself in this new country - listen to Hendrix, smoke pot and see what life has to offer. When he discovers Jenny is planning to adopt a young girl called Lai, he gets roped into the aid convoy to go and reach her, headed by the urbane General Hoan. After things take a decided turn for the worse (like Hoan himself) and Bram becomes embroiled in the Tet Offensive, the narrative jumps to May 1970 as he searches for his now-missing sister. His pursuit leads him further in-country and into the orbit of the mysterious - and potentially dangerous - Qui, taking us up to 1975 (there’s a much later coda too), when he must finally confront the Man Of Blood, a supernatural entity that is teased throughout the novel.
Since my entire knowledge of Vietnam is limited to memories of lessons at school and movies from the 80s and 90s, this isn’t the kind of novel that I would have picked up generally but I’m glad I did in this case. Starting with a bang and never really letting go of the pace - and it’s a long novel - Byrne relays the story of Bram, a drifter who discovers a cause that consumes his life, with real style. Vietnam is almost a character in herself, with Saigon painted in rich and detailed depth, from the heat and humidity, the texture of skin and sweat and the hundreds of things that are happening in the streets at once, creating a riot of tactile, broiling humanity. Later, moving in-country, you get a real sense of both the claustrophobia and humidity of the jungle, of the architecture of the churches and the battered and bruised earth, making it occasionally hard to read it’s so well done.
The book is filled with vivid characters - and this extends to the most minor of roles, not just Bram, Jen, Hoan or Qui - and yet none of them are guaranteed safe passage to the end of the novel, with some of the deaths (as quick and dirty as you’d expect in a war situation) being quite shocking. Combine this with a dispassionate eye towards the brutality of war - what is seen and what is perpetrated - and you have a narrative that demands attention. The supernatural elements are used sparingly but are well written and blended easily into the narrative, so you’re as unaware as the character if you’ve witnessed them or not. Byrne doesn’t skimp on the set pieces either and there are plenty of them, all superbly constructed and choreographed, never overlong and intense enough to make you feel part of them. The same is true of the last act, a gruelling journey Bram must take into his own heart of darkness that you can’t tear your eyes from, even down to the gut-punch final few lines.
Steve has clearly done his research in all areas - the locations, the equipment, the theatres of war, the culture and the language - and it shines through perfectly, with nothing coming across as heavy handed or expositional. Everything the reader learns - about Vietnam or the horrors - comes through the character, with no obvious info-dumps.
This is a wonderfully constructed novel, tightly edited and with a cracking pace and it deserves a big readership. Highly recommended.
Since my entire knowledge of Vietnam is limited to memories of lessons at school and movies from the 80s and 90s, this isn’t the kind of novel that I would have picked up generally but I’m glad I did in this case. Starting with a bang and never really letting go of the pace - and it’s a long novel - Byrne relays the story of Bram, a drifter who discovers a cause that consumes his life, with real style. Vietnam is almost a character in herself, with Saigon painted in rich and detailed depth, from the heat and humidity, the texture of skin and sweat and the hundreds of things that are happening in the streets at once, creating a riot of tactile, broiling humanity. Later, moving in-country, you get a real sense of both the claustrophobia and humidity of the jungle, of the architecture of the churches and the battered and bruised earth, making it occasionally hard to read it’s so well done.
The book is filled with vivid characters - and this extends to the most minor of roles, not just Bram, Jen, Hoan or Qui - and yet none of them are guaranteed safe passage to the end of the novel, with some of the deaths (as quick and dirty as you’d expect in a war situation) being quite shocking. Combine this with a dispassionate eye towards the brutality of war - what is seen and what is perpetrated - and you have a narrative that demands attention. The supernatural elements are used sparingly but are well written and blended easily into the narrative, so you’re as unaware as the character if you’ve witnessed them or not. Byrne doesn’t skimp on the set pieces either and there are plenty of them, all superbly constructed and choreographed, never overlong and intense enough to make you feel part of them. The same is true of the last act, a gruelling journey Bram must take into his own heart of darkness that you can’t tear your eyes from, even down to the gut-punch final few lines.
Steve has clearly done his research in all areas - the locations, the equipment, the theatres of war, the culture and the language - and it shines through perfectly, with nothing coming across as heavy handed or expositional. Everything the reader learns - about Vietnam or the horrors - comes through the character, with no obvious info-dumps.
This is a wonderfully constructed novel, tightly edited and with a cracking pace and it deserves a big readership. Highly recommended.
July 2, 2018
With impeccable research into Vietnam - not bad from a Midlander who has never set foot there - Steve Byrne has crafted a hugely enjoyable slice of horror, which on the face of it has the hallmarks of a trashy 80s paperback but is far better written than that.
Recommended.
Recommended.
October 2, 2014
Phoenix brings together elements from just about every Vietnam war movie you have ever watched, and adds of a healthy dose of supernatural horror into the mix. Byrne augments the already brutal reality of war with some primeval, shocking extremes. This is a proper old school horror novel, and very little is left to the reader’s imagination. If you choose to read Phoenix, and I would recommend that you do, be prepared for some genuinely vicious and gut-wrenchingly graphic moments.
Travelling from the sleazy war torn streets of Saigon, to the claustrophobic deep shadowy jungle ‘in country’, the evocative settings help add a sinister tone to proceedings. Abraham “Bram” Curtis finds himself, more by accident than by design, slap bang in the middle of a bloody conflict in a country that is almost entirely alien to him. He is unfamiliar with the language and doesn’t understand anything about the local customs, superstitions or rules. It’s genuinely interesting to watch him acclimatise and see how his attitudes change the longer he spends in the war zone. The book covers the period between 1968 up until 1975 and you get to see Bram’s western ideals slowly stripped away. He begins to comprehend that there is a second, far more fundamental, war taking place. The conflict between the American forces and the Viet Cong is masking something far more sinister. Vietnam at that time was a world-wide flashpoint for political and societal change, and the plot taps into this. Byrne takes the opportunity to expand upon this premise and you get the distinct impression that the events unfolding in Bram’s life are a mirror of what is happening everywhere else.
Bram is dragged through the physical and psychological ringer, the various traumas he is forced to endure are pretty damn nasty. The further his journey takes him from his old life the more fragile his grip on sanity becomes. Like Apocalypse Now, this story features a main character whose mental state is slowly picked apart the longer he travels. Other characters drift in and out of the plot, but Bram remains the single constant throughout. In some respects, this novel is as much a character study as it is a horror tale.
The sad fact of the matter is that the extremes of war do lend themselves as a backdrop when it comes to horror fiction. Dealing with conflict gives an author the opportunity to explore those blurred lines that exist between acts of valour or heroism, and pure unadulterated violence. Sometimes it’s only the interpretation of events by the survivors that determine which is which. Byrne treats what would still be considered by many, at least in part, to be a contentious subject delicately. Yes, there are undoubtedly many horrors on display, but they all work within the confines of the narrative.
I actually felt mentally drained by the time I got to the end of Phoenix. The author does such a good job of capturing the insidious nature of battle and the potential for evil deeds that lurks within us all. I found I had to step away from time to time just so I could take a breather. That said I always ended up coming back to the text, I needed to know just how things would eventually play out.
The book ends on a downbeat note, with a suitably damning indictment of modern society, and I rather liked that. Much of the horror explored in Phoenix is of the man-made variety and a schmaltzy, saccharin sweet ending would have undone everything that preceded it. This is harrowing, visceral fiction that is sometimes challenging and often shocking to explore. This novel is most definitely not for the faint of heart. There is something darkly engrossing, stark, and unrepentant about it. I couldn’t look away; it kept me hooked from beginning to end.
Travelling from the sleazy war torn streets of Saigon, to the claustrophobic deep shadowy jungle ‘in country’, the evocative settings help add a sinister tone to proceedings. Abraham “Bram” Curtis finds himself, more by accident than by design, slap bang in the middle of a bloody conflict in a country that is almost entirely alien to him. He is unfamiliar with the language and doesn’t understand anything about the local customs, superstitions or rules. It’s genuinely interesting to watch him acclimatise and see how his attitudes change the longer he spends in the war zone. The book covers the period between 1968 up until 1975 and you get to see Bram’s western ideals slowly stripped away. He begins to comprehend that there is a second, far more fundamental, war taking place. The conflict between the American forces and the Viet Cong is masking something far more sinister. Vietnam at that time was a world-wide flashpoint for political and societal change, and the plot taps into this. Byrne takes the opportunity to expand upon this premise and you get the distinct impression that the events unfolding in Bram’s life are a mirror of what is happening everywhere else.
Bram is dragged through the physical and psychological ringer, the various traumas he is forced to endure are pretty damn nasty. The further his journey takes him from his old life the more fragile his grip on sanity becomes. Like Apocalypse Now, this story features a main character whose mental state is slowly picked apart the longer he travels. Other characters drift in and out of the plot, but Bram remains the single constant throughout. In some respects, this novel is as much a character study as it is a horror tale.
The sad fact of the matter is that the extremes of war do lend themselves as a backdrop when it comes to horror fiction. Dealing with conflict gives an author the opportunity to explore those blurred lines that exist between acts of valour or heroism, and pure unadulterated violence. Sometimes it’s only the interpretation of events by the survivors that determine which is which. Byrne treats what would still be considered by many, at least in part, to be a contentious subject delicately. Yes, there are undoubtedly many horrors on display, but they all work within the confines of the narrative.
I actually felt mentally drained by the time I got to the end of Phoenix. The author does such a good job of capturing the insidious nature of battle and the potential for evil deeds that lurks within us all. I found I had to step away from time to time just so I could take a breather. That said I always ended up coming back to the text, I needed to know just how things would eventually play out.
The book ends on a downbeat note, with a suitably damning indictment of modern society, and I rather liked that. Much of the horror explored in Phoenix is of the man-made variety and a schmaltzy, saccharin sweet ending would have undone everything that preceded it. This is harrowing, visceral fiction that is sometimes challenging and often shocking to explore. This novel is most definitely not for the faint of heart. There is something darkly engrossing, stark, and unrepentant about it. I couldn’t look away; it kept me hooked from beginning to end.
April 19, 2016
A real mind fuck of a book where you are never certain if there are real monsters, or whether you're reading about the depths to which real people can fall. Stunning presentation of Vietnam and the war that tore lives apart. A slow burn of a mystery. Worth your time.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews