The moths first blinded the victims, leaving them helpless against the caterpillars.
3 stars. John Halkin's "Squelch" - a tale about a great deal of England as well as even Northern France being attacked by vicious man-eating caterpillar's and naturally their ultimate incarnations as huge moths - was what I can only describe as an odd story. Certainly the setting for a great deal of the book was not your usual creature feature, creepy crawlie environment, as we find ourselves moving in with Ginny - the main protagonist (mostly) of our story - who seeks to escape the maddening rush of London, quitting her job as a TV director of a well-known albeit self-proclaimed "tedious tea-time soap opera" - by purchasing a quaint old cottage in the same village that her sister's family resides in. It all seems to be an absolutely bucolic setting filled with natives of all ilk (though seemingly having no education or prospects for a brighter future), a nice pub or two and even a nearby golf course. And then, of course, IT happens.
It was chewing into him as though he already lay dead under the earth.
And by IT, I don't just mean the utter happenstance about how these somehow mutant caterpillars are released but the entire question of for what purpose could the Research, a facility of unknown purpose and ownership, possibly be breeding such monstrosities? Later even, when thousands of his Majesty's royal subjects are lying dead all about the place, we can't even get the scientist responsible to utter a single statement as to the target of her work (NDA's are not THAT strong!)? Hm, it all seems so very… well, very familiar in many ways because the last book I read - "Violet Eyes" by John Everson - also had similar work going on (mind you in this case it was under the guidance of the very government that later had to shut everything down in an utterly apocalyptic fashion). But you can be damn certain that when asked for details, the scientist involved in that book (at least the one still alive) became quite loquacious. This was in large part due to the gentleman who was asking the questions making it clear he would not hesitate to carve said scientist up into tiny pieces and then fed him to his own creations. How that issue was not forced here was beyond my comprehension.
Outside – somewhere – hundreds more must be assembling for their next orgy of human blood.
But just like the aforementioned book, the story here gets lost very quickly in a series of brutal killings of a number of random people, most of whom we learn just enough about to get past the few seconds it takes the caterpillars and/or moths to start their nasty atrocities. But all wind up dying extremely nasty deaths - including churches full of people or schoolyards full of young children. And at that point it just becomes a question of what they were doing, when they were doing it and how many people joined them in their unholy demise before it was all said and done. Naturally, the local authorities are expected to take charge of the situation and we don't see a single higher ranking military figure at all throughout (the two low-ranking MPs don't count) … because as we all apparently know, there are no military personnel in the British Isles. I mean, really? But don't worry, the Americans didn't react either at first once a small Florida town was overrun by spider/flies that ate anything and everyone. All this violence inherent in the system (help! help! we're being repressed!) but not when it comes to helping stamp out - and that I mean literally - a threat to life and limb. Riiiiiight.
The attacks are spreading, aren’t they? Almost like a planned campaign.
So the reaction to the threat of death by blood-thirsty caterpillars or venom-spitting giant moths all becomes a bit silly. But wait, there's more. If all of this wasn't enough, Ginny goes from, first, staying overnight in London with her ex for a thoroughly needed good shag. Then she uses the opportunity of her sister fleeing with her three young nieces to - yes, you guessed it - copulate (I didn't want to use the word fuck here) with her brother-in-law with whom she has fallen totally and completely in love. But hey, no guilt ("No, she was much too deeply in love with him to regret it.") this is after all war and as we all know, anything goes during war-time. Heck, even when the 70-year-old vicar starts fantasising (note spelling) about having a randy fling with Ginny (who surprisingly does NOT take him up on that despite his clumsy and obvious flirtations, so she does have her limits!). So we're either reading about utter strangers getting the ol' chomp-chomp from the sluggos or the hawk tuah treatment from the moths or we're watching Ginny bumping uglies with her sister's man. Oh well, destroying the remainder of her family during these times can't be helped, can it? Must keep carrying on to find calm... or something to that effect.
Wherever there was exposed flesh, caterpillars were feeding.
And that ending. Yep the book ended, it sure did. How it ended, I'm not going to spoil here but that was an interesting little sojourn, wasn't it? Again, I just want to underline that at this point, the UK is essentially on lockdown and ALL THE AIRPORTS IN LONDON have been closed when all this goes down. No one in, no one out, making the COVID lockdown look like a spring holiday! And did I mention there's no military presence on the ground or air nor apparently on stand-by when an unannounced jet coming in from Africa is able to fly into Gatwick Airport unimpeded? Mmm'kay. But hey, their plan apparently worked - it should have taken years but we get to fast forward fortunately to our killer creepy (???) free future! And it looks like Ginny is even going to get a chance to get back into television! That's ok, right? Yay! All she did was become a hero among heroes despite it all! Anyone for tea?
Oh, for Chrissake, why is everybody going on about tea?
Like I said, overall I found this to be an odd book. It read fairly well in terms of pacing and for the most part, wasn't poorly executed. However, there are some rather major editing hiccups scattered throughout with just about the most imperfectly wrong words used at the wrong time. But interestingly enough what I'll take away from all this is - despite being a devout arachnaphobe - the critters in this story creeped me out even more than my last book that was filled to (and through) the eyeballs with spiders! Just the thought of touching those giant fuzzy creepers or having one of those book-sized moths in my face. So kudos on the ick factor and I'll also continue to remember this book for the very unusual setting. I mean, events like the All Saints Spring Fête should be off-limits to monsters, no? I guess it's like the B-52's warned us: don't go on the patio… especially after you've seen a kajillion of these things lower themselves from trees to attack… just like the one you're sitting under! Hmmm…