Kevin Wayne Jeter (born 1950) is an American science fiction and horror author known for his literary writing style, dark themes, and paranoid, unsympathetic characters. He is also credited with the coining of the term "Steampunk." K. W. has written novels set in the Star Trek and Star Wars universe, and has written three (to date) sequels to Blade Runner.
this is a surprisingly effective, briskly paced, nicely tense, and occasionally interesting bit of horror-thriller.
poor Mike Tyler has a problematic past: once a part of a group of pretentious college kids devoted to a pretentious professor slash guru slash svengali, these kids and their prof decided to take it to the next level by regular ingestion of the highly illegal drug The Host - which apparently induces both hallucinatory effects and shared empathic group connection. sadly, The Host is similar to that Blue Sunshine drug from the movie called, er, Blue Sunshine, and so zany murderous Manson Family-style slaughter-hijinks ensued. but all that is behind him. after all he didn't take part in the murders - he was merely an accomplice. after some hard time in both prison and a mental institution, and medicated to the gills, he's managed to carve out a decent living with a nice live-in girlfriend and her son. unfortunately for Mike, not only does The Host stay in your system permanently (thus the constant meds) but a member of the group has come out of the woodwork and is trying to recruit Mike back in - by kidnapping his supposedly long-dead son from Mike's once-vanished ex-wife. uh oh!
K.W. Jeter is a genre maverick, having paved the way for both cyberpunk and steampunk with novels like Dr. Adder and Morlock Night. at some point he apparently decided to make some cash by churning out a series of lurid horror novels that probably looked great on the shelves of various B Daltons and Waldenbooks across the nation. such is Dark Seeker. i hope he made some money off of this one.
Jeter has an individualistic vision that encompasses the Los Angeles landscape of freeways and strip malls, a grim and sour misanthropy, the need for his characters to escape from various dark pasts, and a fairly expert use of parallel narratives that comment on each other in intriguing ways. he clearly has writing chops (except for the overuse of various cringe-worthy parentheticals denoting thoughts-within-thoughts) and he just as clearly has the ability to outwrite more popular horror hacks. such is Dark Seeker. i hope he didn't beat himself up too much when seeing his novels shelved next to Koontz and Saul.
i was impressed with Jeter's skill at portraying what it feels like to be on hallucinogens. the taste in the mouth, the subtle colored outlines, the thrilling expansion of sound and vision. although now the idea of taking acid sounds about as fun to me as taking bleach, back in my college days i did it more times than i can remember. i used to love it so much that the idea of being on acid 24/7, of never coming down, was awesome to me... shudder! The Host is 24/7 and it also features visions of a pointy-teethed lil' guy who wants you to kill kill kill. my own hallucinogenic escapades tended to feature pleasant colored wavy things and the need to be in water and dreamy visions of the brotherhood of mankind. The Host's hallucinogenic qualities make participants want to tear limbs from bodies, bathe in blood and laugh like hyenas. different strokes for different folks i guess.
The book started strong with a mysterious group, some arrested, some on the run. A woman, her son being kidnapped by Slider. Jim, a homeless. An ex-cop still sticking to this case. Michael Tyler who has left the group. Is his son still alive? The story could have been compelling but it dragged on an on. Like listening to a drug addict in therapy. The book may be a classic, it is dark and atmospheric but in no way a page turner (at least not for me). To much inner monologue and nothing new happening. I'm glad it's over. Only for fans of the author or collectors.
Mike Tyler was part of a cult where members were convicted of some murders decades prior. Mike served some time for lower end felonys and is out of prison. The cult had consumed drugs which provided them all a 'shared consciousness' with the other members. They have been programmed by the one they call 'The Host' who the drug allowed their minds access too.
Decades after the murders the host has returned and it wants Mike and the remaining members of the group to be reformed and for their souls to be his.
This was a bit of a struggle to finish. The beginning was very good, loved the set up and learning about the cults crimes, the drug they used and how it controls people. The ending however got overly confusing and was paced horribly. I didnt go into this vintage horror book expecting a masterpiece but it just got boring and the ending was anticlimactic. 2.5 stars.
A powerful novel about a cult that twisted the sanity of its members, it reminded me of Robert W. Chambers' Repairer of Reputations with its layered visions of reality. They shared a drug which created not only a shared mind, but also left them permanently changed. The story revolves around the broken lives of a number of its ex-members, some of whom have done time, others who were never caught. It hints at, rather than directly confronts their crimes, this is no true crime expose, rather an uncomfortable ride amongst those existing on the fringes. It's slow, deliberate and methodical, gradually peeling back the layers to reveal the truth and lies beneath it all.
Interesting premise: the idea that a drug can cause a hive-mind effect, and remain within the blood system permanently affecting you.
Interesting plot beginning: picking up years after a group of students follow their college professor in taking the drug that makes them go on a Charles Mansonesque killing spree, and following one ex-member's constant attempts to stay on the wagon after reforming into society, even after he gets dragged back into the affairs of his old group.
Not so interesting: the lack of a solid antagonist. Constant alluding to the monster within the drug makes it a supernatural entity that Mike seems to be fighting against, yet there is no payoff to this particular line of plot. The physical villian really hasn't much to do with the story other than at the beginning and end, and even then he doesn't seem to be much of an actual threat.
Plus points for quick pace throughout story though, and the interesting backstory to the drug and the users.
Interesting concept; members of a cult who took experimental drugs which bonded them together with a dark entity in a shared conscience continue to feel the effects years later.
Read like a sequel rather than a standalone story which dimmed the experience for me (this wasn’t a sequel, however, so more backstory would’ve been a good).
A bit of a snooze fest for the most part, however the story was salvaged in the last couple of chapters. The ‘horror’ is on the peripheral for the most part.
Though the concept of a drug that induces a kind of shared-mind connection between its users is intriguing, the plot that unfolds here does little with that notion. I felt the mystery of book (the demons inside the main character's head, as alluded to in the blurb) is drawn way out, and brought to no ultimate reveal. The book relies heavily on repetitive statements to the effect that something is about to come, happen or be revealed ... It drags on and on ploddingly, pulling you through a world of darkness and despair, spiraling ever deeper into insanity hopelessness with no chance of redemption or resolution.
The whole thing left me very depressed, rather like Philip K. Dick's novel Martian Timeslip did, only PKD at least kept you guessing and made you think along the way. There's little of that here, just a plot that follows its characters along mechanically ... they go here, they do this, they do that without really advancing the plot beyond moving them toward the final confrontation. I found myself skimming long passages that revealed nothing really new.
For the first third of the book I liked it a bit more, but it really wore me down and by the end, I simply didn't care much what happened.
Got this in a bundle of Philip K Dick award nominees/winners, I think. Ending is terrible - reads like the author was imagining it as a movie instead of writing a book. The concept of the drug itself is interesting.
After a couple of unsuccessful attempts I finally finished what turned out to be a complete waste of time.
An experimental military drug that results in shared consciousness among its users is adopted as a tool of "enlightenment" by a shady academic-turned-cult leader. A murderous entity originating within the shared consciousness influences the drug's users, resulting in murder and mayhem.
That sounds like a decent premise were the author to explore the drug program, develop the weird entity's origin and follow those folks caught up in the experimentation. Instead we get hints of what went on before and a big flash-forward.... and are presented with a shallow mess.
Mike was part of the cult. Mike was implicated in some violent murders, served time, got out and wrote a book about his experiences. The drug so affected him that he must take medication to suppress the experimental drug's ridiculously vague effects. He's shacked up with a single mom and his only really redeeming quality is his affection for her young son.
Mike's unhinged ex-wife was also part of the cult. She managed to avoid jail due to her rich parents' influence. She communicates her desire for Mike to find their son, a son she insists has been abducted by a particularly vicious fellow cultist but that Mike knows to be dead.
I wont ruin the rest. It kinda ruins itself. Go read a classic instead. Heck, go read a Donald Duck comic book. You'll thank me later.
This is a seperate class altogether. Its the only book I know of that brings together the selfish and self destructive nature of addiction, the delusion of desire and the bleak subconscious landscape whereupon our motives play out their real agenda. An astonishing work at the very pinacle of an inverted american pop culture, that might exist in a darkened mirror, in a deserted motel on the nights hellway.
Not my preference of reading material. It felt like a lot of internal repetitive introspection supported by little framework. There was a whole story here somewhere, but maybe the of it was. the references to the past.