Daniel Roth can “walk” in other people’s skins – sharing all their senses, while remaining undetected. This unnatural ability inadvertently leads him to a career with British intelligence. He meets Agent Duncan Burke – a man willing to risk everything for the greater good – and Rebecca Pendleton, an analyst with an equally troubled relationship with faith. It’s 1999, and Daniel faces his greatest challenge when he’s drawn out of retirement to infiltrate a cult who worship Enochian angels and are on the verge of an apocalyptic plan. When he walks among them, Daniel will finally learn about his strange power and find something more terrifying than the devil himself.
I’ve started the year with a few genre mashups, and WATCHER is no exception. This speculative fiction about a shadowy govt agency and a religious cult centers on a man who has the power to “walk” in other people’s skin, seeing the world through their eyes.
Relph and Gostelow have written a thrilling story full of action, mystery, and lore, yet also took time to create detailed settings and interesting characters/backstories. Not easy to strike that balance, especially in a long novella, but they crushed it.
I read this novella for the indie novella competition, SFINCS. The following review is my own personal opinion as a judge and does not reflect the views of the team as a whole.
Watcher by the author duo J. P. Relph and Mathew Gostelow is a thriller with speculative elements that got me immersed in it from basically the first couple of short sections. It read like a 90s supernatural detective movie (yes, movie!) following Daniel Roth, a man capable of “walking”, that is, in a trans-like state connect to people’s minds and see through their eyes. As we might suspect, this ability made him very valuable to the British intelligence forces where he had been working for years, and then left after an unfortunate incident. At the start of the novella, he is called back into service by his old handler, Agent Burke, to investigate a cult which is getting more and more threatening…
We get the story in different styles: letters, journals, and different POVs, and mostly in a non-linear fashion. Alongside the current investigation into the cult where the assigned agents are attempting to contact cult members for Daniel to “walk” with (as he relies on genetic material to use for his ability) in order to get a glimpse of the insides of the operation and its mysterious leader, Daniel’s past is also slowly revealed, with his traumatizing childhood and the way his ability made itself known, and also the incident which made him leave service. We also hear from an agent undercover inside the cult, Rebecca, who is Daniel’s old friend and recently stopped reaching out, thus, her recovery is his priority. Rebecca and Daniel both suffered from a brutal, religious upbringing, leaving them with separate sets of deep wounds which they bonded over during the years working together. Interestingly, this cult, that calls itself The Children of the Watchers, is also connected to God and his angels—fallen angels, more precisely, cast into oblivion and torment because of their sharing of secrets and fraternizing (and more) with humanity.
For a long while, we as readers have no idea what the cult wants exactly, apart from some vague threat of mass murder at the turn of the millenium. But we are drawn into Daniel’s story by several other factors: Daniel’s struggles with his ability which he intends to use for good but which slowly weakens and sickens him; his sensitive but strong personality formed by awful experiences and events that never truly broke him but consistently push him to the brink; the mystery of how Daniel’s “walking” might be connected to the cult and its rebel angels; and the pacing itself in revealing plot threads and characters which is just perfect. I was glued to the page, wanting to know where this was going. The side-characters of Burke and Bec were also interesting to watch: Burke with his headstrong, “everything for the greater good” positioning, caring for Daniel but absolutely willing to drive him into the darkness to save people, and Bec, through whom we see another side of religious trauma and its consequences. It all worked very well from me. The prose is mature and well-rounded as well, grounded but just dramatic enough at the right places.
The story steadily hurtles towards an ending we can feel won’t be all happy and sunshine. The reveal about the true purpose of The Children of the Watchers and how it all connects to Daniel’s ability is satisfying, dark, and intriguing. I do have some ambivalent feelings about it: while it was certainly fitting, some stuff divorced a bit too much from the established mood during that last act. And while one can certainly find a sliver of hope in it (and by gods, I tried), it’s also perhaps a bit too bleak to my tastes. But like I said, it’s nothing that isn’t foreshadowed or proper for the kind of story we are reading.
Watcher definitely felt like a hidden gem to me, judging by its number of reviews, and a great read for everyone who likes biblical (apocryphal) angelic mythology and thrillers featuring special investigation units and supernatural abilities. In a span of a novella, the authors are able to weave a full, satisfying story with interesting lore, great characters, and an atmosphere that will immerse you entirely.
Watcher, by J. P. Relph and Mathew Gostelow is a supernatural thriller full of deep character work, a tense and compelling plot, and prose that effortlessly carries off that perfect balance of restraint and lyricism that allows for the authors' more poignant, beautiful, and exacting lines to shine. Set in the 1990s, with occasional chapters hopping back to the 70s, Watcher combines the grit and realism of a 90s mystery with angelic mythology and themes of religious trauma and abuse. If you're looking for accomplished writing that hasn't yet made it big (but ought to herald a long and rich career for both writers), Watcher is one to . . . watch.
The protagonist of Watcher, Daniel Roth, is a government agent with a seemingly unique ability: by touching someone (including minute traces of their DNA) he can enter their body as a passive observer. Daniel's struggles to reconcile his abilities and the Otherness they mark him with are informed by his fraught religious upbringing, as well as the bullying he faced as an Irish child growing up in England in the 1970s. In the present day, Daniel has seemingly found a sense of purpose working for a government handler called Burke, who uses Daniel and Daniel's abilities for covert surveillance. This surveillance has taken both a mental and physical toll on Daniel, however. When we meet our protagonist, he's essentially retired from government work, traumatized by a failed mission from his past and physically weakened by repeated uses of his ability. But Burke has a card up his sleeve that he knows will convince Daniel to return for one last hurrah: Bec, Daniel's closest friend on the team, is now a field agent herself and has gone dark while investigating a religious cult known as the Children of the Watchers. Fearful for Bec's safety, and blaming himself for leaving her alone on the team, Daniel agrees to help Burke learn more about the Children of the Watchers. The angel-worshipping Children may be an even greater danger than Burke realizes, however. Not only are they collecting supplies to craft a bomb, but there may be something supernatural--and even more powerful than Daniel--compelling the cult's mission.
When I picked up J. P. Relph and Mathew Gostelow's supernatural thriller, Watcher, and realized what it was about, I had a fleeting thought that Relph and Gostelow were either terribly lucky that I'd happened to assign it to myself, or dreadfully unlucky. Watcher is, in many ways, primarily a grounded, realistic work. It's also a novella deeply embedded in the angelic and apocalyptic mythology of Enochic literature and the Watcher angels--the subject on which I had initially intended to write my PhD dissertation, and a topic on which I occasionally lecture and with which I'm rather obsessed. Inspired by what was once a relatively obscure body of (largely) apocryphal religious texts, contemporary Enochic works have seen a surge in popularity, particularly in queer and romance circles. Watcher is neither queer (at least not that I'm aware of) nor a romance, and out of twentieth and twenty-first-century fiction on the topic, it's probably most similar to the Denzel Washington thriller, Fallen (about a body-hopping demon named Azazel). The basic story of the Watcher angels is ripe for (re)interpretation, featuring as it does a group of rebel angels who, in Promethean style, defy God by granting human beings a series of divine secrets (metalworking, cosmetics, astrological knowledge, et cetera). Romantic literature that takes up the theme tends to focus on the marriage of the angels with human women and what is perceived as the angels' unjust punishment for doing so (most often, they are cast into a bottomless pit to be tormented for eternity alongside their offspring, while the earth is cleansed by the Flood--yes, the same one from Genesis). Another reading of the story focuses on the crimes of the Watchers and their children. Giant monsters, the Watchers' progeny (called the Nephilim) are violent, even cannibalistic, and it is due to their ravaging of the community that the humans eventually petition God for aid via the prophet Enoch.
Watcher is terribly clever in its positioning, refusing for the majority of the novella to reveal whether the cult (and the figures they worship) are a force for good or for evil (or, perhaps, some third, more neutral thing). Via Daniel, we are instead drawn into the mystery of a potential connection between Daniel's abilities and the magic the group purports to wield. Is Daniel, perhaps, the descendent of the Nephilim, part human, part angel? If he is, will it redeem or damn him in the eyes of his late (and abusive) mother?
The indignities Daniel suffers, and to which he bares painfully silent witness, are presented with a combination of stark, unembellished power, and richly poetic and specific imagery that brings Daniel to life. A sympathetic yet imperfect (and thus more relatable) character, Daniel struggles with past choices that have put him at odds with his family. While both the chapters set in the 90s and those that focus on Daniel's childhood paint a picture of a man burdened by guilt and inner turmoil, Daniel never comes off as whiny, wallowing, or self-indulgent. His own reflections on his past are received as fleeting but deep cuts, revealing a maturity to Relph and Gostelow's psychological understanding of the character. In many ways, Daniel is no-nonsense yet also emotionally fragile and with a genuine care for those around him. Relph and Gostelow are able to craft a complex and dynamic character in fewer pages than many writers achieve in books that are three or four times the length.
Although I praise the character work, there's much to recommend in terms of Watcher's pacing and plot as well. The aforementioned mystery (the strength and tension of which is, I'm sure, heightened by a familiarity with Enochic literature and its reception history) is consistently compelling. Never was I bored while reading, and though I put the novella down occasionally to work on other things, I was always happy to pick it back up. The unfolding of Daniel's character, conveyed in what I'll clumsily call the "flashback" chapters, is integrated meaningfully with the plot, so that learning about Daniel's present motivations and sense of purpose becomes a compelling mystery of its own. The brutal acts Watcher engages with, and to which Daniel has historically been an unwilling witness, are presented with a rawness that is pulse-pounding and viscerally impactful, while nonetheless being empathetic. Never are these scenes trite or exploitative, and they linger more in the mind for what isn't graphically described, all while lending a sense of stakes to the present action.
If Watcher stumbles at all, it's in some of its climactic scenes. While I loved the ending on the whole, there's a choice of approach in terms of the dialogue of one of the novella's more villainous characters that felt a little campy and out-of-place compared with the realism of the rest of the work. Leaning into the potential for weirdness and otherworldliness there would, I think, have been more impactful and frightening.
Overall, Watcher is the kind of novella I'd hoped to find when I returned to SFINCS as a judge--the type that makes me want to yell, "Why does this have so few reviews?" at my computer screen, and that I feel can really benefit from the visibility boost of contests like SFINCS. The skill on display from authors J. P. Relph and Mathew Gostelow demonstrates that coveted balance of genre awareness with originality and strong prose. As a supernatural thriller, it nonetheless feels grounded in realistic and textured characterization, and the pacing is pitch perfect. I recommend Watcher to fans of angel mythology and folk horror (particularly of the cult variety), but also to fans of supernatural and paranormal thrillers in general. Anyone who misses the texture of 90s mystery (whether on screen or page), would do well to give Watcher a try. There's something about the groundedness of the prose that likewise makes me feel as though readers of Phil Williams might really enjoy this one.
If you're on the fence, please do give it a try. It's a book that merits a second look and that, I imagine, will also reward returning readers.
Love the idea of this - "walking" in other people's skins. An absorbing tale led by the tormented Daniel Roth - who can jump into other peoples skins and see life through their eyes - and Bec Pendleton, his colleague in the British Intelligence and friend. Angels, cults, war, it's got it all. A speculative thriller I raced through.
This is a tough one to rate and review. Ultimately, I don't think this novella was 'for me' which isn't to say it's bad. I'm glad it was written. I think it was written for 'someone' who would adore it, maybe Steve (another judge who reviewed it in the last round and wrote an excellent review. Go check it out!)
This novella's strongest aspects are in its character work. These aren't just characters, they're people. They talk, act, and think so much like real people, and they have their little idiosyncrasies so perfected that I would believe it if I were told these characters were based on real people. There is one exception: a character who may not be entirely human in the first place (I am trying to avoid spoilers here, so allow me to be vague). However, he felt more like a 90s anime villain, the way he talked and what his plans were. Normally this wouldn't be a bad thing for me. I'm a sucker for 90s anime villains. Unfortunately, it comes across as out-of-place here among the too-real 90s humans.
The religious aspect is powerful and well-done, in my opinion as an atheist who grew up in a casual-religious household. While my background was one of Protestant parents, I understand enough of Catholicism to sympathize with the main character. I deeply resonated with his fear of God and Hell and his skepticism of cults despite knowing that they are so much craftier than you think. Cult leaders get inside peoples' brains and convince them, even if they're usually more logical than that. People always say 'oh, I would never join a cult' and then boom, you've joined a cult. The brainwashing of cultists is on full display here and it is fascinating. Because the authors have done such a phenomenal job explaining these people, you know how and why they interact with the cult in the way that they do.
Another thing I must mention is the feeling of longing, of nostalgia, or fleeting memories. While reading this book, I often felt like it was a movie and we were seeing flashbacks, some with bright lights or silhouettes. It was quite an artsy experience, and one I'm struggling to find the words for.
On the other hand, this feeling of awe and nostalgia left me with a profound emptiness at the end. The final few chapters left a void in my chest that I'm not sure what do with. I wouldn't necessarily call it sad, but it's not hopeful or happy, either. It's a feeling of oblivion oncoming.