What do you think?
Rate this book
The Magic Man
MURDER IN JACKSON COUNTY It was an unusually dry spring when the stranger came to Jackson County, Georgia. He called himself Deacon and with only an ingratiating smile and a duffel bag over one shoulder, he easily found his way into the hearts and home of the Sharon Collins' family, even overcoming the suspicious of the farm's resident handyman Dave 'Sparky' Moss. To the family, he was a godsend. The children were never happier. The farm never ran smoother. Life was idyllic. And then the murders began. Savage, inexplicable killings committed by formerly rational townspeople that Sheriff Beckett had known all of their lives. An insanity that spread like a plague throughout his beloved town and grew stronger with each passing day No, a madness had come to 'good ol' J.C.' on the heels of this fair-haired young man. A madness that Deacon knew all too well. And before he could warn them - the new-found family and friends that embraced him - Deacon found that he would have to face his age-old nemesis one more time. On the day the sun disappeared and Hell came to Jackson County.
542 pages, Multiple Formats
First published May 28, 2015
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
May 4, 2015
The first thing that struck me about John M. Light’s The Magic Man was how completely the novel captures the essence of life in a small Southern town: the relationships and personalities that create the fabric of a community, the small business owners, the local law enforcement, the reliance on religion, the prevalence of gossip, the quiet but harsh judgments and rigid morality, the grudges that won’t die, the kind of love that saves, the kind of love that destroys, the struggles to make ends meet, the dirty secrets that hide behind Sunday dresses and manicured lawns. Light paints Jackson County in such exquisite detail that the town becomes a breathing character in its own right. I might have grown up there. You might have grown up there. We might live there now.
Such a fully realized, multi-dimensional setting as this requires a full cast of characters, each one with his or her own story. Making good use of an ensemble with this kind of scope is not an easy task to pull off—all too often the supporting players can get reduced to clichés or the sheer number of characters make their purpose as part of the whole difficult to understand. But Light invests each of the many residents of Jackson County with fully-realized personas.
The Good Guys are flawed: Sparky Moss, has the best of intentions but is often carried away by his temper and his own sense of justice and noble sacrifice. Both Sheriff Beckett and his deputy Sam Jessup run toward danger, not away from it, but each has a tendency to choke at crucial moments. Abe Guillerman, the hardware owner, is a fastidious man crippled by survivor’s guilt. Even Sharon Collins, easily the has a dangerous case of tunnel vision where her kids are concerned. Likewise, the Bad Guys might be fueled by malice, but they’re also shaped by crushing poverty, lost dreams, abusive households, and at no point is this more visible than in the story of the Sparky’s arch-nemeses, the Bodine brothers Mark and Jeff. As for the magic man himself, Deacon Smith’s motivations and true nature are an enigma, keeping him hovering between these two poles for much of the novel. As so many moving parts shift into gear, it’s easy to appreciate the technical mastery of the storytelling and character development as much as the story itself.
The plot itself is a large-scale struggle of good vs. evil, where the end of the world as we know it is at stake. There are elements of horror and fantasy, but there are also some serious theological ideas in play. I was reminded of both Stephen King’s The Stand and Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”—these are not titles one readily associates with one another, but combined with the human elements in the novel, it’s a blend that makes for a unique take on such a high-stakes plot and strikes a delicate balance between violence and destruction—often graphic but never gratuitous—and the healing properties of love and community.
Such a fully realized, multi-dimensional setting as this requires a full cast of characters, each one with his or her own story. Making good use of an ensemble with this kind of scope is not an easy task to pull off—all too often the supporting players can get reduced to clichés or the sheer number of characters make their purpose as part of the whole difficult to understand. But Light invests each of the many residents of Jackson County with fully-realized personas.
The Good Guys are flawed: Sparky Moss, has the best of intentions but is often carried away by his temper and his own sense of justice and noble sacrifice. Both Sheriff Beckett and his deputy Sam Jessup run toward danger, not away from it, but each has a tendency to choke at crucial moments. Abe Guillerman, the hardware owner, is a fastidious man crippled by survivor’s guilt. Even Sharon Collins, easily the has a dangerous case of tunnel vision where her kids are concerned. Likewise, the Bad Guys might be fueled by malice, but they’re also shaped by crushing poverty, lost dreams, abusive households, and at no point is this more visible than in the story of the Sparky’s arch-nemeses, the Bodine brothers Mark and Jeff. As for the magic man himself, Deacon Smith’s motivations and true nature are an enigma, keeping him hovering between these two poles for much of the novel. As so many moving parts shift into gear, it’s easy to appreciate the technical mastery of the storytelling and character development as much as the story itself.
The plot itself is a large-scale struggle of good vs. evil, where the end of the world as we know it is at stake. There are elements of horror and fantasy, but there are also some serious theological ideas in play. I was reminded of both Stephen King’s The Stand and Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”—these are not titles one readily associates with one another, but combined with the human elements in the novel, it’s a blend that makes for a unique take on such a high-stakes plot and strikes a delicate balance between violence and destruction—often graphic but never gratuitous—and the healing properties of love and community.
Displaying 1 of 1 review