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Shambling Towards Hiroshima
Sturgeon Award winner
Nebula and Hugo Award nominee
It is the early summer of 1945, and war reigns in the Pacific Rim with no end in sight. Back in the States, Hollywood B-movie star Syms Thorley lives in a very different world, starring as the Frankenstein-like Corpuscula and Kha-Ton-Ra, the living mummy. But the U.S. Navy has a new role waiting for Thorley, the role of a lifetime that he could never have imagined.
The top secret Knickerbocker Project is putting the finishing touches on the ultimate biological a breed of gigantic, fire-breathing, mutant iguanas engineered to stomp and burn cities on the Japanese mainland. The Navy calls upon Thorley to don a rubber suit and become the merciless Gorgantis and to star in a live drama that simulates the destruction of a miniature Japanese metropolis. If the demonstration succeeds, the Japanese will surrender, and many thousands of lives will be spared; if it fails, the horrible mutant lizards will be unleashed. One thing is Syms Thorley must now give the most terrifyingly convincing performance of his life.
In the dual traditions of Godzilla as a playful monster and a symbol of the dawn of the nuclear era, Shambling Towards Hiroshima unexpectedly blends the destruction of World War II with the halcyon pleasure of monster movies.
Nebula and Hugo Award nominee
It is the early summer of 1945, and war reigns in the Pacific Rim with no end in sight. Back in the States, Hollywood B-movie star Syms Thorley lives in a very different world, starring as the Frankenstein-like Corpuscula and Kha-Ton-Ra, the living mummy. But the U.S. Navy has a new role waiting for Thorley, the role of a lifetime that he could never have imagined.
The top secret Knickerbocker Project is putting the finishing touches on the ultimate biological a breed of gigantic, fire-breathing, mutant iguanas engineered to stomp and burn cities on the Japanese mainland. The Navy calls upon Thorley to don a rubber suit and become the merciless Gorgantis and to star in a live drama that simulates the destruction of a miniature Japanese metropolis. If the demonstration succeeds, the Japanese will surrender, and many thousands of lives will be spared; if it fails, the horrible mutant lizards will be unleashed. One thing is Syms Thorley must now give the most terrifyingly convincing performance of his life.
In the dual traditions of Godzilla as a playful monster and a symbol of the dawn of the nuclear era, Shambling Towards Hiroshima unexpectedly blends the destruction of World War II with the halcyon pleasure of monster movies.
170 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
22 people are currently reading
844 people want to read
About the author
James K. Morrow
102 books328 followersBorn in 1947, James Kenneth Morrow has been writing fiction ever since he, as a seven-year-old living in the Philadelphia suburbs, dictated “The Story of the Dog Family” to his mother, who dutifully typed it up and bound the pages with yarn. This three-page, six-chapter fantasy is still in the author’s private archives. Upon reaching adulthood, Jim produced nine novels of speculative fiction, including the critically acclaimed Godhead Trilogy. He has won the World Fantasy Award (for Only Begotten Daughter and Towing Jehovah), the Nebula Award (for “Bible Stories for Adults, No. 17: The Deluge” and the novella City of Truth), and the Theodore Sturgeon Memorial Award (for the novella Shambling Towards Hiroshima). A fulltime fiction writer, Jim makes his home in State College, Pennsylvania, with his wife, his son, an enigmatic sheepdog, and a loopy beagle. He is hard at work on a novel about Darwinism and its discontents.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 151 reviews
March 30, 2019
This short novel is a fun romp that bounces back and forth between semi-serious commentary on arms races and the morality of killing civilians to end a war, and copious shout-outs to monster movies and SF fandom.
The premise is just this side of ridiculous, the sort of plot you'd find in one of the monster movies referenced in this book: as the War in the Pacific grinds to its inevitable denouement and the U.S. seeks a way to force the Japanese to surrender without having to invade Japan, there are two doomsday weapon projects running in parallel. While physicists develop the atomic bomb, a team of biologists have successfully irradiated mutant iguanas and created giant, fire-breathing monsters capable of destroying cities, if ever awoken from their drug-induced coma. The Navy, wanting to beat the Army to the bomb, wants to set up a demonstration of these fearsome monsters to a Japanese delegation, who will then run back to the Emperor and convince him to order a surrender before Japanese cities are stomped beneath giant, radioactive lizard-feet.
Scientifically, it's pretty silly, but author James Morrow takes this idea and plays it straight, incorporating the kaiju plot with the actual history of World War II and the negotiations and speculation and multifaceted considerations that the U.S. and Japan took into account as they struggled towards the end of a war whose outcome everyone knew was already a foregone conclusion.
The main character is Syms Thorley, a B-movie actor famous for stomping around Hollywood sets in a rubber monster suit, which is why the Navy hires him to put on a show for the Japanese delegation. There is a whole contrived set-up to explain why they think this will work, and why Thorley has to pretend to be a baby giant radioactive lizard, and the U.S. government building spectacular, detailed mockups of the Japanese cities that Thorley will stomp on, complete with tanks, Zeroes, and the Battleship Yamato, all of which will fire live ammo at Thorley in the big climactic rampage.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is narrated by Thorley as an aging actor making a living on the sci-fi con circuit, appearing at autograph sessions to rant about abolishing weapons of mass destruction while still haunted fifty years later by his participation in the top-secret WMD project the world never saw, the one that failed to prevent the nuclear age.
While I got the impression Morrow was sort of serious about wanting this book to be read as an allegory, it was hard to take too seriously. It is, after all, about an actor trying to end World War II by pretending to be Godzilla. But Morrow isn't that serious about it, and his humor makes this book also a pleasure to read for fans of Godzilla movies and monster movies in general. There are self-aware winks at the genre and fandom throughout.
As an alternate history novel, this was quite an unusual little gem.
The premise is just this side of ridiculous, the sort of plot you'd find in one of the monster movies referenced in this book: as the War in the Pacific grinds to its inevitable denouement and the U.S. seeks a way to force the Japanese to surrender without having to invade Japan, there are two doomsday weapon projects running in parallel. While physicists develop the atomic bomb, a team of biologists have successfully irradiated mutant iguanas and created giant, fire-breathing monsters capable of destroying cities, if ever awoken from their drug-induced coma. The Navy, wanting to beat the Army to the bomb, wants to set up a demonstration of these fearsome monsters to a Japanese delegation, who will then run back to the Emperor and convince him to order a surrender before Japanese cities are stomped beneath giant, radioactive lizard-feet.
Scientifically, it's pretty silly, but author James Morrow takes this idea and plays it straight, incorporating the kaiju plot with the actual history of World War II and the negotiations and speculation and multifaceted considerations that the U.S. and Japan took into account as they struggled towards the end of a war whose outcome everyone knew was already a foregone conclusion.
The main character is Syms Thorley, a B-movie actor famous for stomping around Hollywood sets in a rubber monster suit, which is why the Navy hires him to put on a show for the Japanese delegation. There is a whole contrived set-up to explain why they think this will work, and why Thorley has to pretend to be a baby giant radioactive lizard, and the U.S. government building spectacular, detailed mockups of the Japanese cities that Thorley will stomp on, complete with tanks, Zeroes, and the Battleship Yamato, all of which will fire live ammo at Thorley in the big climactic rampage.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is narrated by Thorley as an aging actor making a living on the sci-fi con circuit, appearing at autograph sessions to rant about abolishing weapons of mass destruction while still haunted fifty years later by his participation in the top-secret WMD project the world never saw, the one that failed to prevent the nuclear age.
While I got the impression Morrow was sort of serious about wanting this book to be read as an allegory, it was hard to take too seriously. It is, after all, about an actor trying to end World War II by pretending to be Godzilla. But Morrow isn't that serious about it, and his humor makes this book also a pleasure to read for fans of Godzilla movies and monster movies in general. There are self-aware winks at the genre and fandom throughout.
As an alternate history novel, this was quite an unusual little gem.
January 18, 2009
This novella has a hilarious premise: In the last months of the Second World War, a horror actor is recruited by the U.S. military to take part in a propaganda exercise that will convince the Japanese to surrender: He'll dress up in a giant lizard suit that's been rigged with a flamethrower in the mouth and stomp all over a model city, as evidence of what the Navy's REAL monster-breeding program could do if the creatures were unleashed.
This opens the door to a lot of Hollywood in-jokes (the director of the monster film is James Whale, they hire the special effects man from King Kong, etc., etc.) but beneath all the gags, there's a portrait of a man who has become as tormented by the longterm consequences of his wartime actions as Oppenheimer was by his work on the atom bomb, and the laughs give way to a very poignant portrait of a lonely man trying to live down his legacy.
This opens the door to a lot of Hollywood in-jokes (the director of the monster film is James Whale, they hire the special effects man from King Kong, etc., etc.) but beneath all the gags, there's a portrait of a man who has become as tormented by the longterm consequences of his wartime actions as Oppenheimer was by his work on the atom bomb, and the laughs give way to a very poignant portrait of a lonely man trying to live down his legacy.
September 5, 2019
This is a terrific short novel set in an alternate universe in which the U.S. Army enlisted Hollywood to convince the Japanese that we had kaiju weapons of mass destruction that we would use on them if they didn't back down in World War II. (Or maybe it wasn't an alternate at all and we just didn't know about it until now... nah...) Remember the British used camouflaging techniques and all manner of trickery on their home front in trying to misinform the Germans. Fictional characters are paired up with famously historical ones and I was left unsure which was which a time or two. The depiction of Hollywood and the movie industry of creature features was especially enjoyable. The author's anti-violence message gets a bit heavy a time or two near the end, but it strikes me that that holds true for a lot of those old films that end on a preachy note, so all is good. (Non-sequitur of a non-sequitur, remember "Our true size is the size of our God!") I had developed quite an affinity for the main characters by the end of the story, and I was wishing them well.... Now I've got to go put a Godzilla disc in the DVD player...
June 7, 2010
This is a witty, smart short read. It touches on many topics-especially the rise of the B-movies-from monsters to atomic creatures. One star lost to ending--too so-so for the character writing this pseudo-autobio of his.
Just think: what if we could not develop the atomic bomb in time to drop it on Japan at the ending of WWII? This book suggests we were developing Godzilla like creatures to use first!?! Loved the main character--some of his lines are golden.
Just think: what if we could not develop the atomic bomb in time to drop it on Japan at the ending of WWII? This book suggests we were developing Godzilla like creatures to use first!?! Loved the main character--some of his lines are golden.
August 4, 2010
I have a confession (my reviews often start with confessions because reviews are as much about the reviewer as they are about the book): I don't much like monster movies. Unlike many film buffs, I do not revel in the campiness of 1940s and 1950s costuming; I do not drool over stop-motion animation or long for the good-old days when the monster was some guy in a suit, not a tennis ball married to a motion-capture unit. Boris Karloff film festivals hold no magic for me. Whether it's Frankenstein's monster or Dracula, this area of speculative fiction has never gripped me as much as, say, space opera.
So I approached Shambling Towards Hiroshima with some scepticism. Could a story so steeped in this subculture hold my interest? The narrator, Syms J. Thorley, is a has-been monster movie actor recounting his involvement in the New Amsterdam Project, also known as the Knickerbocker Project. As an alternative to the Manhattan Project, the Navy and a biologist bred giant fire-breathing lizards that could be towed to the shore of Japan by submarine and unleashed to wreak devastation on the island nation. But they needed a scale-model monster to destroy their scale-model of Japan in front of representatives of the Japanese government. Enter Thorley, professional monster man.
The only real science fiction in this book is its premise. While essential to the plot, it never steals the stage from Thorley's voice as a harried old man or his story about balancing his movie obligations with his duty to his country. At first, the idea that the Navy might be breeding Godzilla-like monsters to defeat Japan may sound outrageous to a reader—it did to me! Then I stopped and considered what the public must have thought in the aftermath of the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "Atom bomb" sounds like something out of science fiction—indeed, until the Manhattan Project reified it, it was something out of science fiction. Yet nuclear weapons, while not commonplace (thankfully) like toasters or computers are a matter of common parlance, part of our technological canon, if you will. If we can harness the power of nuclear fission for destructive purposes, surely breeding fire-breathing lizards is not that crazy.
And what about duping the Japanese with a guy in a suit? Well, that is just one of the many levels of satire in which James Morrow engages. In a commentary on both the United States military and the Hollywood film industry, Morrow looks at the relationship film has with deception. The government is no stranger to deception as a negotiating tactic. When they need to deceive the Japanese delegation about the veracity of their scaled-down monster, it makes perfect sense to turn to a professional industry practised in such deception. With the proper costuming, lighting, and acting, anything is possible in the movie industry.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is rife with satire of the movie industry; much of it, owing to my unfamiliarity with 1940s American cinema, went over my head. I knew enough to gather that James Whale and Willis O'Brien, hired to direct Thorley's performance and manage special effects, respectively, were real people in the movie industry. Morrow gives Thorley an over-the-top rival, who also plays a somewhat antagonistic role in both Thorley's life and the plot. Siegfried Dagover is enjoyable because he is a caricature of the jealous actor rather than despite this fact. Similarly, the rough characters of Thorley's director and producer on his movie project hearken back to the coarser era of American cinema. By no means do I subscribe to a view that American cinema was ever "innocent", but this was an era where radio was still the dominant communications medium. The cult of celebrity around movie actors, especially those who specialized in the monster movie industry, manifested differently than it does today. Morrow displays the differences, both celebrates them and mocks them, as is evident from Thorley and Darlene's interrupted adventures on Santa Monica beach with Thorley's monster costume. . . .
Moving further into meta-fictional territory, Morrow comments on the monster movie form itself. He (ironically, I think) has Thorley insist that, "the writers repeatedly employed a conceit that, in retrospect, seems to strike a blow for feminism." The necessity for a romantic interest for the male protagonist would often lead to his association with a lonely female scientist. Lo and behold, the biologists working on the Knickerbocker Project are Dr. Ivan Groelish and his daughter, Joy. Joy's relationship with Thorley is more short-lived and platonic than it is romantic, but it's clear Morrow is not aiming for a one-to-one correspondence. In fact, the biologists play a surprisingly small role considering the monstrous premise—again, because this is a story about Thorley and his role in a deception that failed to end a war, not a story about monsters invading Japan.
Any satire spared the monster movie industry Morrow saves for the United States military. Admirals Yordan and Strickland, like Dagover, are caricatures of stereotypes. And because everything about Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a caricature of a stereotype, that works. Yordan acts like an atheist attached to a religious event, forced to oversee a project he doesn't understand implemented by people who, not being military personnel, he does not trust. Of course, the situation is not helped by Thorley's irreverent attitude.
Like all satire, however, Shambling Toward Hiroshima has a serious point, embodied by the frame story. Thorley has eleventh hour encounters with a sympathetic hooker, a friendly hotel steward, and a fan stuck in a costume model after Thorley's famous monster. These characters serve as windows into the mind of the older, more experienced Syms Thorley, one haunted by his role in the war. More than just a failure to end the war, Thorley's mere involvement in the war has rendered the rest of his life in a darker shade of grey. He's continued to shuffle as a mummy, to howl as a werewolf . . . but that profession that he loved so much has been tainted for him. And all the awards and accolades that he has accumulated, the money and the cult recognition, if not fame, is a hollow victory compared to what could have been.
War is hell. This a theme oft-repeated, and to do something truly innovative with it is a formidable challenge for a writer. Simlarly, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are some of the most controversial events of the twentieth century, events that marked the beginning of the "Atomic Age" of humanity, and all the good and ill it would bring. I suppose it is possible to interpret this book as a pro-bomb statement. Simply read, this is a story of the military trying to persuade Japan to surrender through a mock demonstration of a superweapon. If that were the case, however, why not write about a mock demonstration of the atomic bomb? Instead Morrow chose to portray a fictitious alternative to the Manhattan Project. In doing so, he decouples the nearly indelible link between the mechanics of the atomic superweapon and the morality.
More than just a story about dropping the bomb, Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a story about the mindset of those working so hard to end the war. It's all there in the title, which is so perfect. "Shambling" is reminiscent of zombies—but, more topically, it refers to all the various monsters of the 1940s cinema. It also conjures the image of an inexorable but by no means smooth path toward the dropping of the atomic bomb, a weighty spectre of fate. Morrow gave me, someone who has no context for Hiroshima, an idea of the zeitgeist of 1940s America. As the war in the Pacific drew ever on, the prospect of ending it with one fell swoop grew ever more appealing. Each successive event compounded on the last, making the deployment of the bomb more likely. And so the world lurched and shambled, one step at a time, toward the beginning of the Atomic Age.
So I approached Shambling Towards Hiroshima with some scepticism. Could a story so steeped in this subculture hold my interest? The narrator, Syms J. Thorley, is a has-been monster movie actor recounting his involvement in the New Amsterdam Project, also known as the Knickerbocker Project. As an alternative to the Manhattan Project, the Navy and a biologist bred giant fire-breathing lizards that could be towed to the shore of Japan by submarine and unleashed to wreak devastation on the island nation. But they needed a scale-model monster to destroy their scale-model of Japan in front of representatives of the Japanese government. Enter Thorley, professional monster man.
The only real science fiction in this book is its premise. While essential to the plot, it never steals the stage from Thorley's voice as a harried old man or his story about balancing his movie obligations with his duty to his country. At first, the idea that the Navy might be breeding Godzilla-like monsters to defeat Japan may sound outrageous to a reader—it did to me! Then I stopped and considered what the public must have thought in the aftermath of the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "Atom bomb" sounds like something out of science fiction—indeed, until the Manhattan Project reified it, it was something out of science fiction. Yet nuclear weapons, while not commonplace (thankfully) like toasters or computers are a matter of common parlance, part of our technological canon, if you will. If we can harness the power of nuclear fission for destructive purposes, surely breeding fire-breathing lizards is not that crazy.
And what about duping the Japanese with a guy in a suit? Well, that is just one of the many levels of satire in which James Morrow engages. In a commentary on both the United States military and the Hollywood film industry, Morrow looks at the relationship film has with deception. The government is no stranger to deception as a negotiating tactic. When they need to deceive the Japanese delegation about the veracity of their scaled-down monster, it makes perfect sense to turn to a professional industry practised in such deception. With the proper costuming, lighting, and acting, anything is possible in the movie industry.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is rife with satire of the movie industry; much of it, owing to my unfamiliarity with 1940s American cinema, went over my head. I knew enough to gather that James Whale and Willis O'Brien, hired to direct Thorley's performance and manage special effects, respectively, were real people in the movie industry. Morrow gives Thorley an over-the-top rival, who also plays a somewhat antagonistic role in both Thorley's life and the plot. Siegfried Dagover is enjoyable because he is a caricature of the jealous actor rather than despite this fact. Similarly, the rough characters of Thorley's director and producer on his movie project hearken back to the coarser era of American cinema. By no means do I subscribe to a view that American cinema was ever "innocent", but this was an era where radio was still the dominant communications medium. The cult of celebrity around movie actors, especially those who specialized in the monster movie industry, manifested differently than it does today. Morrow displays the differences, both celebrates them and mocks them, as is evident from Thorley and Darlene's interrupted adventures on Santa Monica beach with Thorley's monster costume. . . .
Moving further into meta-fictional territory, Morrow comments on the monster movie form itself. He (ironically, I think) has Thorley insist that, "the writers repeatedly employed a conceit that, in retrospect, seems to strike a blow for feminism." The necessity for a romantic interest for the male protagonist would often lead to his association with a lonely female scientist. Lo and behold, the biologists working on the Knickerbocker Project are Dr. Ivan Groelish and his daughter, Joy. Joy's relationship with Thorley is more short-lived and platonic than it is romantic, but it's clear Morrow is not aiming for a one-to-one correspondence. In fact, the biologists play a surprisingly small role considering the monstrous premise—again, because this is a story about Thorley and his role in a deception that failed to end a war, not a story about monsters invading Japan.
Any satire spared the monster movie industry Morrow saves for the United States military. Admirals Yordan and Strickland, like Dagover, are caricatures of stereotypes. And because everything about Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a caricature of a stereotype, that works. Yordan acts like an atheist attached to a religious event, forced to oversee a project he doesn't understand implemented by people who, not being military personnel, he does not trust. Of course, the situation is not helped by Thorley's irreverent attitude.
Like all satire, however, Shambling Toward Hiroshima has a serious point, embodied by the frame story. Thorley has eleventh hour encounters with a sympathetic hooker, a friendly hotel steward, and a fan stuck in a costume model after Thorley's famous monster. These characters serve as windows into the mind of the older, more experienced Syms Thorley, one haunted by his role in the war. More than just a failure to end the war, Thorley's mere involvement in the war has rendered the rest of his life in a darker shade of grey. He's continued to shuffle as a mummy, to howl as a werewolf . . . but that profession that he loved so much has been tainted for him. And all the awards and accolades that he has accumulated, the money and the cult recognition, if not fame, is a hollow victory compared to what could have been.
War is hell. This a theme oft-repeated, and to do something truly innovative with it is a formidable challenge for a writer. Simlarly, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are some of the most controversial events of the twentieth century, events that marked the beginning of the "Atomic Age" of humanity, and all the good and ill it would bring. I suppose it is possible to interpret this book as a pro-bomb statement. Simply read, this is a story of the military trying to persuade Japan to surrender through a mock demonstration of a superweapon. If that were the case, however, why not write about a mock demonstration of the atomic bomb? Instead Morrow chose to portray a fictitious alternative to the Manhattan Project. In doing so, he decouples the nearly indelible link between the mechanics of the atomic superweapon and the morality.
More than just a story about dropping the bomb, Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a story about the mindset of those working so hard to end the war. It's all there in the title, which is so perfect. "Shambling" is reminiscent of zombies—but, more topically, it refers to all the various monsters of the 1940s cinema. It also conjures the image of an inexorable but by no means smooth path toward the dropping of the atomic bomb, a weighty spectre of fate. Morrow gave me, someone who has no context for Hiroshima, an idea of the zeitgeist of 1940s America. As the war in the Pacific drew ever on, the prospect of ending it with one fell swoop grew ever more appealing. Each successive event compounded on the last, making the deployment of the bomb more likely. And so the world lurched and shambled, one step at a time, toward the beginning of the Atomic Age.
April 16, 2025
very fun and plays like a classic b-movie. i do wish it went a bit more into the psychology of the nuclear age allusions throughout rather than all at the end
August 1, 2018
When you think about it, Godzilla is a symbol for the abolition of nuclear weapons in the same way Smokey the Bear has become the same for the prevention of forest fires. With this in mind, the author has crafted a clever story about one man, one kaiju rubber suit, and the evils of the A-Bomb.
February 7, 2018
I mean... this book just wasn't for me.
It was full of (what I consider) pointless descriptions and scenes, and it could've been written in 50 pages and have been better.
Sure, the prose was pretty, the protagonist had a good personality (when he wasn't talking about killing himself) but it lacked a plot that held up.
Just not my cup of tea, but I'm sure it's someone else's.
It was full of (what I consider) pointless descriptions and scenes, and it could've been written in 50 pages and have been better.
Sure, the prose was pretty, the protagonist had a good personality (when he wasn't talking about killing himself) but it lacked a plot that held up.
Just not my cup of tea, but I'm sure it's someone else's.
September 11, 2018
Occasionally hilarious romp through a World War 2 where giant lizards were developed as an alternative to the Atomic Bomb.
April 20, 2009
Syms Thorley is a B-movie actor and writer renowned for his award-winning portrayals of monsters in 1940s Hollywood. Things are going well for Thorley: he's got the admiration of his fans, a steady work stream, and a brilliant script he and his girlfriend cooked up that could change the face of monster movies forever. But then the government shows up asking for his help: they need him for a top secret project to get the Japanese to surrender. What Thorley doesn't understand is why the need him. What good can a B-list monster movie actor do for the government? With this question looming overhead, Thorley soon discoveries that sometimes monsters aren't only in the movies...
Morrow's novel is a short one, but it sure packs a punch. A merger of the edginess of pulp fiction (the literary form, not the movie) and popular media drawn into reality, Shambling Towards Hiroshima sends us on what might be the ultimate top secret adventure. This isn't a novel that wants you to take it too seriously, though; it's a novel that is aware of the absurdity of its speculative claim and is all too prepared to capitalize on that in Morrow's writing style and characters. There is something both subtle and outrageous about the idea of the U.S. government using real-life monsters against the Japanese, particularly now that we think of Japan in terms of Godzilla jokes or production quality.
And I think this is Shambling Towards Hiroshima's strong point. Because it didn't take itself to seriously, I was able to set aside the little parts of me that wanted to call B.S. throughout the story. After all, this is an alternative history, of sorts, and it proposes something that is not only outlandish, but appropriately nostalgic. It works, too, because Thorley is an interesting character surrounded by a band of comical stereotypes who constantly add conflict to the main character's secret mission.
Morrow's style is clear and precise, with just enough comedic flare to keep things interesting. Even though Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a short novel, I found it incredibly enjoyable from start to finish, following the exploits of Thorley as he processed everything that was going on around him and attempted to put on a damn good show. There's something fascinating in being pulled back to the "good ole days" of science fiction television and film. From the start, I was immediately reminded on the Sci Fi Channel back when it used to run old Japanese monster movies practically on a loop. Those were the days, and being reminded of those nostalgic moments in childhood turned this novel into more than just another read, but something I could connect to my youth.
If you like the occasional pulp fiction novel, or even want to read about giant monsters tearing down cities and what not, then this is certainly a novel for you. You can find it at Tachyon Publications, a small press located in San Francisco, or pretty much anywhere you can order books from. Give it a look!
Morrow's novel is a short one, but it sure packs a punch. A merger of the edginess of pulp fiction (the literary form, not the movie) and popular media drawn into reality, Shambling Towards Hiroshima sends us on what might be the ultimate top secret adventure. This isn't a novel that wants you to take it too seriously, though; it's a novel that is aware of the absurdity of its speculative claim and is all too prepared to capitalize on that in Morrow's writing style and characters. There is something both subtle and outrageous about the idea of the U.S. government using real-life monsters against the Japanese, particularly now that we think of Japan in terms of Godzilla jokes or production quality.
And I think this is Shambling Towards Hiroshima's strong point. Because it didn't take itself to seriously, I was able to set aside the little parts of me that wanted to call B.S. throughout the story. After all, this is an alternative history, of sorts, and it proposes something that is not only outlandish, but appropriately nostalgic. It works, too, because Thorley is an interesting character surrounded by a band of comical stereotypes who constantly add conflict to the main character's secret mission.
Morrow's style is clear and precise, with just enough comedic flare to keep things interesting. Even though Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a short novel, I found it incredibly enjoyable from start to finish, following the exploits of Thorley as he processed everything that was going on around him and attempted to put on a damn good show. There's something fascinating in being pulled back to the "good ole days" of science fiction television and film. From the start, I was immediately reminded on the Sci Fi Channel back when it used to run old Japanese monster movies practically on a loop. Those were the days, and being reminded of those nostalgic moments in childhood turned this novel into more than just another read, but something I could connect to my youth.
If you like the occasional pulp fiction novel, or even want to read about giant monsters tearing down cities and what not, then this is certainly a novel for you. You can find it at Tachyon Publications, a small press located in San Francisco, or pretty much anywhere you can order books from. Give it a look!
March 6, 2012
Here's another book for my Science Fiction Course! This book is not really science fiction. It does possess science fiction elements in the form of giant lizard creatures (think Godzilla) and the idea of letting them lose on Japan to bring the Second World War to a firey, lizard-ocalypse. As you can guess, this book is a fun ride.
In Shambling Towards Hiroshima, we are introduced to Syms Thorley a B Movie Creature Feature Actor, who has played every monster under the sun (expect vampires, those are against his principle). Thorley is approached by the Navy to serve his country in the only way he can, by wearing a giant rubber dinosaur suit and destroying a model of a Japanese City. The fate of World War Two is in his short stubby rubber hands, and thousands of lives depend on him giving the performance of his life.
Thorley is a fun smart talking guy with a wicked sense of humour. You can't help but like him. He interacts with a few characters, but they're all pretty much stereotypes (Hollywood directors and actors, scientists, US Navy officials, nothing too deep). But this is a satire, the focus isn't on the characters per say, but on the message the author is trying to get across.
The premise of this book is kind of silly. But I kid you not, it works really well. Shambling is both a WWII satire and a love letter to the B-Movie and Horror Movie Scene. Even if you're not one to appriciate WWII narratives, if you have any love for the cinema, this book is definatly something you should check it out. The subject matter that this novel explores is a dark one, but it manages to do it in a lighthearted fun manner that somehow is though provoking at the same time. There is a rather intensive shift in the tone in the last twenty pages. I can't get much into that without spoiling the book. But it works and fits with the flow of the story.
So I highly suggest you check this one out. It's a pretty quick read and gives you a lot to think about and some awesome one liners you're going to want to quote in your next conversation.
In Shambling Towards Hiroshima, we are introduced to Syms Thorley a B Movie Creature Feature Actor, who has played every monster under the sun (expect vampires, those are against his principle). Thorley is approached by the Navy to serve his country in the only way he can, by wearing a giant rubber dinosaur suit and destroying a model of a Japanese City. The fate of World War Two is in his short stubby rubber hands, and thousands of lives depend on him giving the performance of his life.
Thorley is a fun smart talking guy with a wicked sense of humour. You can't help but like him. He interacts with a few characters, but they're all pretty much stereotypes (Hollywood directors and actors, scientists, US Navy officials, nothing too deep). But this is a satire, the focus isn't on the characters per say, but on the message the author is trying to get across.
The premise of this book is kind of silly. But I kid you not, it works really well. Shambling is both a WWII satire and a love letter to the B-Movie and Horror Movie Scene. Even if you're not one to appriciate WWII narratives, if you have any love for the cinema, this book is definatly something you should check it out. The subject matter that this novel explores is a dark one, but it manages to do it in a lighthearted fun manner that somehow is though provoking at the same time. There is a rather intensive shift in the tone in the last twenty pages. I can't get much into that without spoiling the book. But it works and fits with the flow of the story.
So I highly suggest you check this one out. It's a pretty quick read and gives you a lot to think about and some awesome one liners you're going to want to quote in your next conversation.
January 14, 2013
The plot: It's 1945. A B-movie actor is shanghaied by the Navy into performing in a giant monster suit to intimidate a Japanese delegation into convincing Hirohito that the United States has gigantic, ravenous, fire breathing behemoths they will unleash on Japan's civilian population if the Japanese don't surrender. And yes, there really are gigantic, ravenous, fire breathing behemoths. Clearly, this plan didn't work and the behemoths were never released-- instead, the military dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is the story told by Syms Thorley, the actor in question, just before he attempts suicide.
The book is loaded with references to B-movies and the people who worked on them, and Syms is a wiseass, so it's a fun read, but it never achieved the emotional depth I would expect for Syms to actually attempt to follow through on his suicide attempt. And of course calling any book framed by the main character's contemplation of killing himself "fun" feels... strange. I couldn't help liking Syms, his girlfriend, and the bizarre plot thought up by the Navy, and as I have two big kaiju fans in my family the "giant lizard monster in a suit" was entertaining for me. But a masterwork of literature it's not. Kaiju and B-movie fans will get a kick out of it, though!
The book is loaded with references to B-movies and the people who worked on them, and Syms is a wiseass, so it's a fun read, but it never achieved the emotional depth I would expect for Syms to actually attempt to follow through on his suicide attempt. And of course calling any book framed by the main character's contemplation of killing himself "fun" feels... strange. I couldn't help liking Syms, his girlfriend, and the bizarre plot thought up by the Navy, and as I have two big kaiju fans in my family the "giant lizard monster in a suit" was entertaining for me. But a masterwork of literature it's not. Kaiju and B-movie fans will get a kick out of it, though!
February 7, 2011
After playing a variety of classic monsters, horror actor Syms Thorley is hired for the role of a lifetime during the final months of World War II. He's asked to put on a rubber lizard suit, destroy a miniature replica of a Japanese city, and manage to convince a group of envoys from Japan that he's a downsized version of the giant fire-breathing lizards developed by a secret biological weapons program. If Thorley's portrayal is successful, it could lead Japan to surrender rather than see the destructive lizards unleashed along their coastline.
This is an original, entertaining read, and the performance scene was fantastic. The author mixes a lot of real movie references in with descriptions of Thorley's professional life, which really helped round the setting out.
The transitions between the character's past and present were sometimes awkward, but it went by so quickly that this wasn't too big an problem. The book is only novella length, which kept the premise from getting tired.
This is an original, entertaining read, and the performance scene was fantastic. The author mixes a lot of real movie references in with descriptions of Thorley's professional life, which really helped round the setting out.
The transitions between the character's past and present were sometimes awkward, but it went by so quickly that this wasn't too big an problem. The book is only novella length, which kept the premise from getting tired.
January 3, 2009
Excellent satirical work from James Morrow, the only writer I can think of who is capable of writing this alternative fictional history of World War II, featuring a secret U.S. military project breeding giant lizards to attack Japan, 1940s and '50s horror movies, walk-ons by such estimable figures as special effects "stop-action" master Willis O'Brien and director James Whale, and eloquent reflections on the insanity of nuclear weaponry.
May 14, 2009
This Morrow book is only a novella, and since he doesn't have as much time to develop ideas, the story has a Christopher Moore sort of feel to it, but that's not a bad thing. Syms Thorley writes a memoir of an alternate plan to end the war with Japan by playing a kaiju in a propaganda film. Morrow's books are always a treat!
October 17, 2009
I like anything by James Morrow. This kind of reminded me about the one where they always told the truth - like cotton candy and quickly forgettable. It's a small book, the characters and story are interesting, and did I say I like anything by James Morrow?
I'm exaggerating that. But I like a lot by him, and since "Towing Jehovah" I've been a fan. Anything he wants to do is okay with me.
I'm exaggerating that. But I like a lot by him, and since "Towing Jehovah" I've been a fan. Anything he wants to do is okay with me.
December 20, 2014
This is a fun little alternative WWII history. The premise - that the USA tried to persuade the Japanese to surrender by breeding Godzilla - is fresh and fun. But it's stretched out a little thinly in this work (it either needs much more plot or to be condensed into a shorter, punchier story).
April 18, 2009
A unique cross-genre masterpiece. Morrow crafts a novel that is original, funny, and sorrowful all at once.
September 25, 2010
B-movie actors, secret military projects and mutant lizards. This was a fun alt-history memoir-style novella.
January 1, 2016
Loved this book. One of the best I've read all year.
January 18, 2021
James Murrow has the Margaret Atwood problem. If JK Rowling or Vince Flynn had written this book, the creative depths they would've had to plunge to get here would have caused them to collapse dead, right there on the spot, before the ink had dried on the last jot or tittle. But this is James Murrow. How do you write something after Towing Jehova, Blameless in Abbadon, or Bible Stories for Adults? Like Margaret Atwood, Murrow at his worst (which this isn't) is still better than the finest book on the first six rows of tables when you walk into a Barnes and Noble.
I got this book when it came out on a lark and it's sat tantalizingly on my shelves for all these years since. I'm in between really heavy reads, and of course civilization has effectively ended, irrespective of the reprieve of four or maybe eight or maybe twelve years of Biden and/or Harris administrations. So this book was a nice escape.
It's a love-letter to the Hollywood monster/horror films of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, and being Murrow you can be sure it's not like a fan-boy gushing about the latest Marvel Universe dreck shat from the Netflix studios on Rotten Tomatoes, or a goodreads review of the latest Y.A. drivel en vogue at the local yoga studio or whatever. The best line in the novella compares Fritz Lang's Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to the German (movie version of) All Quiet on the Western Front as "All Quiet on the Expressionist Front." If you can appreciate that, this book is well worth the read. Also, it includes the finest sex scene involving a rubber monster suit I've ever read. And that's saying something...
On a more serious note, the one thing that bothered me about the book is its subject, V-J day and the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is one of the most horrific events in the history of warfare, beyond the Firebombings of Dreseden and Tokyo. Thich Nhat Hanh says that people who survive wars suffer the effects for seven generations. I think it's true, too, that the perpetrators of attrocities suffer the effects for that same time, particularly when its never acknowledged. I prefer to sidestep the question of whether dropping the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was warranted, along with the question of whether the United States should have gotten involved in World War II with the more profound or interesting idea that there never should've been in World War II in the first place.
All that said, recently the New Yorker reprinted an article from the fiftieth anniversary of the dropping of those bombs about survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (hibashuka) from different walks of life. Where Murrow takes the topic seriously, and treats it soberly, here, it reads like an afterthought in the last third of the book, where the first two are a romp through the Chaney/Karloff/etc golden years of Hollywood monster movies.
It's not to say that this is a topic off-limit to humor, or shouldn't be written about by Western writers, or whatever. Humor, well done, is another tool for examination of serious subjects. It's not a good comparison because it seems to lump German and Japanese cultures together, which is not my intent, but The Producers is a terrific example of this. It is a good comparison because it talks about the same era in the same tone. There is much good to be said about The Producers; those same elements are missing here.
I got this book when it came out on a lark and it's sat tantalizingly on my shelves for all these years since. I'm in between really heavy reads, and of course civilization has effectively ended, irrespective of the reprieve of four or maybe eight or maybe twelve years of Biden and/or Harris administrations. So this book was a nice escape.
It's a love-letter to the Hollywood monster/horror films of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, and being Murrow you can be sure it's not like a fan-boy gushing about the latest Marvel Universe dreck shat from the Netflix studios on Rotten Tomatoes, or a goodreads review of the latest Y.A. drivel en vogue at the local yoga studio or whatever. The best line in the novella compares Fritz Lang's Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to the German (movie version of) All Quiet on the Western Front as "All Quiet on the Expressionist Front." If you can appreciate that, this book is well worth the read. Also, it includes the finest sex scene involving a rubber monster suit I've ever read. And that's saying something...
On a more serious note, the one thing that bothered me about the book is its subject, V-J day and the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is one of the most horrific events in the history of warfare, beyond the Firebombings of Dreseden and Tokyo. Thich Nhat Hanh says that people who survive wars suffer the effects for seven generations. I think it's true, too, that the perpetrators of attrocities suffer the effects for that same time, particularly when its never acknowledged. I prefer to sidestep the question of whether dropping the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was warranted, along with the question of whether the United States should have gotten involved in World War II with the more profound or interesting idea that there never should've been in World War II in the first place.
All that said, recently the New Yorker reprinted an article from the fiftieth anniversary of the dropping of those bombs about survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (hibashuka) from different walks of life. Where Murrow takes the topic seriously, and treats it soberly, here, it reads like an afterthought in the last third of the book, where the first two are a romp through the Chaney/Karloff/etc golden years of Hollywood monster movies.
It's not to say that this is a topic off-limit to humor, or shouldn't be written about by Western writers, or whatever. Humor, well done, is another tool for examination of serious subjects. It's not a good comparison because it seems to lump German and Japanese cultures together, which is not my intent, but The Producers is a terrific example of this. It is a good comparison because it talks about the same era in the same tone. There is much good to be said about The Producers; those same elements are missing here.
May 23, 2017
Reading a James Morrow story, I expect parts of it to go over my head. He marries a love of genre with a literary style, meshing satire with reality, theme with plot, and poignancy with characterization. That he manages to write at that depth and still tell a compelling story speaks to his skills as a storyteller, as well as a literary darling.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is part love letter to '40s and '50s monster movies, part apology to Japan for what our country did to them in World War II. The two themes come together well, and with no surprise. Scholars have written much about the Godzilla movies reflecting the concerns of Japan after surviving two atomic bombs, so there was already a wealth of information for Morrow to use for his story. He injects a wry sense of humor into his version, though, as the giant lizard creatures in his story are very real.
To wit, Morrow creates an alternate history where the Manhattan Project has stalled, but the generals are still looking for something sufficient to scare the Japanese into surrendering. Enter the Knickerbocker Project, where geneticists have engineered violent, giant iguanas to set loose on Japan to destroy its cities. The thing is, the generals don't want to send the lizards to Japan without giving the ambassadors a chance to report back on what the US army can do and hopefully engender a surrender. After all, the US will lose troops, too if the war continues down its path.
The plan is to build a scale model of a Japanese city and let a baby giant lizard loose on the model to show the level of destruction they can bring to Japan. Unfortunately, the young lizards are docile and loving, and about as destructive as a flock of butterflies. Enter Syms Thorley, a B-movie actor who is well known for playing monsters, and an elaborately contructed giant lizard suit that can roar and breathe fire, among other things.
The story is told from Thorley's perspective, as he's writing a narrative of his time during the project, ostensibly as a suicide note. He jumps back and forth from reminiscing to telling us how his life is now. He's writing from a hotel room, where he's staying as a guest at a movie convention, having celebrated receiving a lifetime achievement award for his works. His writing is interrupted by different people -- a staff member, a prostitute, and a convention attendee -- that gives us a chance to see him reflect on his time involved with Project Knickerbocker. He's by turns proud of the work he did and ashamed of his part in the war, which is the real thrust of the story. By the end, we get a full story of the project and its aftereffects, where the satire clears like a fog lifting and we learn the point of this novella.
Morrow is a fantastic writer, and Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a fantastic story. It's not perfect (the ending feels rushed, and shifts in tone so suddenly that it's jarring), but it tells an engaging story through a likable character and has a strong message. I haven't read enough of Morrow's work, but Shambling Towards Hiroshima encourages me to get to it. I've had his Biblical satires for years, and need to move them up my to-read list.
Shambling Towards Hiroshima is part love letter to '40s and '50s monster movies, part apology to Japan for what our country did to them in World War II. The two themes come together well, and with no surprise. Scholars have written much about the Godzilla movies reflecting the concerns of Japan after surviving two atomic bombs, so there was already a wealth of information for Morrow to use for his story. He injects a wry sense of humor into his version, though, as the giant lizard creatures in his story are very real.
To wit, Morrow creates an alternate history where the Manhattan Project has stalled, but the generals are still looking for something sufficient to scare the Japanese into surrendering. Enter the Knickerbocker Project, where geneticists have engineered violent, giant iguanas to set loose on Japan to destroy its cities. The thing is, the generals don't want to send the lizards to Japan without giving the ambassadors a chance to report back on what the US army can do and hopefully engender a surrender. After all, the US will lose troops, too if the war continues down its path.
The plan is to build a scale model of a Japanese city and let a baby giant lizard loose on the model to show the level of destruction they can bring to Japan. Unfortunately, the young lizards are docile and loving, and about as destructive as a flock of butterflies. Enter Syms Thorley, a B-movie actor who is well known for playing monsters, and an elaborately contructed giant lizard suit that can roar and breathe fire, among other things.
The story is told from Thorley's perspective, as he's writing a narrative of his time during the project, ostensibly as a suicide note. He jumps back and forth from reminiscing to telling us how his life is now. He's writing from a hotel room, where he's staying as a guest at a movie convention, having celebrated receiving a lifetime achievement award for his works. His writing is interrupted by different people -- a staff member, a prostitute, and a convention attendee -- that gives us a chance to see him reflect on his time involved with Project Knickerbocker. He's by turns proud of the work he did and ashamed of his part in the war, which is the real thrust of the story. By the end, we get a full story of the project and its aftereffects, where the satire clears like a fog lifting and we learn the point of this novella.
Morrow is a fantastic writer, and Shambling Towards Hiroshima is a fantastic story. It's not perfect (the ending feels rushed, and shifts in tone so suddenly that it's jarring), but it tells an engaging story through a likable character and has a strong message. I haven't read enough of Morrow's work, but Shambling Towards Hiroshima encourages me to get to it. I've had his Biblical satires for years, and need to move them up my to-read list.
July 28, 2020
This is one of the most oddball books I've read in the year of 2020... and somehow, it's just crazy enough to work. To the casual reader, blending Kaiju (giant monsters) with the historical account of the Manhattan Project and the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki may seem ludicrous and even disrespectful, but if you know the real-world connections between the atomic bomb and the Kaiju film genre, it makes sense. And author James Morrow somehow manages to make the oddball premise work, and even give it a sense of heart and depth in the process.
Syms Thorley is a B-movie actor more famous for playing movie monsters than anything else... so when he's approached by a couple of G-men during the filming of a Frankenstein knock-off, he's flabbergasted to learn that they've chosen him for a top-secret project. With the war in the Pacific still raging, the US has developed the Knickerbocker Project... a secret biological weapon consisting of releasing gigantic reptilian monsters onto Japan's shores to terrify the country into submission. Thorley's job will be to don a rubber monster suit and impersonate the monster for a film that will hopefully convince Japan to surrender without needing the lizards... and if he's to prevent a horror beyond imagining from erupting, he must give the performance of his life.
Morrow's writing has a tendency to veer off into odd tangents, but it still does a fine job of telling a story that's at turns witty and tragic. His characters are all too human, with their accompanying flaws and foibles but with their likable traits as well, and he manages to humanize even the characters that could have easily been stock villains (such as the government officials and Thorley's actor rival). And even if the book has its hilarious moments, it also has moments of deep emotion and sadness as well.
For those wondering why anyone, novelist or not, would try to connect rubber-suit monsters to the atomic bomb... the original "Godzilla" movie (called "Godjira" in Japan) was originally meant to be an allegory for the atomic bomb, and only later became the cheesy B-movie popcorn sensation it's largely known for today. Morrow took this analogy and ran with it, making not only a powerful statement about the atomic bomb and playing with powers that we don't understand, but a love letter to classic monster movies and B-movies at the same time. It even has some loving things to say about the fanbases surrounding said movies, which I appreciated.
A surprisingly original alternate history, "Shambling Towards Hiroshima" is a unique look at one of the most terrible events of World War II, as well as a loving homage towards monster flicks and a nod towards their genesis. If you like giant monsters, give this a read.
Syms Thorley is a B-movie actor more famous for playing movie monsters than anything else... so when he's approached by a couple of G-men during the filming of a Frankenstein knock-off, he's flabbergasted to learn that they've chosen him for a top-secret project. With the war in the Pacific still raging, the US has developed the Knickerbocker Project... a secret biological weapon consisting of releasing gigantic reptilian monsters onto Japan's shores to terrify the country into submission. Thorley's job will be to don a rubber monster suit and impersonate the monster for a film that will hopefully convince Japan to surrender without needing the lizards... and if he's to prevent a horror beyond imagining from erupting, he must give the performance of his life.
Morrow's writing has a tendency to veer off into odd tangents, but it still does a fine job of telling a story that's at turns witty and tragic. His characters are all too human, with their accompanying flaws and foibles but with their likable traits as well, and he manages to humanize even the characters that could have easily been stock villains (such as the government officials and Thorley's actor rival). And even if the book has its hilarious moments, it also has moments of deep emotion and sadness as well.
For those wondering why anyone, novelist or not, would try to connect rubber-suit monsters to the atomic bomb... the original "Godzilla" movie (called "Godjira" in Japan) was originally meant to be an allegory for the atomic bomb, and only later became the cheesy B-movie popcorn sensation it's largely known for today. Morrow took this analogy and ran with it, making not only a powerful statement about the atomic bomb and playing with powers that we don't understand, but a love letter to classic monster movies and B-movies at the same time. It even has some loving things to say about the fanbases surrounding said movies, which I appreciated.
A surprisingly original alternate history, "Shambling Towards Hiroshima" is a unique look at one of the most terrible events of World War II, as well as a loving homage towards monster flicks and a nod towards their genesis. If you like giant monsters, give this a read.
May 9, 2025
I enjoyed this book, but for the record:
Vincent Price is excellent (as always) in The Pit and the Pendulum, and Corman based The Haunted Palace on The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, not "The Color Out of Space." I'm not sure whether to chalk this discrepancy up to a research failure or the fact that our protagonist Isaac Margolis, alias "Syms Thorley," is a bit of a windbag. His narration, thoroughly entertaining, reminds me of Humbert Humbert's, sans the murder and pedophilia. Thorley, like Humbert, cannot finish a sentence without an allusion and a five dollar word. (Look no further than the title, which in three words references a Yeats poem and a historical event, not to mention Roget's.) This is to the author's credit and to the book's benefit. Morrow's wit keeps the reader hooked even as his plot dives into waters ever murkier and fishier too.
Film as propaganda is hardly unexplored territory, but Morrow combines tokusatsu with a scare-'em-straight style of peace talk: call it "Schlock & Awe." Thorley plays "Gorgantis," a miniature specimen of the race of mutant fire-breathing aquatic lizards the U.S. military has bred to attack Japan as a means of ensuring Japanese surrender under American terms. One imagines Morrow noticed the coincidence of the Universal Monsters era with World War II and decided to run with it. The result inverts the traditional order of events. In Shambling Towards Hiroshima, the beast precedes the bomb.
Since Ishirō Honda's Gojira (1954), kaiju have shared a link, sometimes subtextual and often explicit, to nuclear weaponry; and radiation has triggered many a cinematic rampage, either by waking a giant or by making one. Gorgantis differs from his "real-world" counterparts in that he is not a child of the atom bomb but an alternative—indeed, a would-be preventative—to it. His eventual legacy as a symbol of nuclear disarmament feels inevitable in light of his origin. This reversal is about as clever as Shambling Towards Hiroshima gets, but that's clever enough for 170 pages that balance winking satire with a heartfelt tribute to movie monsters of yore—and to the survivors of two of the worst attacks on civilians to date.
Vincent Price is excellent (as always) in The Pit and the Pendulum, and Corman based The Haunted Palace on The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, not "The Color Out of Space." I'm not sure whether to chalk this discrepancy up to a research failure or the fact that our protagonist Isaac Margolis, alias "Syms Thorley," is a bit of a windbag. His narration, thoroughly entertaining, reminds me of Humbert Humbert's, sans the murder and pedophilia. Thorley, like Humbert, cannot finish a sentence without an allusion and a five dollar word. (Look no further than the title, which in three words references a Yeats poem and a historical event, not to mention Roget's.) This is to the author's credit and to the book's benefit. Morrow's wit keeps the reader hooked even as his plot dives into waters ever murkier and fishier too.
Film as propaganda is hardly unexplored territory, but Morrow combines tokusatsu with a scare-'em-straight style of peace talk: call it "Schlock & Awe." Thorley plays "Gorgantis," a miniature specimen of the race of mutant fire-breathing aquatic lizards the U.S. military has bred to attack Japan as a means of ensuring Japanese surrender under American terms. One imagines Morrow noticed the coincidence of the Universal Monsters era with World War II and decided to run with it. The result inverts the traditional order of events. In Shambling Towards Hiroshima, the beast precedes the bomb.
Since Ishirō Honda's Gojira (1954), kaiju have shared a link, sometimes subtextual and often explicit, to nuclear weaponry; and radiation has triggered many a cinematic rampage, either by waking a giant or by making one. Gorgantis differs from his "real-world" counterparts in that he is not a child of the atom bomb but an alternative—indeed, a would-be preventative—to it. His eventual legacy as a symbol of nuclear disarmament feels inevitable in light of his origin. This reversal is about as clever as Shambling Towards Hiroshima gets, but that's clever enough for 170 pages that balance winking satire with a heartfelt tribute to movie monsters of yore—and to the survivors of two of the worst attacks on civilians to date.
March 5, 2019
One of James Morrow's lighter works, Shambling Towards Hiroshima could also have been aptly titled Theater of War, as the monster movie machine of Hollywood meets the war machine of the Pentagon. An epistolary tale in the form of a lengthy suicide note written by screenwriter and rubber-monster-suit actor Syms Thorley, in which he laments his involvement in a failed attempt to use the threat of military-controlled giant monsters to end World War 2.
There is much in Morrow's novel about monsters of war both real and imagined, but this morose contemplation on horror as entertainment in the Hiroshima shadows of truly monstrous acts is playfully wrapped up in a Hollywood satire. In fact, Morrow does such a good job of blending real film history with the films and filmmakers of his alternate universe that it can be hard separating truth from fiction, and considering the backdrop of propaganda-driven fictions attempting to manipulate the real world, this is probably meant to enhance/enforce the novel's overall metaphor.
This isn't Morrow's first book to tangle with the dark realities of nuclear war, but it is far less morose than This Is the Way the World Ends, and possibly even a tad more hopeful.
There is much in Morrow's novel about monsters of war both real and imagined, but this morose contemplation on horror as entertainment in the Hiroshima shadows of truly monstrous acts is playfully wrapped up in a Hollywood satire. In fact, Morrow does such a good job of blending real film history with the films and filmmakers of his alternate universe that it can be hard separating truth from fiction, and considering the backdrop of propaganda-driven fictions attempting to manipulate the real world, this is probably meant to enhance/enforce the novel's overall metaphor.
This isn't Morrow's first book to tangle with the dark realities of nuclear war, but it is far less morose than This Is the Way the World Ends, and possibly even a tad more hopeful.
June 16, 2022
A quick and easy novella that is heavy on the satire and criticism of the use of nuclear weaponry in Japan during WWII. With hints of "Wag the Dog", we follow an actor recruited toward efforts to confuse and intimidate Japanese generals (and Hirohito) in the waning days of the war; however, all the effort put forward does nothing to change Truman's ultimate choice. It's a very clear statement of the inanity of wartime decisions, combined with reflection upon avoidable outcomes. The tone of the text is light, the narrator a slightly flawed character, the circumstances absurd...much like the real choices that are made in impossible situations.
3 stars. While a novel conceit, the novella never really grabbed me, even though I'm in a mood for satire recently (full disclosure: Just finished Kaufman's Antkind, and reading a Vonnegut novel at present). The book is cleverly done though; Morrow could never be accused of shambling his way through expressing the story at the heart of the novella. Maybe a later examination would find me more engaged...
3 stars. While a novel conceit, the novella never really grabbed me, even though I'm in a mood for satire recently (full disclosure: Just finished Kaufman's Antkind, and reading a Vonnegut novel at present). The book is cleverly done though; Morrow could never be accused of shambling his way through expressing the story at the heart of the novella. Maybe a later examination would find me more engaged...
February 29, 2024
Four stars not so much for the quality of the story, but for the FUN factor. This alternate history reminiscence by a horror-movie actor who during WWII gets drafted by the U.S. military to make the first Kaiju movie — dressing up in a Godzilla-type outfit — in order to scare the Japanese into surrendering, thus negating the need to drop the A-bomb — is a delightful read, something that cannot necessarily be said of Morrow’s more serious works. [The idea is that the Navy has bred REAL Kaijus in captivity, and the film demonstrates what will happen to Japan if they are unleashed to wreak havoc.]
This story is tailor-made for geeks like me; and like I said, FUN. The references to real films and filmmakers are seamlessly integrated into this fictional actor’s life. It’s well-told, a bit melancholic at times, but just enjoyable, and doesn’t overstay its welcome.
This story is tailor-made for geeks like me; and like I said, FUN. The references to real films and filmmakers are seamlessly integrated into this fictional actor’s life. It’s well-told, a bit melancholic at times, but just enjoyable, and doesn’t overstay its welcome.
April 19, 2020
Kind of like Bigfoot and the Bodhisattva this book seemed to be kind of confused about whether it should be funny or depressing. Maybe that Morrow's style? I guess it's more absurd than funny because this one seemed to be pretty dark most of the time, while at the same time being ridiculous. It was a novella, but I feel like it could have been a short story and maybe had more impact.
Once again Morrow is raising awareness about a dark time in history and it's completely obvious how he feels about the events. For me, that was probably the most interesting part of the story, though it did make me really sad.
Once again Morrow is raising awareness about a dark time in history and it's completely obvious how he feels about the events. For me, that was probably the most interesting part of the story, though it did make me really sad.
April 8, 2023
Shambling toward Hiroshima had an absurd but engaging kernel of a main idea that was poorly developed. After the author fails to sharply deliver his message through satire and offers a fair amount of unsubstantial character fluff, the short novel undergoes a dramatic tonal shift in which he directly moralizes about the dangers of nuclear weapons and questions the Armageddon fetishism which crops up in science fiction from time to time.
The book felt a lot like a weakly structured, less humorous Dr. Strangelove in which the protagonist threw himself off a building about the same time the author threw in the towel.
I’ll give it two stars because the humor occasionally landed and the kernel of a main idea is there.
The book felt a lot like a weakly structured, less humorous Dr. Strangelove in which the protagonist threw himself off a building about the same time the author threw in the towel.
I’ll give it two stars because the humor occasionally landed and the kernel of a main idea is there.
May 31, 2024
The easiest way to describe "Shambling Towards Hiroshima" is as a reverse "shadow of the vampire" (2001) but for Kaiju and giant monster movies! In it a world war 2 era poverty row Hollywood monster suit actor is tasked with convincing a wartime Japanese delegation that he is a miniature version of a type of giant lizard that the US navy has designed to end the war in the pacific so the united states never unleashes the real thing on a city!
This is a piece of meta-fiction that will be a real treat for fans of classic horror, sci-fi, and giant monster films and is also a piece of fiction that has a lot of weight to it as well!
Author James K. Morrow really blew my socks off with this one and I think it might be my favorite fiction discovery of this year so far!
This is a piece of meta-fiction that will be a real treat for fans of classic horror, sci-fi, and giant monster films and is also a piece of fiction that has a lot of weight to it as well!
Author James K. Morrow really blew my socks off with this one and I think it might be my favorite fiction discovery of this year so far!
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