A year or so before I finally succumbed to Goodreads, I sent several horror novel reviews to friends and family under the general banner of “Mass Market Mayhem.” Since I’ve already met my goal for the year (so it doesn’t feel like cheating), I’ve decided to copy those reviews here. I’ve edited them only lightly.
Mass Market Mayhem — Episode Three
After The Freakshow, I started to feel like the old Dorchester Leisure horror paperbacks were killing off too many brain cells, so I took a break and read some H.G. Wells and then a few play scripts (New York always makes me want to read plays).
Then I decided to return to mass market — it's summer, after all — but moved up a level in terms of quality ... maybe. I think each of the titles in the queue for July started as hardcovers, but really only found their groove once they hit the paperback racks. Does a hardcover birth guarantee a better book? Let's find out.
Crooked Tree by Robert C. Wilson
First, one of the great mass market horror covers ever. Just tell me you could stumble across that cover staring out at you from some drugstore paperback rack (when such things still existed) and fail to at least give the book a closer look. And then that inset!
Sigh. Remember when even cheesy horror paperbacks had embossed foil lettering and die-cut covers with elaborate, lurid inset artwork? (For a crazy-great summation of those days, pick up Paperbacks from Hell: The Twisted History of 70s and 80s Horror Fiction by Grady Hendrix. Fantastic book.)
The pitch: Real bears and a sort of Native American werebear threaten real estate development in Michigan — Jaws meets Grizzly meets John Grisham.
Wilson is predominantly a lawyer now, as near as I can tell; I tried to acquire the e-book rights to Crooked Tree at one point, but he didn't have any interest in digital publishing, or at least in my offer. He did allow his alma mater to do a small paper run around the same time, but the book is once again out of print. It shouldn’t be.
The book is extremely methodical, laying out its extremely linear plot in an extremely lawyerly manner, beat by beat by beat. Which probably sounds like a slam, but that's not how I mean it at all. It's a novel in which you can sort of see the writer learning how to write a novel as he goes, and the deliberateness and linearity actually help some of the more supernatural elements seem more plausible.
Basically, a young lawyer is trying to help the local Ottawa Indian community fight real estate developers who want to do the usual white man thing — pave paradise and put up a parking lot or something to that effect. As he's working through the courts, a more supernatural presence is fighting its own battle: a long-dead Indian spirit is possessing the local bear population, causing it to attack and kill a fair number of both locals and tourists, AND manipulating a human familiar to follow the bears and mutilate the already mutilated victims further. It's complicated.
I think a more seasoned novelist would have tied those two elements together in a more organic and satisfying way; as it is, they seem largely independent of one another for most of the book, except by implication. And a good editor would have tightened the whole thing by eighty or a hundred pages, especially in those spots where Wilson is clearly just trying to find his way out of some swamp and onto his next predetermined beat. A particularly flabby example:
Page 178 - [Axel] was in a hurry to get home.
Page 179 - "I'm in no hurry," Axel said.
Page 180 - [Axel] knew he had to hurry.
All of the above within a scene that doesn't actually need to exist in the first place, but a good example of how Wilson wrote this novel moment by moment, and never quite figured out that you don't always need to go from a to b to c; sometimes you can jump right from a to c and the reader will be just fine.
I'm trashing it more than I mean to; it's really a pretty decent book. There are effective scares, decent character moments, and Wilson seems to have done his research. The bear stuff, the Indian stuff, the legal stuff, the Michigan stuff — all seem legit (I have no idea if they are, but he sells them pretty well). His Ottawa characters seem a little more entwined within the white community than seems likely for 1977 ... but who knows, maybe that part of Michigan was more woke forty years ago than I would have guessed.
A couple of the big reveals are a little too telegraphed to be effective and thus feel like they should have a big "dunh dunh DUNH" stinger on the soundtrack, but that's actually more fun than annoying.
There aren't any overt similarities to The Forsaken Boy, but I'm sure the general atmosphere leaked into my brain back in the 70s and played some little part in the eventual development of my own book. There's certainly more overt cultural appropriation than there was (I hope) in The Forsaken Boy, and definitely more white savior syndrome, but that's true of a lot of horror from that era. I can only think of a single Native American horror novel written by an actual Native American (Indigenous Person?) and that's Crota by Owl Goingback.
Side note: damn, I wish I had a name as cool as Owl Goingback.
(2022 addendum: When I wrote this, I had not yet discovered Stephen Graham Jones.)
Crooked Tree grade: low B-minus, although a good edit could probably bring it up to a B. Not one of the great horror novels of my life, but at least parts of it have a place somewhere down there on one of the lower shelves.
The prose is generally unremarkable, solid and workmanlike, but I did particularly appreciate the atmosphere of certain paragraphs like this one:
“The black bear is plantigrade, like man, with the heel and ball of the foot touching the ground... Looking closely at the tracks around the corpse, it could be imagined that the soft black dirt held the imprint of a naked human foot.”
Dunh dunh DUNH!