I really enjoyed this. Too bad we don't have the rest of the story in graphic novel form :-(
Likewise Dean Koontz/Chris Snow fans mourn that the third book in the Moonlight Bay/Chris Snow Series has never been published.
In the forward, Dean Koontz writes:
I have promised to write the third Chris Snow, and I will. In fact, I have begun it. Meanwhile, I am delighted with this graphic novel, and I think Derek Ruiz, Grant Alter, and Robert Gill have produced a brilliant adaptation. So hang on and hang ten through this apocalypse with monkeys.
The official name of the series in Moonlight Bay. In one picture in the graphic novel, I found it strange that the police station has the name "Midnight Bay Police" on the front - I wonder if this was a mistake?
My favorite scenes feature Monkeys and Dolls :-)
Favorite Passages:
Foreword by Dean Koontz
Inspiration is a stranger animal than people think. Readers tend to suppose that ideas for novels come to me in bad dreams. In fact, I've never gotten an idea from a nightmare.
. . . .
In the case of Fear Nothing, however, a magazine article did have something to do with my inspiration. People ran a story about children with xerodermapigmentosum (XP), an inherited disorder in which the body is unable to repair damage to the skin and eyes caused by exposure to the sun and other sources of light. Cumulative damage can lead to terminal cancer. People with XP have to live by night and candlelight, always in the shadows.
Chapter One
I have lived more than 28 years which is a miracle of sorts - although some people, seeing my life from outside, might think it a curse.
________
These four-legged citizens of Moonlight Bay seem to possess a more complex understanding of life and kindness than at least some of my neighbors.
________
These people were not attracted to me because of anything especially winning about my personality or special love for my father. Everyone who knew him loved him. But to these dedicated healers, I represent that thing . . . beyond their ability to cure.
_________
His name was Steven Snow, and he was a great man. He never won a war or wrote a great novel, but he was greater than any general or prize winning novelist who ever lived.
He was great because he was kind. He was humble, gentle, full of laughter. He was a literature professor. The sort of professor his students remained in touch with decades after leaving his classroom.
Though I circumscribed his life virtually from the day I was born, he never once made me feel that he regretted fathering me or that I was anything less than an unmitigated joy and a source of undiluted pride to him.
He lived with dignity and never failed to celebrate what was right with the world.
_________
My Dad, Mom and I talked about novels, old movies, politicians, poetry, music, history, science, religion, owls and raccoons and bats and other creatures that shared the night with me.
We discussed everything. No program of physical exercise was complete in our house if we didn't include a daily workout of the tongue.
_________
I seize the night and ride it as though it were a great black stallion.
Happiness was mine to choose or reject, and I embraced it.
Chapter Two
I decided to go the way of the cat.
_________
Suddenly everything seemed significant.
________
Love You Snowman.
Love You.
That's our little mantra.
It's our truth.
Chapter Three
We're talking something criminal?
Deeply and weird.
________
. . . I rose to my full height and ran like a cat, an owl, wondering if I would find safe shelter before dawn, or if I would still be afoot to curl and blacken under the hot rising sun.
________
Angela's quick, nervous hopping-hen eyes pecked at me and then the patio to confirm I had come alone.
________
No one can carry the entire world on her shoulders.
Some of us better try.
________
You've got so many friends . . . but there're enemies you don't know about. Dangerous bastards. And some of them are strange. They're becoming.
I've been wondering where to begin . . how to tell you. I think I should start with the monkey.
_________
I'm becoming another Angela. Something I don't want to be.
Chapter Four
Sometimes there is no darker place than our own thoughts: the moonless midnight of the mind.
________
I was simultaneously touched and creeped out.
_________
This darkness was so bottomless that it didn't welcome even me. All was blackness on blackness.
_________
The Halloway Interpretation would be I had seen the truth reflected in Orson's eyes from my own heart and I was unwilling to look upon it directly.