Customer Reviews

The Darkest Part of the Woods

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

This book felt, smelled, and oozed autumn. The best "something wrong with the woods" story ever. At one point Mr. Campbell tips his hat to the Blair Witch Project with a mention of Burkitsville, which is fitting. Like The BWP this book gives you hints and clues, and enough "what the hell was that's" to hint at something nameless and ominous, but always lets the reader complete the picture. Another reason it works as with all his other books, you give a damn about the people that fill the pages. I genuinely felt bad for our artist/mother when her work fails to inspire, or the brother who fears he has been spending a little too much "quality" time with his aunt. Mr. Campbell has a writing style that has always seemed authentic and somehow slightly antiquated in a good way (or maybe just very British) .. It never feels like your reading Stephen King...you can tell his influences are much older.. Lovecraft, Blackwood, and Machen. Darkest Part of the Woods has a hint of decadence as well..Huysmans come to mind. Highly recommended for those who enjoy their horrors lush and literate.

"The Darkest Part of the Woods" is less of a return to form for British horror Grandmaster Ramsey Campbell and more of a homecoming jaunt to his old, familiar haunts: the dark thickets and menacing woodland traipses of Southwestern England, where the Elder Gods slumber beneath rotten standing stones, and hungry, withered things wait and watch for the innocent and unwary.

For those with the patience to penetrate its thickly forested perimeter and discover its mysteries, "The Darkest Part of the Woods" ultimately proves a darksome treasurehouse, and Campbell ratchets the atmosphere up from slight unease to soul-stifling terror. This is a tasty spiced October brew of ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties, but in Campbell's England there are no Saints left to preserve us.

"Darkest Part" starts with a peculiar kind of homecoming for the Price family. The mad patriarch Lennox Price, presiding over a circle of his fellow inmates in a Brichester madhouse, issues a mysterious summons to his estranged wife Margo, a London artist starving for inspiration; stoic daughter Heather, now a university librarian struggling with her listless teenage son, Sam; and Sam himself, still wrestling with what he thought he saw as he camped in a tree shelter one night, something so vast and shadowy that he lurched off the platform in terror and snapped his leg.

Lennox Price was formerly a brilliant toxicologist who came to the Goodmanswood in the Severn Valley to study a peculiar fungus in the depths of the forest. The most perilous Science has a habit of devouring the scientist, and Lennox promptly fell victim to the mind-warping hallucinogenic properties of the fungus he discovered, categorized, immortalized in print, and named; now he spends most of his days tittering and gazing across the lowering woodland outside the window of his sanatarium.

Price's "invitation" is rather sneaky: the family converges on the insane asylum---known as the Arbour---where he is imprisoned, after Price's doctor telephones Margo with the warning that Lennox and his band of followers have escaped into the woods that surround the madhouse. Lennox is a uniter, not a divider: his nocturnal flight into the woods even manages to call up the Price family's other daughter, the more whimsicial Sophie, from her mysterious travels in America. She arrives unannounced in Brichester days later, and bearing not a few secrets herself.

When I was in graduate school in upstate New York I lived in a cottage that backed up directly onto a deep, dark woodland. I remember resting my eyes for a few minutes from my studies, and gazing out through my study windows at the lowering trees; practically every day I would go for long walks in the wood, meandering walks for the most part, but walks that would unfailingly lead me to a sort of central circle of ancient, gnarled giants, which held court around a huge, venerable maple. That tree had presence, power, authority: I nicknamed it "Grandfather Tree", and it became a centerpiece of my private mythology.

I always found myself replenished, fortified, by these walks, but I never felt I had been alone in the lonely woodlands. On some nights, cast in a shroud of darkness by the New Moon, I unwelcome and would quicken my steps, as if intruding on some sylvan ritual, resented by the thick leafy groves and twisted, wooden sentries.

Woods have an atavistic power---even Campbell's besieged Goodmanswood, its territory threatened by a new highway bypass, has something cloaked within, something corrupt, hungry, growing and eager to push its tendrils into neighboring Brichester. This is what I mean when I say that Campbell has returned to his old haunts. The very best of Campbell's horror derives much of its magic from the juxtaposition of the teeming, seedy, guttering modern United Kingdom with the ancient secrets that sleep fitfully below its new glittering plastic, steel and neon surface of superhighways and strip malls.

Campbell is fascinated in the interplay between ancient and modern, between the horrible banality and tedium of contemporary life and the seething, soul-searing horror of the cancred tomb and unquiet grave. Campbell uses all the magic in his trunk to terrify the reader, and he is particularly intrigued by transformations. Can a family, ensconced in a nettle of horror and magic, ever truly be free of it? The neighbors, sensing the Price family drawn back to the haunted forest, turn on them, and yet what are the malformed, moon-pale heads peering up over log-piles and rock walls? What is the thing with burning hands and buzzing face that Sam glimpses in the woods? What of the elongated, pale "Sticky Man" the schoolgirls talk about in terrified whispers, growing taller and thinner with each full moon?

The less said about the plot here, the better: this is a novel bursting at the seams with ideas, and Campbell lures the reader deeper into this forest at twilight, ever more mazelike with each page, ever more engrossing and disturbing, with its increasingly stealthy, sinister, and sneaky tale of ancient sorcery that flourished in Goodmanswood---named after the "Tall Man" that would show lost travelers out of the wood, or in darker tales, draw them farther in---sorcery, and worship, and secrets ancient when Rome was an infant.

With that in mind, a word of caution: Campbell is no King or Koontz, and his terrors are subtle, almost reticent. A work by Campbell is a work of secrets cloaked in skin, bone, and earth, a work of layers, and it takes a while for "The Darkest Part of the Woods" to really pick up steam. Initially I was annoyed by its pace, and almost gave up on it.

How fortunate for me---and unfortunate for my sleep---that I soldiered on! Campbell an admirer of classic ghost-tale wrangler M.R. James, uses many Jamesian techniques and draws on the ancient power of his silent, looming woods to craft up some delicious, mortifying terrors. There are two sequences late in the book---one involving a confused pursuit through the forest, the other involving a spelunk into the sooty, twisting cellar of a ruin---that are among the most terrifying ever set to paper.

For all his deftness and misdirection, for all the creepy Autumn richness of this book, Campbell has written a work of sheer, skin-crawling horror. Like an October storm, "Darkest Part" starts up with a flurry of crinkled leaves, the kiss of a zephyr, the flash of heat lightning and the soft cough of far off thunder, and then---before you can get out of the way---you're caught up in the torrent and forced to seek shelter for the night in the forlorn cottage in the middle of the forest---in the very darkest part of the Woods.

Ramsey Campbell is a bit of an aquired taste. This most literate of horror writers is not out to race your pulse or gross you out. Thrill seekers should search elsewhere. But for those of you able to settle into moody, carefully crafted prose, the subtle delights set him apart from his run-and-gun contemporaries. If most horror fiction is beer to be guzzled, this is cognac to be savored.

Ramsey Campbell has obviously had some experience with psychedelics. Any knowledge you may have in this realm will add to the verisimilitude. If you've read H.P. Lovecraft, M.R. James, and/or Robert Aikman you can better appreciate the literary traditions Campbell draws upon.

I have little to add to the story descriptions ably discussed in other reviews. One additional warning, the paperback version is printed in the smallest type I've ever seen (or not seen). Unless you have excellent vision, buy a new or used hardback copy. And sip s-l-o-w-l-y.

Books should be approached with an open mind, I've always believed. Darkest/Woods is one of those novels that is more atmosphere than adventure. If you allow it to proceed at its own pace, it will weave its web around your mind. Subtle - no Stephen King antics here - but effective, it's sense of threat and menace grows a bit with every chapter. It's not Nightmare on Elm St, but I'll tell you, I sure wouldn't set foot in that woods. Campbell is a capable writer.

I wouldn't call this a return to form for Campbell, who excels at many forms, and has done some of his finest work in thrillers such as THE ONE SAFE PLACE. But it is a return to the supernatural form where he first took root, and it feels like a major contribution to that field. There are images here which count as innovation while remaining firmly in the tradition of M.R. James, Blackwood and Lovecraft. Just looking at the chapter titles gives a frisson like the ones I used to get looking at titles in an Arkham House catalog. And while it builds with Campbell's signature sense of dread imbued in every phrase, the finale is fantastically literal. One of his very best, and that is saying a lot.

American professor Dr. Lennox Price moves his family to Goodmanswood, England to study the dark legends surrounding the area especially the delusions of the nearby residents. However, instead of debunking the myths, Lennox is soon sucked into his work as a converted true believer. Thus he is committed, but quickly develops a cult following among the asylum's crazier folks.

His daughter archivist Heather follows up on her father's enigmatic beliefs about Goodmanswood that links them to the alchemist Nathaniel Selcouth, who resided there. Heather digs into the works of Nathaniel, who apparently was trying to fashion a messenger who would serve as his servant in seeking the outer limits of the spiritual and physical universe. Meanwhile, children insist a grotesque "sticky man" resides in the woods. Heather wonders if he exists and if he does is he the evil behind all the malevolence destroying the Price family?

THE DARKEST PART OF THE WOODS is a classic horror tale that works because of the set up by Ramsey Campbell is at its best here. The Price family are intelligent nice people who are being overwhelmed by a sinister darkness that grows ever menacing with each new page. The story line is taut as readers will feel the creepiness of the woods that transforms into something immoral and dangerous. Mr. Campbell is at his best with this superb horror thriller.

Harriet Klausner

I can separate horror stories into two broad categories: action and atmosphere. All stories contain varying degrees of each. With the non-stop action of a thrilling, apocalyptic zombie adventure lying near one end of the scale and the creeping and unsettling menace of the traditional ghost story lying near the other end. The Darkest Part of the Woods typifies the idea of atmospheric horror. Campbell's account of a family's interconnection with a particularly sinister forest succeeds in slowly building a sense of unease, culminating in some exceptionally horrific revelations.

While only felt in the beginning, the presence of otherworldly forces at work in the woods is made more apparent by the discovery of connections to certain Lovecraftian creations. While these references are minimal and not necessary for the story, they seem to strengthen, if not confirm, that the mythology of the forest is rooted in some of the same general ideas from Lovecraft's own. The story is highlighted by the trips into these woods, which become more unsettling as the story progresses, before yielding to the more nightmarish scenes later in the book.

As in much of Campbell's fiction, the psychological state of the characters plays a significant role. With one family member already receiving psychological treatment for previous experiences in the woods, the mental state of the remainder of the family is the focus now with their behavior becoming increasingly more erratic as the story unfolds. While certainly possible (and even hinted at), I am not convinced that mental instability was an intended explanation for the events of the novel, only a source of misdirection. At best, I would concede to the existence of some amount of ambiguity in the author's intentions.

It seems there is some division among the reviews at Amazon.com, I can only make assumptions as to the cause of some of the negative opinions. I thought very highly of the story, however I would not recommend it to someone looking for a non-stop, action-packed thriller. While there are certainly some page-turning moments, I was content with the lingering comfort of a slowly unfolding nightmare.

I bought this novel on the strength of the story premise given here at Amazon, and it's certainly a good one. The problem is that Campbell does nothing interesting with it, and does it so badly that I found parts of this book almost unreadable with their insistence that everything be decorated with an adjective, preferably a "woody" one. A character can't look out a window or drive down the motorway or see another person without it being described in tree-like terms. Do you get it, reader? Do you get it?! Yes, Ramsey, we get it - the woods are imbued with a brooding menace and you want to imbue the entire story with the brooding menace of said woods. Now would you please get to the part where SOMETHING HAPPENS? The novel vacillates through 200-odd pages of false starts before what you suspect is going to happen from the first page even looks like getting started. There is very little tension, no frights, a wonderful mystery which no one makes any real attempt to solve, and hardly any exciting prose. The best passages owe too much to Lovecraft (which is no great compliment). Indeed, the whole premise of the story owes far too much to Lovecraft's Cthulhu concept, but without the bit that really counts - Lovecraft's "mechanistic materialism" emphasized man's ultimate cosmic insignificance, whereas Campbell's plot has the nameless menace relying absolutely on human agency for its work. But the most disappointing thing about this novel is that, as usual, Campbell's characters and premise are really quite inspired. They could have been the basis for a far more engaging work. Anyone familiar with the scientific community's current "best guess" as to the real cause of the witch scare in Salem - an hallucinogenic fungus on the rye crop - will find that's just one of the many unexplored directions in which this novel could have gone. The morality (or not) of environmentalism, the power of representational art, and a Dionysian view of adolescent sexuality are other missed opportunities. If you want see what can really be done with the menace of the wilderness, a vanishing father and a sustained deployment of symbolism - and how it can all be worked up into a novel of enduring power and meaning - go read Margaret's Atwood's "Surfacing". Or to see what serious fun you can have with real English history, take a look at Michel Faber's novella "The Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps". I know these are unfair comparisons; genre fiction aspires to do very different things to its literary cousin. But even rated against its own apparent goals - to thrill, to engage, to frighten and to entertain - "The Darkest Part of the Woods" only hints at what might have been.

Like Heather Price, the main character in this novel, I started out in denial of the power of The Darkest Part of the Woods. The pacing was slow, the literary conceits seemed obvious, the characters acted tranquilized. But eventually, I became obsessed with the woods and I continued to think about (be haunted by?) this novel long after I finished reading it. The reviewer who complained about Campbell's over-use of forest imagery missed the point. The woods are a camouflage; it's the darkness that holds the power. This is a difficult book, and I understand why the reviews are so polarized. But I thought it great and seriously disturbing.

It turns out I had at least 2 copies of this book but I never got around to reading it until the title came up in a discussion of mythos novels. I finally got around to reading it and I'm kicking myself for putting off such an enjoyable read for so long.

I don't believe I had ever read a novel by Ramsey Campbell, if you can believe it. With my rather more specialized tastes I had tended to stick to his earlier Lovecraftian fiction. In fact at least one of Mr. Campbell's stories is on my desert island list, The Other Names. Of course, Mr. Campbell has long ago moved away from derivative mythos pastiche but when the mood strikes him he can return to his own fictional topography (the Severn Valley, compared to HPL's New England) and spin a yarn with Lovecraftian overtones that matches the best Lovecraftian fiction available.

Without getting too detailed, I loved The Darkest Part of the Woods. The very unhurried development of mood reminded me of The Ceremonies by Klein, but with more spare language. I wonder how long it took the author to write this because it seems to me as if just about every phrase is sculpted. I was sort of reminded of when I read All the Pretty Horses, where the space between the words was as important as the words themselves. One of the advantages of having a novel length work to play with is that he took his time, layering one unnerving development on the next. For a similar unhurried feel in a mythos short story you can try Welcome to Goatshead by Tim Curran in Cthulhu's Creatures; I found the drawn out mood building to be similar to The Darkest Part of the Woods. Based on this I ordered a copy of Creatures of the Pool.

Now as far as categorizing it, I am interested in what other people thought. Certainly this is a worthy Severn Valley tale. To my way of thinking, it is not Cthulhu mythos. The only mention of some of the main volumes of the Eldritch Library was to note the Brichester copies had been burned by an irate student (hooray, get them out of the
picture!). Yes there was a tome, the diary of an old wizard Selcouth. For a change here we get to read the entries of interest and they layer directly on to the disquieting mood. Daolath gets a mention, which made me happy. The device of an ancient wizard using his powers to reach beyond the grave and perhaps control an alien, malign intelligence from another plane (which he clearly underestimated) was certainly a device used by Lovecraft, but does it a disservice to the author to call this Lovecraftian? Why not Campbellian? Was HPL the first/only writer to use such a plot device?

Whatever you call it, I certainly enjoyed this book. I would also suggest fans get a copy of the anthology Black Wings to read more of Campbell's mesmerizing Lovecraftian art.