Customer Reviews

Escardy Gap

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

 

 

"...a writer without an idea is just about the dumbest, most desperate creature in the world. From dawn to dusk he is haunted, hounded, and hunted by invisible demons. Nothing contents him, nothing comforts him. There are no satisfactions, no consolations for him. None. Not a one."

Narrator, from Escardy Gap

Enervated by a lengthy battle with writer's block, the narrator of Escardy Gap stomps around his apartment in a fruitless search for inspiration. He tries to write, but can only turn out clichés. Seeking stimulation from the work of other authors, he finds only frustration when confronted with their excellence. Just when he's ready to give up, his typewriter literally starts to mock him. Spurred by its taunts, he looks deep inside himself for a story, praying he will find one. Suddenly, he has a vision of a train arriving at the station of a small town. Sensing a story, he sits down to type.

Thus begins one of the best, most provocative books of the last few years. "Best" due to its energy, exuberance and charm, "provocative" because of its thoughtful treatment of the relationship between imagination and reality.

The setting is a quintessential example of small town, nineteen fifties America called Escardy Gap, a town that combines the qualities of the narrator's home town and "every fictional town" he ever lived in through books. Think Greentown, Riverdale, Smallville "without the flying boy", and Castle Rock "as it might have been forty years ago". The players are the colorful citizens of Escardy Gap and the shadowy members of a performing troupe known as the Company.

The Company arrives one fine summer day, traveling on a "monster of a train". A decidedly odd lot, they are nonetheless quickly accepted by the trusting, good natured folk who inhabit Escardy Gap. All are pleased by this unexpected surprise, except Josh Knight, a young man who learns that the Company harbors deadly secrets.

Professing poverty, the members of the Company ask for a night's shelter in return for a performance. The townsfolk readily agree, inviting these strange people into their homes. The Company uses this intimate access to launch a campaign of terror against the town. One citizen's remains are strewn throughout the branches of a tree in the middle of town. Josh's grandfather is killed when Jeremiah Rackstraw, the leader of the Company, writes the word "DEAD" across his forehead. Another literally dissolves into a puddle after smoking a new brand of tobacco provided by his guest.

Only Josh, the Mayor (a former actor), and Doc (the kindly town physician) stand between the Company and the total destruction of the town. They set out in search of help, only to find themselves trapped in a tunnel which opens in New York City's Central Park. They are rescued from the tunnel by the book's narrator, who finds that the line between his everyday reality and the reality he created is rapidly blurring.

While the novel owes an obvious debt to Bradbury's Something Wicked this Way Comes, it owes an equal amount to books like Clive Barker's Books of Blood. In fact, Escardy Gap is a tribute to all things horror, constantly tipping its hat to the authors and icons which make the genre great. The authors are not content to merely pay homage, however, and manage to put an original spin on the material. They carefully nurture a plot thread, the significance of which only becomes apparent in the last chapter of the book. The authors' solution to their self created problem is both elegant and satisfying.

To say I was impressed by Crowther and Lovegrove's storytelling is an understatement. This remarkable story is told clearly, authoritatively, with a wonderful richness of detail. Escardy Gap rarely fails to enthrall--the authors' obvious love for their characters and the genre shines through on every page. I was especially taken with a vivid chapter in the middle of the book, wherein the members of the Company gather to discuss their fiendish endeavors. The stuff Messrs. Crowther and Lovegrove treat as asides could provide fodder for a dozen novels.

Visit Escardy Gap if you dare.

I recommend this novel if for no other reason than to revel in the sheer joy of its language. Crowther and Lovegrove clearly had fun writing this book, and I had a great time reading it.

I found this novel to be very tough to rate. The first 200 pages were forgetable; too many cliches, too much over-the-top characterization, too many characters, and too many bad guys. But then, the plot started to take hold. We delve down into the major characters and begin to see them grow. The quirky plot device of getting the "main" character (the author who is writing this tale) actually into the novel seemed contrived at first and almost hokey but somehow, they pull it off. My interest level definitely perked up and I rode the final pages of the book like a wave. When I finished the last chapter, I wanted to give it 5 stars but must cut back to only 4 because of the long drawn-out build-up in the beginning. The gory parts (and there are a lot of them) are very gory but often original. All in all, worth it in the end.

A real turkey, a real dog. "Something Wicked This Way Comes" this is not. But it sure would like to be. And nothing offends me more than pretentious writing, unless it is a writer who writes about having writer's block. This author does both.

First we have the hackneyed plot: the too-good virgin town is paid a visit from Hell by a too-bad evil train, whose occupants proceed to trash the place by preying upon the townspeople's "secret" flaws. (With two exceptions, EVERYBODY dies, including the train, which is disembowled in a squishy blood-and-guts scene that goes on just as long and just as disbelievingly as the story itself.) But the characters don't simply play their roles; they psychoanalyze them. For pages upon end.

Then we have the fact that the townspeople have no good reason to be so good, AND the evils have no good reason to be so evil, AND both parties actually say so! So we have... no real plot, no real story, every cliche you can think of, and no reason for any of it to exist.

Which, I guess, is why I found the book for $2 in one of those stores where books go to die. This dawg deserved its fate.

Okay, I'll admit it. I bought this book because of the cool train on the cover. So sue me. Luckily I ended up with a very unique horror novel. It starts out very much like most of Ray Bradbury's nostalgic work. Then it takes a screaming U-turn to places far darker than Bradbury would ever go. I highly recomend this book, but be warned. There's a juxtaposition of the lyrical and the brutal here that won't be for everyone.

This book has a wonderful premise, a circus train pulls into a small town, and proceeds to terrorize the town.

I was going to write about what was wrong with the book, but in the end, all I'm going to say, is that when I finished reading the book, I was glad I did not have to read it anymore. It's a shame because if this book would have had decent editors it would have been a classic.