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An interesting premise, well-executed, but still slightly flawed
“A black moon had risen, a sphere of sleeplessness that pulled at the tides of blood-and invisible explanation for the madness welling inside.”
The world has stopped sleeping. Restless nights have grown into days of panic, delirium and, eventually, desperation. But few and far between, sleepers can still be found – a gift they quickly learn to hide. For those still with the ability to dream are about to enter a waking nightmare.
Matt Biggs is one of the few sleepers. His wife Carolyn however, no stranger to insomnia, is on the very brink of exhaustion. After six restless days and nights, Biggs wakes to find her gone. He stumbles out of the house in search of her to find a world awash with pandemonium, a rapidly collapsing reality. Sleep, it seems, is now the rarest and most precious commodity. Money can’t buy it, no drug can touch it, and there are those who would kill to have it.
I hadn’t heard of this novel before it arrived through the post. As someone who has a soft-spot for post-apocalyptic novels (and the various sub-genres that covers), and also someone who has always suffered from varying degrees of insomnia, Black Moon’s premise jumped out at me. Given its slim length, too, I decided to read it right away. What I found was a novel that is, strangely, both excellent and also wanting.
To be sure, one of the things that drew me into the narrative was the insomnia aspect. In this story, rather than ravenous zombies prowling the streets and eating the living, we have a population suffering from true insomnia – no sleep whatsoever, rather than the more common syndrome that restricts sleep and prevents restfulness. As a result, the majority of the global human population is going through the debilitating symptoms of hallucinations, dissociative disorder, emotional turmoil, and eventual death. On top of this, and here’s where the peril for non-sufferers comes in, those suffering also experience homicidal rage when they are either confronted with someone they believe to be a “sleeper” or if they actually witness someone sleeping. The descriptions of what those in the early stages of suffering experience was very close to home, and I immediately sympathised with them all. [Interestingly, and rather meta, I ended up reading Black Moon well into the wee hours of the day, unable to sleep myself…] Here’s one example (I share Carolyn’s frustrations):
“Unlike Carolyn, he had never had trouble sleeping. Early in their relationship, his ability to drop off anytime, anywhere, had been a point of occasional contention. It offended her not only in that she felt that he was using sleep as a means of avoidance, but also because she held sleep so precariously. The slightest noise or change in the light could wake her. Her mind, roaring in the chassis of her skull, pounced on painful memories and worries about the future of the challenges of her studio work, batting them around for hours as she tossed and turned. Meanwhile, he snored at her side. They had decided that sleep was his super-power…”
Despite a great premise, however, the novel felt rather underdeveloped and, perhaps, far too short. Calhoun can certainly write, and his prose and pacing drew me on through the novel at quite a clip. However, we are never really given the chance to get to properly know the characters, which left me rather uninvested in some of their fates. Certain characters were far stronger than others (Biggs, Felicia, for example) and I think their storylines offered greater storytelling potential than a couple of the others (Chase, for example, who was a little irritating by the end). I think this would have benefited from being longer, which would have allowed us to feel the tensions of the world a bit more, get to know the characters better, and become invested in their struggles. The work-around developed by the sleep institute was arrived at rather suddenly and out of the blue, too, which robbed yet more of the tension.
True, the novel is structured and composed in a way that reinforces the hallucinatory symptoms of prolonged true-insomnia, which made it rather disjointed at certain points (on purpose) while at the same time evoking an appropriate atmosphere. This was a solid attempt to do something different, which is always welcome, but the vagaries of what I was reading often just obfuscated certain elements of the story, which meant my investment waned as things became worse.
Ultimately, there were certainly things I liked in Black Moon – the insomnia-induced zombification and mania, for example, and also the work-around that they develop (which, while suddenly introduced to the story, was also pretty cool), and the aforementioned stronger characters. Sadly, however, I didn’t love the book. It will be interesting to see what the author comes up with next, though, and I await his next novel with anticipation.
A brilliant zombie love-story…
Movie Synopsis: Life for Julie (Teresa Palmer) and R (Nicholas Hoult) couldn’t be more different. R is a zombie; with a great record collection; limited vocab and an overpowering love of brain food. Julie is a human; beautiful; strong; open minded and all heart. When R makes an unexpected decision and rescues Julie from a zombie attack, his lifeless existence begins to have a purpose. As the unlikely relationship develops, R’s choice to protect her sets in motion a sequence of events that might just change both of their worlds forever. Directed by Jonathan Levine (50/50) and based on the debut novel by Isaac Marion, the heart-warming Warm Bodies is 2013’s zom-rom-com with a twist.
Director: Jonathan Levine | Starring: Nicholas Hoult, Teresa Palmer, Rob Corddry, John Malkovitch
I stumbled across Isaac Marion’s novel when I was in New York. I read the synopsis in the Union Square Barnes & Noble (one of my favourite places in the world…). Despite being intrigued, I wasn’t in a zombie-mood at the time, so I passed over it – rather unfairly, as it turned out. After the movie was released on DVD, though, I decided to watch the movie first – not something I usually do, but given the vast array of books I have to read, I wanted to squeeze this in. And I’m very glad I did.
All of the actors do a great job, and Nicholas Hoult does a wonderful job of making “R” an engaging and even sympathetic character. He’s funny, he’s awkward, and his internal monologue is wonderfully relatable to anyone who has ever felt stuck, awkward, or like their lives need a change. It’s brilliantly done, all-round, and as we see R’s evolution (“re-evolution”?) we realise just how brilliant Hoult is as an actor. It’s a peculiarly sweet love story, and I loved how it was both true to zombie lore and also unexpected and original, as well as paying tribute to some of the greatest love-stories (Romeo & Juliet, for example). It also has a superb soundtrack…
Very highly recommended. I will have to move the novel up the tottering TBR mountain.
Book Synopsis: “R” is a zombie. He has no name, no memories, and no pulse, but he has dreams. He is a little different from his fellow Dead.
Amongst the ruins of an abandoned city, R meets a girl. Her name is Julie and she is the opposite of everything he knows – warm and bright and very much alive, she is a blast of colour in a dreary grey landscape. For reasons he can’t understand, R chooses to save Julie instead of eating her, and a tense yet strangely tender relationship begins.
This has never happened before. It breaks the rules and defies logic, but R is no longer content with life in the grave. He wants to breathe again, he wants to live, and Julie wants to help him. But their grim, rotting world won’t be changed without a fight…
I finally get around to reading the mega-hit novel of a mysterious group of college friends
Richard Papen arrived at Hampden College in New England and was quickly seduced by an elite group of five students, all Greek scholars, all worldly, self-assured, and, at first glance, all highly unapproachable. As Richard is drawn into their inner circle, he learns a terrifying secret that binds them to one another…a secret about an incident in the woods in the dead of night where an ancient rite was brought to brutal life…and led to a gruesome death. And that was just the beginning….
Another quick review, this (I’m still trying to figure out how best to review literary fiction). The Secret History has been an international mega-hit, and is frequently listed on Must Read books of the decade, your life, and so forth. As a result, it has been on my radar for years. But, because I am never lacking in reading material, I just never got around to buying it. After a particularly acute bout of book-restlessness, I decided it was time for a change from the SFF genres, and picked this up. I read it over a few very satisfying days, evenings and one night (I ended up finishing it at around 3am). It’s not perfect, but it is certainly engrossing and well-written.
The Secret History is a great novel, in many ways. It’s excellently written, and engagingly told. The characters are varied, quirky, and fun to read about (or, as is the case a coupleof times, uncomfortable to spend time with). This characterisation of college students is rather cliché, but I suppose it suits the story – I refer to the peripheral characters, here (drunks, drug-taking, not particularly bright or upstanding). The wild debauchery of Hampden College is merely a backdrop to the main attraction, despite them partaking in it as well. The focus of the novel are the five students in the exclusive Greek classes, and also our narrator, Richard.
There was something that didn’t ring true for me with this group, though: that everybody liked Bunny. Throughout the novel, he is an obnoxious, irritating presence, and I could never quite put my finger on why any of these characters professed to like him. Not a thing he did or said was redeeming or remotely attractive. It does, however, make it easier to believe how quickly our protagonists could turn on him (as we’re informed in the prologue). There were some affectations that didn’t ring true at all – although, because it was difficult to place the novel in a specific time/decade, I may have misunderstood the occasional thing.
The novel is pretty long, but it rarely felt like it was rambling or bloated. I appreciated Tartt’s attention to detail, and the way she realised the world and characters on the page. It is sometimes self-consciously intelligent and pretentious, but that can be forgiven, as it’s perhaps meant as a reflection of her characters (they are a group of young people who are oh-so-prone to affectations and pretentions). The narrative is sometimes disconnected, but always gripping. The final half of the novel, in particular, was riveting, and I stayed up well into the night to finish it off – thinking “one more chapter” at the end of each and every one.
This is a story of betrayal, loyalty and ultimate sacrifice. The way the characters must hide and tip-toe around what they have done, to hide it from their peers, the police and their mentor is plotted very well. Their tension and anxieties felt realistic and palpable. The ending was a tad melodramatic, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t have to end so. I can’t fault Tartt’s ‘world-building’, though.
I’m extremely glad I read this. It’s not the best novel I’ve ever read, but it has certainly added another author to my must-read list. As soon as I finished this, I bought the eBook of The Goldfinch, Tartt’s latest novel. I’m not sure exactly when I’ll have the time to read it, but I hope it is very soon.
Recommended.
Koethi Zan is the author of The Never List, which was published this week by Viking. To celebrate the release of the novel (and in advance of the review), here is a guest post from the author…
***
When I was eighteen years old, my college roommate and I were lured into a cult. It isn’t what you might imagine. We didn’t move to a commune somewhere in Texas with some charismatic leader who had a cache of weapons and multiple wives. They were much too sophisticated for that. They drew us in slowly with very innocent “study sessions” that were part self-help, part group therapy, and part meditation class.
It started with my college boyfriend’s parents who had been involved with this “philosophy study group” for many years. They urged my boyfriend to go so my roommate Ann and I decided we’d tag along. We were up for anything and curious about what we’d heard.
There were five of us at the first session, one of whom was a stunningly beautiful girl about my age. She had an ethereal quality about her and was very close to reaching the next “level” in the study group. I was convinced my boyfriend would end up in her group too—without me. I had to get to the higher level too, and fast.
Like many cults, this one had a mystical text, a dynamic long-dead leader, and an almost corporate organizational structure. They were practiced at the slow seduction. Their main scripture contained a bizarre and complex cosmology that made no sense whatsoever. We studied only a page or two each week, carefully dissecting its strange logic and arcane symbolism. I was getting nowhere with it.
Study sessions began with a long meditation, in which the teacher would ask us to focus on each individual body part until we felt it tingle. I had a hard time sitting still that long. Then we would work on our main objective: learning to be “present in the moment.” Each week we would leave with specific tasks to practice: upon entering a room, look at the ceiling, or eat meals using the non-dominant hand. Eventually, our sessions involved learning the art of bookbinding, which seemed a bit odd, but I mildly enjoyed that part at least. It reminded me of being in the Girl Scouts. All in all, it seemed harmless enough.
Then, just as Ann and I were getting bored with the whole thing, we were informed that we had reached a high enough level to go to a special weekend “retreat.” An important leader from New York City would be presiding. The group had bought a house that needed work, so naturally there would be “work sessions.” We were flattered. We went.
The first thing they did was set us to work scraping the floors of the house—for hours. That was a mistake. Not my cup of tea. Next we had an extensive presentation about the cosmology. I was bored out of my mind. Then after lunch, we were instructed in special “movements” at a school gym they’d rented out. We would hold out our arms and spread our legs, and then, in time with ominous chords of piano music, we would have to jump suddenly into the next position. I was starting to freak out a little.
Up until that point, no one had mentioned money to us. They were clever enough to know we’d see that as a warning sign. But back at the house that afternoon, I overheard the fancy leader from New York City pressuring a young member to make his contribution. That was just about the final straw. So when, in our next session, we were seated in rows for an hour-long meditation session, I feigned illness and was excused to the other room. I realized I had to get out of there. I tried to signal to Ann through the doorway, but she was in a deep state of meditation.
Without telling anyone, I slipped out the front door, hoping Ann would figure it out and follow me when she finally opened her eyes. She did, and we reunited back at the dorm that day to celebrate. Needless to say, we never got to the next level.
***
The Never List was published by Viking this week in the US (top image), and will be published in the UK in August 2013 by Vintage (second cover). Here’s the synopsis…
NEVER GET IN THE CAR
For years, best friends Sarah and Jennifer kept what they called the ‘Never List’: a list of actions to be avoided, for safety’s sake, at all costs. But one night, they failed to follow their own rules.
NEVER GO OUT ALONE AFTER DARK
Sarah has spent ten years trying to forget her ordeal. But now the FBI has news that forces her to confront her worst fears.
NEVER TAKE RISKS
If she is to uncover the truth about what really happened to Jennifer, Sarah needs to work with the other women who shared her nightmare. But they won’t be happy to hear from her. Because down there in the dark, Sarah wasn’t just a victim.
NEVER TRUST ANYONE
There were four of us down there for the first thirty-two months and eleven days of our captivity.And then, very suddenly and without warning, there were three.Even though the fourth person hadn’t made any noise at all in several months, the room got very quiet when she was gone.For a long time after that, we sat in silence, in the dark, each of us wondering what this meant for her and for us, and which of us would be the next in the box.
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