Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

Having read a reasonable amount of Neil Gaiman (Very much liked it) and not very much Terry Pratchett (and really not liking it at all), I have finally gotten around to reading Good Omens, despite taking it on holiday twice and never managing to even start it.

So. It tells the story of an angel and a demon, Aziraphale and Crowley respectively, who have been kicking around together since the times of literal Eden and have since gone a bit native on Earth. Both have their indulgences; wine, books and tailoring, and classic cars, booze and sunglasses indoors. They have grown fond of Earth and humans and more importantly, their nice comfortable lives amongst them. Crowley is tasked with switching a human baby for the antichrist in order to bring about the Apocalypse, the End Times, the big, season finale of WAR between Heaven and Earth, Good and Evil and so on. Aziraphale is there too because the two of them are kind of unlikely BFFs. The Antichrist is destined to be raised as Warlock, son of a prominent US diplomat. Aziraphale and Crowley resolve to work their saintly/demonly influence on him as he grows up, essentially postponing the end of the world as Warlock, hopefully, struggles to choose between good and evil. At least that is the plan. However. The problem is, there’s a bit of a mix-up with the Satanic nuns and the Antichrist is actually an ordinary, but unusually charismatic boy from the suburbs, Adam, who likes playing in the quarry with his mates, reading comics and messing about with his dog, Dog. Meanwhile, Warlock is just a normal kid with a weird name.

It’s if the Omen and Life of Brian got blended.

The rest of the story is Aziraphale and Crowley tearing around the country in an on-fire Bentley trying to conceal their vast mistakes, to track down Adam, the real antichrist before the various emissaries of Hell get there first and reveal the boy’s true powers to him. Adam's power so far extends to righting some environmental wrongs that he's read about in hippy conspiracy theory magazines. There’s a nth generation witch living her life from a book of prophecies, a witch hunter that falls in love with her, the four horsemen of the apocalypse and Adam’s three mates thrown in for misunderstandings, declarations and revelations, culminating in a planned and relief-inducing anti-climax at a Nuclear Power Station.

I can see why people love this book. It’s funny, it’s all about the inherent goodness of people, Aziraphale and Crowley are hilarious and adorable. I can see how a frequent re-reader could just slide back into the world easily and just hang with the characters. However. It just didn’t strike a chord with me and I found myself just wanting to be finished with it. I struggle to identify exactly what failed to resonate. As much as I loved Aziraphale and Crowley, I found most of the other characters to be forgettable and was always a bit annoyed when the narrative swung over their way.

It’s been on my TBR list for years, so I’m glad I read it, and I didn’t really know what to expect, but I honestly don’t think this kind of fantasy is my thing. I kept convincing myself I could cherry pick the Terry Pratchett jokes and they irrationally annoyed me. The flavour of humour just doesn’t do much for me, despite the very comedic prose. Like, I can tell it’s funny, but it doesn’t make me laugh, if that makes sense.

I don’t know. Just not my thing I guess.

No Dominion, by Louise Welsh

I understand that this is the third part of a trilogy, but I haven’t read either of the first two, so I’ll be viewing it (fairly or unfairly) as a standalone. It works- I didn’t feel like I was missing a load of back story or context, plenty of post-apocalyptic novels start after the collapse of society. I usually prefer ones that do- I find the establishing of a new humanity to be much more fascinating than the flight from danger/disease/violence, whatever shape the apocalypse takes.

No Dominion is set seven years after The Sweats, a pandemic of fever which saw most of (I assume) the world wiped out. The book begins on the Island of Orkney, where survivors have carved out a functioning, democratic society. Enough for there to be freedom, enough food to eat, houses to live in and no Sweats. We begin with an Easter celebration with a drunken stand-off between a native Islander, Magnus, and a bullish thug of a man named Bjarne. They row about their adopted teen kids, who seem to be pairing off in a way that boys and girls have since the beginning of time. Shug, Magnus’ adopted son is a surly, defiant 15 year old, convinced there is more to life than the island. Willow, ward of the bullying Bjarne and his jealous wife Candice is a rebellious, confident young woman that seems to be the cause of a lot of upheaval at home. During the party, trio of newcomers arrive- there is tension, newcomers are rare, but Stevie, the president of the Orkneys arranges for them to be quarantined and to join the community.

In the days that follow, Candice turns up at the President’s office to beg them to take Willow away. She is convinced the teen has cast a spell on her husband and is trying to ensnare him. Stevie is not convinced that is *actually* what’s going on, but keep to keep peace and due to her deep distrust of Bjarne, she offers to relocate Willow. Fifteen, after all, is adult enough to take care of yourself in the post Sweats world. The following day Magnus goes to confront Bjarne about a beating inflicted upon his son. He discovers the dead bodies of Candice, Bjarne and every other animal in their household. Willow is gone. So is Shug. So are a bunch of other teens and a toddler, apparently spirited away in the night by the newcomers, who are also missing.

Stevie, her dog Pistol and Magnus set off on a crusade to Glasgow to locate their missing kids, and hopefully return them to Orkney. The Island’s children have been raised in a reasonably democratic, protective society that gives its citizens freedom- who knows what set ups they have in Glasgow and every remaining village on the way- such naive and trusting kids would not last ten minutes. It never seems to occur to the pair that their teens might not want rescuing.

There were things I liked- I always love exploring emerging power dynamics in ruined worlds, the former nobodies that grab the opportunity presented by an apocalypse to re-cast themselves as villains, tyrants and overlords. The feudal societies they create, the willingness of people to cede power for the chance to feel vaguely normal again. The trade-off of freedom for security. I thought this book handled the various sorts of society that might spring up in a post democratic world, though they were all visited quite briefly and in quite an episodic way. The religious cult, the slaver, the feudal lord-of-the-manner- I would’ve liked more time to explore these, but for our protagonists time is of the essence. Also, if there is a next book, please revisit the band of badass teen girls building the resistance in the Petrol Brothers’ territory. I was so disappointed that they waltzed out of the story so early, they had so much potential.

I liked Magnus and Stevie, they were interesting people, easy to root for. Other than vague recollections of Stevie’s London life of tubes and Tinder and Magnus remembering stand up gigs and motorways, they kept their pasts to themselves. Possibly because long-time readers will know their backstory, possibly because to survivors, the past doesn’t matter much. Such mystery kept me intrigued and maintained a good dynamic between the pair with a good amount of chemistry.

What I didn’t like.

Towards the end of the novel, Magnus and Stevie meet an old man and his child lover, a guitarist of indeterminate gender in an abandoned shopping centre. It really made me double take to see this character literally referred to as “he/she” and “it”. Like, I’m not bothered if No Dominion is not a trying to make (or avoid) a massive statement about gender politics with the inclusion of this guitarist character, but that’s not on. Their role in the novel, as a semi-feral , neglected tunnel dweller turned activist and ‘lover’ of a man old enough to be their grandfather, is intended to demonstrate that abuse and manipulation can be disguised as kindness, not to make a statement about gender in a ruined world. However. An androgynous or genderless character, whatever their part to play in the narrative, deserves better than “he/she” and “it”. How hard is it really to do a singular They? I just felt such narration was completely at odds with the until-that-point voice of the novel and as a reader, it stood out on the page as a NEVER DO THAT and it kind of ruined the whole thing.

It’s definitely not in the same league as Station Eleven or After the Flood, which is what it will probably be compared to, but it holds the attention with its fast pace and is straightforward enough. Perhaps a little too straight forward. I feel like it was a tad episodic, as Stevie and Magnus propel themselves from one hostile situation to another, fighting, tricking and talking themselves into and out of settlements and societies. Personally I found the ending quite unsatisfying- it felt super rushed, a bit of a weak pay off for so much build up and journeying. Plus, there’s a textbook case of Deus ex Machina to finish the whole thing. I realise now that it never surprised me with its plot. There were a few arresting moments or images, but for the most part it brings nothing new to the Post Civilisation genre.

Broadway Book Club Discussion of The Trees, by Ali Shaw

Feelings were mixed about the four main characters. Adrien generally got a bit of a roasting about his uselessness, his idleness, about how he was basically the walking embodiment of Male Privilege, the thing that was most annoying was how little he changed throughout the book. He was boring and cumbersome, and we were all baffled why the group put up with him. Hannah was more likable, a bit naive and we thought the Hippy earth child thing was a bit overdone. She had the most interesting crisis of faith, but still remained mostly unchanged by it as a character. Hiroko was generally well liked, but we felt she was a bit of a Asia-Ice-Queen stereotype, and that she would’ve been much better going solo survivalist rather than letting her crown hold her back. Seth liked computers. That’s about it.

We were generally disappointed in the narrative. One person commented that Hannah would be better off “Foraging for a plot” than the mushrooms she seemed so keen on. They go to the Welsh coast. They cross to Ireland. They encounter a makeshift settlement ran by an unpleasant man named Roland and find Adrien’s wife Michelle, who he has been half-heartedly looking for. That’s it. There’s a Sea hunk called Eoin that builds a boat in a day, a few mythical creatures and whispery tree monsters that unnerve Adrien periodically. There are many, many descriptions of the “Throne Chair”, which gets quite repetitive.

One member commented that while she understands that the point of the book was to show the savage indifference of nature, there was a lot of gratuitous gore that did nothing to further the plot or mood. Another refuted this to say that there wasn’t enough gore to warrant the Tarrantino name drop on the cover. I think we all expected more human on human violence, more Lord of the Flies power struggles and the rottenness of human nature taking over. Not much of that to be seen. There was no threat, no real effort to rebuild. What happened in the cities? Were there any survivalist cults that adapted too well to the new Earth? Are there trees in the deserts? It just left too many questions unanswered.

*spoilers*

We were particularly offended and incredulous at Adrien’s transformation into “Father Nature” at the end. It seemed out of character for him to make such a sacrifice, as well as unusual of him to surmise a solution to any kind of predicament presented to him. We though his guiding hand on nature, helping Hannah find strawberries in winter was frankly ridiculous.

We concluded that The Trees probably wishes it was Station Eleven, an excellent end of the world book that shows little pockets of survival rebuilding after a global contagion, how stories are endlessly human and how tyranny and violence will always be inevitable, but that there are different ways to live, if you keep looking. The Trees tried, but it was a disappointing pile of soggy leaves. It had such a promising, interesting concept, but was let down by its lack of plot, its unsophisticated handling of the “We are bad to the Earth” message and the too-frequent dropping in of a character (Pharmacy man, camper van woman, Vicar) to deliver a message of doom about out abuse of the planet and then disappear forever.

The Mist, by Stephen King

Following a particularly violent summer storm the small lakeside community of Bridgton, Maine is bracing itself for more unusual weather. Commercial artist David Drayton, one of the town's longest standing residents decides to head into town to stock up on emergency supplies for what he assumes is an approaching weather front. He can see the mist rolling in from the other side of the lake and wants to be prepared. He leaves his wife at home picking her way through the wrecked plot and the damaged house, taking his son Billy and his cantankerous neighbour Brent Norton with him as a gesture of neighbourliness after a previous property dispute.

To begin with it's emergency protocol as usual. Canned goods and orderly queues, bottled water and patience. While David and Billy are in the supermarket queue the mist rolls in, but it seems unnaturally thick, otherworldly in its slow pace, its swallowing up of sounds and straight lines, and it reduces visibility to 0%. When a town resident comes bursting into the market, bleeding and screaming about monsters in the mist it doesn't take long for order to descend into chaos. David, stranded with a few tourists and out-of-towners and a handful of familiar faces, one or two army personnel and the supermarket staff suddenly has a situation on his hands and a supermarket full of scared and desperate people.

While the idea of gigantic, flesh eating colossuses from other dimensions seems far-fetched, it’s really not the point of the story, just a scenario that lets the story unfold. The characters themselves struggle to believe what’s happening to them, finding it ridiculous, impossible, even insulting that anybody could possibly suggest that this is anything other than bad weather. The main theme of the story is human behaviour, how fear, desperation and isolation can bring out unexpected character traits and turn previously rational, ordinary people into bloodthirsty monsters. Narrator David is astonished to see Ollie Weeks, the unassuming and thoroughly ordinary market assistant-manager revel himself to have a level head, a good aim and a hidden heroic streak. Mrs Carmody on the other hand, the town kook becomes a hell-fire and brimstone preacher, predicting death and carnage and the end of days. Although that's a less surprising transformation. What’s really interesting is how people change in a pressurised, enclosed environment, faced with certain death or each other. It's fascinating how quickly the pack mentality emerges and how easily people slip into us Vs them discourse.

I really enjoyed The Mist and am definitely going to read some of the other stories in Skeleton Key, though this is by far the longest in the collection. I’m always amazed at how well Stephen King can craft his narrators. They’re textbook every-men, but we get into their heads immediately with only the sparsest but most specific details. David Drayton reminded me a bit of Clayton Riddel from Cell; father and husband (arguably not a perfect example of either but doing his best) thrust into a position of leadership by supernatural forces beyond his control. He’s a very ordinary man trying to survive even though he has no idea what’s going on and people seem to want answers from him of all people.

It’s hard to talk about the book without at least briefly mentioning the film. Unusually, I saw the film first which I really enjoyed, and was retrospectively impressed all over again by how closely it follows the book. Aside from a few small details it’s pretty much page for page, scene for scene right up until the end, which famously differs greatly. With the film the viewer gets two sadists for the price of one with Frank Darabont crushing your tiny ray of hope and then kicking you in the teeth for good measure. Both endings work really well, it's hard to choose one over the other. What are identical stories branch off into two totally different endings that induce completely different feelings in the audience.

I can't stop being impressed by Stephen King and beat myself up every time for avoiding him for so long. The Mist, for such a short book, is really atmospheric, incredibly tense and filled with memorable characters. It’s a survival story, and just like any other flavour of apocalypse, it’s about the human instinct for self-preservation and the unfortunate mental competition between survival and insanity that seems to determine whether or not a person can survive the end of the world. I would very much recommend this as an excellent way in for new SK readers- though brief it has all of his classic elements.