Every once in a while, I will grab a book off the library shelf at random. I will not recognize the title, and know nothing of the author. I do this to break out of ruts. I also like surprises. 

The latest volume consumed in this fashion Two Eerie Tales of Suspense by Paul
Torday. Admitedly, its selection was not completely random: I was actively looking for some eerie stories to augment my October reading. But the author was new to me: I knew nothing of nor had even heard of Paul Torday (or the record: a British writer who’d turned to writing rather late in life, found quick success, then sadly died of cancer at 67). 

What did I find? Well, while it’s true you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can learn a lot by how the publisher tries to market it. Here we have a dark cover, an illustration of a church steel and little graveyard, text alternating between pale beige and dark purple. Jacket description (that which is not obscured by the placement of the barcode) includes words “mysterious and sinister events”, “unexplained happenings”, “enigmatic”, “unique and compelling”. Words like “horror” or “supernatural” are carefully avoided, as is the insufferable cop-out “magic realism”. My diagnosis: a mainstream writer, realizing he’s got nothing to lose, tries his hand at genre writing. Nervous publishers try and reassure snobby mainstream audiences that it’s still worth reading. Possibly they’re hoping for crossover audience. 

Having finished the book (and Torday’s obituary), I’m convinced I wasn’t far off the mark. 

The two titular tales are “Breakfast at the Hotel Deja Vu” and “Theo”. The former is the most successful – it’s more complete, and more satisfying. Appropriately enough, I spent most of the story wondering where I’d read it before. There are shades of Dead in Venice, but only shades rather than real similarities. Possibly an episode of Twilight Zone. Whatever it was, the whole thing felt deeply familiar. Possibly the theme has just been dealt with time and again.  Seasoned genre readers will recognize fairly early what’s going on, and I do think they’re meant to – I don’t think the scenario’s meant to be a surprise. Rather, I think we’re meant to get caught up in the character’s journey and see the whole thing as symbolic of his inner struggles. 

Paul Torday

“Theo”, is a more conventional horror story, though I’m not sure the author would appreciate the appellation. It certainly feels like a horror story, not too different from any title in Mammoth Book of Horror anthologies. Not least because it shares their apparent allergy to denouement . Modern writers of supernatural really seem to really hate climax, preferring to end stories mid-stream. Where the old masters like Poe and Lovecraft liked   

to tell their readers things, Modern writers insist on telling us nothing. They don’t want us to feel shock or awe or surprise or even pleasure at having read a well-written story – they want us to scratch our heads and say “wtf?”. 

This is the Modernist curse, and “Theo” is not immune. I allowed myself to get pulled into the story of a reluctant vicar in an indifferent small town confronted with a potentially demonic phenomenon with a reasonable amount of curiosity an appreciation for the sympathetic an believable characters. But as the story continued and I noticed the page count, I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly what was going to happen: absolutely nothing. Nothing would happen, nothing would be revealed, and I would have nothing to show for having read the story. 

As it turns out, it isn’t quite so bad as that, though I will say (without fear of spoilers) that Torday was apparently an adherent of the “show don’t tell” bullshit, with emphasis on the “don’t tell”. I suppose we’re meant to ponder and speculate what went down, but it’s hard to care enough to do so.  It’s disappointing because a great deal of time is spent establishing a recognizable world populated with believable and sympathetic people. It deserves a better narrative than the cop-out demanded by Modernism. 

I do wonder if Today had ever read The Green Man by Kingsley Amis, or anything by Ramsey Campbell, both of whom “Theo” somewhat reminded me of. I recommend reading them instead. Or maybe give “Deju Vu” a try. Maybe you’ll remember where you’d read it.