The Reddening (2019) by Adam L.G. Nevill


For some reason Adam Nevill’s latest offering reminds me of Midsomer Murders. Perhaps it’s the English countryside and all the detectives and police officers trying to do their jobs before they are decapitated and disemboweled? I’m sure Barnaby had cases like that all the time.

In any case, The Reddening is about several people stumbling on a crazy cult on the southern coast of England. There’s a lot of promise here, the setting is great, the setpieces excellent, but somehow the execution doesn’t deliver as hard a punch as it should. Nevill’s books have been great when there’s just one person trying to survive an impossible situation, like in No One Gets Out Alive or The House of Small Shadows. In The Reddening, some of the best parts are when, for instance, Steve or Kat is alone in a desperate situation. Here the action is spread out, but the sum total of the different parts seems somehow diluted, lesser.

Apparently painting yourself red is also a thing in the novel, but I’m having hard time figuring out how fast the people are doing it. And don’t they make a terrible mess, for instance, when they sit in a car? In short, it’s a bit different from Nevill’s previous books and the effort is applauded, but it’s not as good as his best, because his best are damn near perfect.

*** (3/5)

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Banquet for the Damned by Adam Nevill

banquetThe venerable university town of St Andrews, best known as the home of golf, is the place; the characters are struggling Brummie rock musicians Dante and Tom, who relocate to Scotland in search of inspiration. The man they seek is Eliot Coldwell, one of those sixties intellectuals who once wrote a book (bearing the same title as this 2004 novel) full of the usual new age nonsense mixed with the occult.

For Dante, however, the book is a masterpiece; he wants to compose a rock opera based on it. All starry-eyed, he approaches Coldwell – now an aged drunk – and becomes his new assistant. The previous one apparently burned himself alive. Other students at the university also come to bad and bloody ends; there’s a strange creature making rounds among people who attended a study group organized by Coldwell.

The first horror novel by Nevill, The Banquet for the Damned takes off like a bullet, with promises of great things to come. Sadly, it never quite cashes in on those promises. Instead of the roaringly Crowley-like slouch that is Coldwell, his female companion Beth, possibly possessed by something summoned from beyond by Coldwell, becomes the adversary; but the character never really catches on, remaining an (erotic) enigma. In the end, even the creature she controls has more of an emotional impact.

The second half gets progressively murkier, even with the addition of a rather unconvincing American lecturer, Hart Miller, who has some inkling of what’s happening. The characters, and by extension the readers, just stumble around with some ideas about night terrors and occult goings-on, never really figuring out enough to make sense of it all. The end is action-packed, but somehow unfulfilling.

But the mood is good throughout: St Andrews plays its part well, providing a very M.R. Jamesian backdrop for the story that’s perhaps slightly more indebted to the works of Ramsey Campbell. Certainly the murkiness is a rather Campbellian trait. For a first novel, such comparisons aren’t half bad: and Nevill’s later works, such as the brilliant The Ritual and the creepy Last Days, attest to the fact that he’s constantly improving his craft and becoming increasingly more original in the process – more Nevillean, so to speak.

*** (3/5)

Apartment 16 by Adam Nevill

7749807The second horror novel by Adam Nevill is a mixed bag. Essentially a haunted house story on steroids, with an impressive back story veering towards the cosmic, the book is sadly weighed down by its execution.

The house in question is Barrington House, a venerable piece of real estate with 24 hour porters and mostly geriatric populace. A young American, Apryl, arrives in London to empty the apartment of her recently perished relative, an octogenarian whose diaries detail her fifty years of living in hell.

Apryl’s chapters, with the gradual reveal of secrets and accompanying horrors, have some of the same spark as Nevill’s later novels, the excellent The Ritual and the genuinely creepy Last Days. Alas, one half of Apartment 16 is taken by the story of Seth, a fledling artist doubling as a nightwatchman, who comes increasingly under the influence of the forces holding sway in the building. Seth’s chapters creep along with a repetitive, dull pace, the horrors he experiences being mostly dreams and other imaginary nonsense. And the ghost he keeps seeing, a hooded, streetwise kid with a speech impediment, is just annoying.

It all picks up gloriously towards the end, though. Seth’s insanity gains full bloom, and the secrets of the house – involving a 1930s artist/occultist who painted works along the lines of Francis Bacon – are fully revealed in a sanity-blasting crescendo that helps lift the novel considerably. But, sadly, it’s a very slow trudge to get there.

*** (3/5)