12. Conviction

By Denise Mina                      

Mystery/crime novel based in Scotland, borrowed from Caroline.  Read in a rush while in Berkeley.

11. Wake In Fright

By Kenneth Cook             

This 1966 debut novel exceeded my expectations.  I had an idea of what I’d be in for having seen the 1971 film by Ted Kotcheff just weeks ago.  Though I didn't know it yet, this would be the most faithful adaption of a book I’ve ever encountered. The only time  the film took a different approach was with the ending.

It took me two years to summon the courage to watch Wake In Fright on Shudder.  Why?  You might ask.  

Because the kangaroos.  

It's not a spoiler because everyone reading this would know about the kangaroos (and no one reads this blog anymore anyway).  I admit I shut my eyes when the scene kept going.  I, who could otherwise stomach rape revenge films and torture porn, drew the line at animal cruelty.

Olman has yet to watch the film, but he had this 1967 Penguin copy for a while (it was first published in 1961) and decided to finally read it.  And when I saw that he was reading it, I wanted to read it.    

The writing was exceptionally good.  Apparently Wake in Fright was billed as the first Outback horror story.  But it's also psychological and existential horror, as there were no traditional monsters, psycho killers nor the occult.  There were certainly horrific situations, and men with monstrous appetites, but no pure evil was portrayed.  There were awful, pathetic, mundane situations that only a weak, meek, hard-up man like John Grant would let himself be caught up in a living nightmare of his own making.

Some of the situations I personally found horrifying did not involve the slaughter of wild animals, or any violence for that matter.  Rather what really struck me were passages describing the visceral claustrophobia of being trapped inside a baking car in the middle of a wasteland inhaling the stench of sweaty people that you mildly despise:

     They were on their way, four men and a dog, stewing together.

     When you travel by road in the west you travel with a cohort of dust which streams up from your tyres and rolls away in a disintegrating funnel, defining the currents of air your vehicle sets in motion.  And somehow a lot of dust comes in the windows and settles in your hair and your clothes and most of all in your eyes and throat.

     And the heat is unthinkable, no matter how widely the windows are open, and the sweat streams off your body and into your socks, and if there are a number of people in the car their body stenches mingle disagreeably.

Now that to me is true horror!

There was also a lot of drinking and all the consequences of out of control boozing.  And boy, were there consequences, and it didn't just stop with the consumption of kangaroo testicles.  All this and more, laden with a fair amount of sardonic humour via the thoughts and observations of our hapless and arrogant anti-hero, John Grant.   Here was a passage which struck me as sharp and funny:    

     Hynes talked continuously through dinner.  Mrs. Hynes laughed politely sometimes, said ‘My! My!’ at appropriate points and displayed absolutely no interest in either Grant or Hynes. Janette said nothing. Grant gained the impression that Hynes was recognized as the head of the family and that his wishes were more or less law, but that nobody thought much of him. He had encountered similar situations in other western families.

Both book and film languished in obscurity for a while, especially Australia where locals did not take well to the unsympathetic portrayal of their own kind, but both had some acclaim overseas, and are now recognized as Australian classics.

10. Odd Thomas

By Dean Koontz         

9. Sleeping Giants

By Sylvain Neuvel    

Another sci-fi book lent to me by my boss.  It was a personal favourite of his, partly because the writer is a local boy (hails from Quebec) and partly because the novel reads like a screenplay (it was also written originally in English for accessibility). 

The hardback languished on my desk at work for a number of months.  My company was undergoing renovations, so I had to move to a different area (after years and years of staying put!).  I finally decided to take the book home with me to read.  

The story unfolded in the epistolary format where each chapter featured a character being interviewed by a high-ranking government agent.

The writing was easy to read but I didn’t really like it.  Characterizations were rather two-dimensional and the dialogue often hokey and somewhat juvenile.  There were parts that were amusing and enjoyable, but the overall style was rather derivative and clichéd.   

Olman was interested in reading Sleeping Giants after I was done.  Although I gave him fair warning about how I didn’t like it, he thought he should read it out of obligation as the writer is Quebecois.  When he finished he had similar feelings as I although he was more generous in his review.

SG is first in a trilogy of which my boss has all the books.  When I informed him that I finished SG, he immediately offered to lend me the rest.  I rather abruptly declined, saying that I needed to catch up with other books in my pile, which was true, but I still felt a bit awkward about my sudden refusal!   This book was just not for me.