| The Music of Razors | ||||||
| Cameron Rogers | ||||||
| Del Rey, 314 pages | ||||||
| A review by Nathan Brazil
Fast forward to 1840, Boston, MA, where red-haired farmer's son, Henry Lockrose, begins to study at the Massachusetts
Medical College of Harvard University. It is the young man's ambition to become a surgeon. The one thing that can
stop him is a terrible secret, something that, if discovered, could result in his imprisonment, or even death. Henry
is a natural loner, until curiosity gets the better of him and he risks involvement with fellow student Finella
Riley, and Dorian Athelstane, a duplicitous, esoteric Englishman. The pair run a kind of coven, for which Finella
acts as a medium. When the group makes the mistake of attempting to raise a demon, the result is death and
revelation. What is discovered are supernatural instruments made from the bones of the fallen angel rendered
Forgotten by God. Skip forward to modern day Australia, where four and a half year-old Walter realises, to his
horror, that the monster hiding in his wardrobe is real. Then, in an awful dream, a red-haired man tells the boy
how he can send the monster away.
Taking the advice, Walter eagerly banishes the beast, only to discover that the creature was, in fact, his
protector. It was the red-haired man who was his true enemy. Walter is left in a coma, with the knowledge that the man
is coming for his sister, Hope. In desperation, Walter merges with the remains of the wardrobe monster, becoming a new
creature that is both his sister's protector, and her nightmare. Unfortunately, Walter is limited in what he can do,
and his best efforts go dangerously wrong.
A truly dark fantasy, The Music of Razors is the debut novel from Cameron Rogers, published in extended form
by Del Rey. This version is 40,000 words longer than the original, Australian novel, from 2001. The style of Rogers work
is reminiscent of early Neil Gaiman, but with a creepier twist. Re-imaging the Biblical Fall as a three-sided conflict is
a splash of originality, which is bolstered by inventiveness, and occasionally stunning imagery. In particular I enjoyed
Nimble, a clockwork ballerina, which was right up there with anything that the aforementioned Gaiman has done. Throughout,
the reader is treated to a display of vivid, sometimes haunting set pieces, marred only by a lack of expertise when it
comes to pacing and plot structure. For example, the first third of the book is occupied by characters that are more for
effect than effective. While other characters appear, give the impression that they are important, then abruptly
vanish. If the author was using this as a deliberate technique, then it is a limited success.
The cleverness of his work is never in doubt, but in the main this effort would have been better applied to characters
vital to the plot. Having said that, being led down the wrong path isn't always a negative here, because some of the time
the journey is agreeably diverting. The real meat of the story, the fate of Walter and his sister, is reserved for the
second half of the book. Here the major characters do not convince as much as the props. In other words, the ideas
outweigh the characterisation. Overall the consequence of this is a feeling that something has gone missing, although
the loss is far from ruinous. The one big problem is the ending, which comes with the suddenness of a guillotine
blade. In a movie, this might work, but for a novel, I couldn't help but feel that many readers will end up wondering
if anyone got the number of the truck!
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