lost boy lost girl | |||||
Peter Straub | |||||
Random House, 304 pages | |||||
A review by Hank Luttrell
So there is another guideline which suggests you avoid using
a writer as your main character. For one thing, writing isn't a
very interesting or colorful profession, as it consists of
planting your keister in a chair and, you know, writing, or maybe
just thinking. Either way, not many car chases or fire fights.
Certainly not very romantic.
So here comes Peter Straub, with protagonist Tim Underhill,
successful writer, also a character in Straub's Koko and The
Throat.
Tim Underhill is not close to his brother who still lives in
their home town, but he can't fail to return to help when his
brother's wife commits suicide and their son mysteriously
disappears, perhaps a victim of a serial killer. Tim recruits
his buddy Tom Pasmore, a Nero Wolfe- or Sherlock Holmes-type who
investigates crimes using information (public and confidential)
he finds on the internet. Eventually, a woman professor, visiting
from Madison Wisconsin, helps identify the killer.
lost boy lost girl is clearly a ghost story. It is also a book with
many strongly developed characters, and a convincingly invoked
sense of place, a midwestern city in Illinois. Called
"Millhaven," it is said that when filmmakers need old time
Chicago locations, they come instead to Millhaven. This book is
certainly a disturbing horror novel.
There are also many things this novel isn't: while it is a
murder mystery, it is far from a traditional murder mystery. Nor
is it a traditional ghost story or a traditional horror novel.
A conventional murder mystery involves a crime, a puzzle
about who the perpetrator is, a set of clues, and perhaps most
importantly, a cast of suspects limited to characters with
prominent parts in the story. None of this structure is part of
Peter Straub's book.
One interesting and disturbing bit of local color is the
adoption of details similar to the Chicago 1893 Columbian
Exposition serial killer, Dr. Herman Mudgett, "H. H. Holmes," who
ran a hotel especially customized to facilitate his murders.
Straub's story features a custom-built house with secret passage
ways, a torture chamber and chutes for corpses. The murder house
in Millhaven is now abandoned and almost forgotten, its memory
suppressed by residents, but it has a powerful connection to the
Underhill family.
Ask people if they believe in ghosts and you'll probably
mostly hear "no." I wonder, though. I think we mostly do believe
in ghosts. We've all lost loved ones, family, close friends, even
pets. You probably don't exactly believe they are gone. You still
feel their presence in your life. If you are like me, you still
ask your grandmother for advice, and somehow you can still hear
her reply. You still feel like your grandfather is part of your
world. This is far from a sinister haunting; they are still here
because you value them, you want them in your life. This kind of
lingering ghostly presence is part of what lost boy lost girl is about.
This book is also about sinister hauntings, tainted with
remorse and guilt and dread. Part of what makes this novel both
creepy and yet simultaneously uplifting is its non-linear
structure. Numerous sections of the story are told from various
viewpoints, such as the mother's anguish just before her suicide.
Much of the same story is told from the viewpoint of the teenage
skateboarder Mark Underhill, the boy who disappears, and his
buddy Jimbo, as they explore and discover Millhaven's ghosts and
killers. These narratives are revealing, but mysterious until
Tim Underhill's journal, interspersed with the other narrative
threads, puts it all in order.
Hank Luttrell has reviewed science fiction for newspapers, magazines and web sites. He was nominated for the Best Fanzine Hugo Award and is currently a bookseller in Madison, Wisconsin. |
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