Drawing blood, by Poppy Z. Brite:
At this point, I have read about a third of the book.
What strikes me first about this book is that the author seems to be concentrating more on character than on plot. I keep waiting for something supernatural to happen, and I don't think it's going to. (I keep thinking, OK, when is the vampire going to pop out of the closet? When is the dead father going to drive up in his vintage car?)
Also, a majority of the horror novels I've read are populated with very normal people. Theoretically, if you make the people very mundane and believable, the introduction on some fantastic thing is going to seem more plausible. Yet, I have to ask myself, What is normal? Your typical happy suburban family may be presented as normal, but the kind of people depicted in Poppy's book are much more representative of a typical cross-section of America. Not that many people have fathers who mass-murdered their families, but, look at the Jerry Springer show. There are a lot of people like that in the US.
In fact, the characters remind me more of ones you would find in a Richard Ford or Raymond Carver short story – marginal people on the fringes of society. That adds interest to the story, plus, her character treatment is deep and thorough. We know everything about these characters. There is lots of secondary conflict.
The book is interesting enough, but it isn't one that is keeping me riveted to the pages. In fact, I find myself nodding off as I read it, which isn't a good sign. I can't put my finger on why this is. Personal taste, perhaps? I wonder just what does keep a person riveted to a book? Some books I wasn't able to put down were, Dark Dance by Tannith Lee, Vampire Lestat by Ann Rice., Justine by Lawrence Durrell, Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes, The Glass Lake by Maeve Binchy, Cities of the Interior by Anais Ninn. Looking back, I think most of these touched some kind of inner chord, had something in particular I liked or could relate to emotionally.
The opening with the description of the small southern town didn't grab me. I started to get interested with the description of cartoonist, Bobby McGee and his family, in an old-bomb of a car, with three mattresses strapped to the roof, looking for a place to live. Though Bobby is a mean drunk and unstable, we see his kind side when he kisses the top of Trevor's head when Trevor has drawn an especially good cartoon. This makes him more realistic because he isn't all bad. The characters are definitely non-stereotype.
We don't exactly know why Bobby spared Trevor in his murder spree. Because he wanted someone to carry forward his cartoon legacy? Perhaps this will be revealed later in the book.
There is a major point of view change at the beginning of each chapter. Within the chapters, there are other POV changes, but they are all within the group of characters who are the focal point of the chapter. I think this gives the book some cohesion and makes it easier for the reader to keep track of who's who. This is a good technique for keeping characters straight BW in a book where there a lot of characters.
Poppy gives long descriptions of characters and settings, but they are interesting because they are quirky and insightful. As she's describing Kinsey's bar, she says, "poetic souls tethered to alcoholic bodies." Zach has a "mutant pompadour." A description of someone in the bar -- "A mass of dreadlocks that seemed to burst like snakes out of the top of his skull."
I think of how many different ways I've tried to say that a character's heart pounded in his chest. Poppy says, "His heart slammed like a caged thing against the inner meatwall of his chest." Great!!!
Most of the chapter endings have great hooks, from Zach's message on his computer screen -- "They are onto you. They know who you are. They know where you are. Run." to Trevor's seeing a car that looked just like his dead father's. "He stepped forward to meet the car and whatever was inside it." (I thought for sure we would get something supernatural here, but no.)
Some chapters end with the character simply walking down the street.
Though it has some great character and setting descriptions and I do genuinely feel for Trevor, having grown up in the orphanage and everything, I am yet to be surprised by the book. Maybe that's coming.
More to follow . . .
At this point, I have read about a third of the book.
What strikes me first about this book is that the author seems to be concentrating more on character than on plot. I keep waiting for something supernatural to happen, and I don't think it's going to. (I keep thinking, OK, when is the vampire going to pop out of the closet? When is the dead father going to drive up in his vintage car?)
Also, a majority of the horror novels I've read are populated with very normal people. Theoretically, if you make the people very mundane and believable, the introduction on some fantastic thing is going to seem more plausible. Yet, I have to ask myself, What is normal? Your typical happy suburban family may be presented as normal, but the kind of people depicted in Poppy's book are much more representative of a typical cross-section of America. Not that many people have fathers who mass-murdered their families, but, look at the Jerry Springer show. There are a lot of people like that in the US.
In fact, the characters remind me more of ones you would find in a Richard Ford or Raymond Carver short story – marginal people on the fringes of society. That adds interest to the story, plus, her character treatment is deep and thorough. We know everything about these characters. There is lots of secondary conflict.
The book is interesting enough, but it isn't one that is keeping me riveted to the pages. In fact, I find myself nodding off as I read it, which isn't a good sign. I can't put my finger on why this is. Personal taste, perhaps? I wonder just what does keep a person riveted to a book? Some books I wasn't able to put down were, Dark Dance by Tannith Lee, Vampire Lestat by Ann Rice., Justine by Lawrence Durrell, Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes, The Glass Lake by Maeve Binchy, Cities of the Interior by Anais Ninn. Looking back, I think most of these touched some kind of inner chord, had something in particular I liked or could relate to emotionally.
The opening with the description of the small southern town didn't grab me. I started to get interested with the description of cartoonist, Bobby McGee and his family, in an old-bomb of a car, with three mattresses strapped to the roof, looking for a place to live. Though Bobby is a mean drunk and unstable, we see his kind side when he kisses the top of Trevor's head when Trevor has drawn an especially good cartoon. This makes him more realistic because he isn't all bad. The characters are definitely non-stereotype.
We don't exactly know why Bobby spared Trevor in his murder spree. Because he wanted someone to carry forward his cartoon legacy? Perhaps this will be revealed later in the book.
There is a major point of view change at the beginning of each chapter. Within the chapters, there are other POV changes, but they are all within the group of characters who are the focal point of the chapter. I think this gives the book some cohesion and makes it easier for the reader to keep track of who's who. This is a good technique for keeping characters straight BW in a book where there a lot of characters.
Poppy gives long descriptions of characters and settings, but they are interesting because they are quirky and insightful. As she's describing Kinsey's bar, she says, "poetic souls tethered to alcoholic bodies." Zach has a "mutant pompadour." A description of someone in the bar -- "A mass of dreadlocks that seemed to burst like snakes out of the top of his skull."
I think of how many different ways I've tried to say that a character's heart pounded in his chest. Poppy says, "His heart slammed like a caged thing against the inner meatwall of his chest." Great!!!
Most of the chapter endings have great hooks, from Zach's message on his computer screen -- "They are onto you. They know who you are. They know where you are. Run." to Trevor's seeing a car that looked just like his dead father's. "He stepped forward to meet the car and whatever was inside it." (I thought for sure we would get something supernatural here, but no.)
Some chapters end with the character simply walking down the street.
Though it has some great character and setting descriptions and I do genuinely feel for Trevor, having grown up in the orphanage and everything, I am yet to be surprised by the book. Maybe that's coming.
More to follow . . .
posted by Sally Bosco at
9:45 AM
