The Premise
Cain is discharged from a clinic, where he spent years in therapy recovering from an abusive father. Cain moves into an apartment that the clinic lined up for him, and discovers that the other tenants in the building are guarding secrets that may connect to his own confused past.
In Review
What choices does a person have when they grow up in a civilized society? Much is made of the “potential” that each child has; the power of their ideas, and breadth of possibilities that stretch before their little feet. What do you want to be when you grow up, children are asked, and the question is delivered like a sweet treat, something to savor and slurp before answering with an equally saccharine answer.
And there are so many answers, each with their own flavor, their own color, their own sound. Some kids want to be honey and warm rice, and say “doctor” or “teacher”; other kids rip the top off of pixie sticks and down that sugary funnel whole, belting out titles like “astronaut” or “fireman” or “basketball player”; and then there are those that don't know, and keep this offering close to their chests, where it weighs like a warm stone, or a bag of chocolate gold coins that are worth saving, rather than shoveling.
But what about those answers that don't taste like anything recognizable? What about ideas and visions that lead to so much possibility, the dimensions cannot be defined? Are there choices a person can make that set them apart from everyone else around them, offering them avenues and alleys, winding paths through dark parks and hushed gardens, that brush by neighbors and co-workers and loved ones, without their knowing so? Can someone hide themselves from cars and jobs and phone calls, and seize a life that jumps over rules and conventions like so many annoying candle-sticks?
Can someone see with such a clarity that renders other people expendable – if not outright contemptible?
In Desolation, Tim Lebbon presents a man, Cain, that was brought up with this very idea in mind. It is a fascinating – if sick – upbringing, with just enough details given to set the imagination reeling. In the same way that Hitchcock implied more violence than he showed on screen, Lebbon offers small scenes of what Cain went through at his father's hands, without going into gory or sordid details that might take over the story. This is not an exploitation story; it is an examination of a grievous internal conflict that challenges the very fabric of reality.
Cain is a haunted man. His view of civilized life is fractured, his understanding of it disparate. He doesn't know how to relate to people, and his attempts to do so reflect this. He casts a smile, and others see a grimace; he navigates through a conversation, and his replies are abrupt. Everyone else seems to know how to go about it, while Cain can only watch and fumble, tripping over the gaps in his mis-matched experience and patchwork memory. Worse, he knows things about people that he shouldn't; can sense things that aren't obvious to the casual viewer. Is this the Way his Father spoke of? Or is he just crazy?
Lebbon does a good job of portraying a character with such a fragmented personality – almost too good. Cain questions his actions and sanity so much, it hinders the course of events. The story can only move forward when he is both willing and able, and the passages that cover this waiting period can be frustrating. Fortunately, Lebbon nails the atmosphere cold, establishing a sense of loneliness, uncertainty, and mystery that permeates the book. The setting feels so insular that references to contemporary names such as London leap out of the page and bite the brain. Added to this is an intriguing cast of characters, each of which presents tantalizing histories, abilities, and insight into a strange world.
This world involves the Way, an inchoate concept that Lebbon offers as a perspective of reality that opens up possibilities not available to mere mortals. Lebbon never goes into much detail behind the specifics of this Way, and though the other characters talk make much of being different or better, they voluntary solitude makes it difficult to gage the difference between them, and everyone else. These special individuals do openly commit murder without consequences or legal reprisal, but in the world of horror fiction, this is no surprise. “It's the Way,” they tell Cain, and somehow this is supposed to mean something. Unfortunately, without further background, it doesn't explain much of anything.
Still, whatever the nature of this Way, it does connect to Cain's inner conflict, and his struggle for peace and self-understanding is what drives the story. It becomes apparent that, in order to reach any kind of resolution, Cain must know both himself, and his own Way. This introduces the theme of awakening and enlightenment, and seasoned readers will brace themselves for that moment of revelation that unlocks a hero's true potential – for kicking ass. Surprisingly, it doesn't play out that way. Cain does realize who he is and what he can do, but it is more of a gradual understanding, rather than a snap-to-it illumination that succumbs to a calculating rage backed up by good kung fu. It's not The Matrix or Versus, but something more subtle, internal, and personal.
Desolation is a slow book, written by an author who is willing to take his time. Fortunately, Lebbon is also up to the task. The story is well-paced, and the prose good. The story is soaked mystery, and this mystery has everything to do with the hero. Who is he? Where has he come from? Why is he here? The answers to these questions relate to the answers that he, as the hero of the story, must find to complete himself. If you want the whole story, you must stick it out to the end.
This is not a story that can be broken down into disparate parts and parceled out piece by piece. It is an experience, one that must be taken up from the beginning and carried through to the end. The trip is deliberate, and the adventure can be tedious at times; but once you reach the top of the peak, and witness the revelation that has been won, you experience – not a feeling of triumph – but one of having been somewhere otherworldly, somewhere strange.
Is it revelation? Perhaps not. But it is fiction, and it does take you elsewhere. Try it, and see the Way that is Tim Lebbon's. His voice is unique, his eye is careful, and his story is creepy. It will not rock you, but for those who pay full attention to the storyteller – it will move you.
5/04/06
