The Premise
A young woman is kidnapped by a former classmate-turned stalker. Through a series of events, she ends up scarred, but alive, in a strange, small town called Pits, located in the middle of the California desert. Meanwhile, a young man returning from college is accosted by two strangers, who initiate him into sex – and the grim realities of murder, theft, and other illegal acts.
In Review
Usually, I don't like to give away too much plot in a book review, as it detracts from a reader's experience. In the present case, however, I can't resist dropping one phrase: reformed cannibals. Those are two words that I never expected to see side-by-side – and, if memory serves, you won't find them in Into the Fire. Nonetheless, it is a phrase that perfectly describes one of the plot elements in Laymon's novel, and once I realized this, I couldn't help but grin.
It's strange to run into another novel that features cannibalism, so soon after having read one with a similar theme – and from the same publisher no less! Perhaps the editors at Leisure Horror have a hankering for tales about the finer flavors of human flesh, and their authors are answering the call. Whatever the case, Laymon covers the usual territory: an innocent initiate; the gradual realization; the final truth; the subsequent shock; and the origin story that explains the presence of modern day cannibals. It's all typical until Laymon applies a neat – as in, precise – twist, and renders these characters in a different light. Hence those silly, reformed cannibals.
This is a side-note, but one of Laymon's characters espouses the virtues of eating human flesh, citing the usual evidence of better health, improved senses, etc. This argument comes up now and then in books and films – anyone who has not seen the film Ravenous should do so soon – and it usually involves a spiritual angle. The curious side of me, however, wants to know: is there any truth in this claim, or is it a bunch of hooey? I'm sure there's evidence to suggest either side of this urgent question, just waiting at the end of a tasty Google search.
The other half of the story, involving a few serial killers, and a hapless innocent, is rife with graphic sex and violence. To illustrate the impact of these events upon the latter character, Laymon incorporates inner dialog, delivered one sentence at a time with paragraph breaks. Laymon resorts to this device often, and as a result, Into the Fire is a quick read. As a character device, it is moderately successful. This constant use of every-day language, however, relegates the book into the growing pile of tales that are written at a modest reading level.
Re-reading the above premise, I am struck by how incongruous the plot lines appear when placed side by side. One suspects that these two plot lines meet in the story – and meet they do. In fact, upon the cusp of the climax, there was a sense of energies marshaling, as if Laymon had set a number of heavy objects upon a precipice, and together, they teetered towards a tremendous impact. In execution, the resulting report is much softer, and I couldn't help but feel that Laymon let go a unique opportunity to really wreak some mayhem in the halls of fiction.
I mean, reformed cannibals, serial killers, an abandoned town, and some supernatural overtones? That spells Big Trouble in my cook book, and I was looking forward to a healthy serving. Alas, upon finishing the book, I felt like I'd digested a light meal that I could walk away from, and gradually forget. That said, casual readers – especially younger ones – may enjoy this romp across questionable territory.
7/14/06
