Wednesday, November 04, 2020

2020/132: The Hollow Places -- T Kingfisher

You can, if you find yourself in a strange world, ignore the intuition of your friend who devoured his twin in the womb and is seeing the world with one of her eyes. You would probably be foolish to do so, but I suppose it’s an option that you do have. [loc. 1110]

Kingfisher's latest novel is based on Algernon Blackwood's novella 'The Willows', of which I had only vague memories. That's set during a canoe trip down the Danube: The Hollow Places, in contrast, is set in small-town America, in Hog Chapel, North Carolina. Kara, newly-divorced and broke, is offered a place to live by her Uncle Earl, who owns and runs the Wonder Museum -- a place that fascinated Kara as a child (she decided the stuffed elk was the Great Prince from Bambi, and adored him accordingly) and which now seems a charming backwater of the weird, the mysterious and the kitsch. A place of safety. 

 Little does she know, et cetera. 

 With her new friend Simon, who is flamboyantly queer and works in the coffee shop where Kara gets her wifi, Kara discovers a passage to another world. It's not a nice place. There is evidence of military presence; there are many little islands, all similar but not identical; there are silvery willow trees; there is a message that reads 'Pray they are hungry'. Only gradually do Simon and Kara work out the nature of 'they': and when they finally manage to find the portal back to their own world, that's not the end of their story. 

 I was drawn into the story by Kingfisher's blend of the truly horrific and the oddball humorous. The humour doesn't mellow the horror -- indeed, it sharpens it by way of contrast -- but it brings the characters to life in a way that distinguishes them from the standard horror movie cast. Kara, in particular, is the kind of fannish geek with whom I thoroughly identify. She has 'very strong feelings that C. S. Lewis had not spent nearly enough time on the sudden realization, when moving between worlds, that nothing could be taken for granted' [loc. 878] 

 Despite the humour and the comfortable geekery, this is not a frivolous novel. There is a vivid sense of risk, and several points where I couldn't see how the protagonists (or the cat Beau) were going to survive. And Kara's method of protecting herself (distraction with pain) made me queasy, but is utterly credible. Splendid, ominous and a very interesting transformation of Blackwood's original story.

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