| "Speaks the Nightbird" by Robert McCammon: A Review |
[Sep. 2nd, 2004|10:50 am] |
A few years ago, in 1999 or thereabouts, I read on the internet that Robert R. McCammon had retired from writing after his last novel in 1992. After reading most of his novels and loving them, including the epic "Swan Song," and the suspenseful and tender "Boy's Life," I had welcomed McCammon into my list of favorite writers. Turns out McCammon was disillusioned with the publishing industry, a common feeling among writers. Like his colleague Poppy Z. Brite would proclaim later on (as well as Clive Barker), McCammon was done with writing horror books and wanted to move on. His publishers, reticent to give his work the respect he felt it deserved, were not open to the idea of books outside of the genre and McCammon retired. The New York publishers wanted him to churn out the same book year after year, crippling any chances of originality and growth. You can read all about it in this interview.
But like any other writer who is compelled to do his bidding regardless of remuneration or recognition, McCammon could not stop writing. A fan of constant, painstaking research, he wrote two historical novels before his retirement: one a mystery, the other a war novel.
I remember reading the first issue of the now defunct online magazine "The Spook" and noticing McCammon's name listed in the credits page. He had made a sort of comeback as an editor, yet his writing was not featured in the magazine. That is, until a few issues later, when it was announced to great fanfare that "The Spook" would serialize one of those novels McCammon had written before his retirement, "Speaks the Nightbird." Of course, I looked forward to the serialization and printed them out as they were released. Abruptly, the serialization ended because McCammon had sold the novel to a local publisher, River City Publishing, and we were told to wait for its imminent release.
I bought the novel upon its release, but it wasn't until two weeks ago that I started to read it. At first, I was intimidated by the novel's heft (726 pages), but considering how I love long novels I pressed on.
The novel opens with two men sitting on a horse-pulled wagon, a magistrate (Isaac Woowdward) and his clerk (Matthew Corbett), in the year 1699, who have left the port city of Charles Town (nowadays Charleston) for the village of Fount Royal. The magistrate has been summoned by Fount Royal's mayor, Robert Bidwell, to bring peace upon his stricken town. Ritualistic murders have claimed the town's reverend and two men. Citizens blame the wife of one of the victims, Rachel Howarth, a Portuguese immigrant of witchcraft and beg for her death. Bidwell, in efforts to abide by the law and to bring some measure of progress to his settlement, insists that the witch is tried and accused properly.
Woodward, an aging magistrate who has crossed the ocean from England with a great secret in tow, is a fair man. Like most men of his time, he was aware of the Salem Witch Trials, though he had not presided over a witchcraft trial himself. His clerk, Matthew, an inquisitive adolescent at the beginning of the novel, is eager to learn the tools of his master's trade, yet he differs from Woodward. His curiosity is his greatest weapon (and weakness), but he lacks the fine education of his master.
Fount Royal is populated by a set of genuine characters that accurately portray what life must have been like in the british colonies during 1699. There is the schoolmaster, Johnstone, who wears makeup and a hobbles with a bad knee. There's Lucretia Vaughn, a low class woman that aspires for dignity and finesse but is halted by her perpetual mediocrity. There's a ratcatcher, a gaol keeper, a blacksmith, and more. It is in these characters, and in the stories they tell of the witch or how she has affected them, that the story unravels.
As the accused sits in the gaol, the testimonies and accusations mount and the case grows stronger. It is Matthew, with his curiosity and the prodding of a well-intentioned character, who decides to investigate the claims further and discover what is really at work in Fount Royal.
It's impressive to witness how McCammon fleshes out a story with so many possibilities and outcomes. His research of the time is evident in the clothing, the language, the architecture and social mores displayed throughout the novel. Oh, and how he succeeds! He manages to mount the suspense from chapter to chapter, offering a new discovery every few pages and effectively sustaining the sense of urgency. This is the same McCammon who wrote "Swan Song," "They Thirst," and "Mystery Walk," but he sounds more confident.
With chapters that average between 20-30 pages, the rhythm of the reading is clipped but continuous, flowing, perfect for a mystery novel such as this one. Almost every character comes to life with such vibrancy that it is almost impossible to believe how well formed they are. The character of Exodus Jerusalem, a bible-thumping, lecherous preacher who makes his way into Fount Royal, is one of the most powerful characters I have read about in the last 5 years. It's important to have every character command the scene in certain ways, and McCammon succeeds in making sure there are no worthless characters.
This novel is a complete success. It is an interesting, worthy read and I cannot imagine a reason why it shouldn't be read everywhere. It is a love story, a story of progress, of enlightenment. It is a heart-wrenching, life-affirming book that reminds us what great literature is. Man, I loved, loved, loved this book. If anything, I am sad that I won't get to read it for the first time again. I haven't had so much fun reading in a while.
Please, make sure you pick up this gem. You can buy the two paperbacks (the book was split in two tomes due to its length), or hunt down the hardcover on Abebooks, or borrow it from your local library if you can't part with your money (though I advocate the support of our artists-- buy their books, cheapskate!).
You see? Great books happen when you give authors the freedom to write what they love. Editors everywhere, heed this call: do what you know how to do, which is to edit and let the authors do what they know best, which is to tell a story. Love your author and stop acting like the desperate, white-trash surrogate mother who wants to decide how the biological parent will raise her own kid. |
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