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He snorted softly to himself. It wasn’t selling souls that got you into trouble, it was buying them. Next time he would have to make sure there was a return policy. He laughed, opened his eyes a little. The dead man, Craddock, sat in the passenger seat next to him. He smiled at Jude, showing crooked and stained teeth and his black tongue. He smelled of death, also of car exhaust. His eyes were hidden behind those odd, continuously moving black brush strokes

Brrr. Spooky.

I feel for Mr Joe Hill though, I really do, because every review of this book starts with the same phrase. I don’t see any reason to break the tradition – see Joe Hill is Stephen King’s son.

I will say this though, I reckon he’s a better writer.

Judas Coyne (everyone calls him Jude) is a fifty-something rockstar who came up with the era of heavy metal and is now a lion in winter decked out in black leather, enjoying his reward for a career of Satanic-ish heavy metal by sleeping with goth-girl groupies named after the states of the union. He also has a predilection for the trappings of the occult and weird stuff in general. Not that he believes in any of it, he’s just a compulsive collector. Preserved skulls of madmen who had been trepanned, signed confessions of a witch burned at the stake, Aleister Crowley’s chessboard. Stuff like that.

So when a ghost comes up for auction online he immediately slaps down a bid for a thousand dollars. Judas Coyne’s very own ghost. The media release alone would make it a purchase worth its weight in gold.

Then the sceptic who enjoys scaring middle America with satanic rock finds himself trapped in a house with the ghost of a dead hypnotist. And it dearly wants to hurt him for what he did to its stepdaughter, another in a long line of groupies used up and dumped by Judas over the years. His own house becomes a prison, the stereo system whispering death threats and television announcers predicting his suicide. In a panic Judas takes to the road, racing through the night as a dead man in a funeral suit and fedora hat follows close behind.

Heart-Shaped Box comes with ecstatic blurbs from Kelly Link and Neil Gaiman. That got my attention. I open the book and there’s a quote from Alan Moore’s The Voice of FireHow may the dead have destinations? Ok, I was sold. It’s an impressive debut and Hill shows excellent promise. This is a simple ghost story, one that relies on that basic fear of death we all feel. No monsters or vampires jumping out from cornfields. Here the scares are delivered by spectres appearing at the end of a long, dark hallway, or Ouija boards suddenly jumping to life and dogs growling in fear at invisible presences. The haunt itself, Craddock, is a malevolent spirit, whose hypnotist powers add an extra dimension of fear, controlling the will of Coyne and those around him to harm themselves. Reminiscent of the demented preacher Kane from Poltergeist II, his relentless pursuit of the terrified former rock star turning a more or less traditional haunted house story into a spooky road trip across America.

As the title implies, this is a book written by a member of the post-Cobain generation. The media hysteria surrounding heavy metal, grunge and goth music is rejected with the simple truth that true horror often happens behind closed doors in family homes. The lyrics of bands tarred with the ‘satanic rock’ brush often expressed feelings of rage and self-loathing that attracted troubled teenage listeners without the means to speak out themselves. Judas Coyne is cynical about his music and the trappings of a rock star, but Hill establishes that he is just as much of a victim as some of the emotionally damaged young people who buy his records. Ozzy Osbourne, Motley Crue and Trent Reznor are name-checked in the novel, with Coyne’s association with them allowing the character to represent the era of their music.

This is a gripping debut, a frightening race into the black night. Read it with the light on.

Every story here has been a passion. Every story here has been written because I had to write it. Writing stories is like breathing to me. I watch: I get an idea, fall in love with it, and try not to think too much about it. I then write: I let the story pour forth onto the paper as soon as possible.

I actually regret choosing this book for the Book A Day challenge. Bradbury is a fine, literate writer, worthy of anyone’s time. However, as a collection of short stories We’ll Always Have Paris is a book that should be read slowly, instead of ploughing through as one might a novel. A short story should be given time enough to breathe and even be read a second time so that none of its nuances are lost. Maybe I should have read the whole thing twice, so. We’ll Always Have Paris is a great introduction to Bradbury for those who are yet to discover him. Known for his science fiction classic The Martian Chronicles or his dark fairy tale Something Wicked This Way Comes, this collection offers more neutral fare with tales of strained marriages, mysterious old men, troubled priests and affairs over mixed tennis.

There is often a surreal tone to these stories, with ordinary lives made strange by small occurrences and random events. Arrival and Departure simply describes an elderly couple swept away by enthusiastic plans for a night out. Hours pass. And they’re back into the same old routine. Troubled marriages are a recurring trope within the collection. Ma Perkins Comes to Stay takes a relationship straining due to emotional neglect and ends with the fantasy lives of lonely souls around America replacing reality. Un-pillow Talk features a friendship that has taken a wrong turn into an affair, and Doubles uses tennis as a metaphor for infidelity. While, the title story, We’ll Always Have Paris, has a married man encounter a stalker of an unusual stripe in the city of romance.

Bradbury mentions in his introduction that his favourite story of the bunch is the first Massinello Pietro, which he has dedicated to an acquaintance. It is a bittersweet retelling of actual events, with an old man being threatened with eviction due to his menagerie of exotic pets and habit of playing old records loudly in the middle of the night. Personally, I enjoyed Pater Caninus, an amusing fable about two priests and a very devout…dog. It has just the right amount of the uncanny. There is a world-weary tone to these stories, with an undercurrent of loss and missed opportunities. Fairy tale romances end with objective certainty but here, life with a loving partner is filled with doubt.

Bradbury is a master story teller who redefined American fantasy and science fiction by injecting it with literary style and well-developed plotting. His influence can be seen in contemporary writers such as Kelly Link, Jonathan Lethem and Michael Chabon. Each of them has followed his lead in taking genres known for identikit plots and cardboard cut-out characters and introducing a note of the sublime. In short, Bradbury taught science fiction and fantasy some self-respect.

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