Tuesday, 11 December 2012 10:56 am
Book Review: Gravediggers: Mountain of Bones
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deckardcanineI've put off this review, partly because I doubt that many readers (as if I have many to begin with) will take interest. But hey, it's my journal.
As I mentioned before, author Christopher Krovatin, whom I still think of as Chris, went to camp with my sister and me. She and he dated a while and broke up amiably. His first novel, Heavy Metal and You, apparently drew some inspiration from her. I have not read that or Venomous, but at my mom's suggestion, I took up his third, which draws inspiration from campers I didn't know.
Chris's bio in the back doesn't mention that his mother is Anna Quindlen. That probably helped his writing ability.
The first sign of G:MoB's target audience, apart from the shelf where you may find it, is the front cover praise from R.L. Stine. The second sign that I noticed is that the three protagonists are sixth-graders. While Stine calls the story "ALL TOO REAL," these kids keep their language clean no matter how they feel. (TBH, I hardly noticed before finishing.) At the same time, it's pretty long for a sixth-grade read: more than 300 pages in hardcover. Perhaps readers are supposed to progress faster in excitement. I did.
One unusual feature is the strict alternation among three first-person, present-tense narrators, named at the start of each chapter. It makes sense for enhancing the readers' empathy and thus fear. The downside is that it pretty much tells you that all three live to tell about their adventure.
And who are these narrators? Three campers at Homeroom Earth who get assigned to study together. Impulsive basketball player Ian initially loves the idea of roughing it. The analytical Kendra assigns herself vocabulary words, misses the Internet, and does not take well to Ian calling her a nerd. Aspiring cinematographer PJ has long been Ian's friend, but his tendency to hide behind a camera for courage makes him uncool to hang out with. You don't need much genre savvy to guess early on how their feelings will change and how their personal interests will serve their survival.
For most of the book, these are the only people (for certain values of "people") we see, lost in an inhospitable woodland. You may think there's not enough characterization, but I think Chris knew what he was doing. Consider Stephen King's 'salem's Lot, in which everyone's a Maine town archetype. With the characters fairly but not utterly flat, we can easily project people we know onto them, which may be especially important for horror.
Another thing Chris gets right is the pacing. Stine calls it fast, but that's potentially misleading: It takes more than 100 pages for any of the narrators to posit anything supernatural. The menace makes itself known little by little. When it comes in full force, the narrators feel more than abject terror and occasional pain: There's plenty of fatigue, hunger, revulsion, anger, sadness, pride, shame, awe, perplexity, and even amusement. I came to feel like I'd been out on that mountain myself.
I'm not sure how much to say about the ending. It's credible enough for the genre but not exactly depressing, all things considered. It also indicates the necessity of a sequel without really leaving us hanging.
Almost at random, I chose to follow this with a collection of three novellas by J.-H. Rosny aîné. It's been a while since my last 19th-century read.
As I mentioned before, author Christopher Krovatin, whom I still think of as Chris, went to camp with my sister and me. She and he dated a while and broke up amiably. His first novel, Heavy Metal and You, apparently drew some inspiration from her. I have not read that or Venomous, but at my mom's suggestion, I took up his third, which draws inspiration from campers I didn't know.
Chris's bio in the back doesn't mention that his mother is Anna Quindlen. That probably helped his writing ability.
The first sign of G:MoB's target audience, apart from the shelf where you may find it, is the front cover praise from R.L. Stine. The second sign that I noticed is that the three protagonists are sixth-graders. While Stine calls the story "ALL TOO REAL," these kids keep their language clean no matter how they feel. (TBH, I hardly noticed before finishing.) At the same time, it's pretty long for a sixth-grade read: more than 300 pages in hardcover. Perhaps readers are supposed to progress faster in excitement. I did.
One unusual feature is the strict alternation among three first-person, present-tense narrators, named at the start of each chapter. It makes sense for enhancing the readers' empathy and thus fear. The downside is that it pretty much tells you that all three live to tell about their adventure.
And who are these narrators? Three campers at Homeroom Earth who get assigned to study together. Impulsive basketball player Ian initially loves the idea of roughing it. The analytical Kendra assigns herself vocabulary words, misses the Internet, and does not take well to Ian calling her a nerd. Aspiring cinematographer PJ has long been Ian's friend, but his tendency to hide behind a camera for courage makes him uncool to hang out with. You don't need much genre savvy to guess early on how their feelings will change and how their personal interests will serve their survival.
For most of the book, these are the only people (for certain values of "people") we see, lost in an inhospitable woodland. You may think there's not enough characterization, but I think Chris knew what he was doing. Consider Stephen King's 'salem's Lot, in which everyone's a Maine town archetype. With the characters fairly but not utterly flat, we can easily project people we know onto them, which may be especially important for horror.
Another thing Chris gets right is the pacing. Stine calls it fast, but that's potentially misleading: It takes more than 100 pages for any of the narrators to posit anything supernatural. The menace makes itself known little by little. When it comes in full force, the narrators feel more than abject terror and occasional pain: There's plenty of fatigue, hunger, revulsion, anger, sadness, pride, shame, awe, perplexity, and even amusement. I came to feel like I'd been out on that mountain myself.
I'm not sure how much to say about the ending. It's credible enough for the genre but not exactly depressing, all things considered. It also indicates the necessity of a sequel without really leaving us hanging.
Almost at random, I chose to follow this with a collection of three novellas by J.-H. Rosny aîné. It's been a while since my last 19th-century read.