Early on in writing for Scars Magazine,
one of my first informally suggested assignments was to write a review of the
collected works of Jack Ketchum and prepare for the possibility of performing
an interview with the author. I went to
the library to begin my preparatory work, but the works of Jack Ketchum are
sadly under-represented in Rhode Island’s state-wide library catalogue. So the project went on the back burner.
That is until Ray Dowaliby lent me his
signed paperback of “The Author’s Uncut Uncensored Version!” of Off Season
accompanied by the necessary warnings that any damage that fell upon the book
would be visited upon me threefold.
This is my first exposure to the horror
fiction of Jack Ketchum, but I’m no stranger to the author’s impact on the
genre. I’ve seen Ketchum’s work adapted
into an excellent little film titled ‘The Lost’ (2005) directed by Chris
Sivertson, which was screened at the 2006 Rhode Island International Horror
Film Festival. I’ve also been in the
same room as the author, a guest at the 2006 Rock ‘n’ Shock convention in
Worcester, Massachusetts, who prefaced the screening of Sivertson’s ‘The Lost’
at that convention with a preparatory introduction.
The cover art for the book, a stew kettle
hanging from a tripod of bones, the ground surrounding it also strewn by bones,
against a backdrop of the mouth of a cave looking out upon an ocean scene, lit
by the darkening sunset gives the reader an idea of what they’re getting
themselves into before the first page is turned. It may seem like a spoiler, but allow me to
assure you that it’s not a spoiler to divulge that the book is a contemporary retelling
of the Sawney Beane legend, set in the wilds of upstate Maine.
The legend of Sawney Beane, a wild
Scottish clan that lived in a cave by the seashore, preying upon travelers
until they were forcibly eradicated by a regiment of armed men, is no stranger
to adaptation. Many films such as Wes
Craven’s ‘Hills Have Eyes’ series have taken the theme of feral inbred families
preying upon unsuspecting travelers.
Other films which adopt the theme are ‘Raw Meat’ (1972); ‘C.H.U.D.’
(1984); ‘Wrong Turn’ (2003) and ‘The Descent’ (2005) to name a few.
Revealing that the novel is a contemporary
retelling of the Sawney Beane legend does little to strip the novel of its
ability to hold readers’ attentions. A
small group of couples arrive at a cabin to enjoy a pastoral weekend together,
and of course they become fodder for the feral family exemplary of the theme in
film and literature often discussed as “the rise of the repressed”, but in this
version the poor actually eat the rich.
A victim who survives the predations of the family from the first pages
of the novel inspires the investigatory interest of the colorful members of the
local law enforcement. The shallow
interactions of the beautiful vacationers from the big city do little to add to
the appeal of the characters. It
depends on what the author’s intention was.
If it is meant as character development to enhance the reader’s sympathy
for the author’s intended victims, then it is unsuccessful. If it was intended to reveal the
superficiality and sexual-preoccupation of the victims, then it was very
successful. Either way, the
self-involved musings of the unsuspecting vacationers are well worth suffering
through to reach the final third of the book when the family descends upon the
cabin and does what they were born (the product of generations of incestuous
interbreeding) to do.
The final pages of Off Season
present the reader with all three threads meeting, and the events that unfold
are described with a detail that will satisfy the depraved desires of even the
more jaded variety of readers of horror fiction whose collective palette have
been numbed by bland black-bound cookie-cutter novels.
The cover art prepared me for a thin and
uninspired representation of the Sawney Beane legend. Instead Jack Ketchum breathes new life into
the old legend and presents readers with an enjoyable exploration of the
theme. Although the character
development in the first two-thirds of the book is a bit clichéd and
predictable, the last third of the book confounds the expectations of
presumptuous readers and had me reading the last third in one sitting, eager to
discover what further examples of man’s inhumanity to man, would be exposed
detail by lurid, blood-spattered, detail.
Off
Season is definitely not for children, or recommended as an introduction to
horror fiction for the faint of heart.
This book is for blood-thirsty fans of the genre desensitized by the
bland banality of horror fiction looking for a new and engrossing spin on an old
theme.
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