"I don't understand."
"Yeah, you do, but you don't want to understand." The man leaned back and laughed. "Hell's a-coming, little Scarecrow. Hell's a-coming and we all gotta learn to play the blues."
Something wicked refuses to leave Pine Deep, the small town in Jonathan Maberry's Ghost Road Blues. It took up residence years before and simply refuses to leave, or die. Back then, the townspeople started dying instead, and only one person, the Bone Man, could stop it. But he was stopped, too, before he could complete his mission. And now it's waited long enough. People are dying again.
"Iloz Zoc, move your left hand."
I stopped typing and looked up from my laptop. "What? Who said that?"
"Me, the something wicked you just wrote about."
I froze for a moment. "I've got to stop doing these all-night reviews," I said to myself. "Damn Dunkin' Donuts had to stop making Dunkachinos, too. I can't do this without two or three, at least. What do I know about Blues mythology, anyway? And I've got to stop talking to myself."
"Iloz Zoc, move your left hand. I can't see what you're writing."
I moved my left hand.
"That's better. Let's see...something wicked refuses to leave Pine Deep...okay, look, first thing is I'm not really wicked. Maberry only writes me that way. I'm really a pillar of the community."
"Now hold on there, old boy. It'd be better if you were a pillar of salt, instead," said another voice.
I looked up. Standing in my attic office was a tall, thin man. "Wait, I know you. There's a hint of grave dirt and tombstone dust about you. And that guitar strung across your back is a dead giveaway. You're the Bone Man, right?"
He bowed slightly and smiled. "In the flesh; well, close enough."
"That's it, I'm heading to bed," I shut my laptop.
"Now hold on, there, little reviewer, it's somethin' we got to do. Somethin' you got to do." He pulled the guitar over his head and started to play.
"Oh, please, the Blues isn't going to stop me this time and you know it," said the voice.
"Guys. Okay, maybe I'm hallucinating, maybe not. But since I've got the two of you here, I can use your help in this review. Hey, is Crow available?"
"No, he's off doing a book signing in Toledo," the Bone Man said.
"What about Mayor Terry?"
"Ditto in Peoria. Maberry kept the cushy signings for himself."
"Alright, then." I opened my laptop. The Bone Man tuned his guitar. "Let's do it."
Article comments
1 - Natalie Bennett
This article has been selected for syndication to Advance.net , which is affiliated with newspapers around the United States, and to Boston.com. Nice work!
2 - IL
Thanks!
3 - Faisal
I bought this book and read it solely becuase of the fact that it won the Stoker. After reading it, I have seriously started doubting the credibilty of the Bram Stoker Awards and all those authors who have chipped in with their blurbs. Pathetic does not describe it adequately. Its far worse than that. Badly written, extremely painful to read, this is by far one of the worst books I have ever read. Mr. Maberry should take some basic classes in creative writing. If he wants to convey that something was scary he will write "it was unspeakably dreadful and evil" and so on. This so so so so so bad :( :( :( I would have been better off reading some hack. At least they deliver and are not pretentious.
4 - Barb Harris
Wow...sounds like that last jackass has some kind of personal beef with the author. I thought personal attacks weren't allowed on these blog boards.
As far as my take on Ghost Road Blues goes...my book club just finished reading it (31 members), and we agreed that it was an excellent book, and particularly strong for a 'first novel'. Even out here in sunny Los Angeles I know I felt the creepy chill of the small eastern Pennsylvania town. This book would make a very, very spooky film.