HarperTorch, $7.99, ISBN 0-06-103018-X
Horror, 2002 (Reissue)
Clive Barker’s full length novels can be convoluted, with plots that can appear convoluted on paper, and the story in Coldheart Canyon is especially hard to fully summarize in a review. The best way to describe it is if Ryan Murphy had decided to do a season of American Horror Story inspired by a Jackie Collins novel, and as with a typical season of that show, this one takes off in various self-indulgent tangents that just bog down the show until one wonders what the main story even is about. Wrap that up in a head-scratcher of a happy ending of sorts, and that’s this one in a nutshell.
The story, oh boy; let me see how I can give a coherent synopsis of the whole thing. It all began with some knights during the medieval times that killed an unusual goat-like creature that turns out to be a son of Satan and Lilith. Lilith, enraged by the act, hatched a long and unusual punishment for them—she placed the knights in a series of painted tiles and told them that their Hunt, as it is called, would only end after they succeeded in capturing Devil Boy once more.
This act has an unusual side effect: the occupants of the room in which the tiles are in will always stay young and be super horny. Don’t ask. Eventually the tiles are sold off and moved to a mansion in the location that gives this book its title. The original owner of the place, an actress called Katya Lupi, would hold orgies for all the Hollywood luminaries back in those days, until she decided that she didn’t want to share the special properties of the Hunt anymore. Unfortunately, those that cavorted often in the place became addicted to the pleasures it offered, so eventually they offed themselves and came back as ghosts to haunt the place. Because this is a sexy story, these ghosts basically cavorted among themselves and even shagged the beasts in the area, giving rise to half-human, half-whatever monsters that roam the land looking for prey.
Cut to the present day. We have an actor, Todd Pickett, whose star is falling after a terrible dud of a movie. Against his better judgment, he goes for a face lift and experiences a rare complication that leaves his face swollen and red all over. He buys the place previously owned by Katya to recuperate, and that’s when he encounters the lady, who is hoping that he’d be her sexy time partner for all eternity or something in that place. Also thrust into the mess is Maxine, Todd’s agent, and Tammy, the president of Todd’s fan club, as well as a few more people that exist mostly to become victims.
Coldheart Canyon is… a strange thing. Clive Barker wrote this basically as catharsis for his father’s death, I believe, and perhaps unsurprisingly that the story seems to morph into different things at various points, as if the author changed his mind many times throughout the writing period, but didn’t go back to alter past bits to reflect these changes. A big example of this is how the first third or so of this book focuses on Todd’s life and history, but in the end, he isn’t even the main character of the story. Katya is set up to be this dangerous femme fatale, but by the time the story ends, she’s not even the primary antagonist anymore; instead she’s just a shrill, psychotic dim-witted hag that has no plan aside from getting her next jollies. Characters are abruptly introduced as the story progresses, taking up quite a bit of screen time so to speak, only to then be disposed off or shoved aside with a careless shrug.
In other words, this is a story that the author was writing for himself, and it is up to the reader to whether to put up with the erratic veers and turns of the story, or to throw up their hands and shove this book aside.
In fact, a big chunk of the later parts of the book devolves into a rant against the sinfulness of Hollywood. Nothing new here, as authors such as Jackie Collins had long made a career out of trashing the life that they hypocritically are part of, but given Mr Barker’s tumultuous love-hate relationship with Hollywood, I can only give these parts of the story my side eye. I mean, let’s be honest here, Clive Barker has a terrible spotty record with Hollywood, perhaps only better than another famous famous author’s track record, heh, but he also keeps going back for more punishment. He keeps pushing for more movie or streaming adaptations of his works, and increasingly. even his recent graphic novels and books seem to be created just to be adapted by Hollywood one of these days. Even as Mr Barker denounces nearly all past adaptations of his works, he seems to believe that if the pattern persisted, the next one may just be the one. The next one, the next one…
Hence, when I see all the rant about ageism and sexism and whatever-ism in Hollywood, I can only roll up my eyes. Plus, it also doesn’t escape my notice that some of the more degrading sexual humiliation in this story occurs to female characters, so yeah, Hollywood is the sexist one, snort.
Speaking of sex, much has been hyped about the sexy bits of this story. Well, let me set the record straight: this book is not brimming with sex scenes, so I hope folks aren’t expecting an erotic romp here. Also, I have to say this, even if it will earn me some ire from certain folks: Clive Barker is terrible at erotic scenes. His sexually-charged scenes are fine when they are intended to be horrific and grotesque, as these could be some of most sublime prose he has produced in his career. Here, though, the sexy scenes are not charged with horrific overtones; rather, they end up being unintentionally comical. There is a horribly written scene of Todd and another bloke going at it with a woman that makes me wonder whether the person writing that scene had ever had sex before; there is another scene of Katya having sex with actual snails that has me thinking whether the person writing the scene even care about getting human anatomy and function right.
On the bright side, there are still enough macabre moments here to ensure that this story will still stick to the mind no matter how much of a fruit loop it is being. The story is also pretty disturbing at places, including descriptions of sexual acts involving a being with the body of a child and the pee-pee of elephantine proportions, rape, and bestiality, which further ensures that this one will linger like an unpleasant aftertaste long after the last page, like any decent horror fiction should endeavor to.
In many ways, Coldheart Canyon still works as a work of macabre fiction. However, it is not the most cohesive or even coherent one, and a lot of patience may be needed on the reader’s part, especially if they are not fans of the author in the first place. The badly done sex scenes are probably the nail on the coffin for these readers, heh. Folks, proceed with caution when it comes to this one!
