Today's post was going to be an update on current WIPs. But on the
way home from work today, I learned news that rocked my world. The news
came to me via my Twitter feed, which I was checking on my phone on the
train home, as I usually do. Say what you like about Twitter, it's the
best place to go for the real news. The important news.
And the important news today - more important than trials and political scandals, more important than the fact that it was Budget Day - is that James Herbert has died. It is not an exaggeration to say I was shocked by this news. It is not even an exaggeration to say I was devastated.
James Herbert was Master of British Horror. In the 80s, when I first got into horror in a serious way, he dominated the shelves along with Stephen King. I have read many of his books. I have an entire shelf of them in my library.
I am not the only person affected by this news. Looking at my Twitter and Facebook feeds this evening, many people I follow are all saying the same thing. James Herbert informed their adolescent reading habits. James Herbert turned them on to reading, and writing, horror. James Herbert is among the greats, and the world will not be the same without him. Most people, it seemed, started off with THE RATS. I have to say I didn't get on with this particular book, which as I understand it was his first published novel. It wasn't the first James Herbert novel I read, and by the time I got to that one I was in my early 20s. It seemed to me to be a book largely preoccupied with describing - in graphic detail - people having sex, followed by said people being eaten by rats while they were cozying in the afterglow, and not much to the novel beyond that. I've said before that I'm the sort of person who skips the sex scenes, in search of something more interesting. In this case people being horribly eaten by rats was more interesting, but after three or four scenes of this it started to feel a bit 'samey'. So, no, THE RATS was not my favourite Herbert book. There are plenty of others, though, that I would rate up there as amongst the best horror novels every written. HAUNTED. THE GHOSTS OF SLEATH. THE MAGIC COTTAGE. CREED.
And then last year I read a James Herbert book that blew the rest of them out of the water. That book was NOBODY TRUE, and if you've been reading my blog for a while you may recall I wrote a glowing review (found here in case you haven't been).
I have never met James Herbert personally, in spite of going to two Cons in recent years where he was Guest of Honour - generally someting else interesting was happening, or the queue was just too long. I'm now rather regretting that I didn't take the time to stand in that queue, to get a book signed and get the chance to tell him how he inspired me as a horror writer, and how I devoured his books when I was just discovering my calling as a horror writer.
In spite of that, I still feel that I've read so many books of his that I knew him. And news of his death feels like a personal loss - a bit like losing an old friend.
Only yesterday I was contemplating buying his newest book. ASH. I decided against it at the time, my TBR pile being already so vast I shouldn't add to it until I've managed to get through some of the books in it. Now I feel the need to re-read all the James Herbert books on my shelf, and go out and buy all the ones I haven't read yet. I might even re-read THE RATS. Maybe the passage of time will make me like it more.
Goodbye, Mr Herbert. The world will not be the same without you, and you leave behind a hole in British horror fiction that no one could ever fill.
And the important news today - more important than trials and political scandals, more important than the fact that it was Budget Day - is that James Herbert has died. It is not an exaggeration to say I was shocked by this news. It is not even an exaggeration to say I was devastated.
James Herbert was Master of British Horror. In the 80s, when I first got into horror in a serious way, he dominated the shelves along with Stephen King. I have read many of his books. I have an entire shelf of them in my library.
I am not the only person affected by this news. Looking at my Twitter and Facebook feeds this evening, many people I follow are all saying the same thing. James Herbert informed their adolescent reading habits. James Herbert turned them on to reading, and writing, horror. James Herbert is among the greats, and the world will not be the same without him. Most people, it seemed, started off with THE RATS. I have to say I didn't get on with this particular book, which as I understand it was his first published novel. It wasn't the first James Herbert novel I read, and by the time I got to that one I was in my early 20s. It seemed to me to be a book largely preoccupied with describing - in graphic detail - people having sex, followed by said people being eaten by rats while they were cozying in the afterglow, and not much to the novel beyond that. I've said before that I'm the sort of person who skips the sex scenes, in search of something more interesting. In this case people being horribly eaten by rats was more interesting, but after three or four scenes of this it started to feel a bit 'samey'. So, no, THE RATS was not my favourite Herbert book. There are plenty of others, though, that I would rate up there as amongst the best horror novels every written. HAUNTED. THE GHOSTS OF SLEATH. THE MAGIC COTTAGE. CREED.
And then last year I read a James Herbert book that blew the rest of them out of the water. That book was NOBODY TRUE, and if you've been reading my blog for a while you may recall I wrote a glowing review (found here in case you haven't been).
I have never met James Herbert personally, in spite of going to two Cons in recent years where he was Guest of Honour - generally someting else interesting was happening, or the queue was just too long. I'm now rather regretting that I didn't take the time to stand in that queue, to get a book signed and get the chance to tell him how he inspired me as a horror writer, and how I devoured his books when I was just discovering my calling as a horror writer.
In spite of that, I still feel that I've read so many books of his that I knew him. And news of his death feels like a personal loss - a bit like losing an old friend.
Only yesterday I was contemplating buying his newest book. ASH. I decided against it at the time, my TBR pile being already so vast I shouldn't add to it until I've managed to get through some of the books in it. Now I feel the need to re-read all the James Herbert books on my shelf, and go out and buy all the ones I haven't read yet. I might even re-read THE RATS. Maybe the passage of time will make me like it more.
Goodbye, Mr Herbert. The world will not be the same without you, and you leave behind a hole in British horror fiction that no one could ever fill.
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