Silent Hill

Yeah, I don't know what it is, I just felt like playing Silent Hill all of a sudden.  So I bought it. And a Playstation 1. As child, I played video games at other people's houses until I bought the Playstation 2. I would often play on my cousin's SNES. Anyway, I started playing Silent Hill and I could definitely see why it was a very popular game.

It all starts as protagonist Harry Mason crashes his car to avoid a ghostly child in the middle of the street. So far so good. He wakes up a short while later to discover that his 7-year-old daughter, Cheryl, is missing. You walk out into the street and see her, chasing her into a dark, bloody, spooky alley. Now, of course if I had a daughter I would attempt to find and rescue her at all costs, but if she leads me into an alley littered with corpses and a slowly-moving wheelchair she is so on her own.

Harry eventually finds his daughter's notebook, which suggests that she went to the local elementary school. Now, at this point I was thinking "Are you kidding me, an elementary school? Why don't you just make me go to a hospital and a fucking amusement park, too?" Oh, and then you get attacked by creepy skinless gray zombies and you run away but eventually you find a dead end and they corner you and... you wake up a short while later in a diner, rescued by a cop named Cybil Bennett (who also has no idea what's happening). She agrees to help you and together, the two protagonists come up with a great plan: split up. Yeah, split up. Seeing as how they shouldn't have survived this long in general, they're completely screwed in Silent Hill.

Unfortunately, this pair always splits up when there's trouble. Have to erase two extremely dangerous demonic markings? Split up. Found a secret demon shrine? Accidentally split up. If a toilet got clogged in Silent Hill, they would split up. That being said, I'm going to cover something that actually pisses me off: the controls. This game does not handle well. When you move, you can only move forward and backward. If you want to turn, you have to jam the analog stick in the desired direction until Harry is at the needed angle, and then you press forward or backward. I mean, I guess I understand the need; in games like that, with a beautiful mixture of cramped, close-quarters indoor areas and a spacious outdoors, spacial recognition is important. You're going to be more terrified and challenged if it takes a while to navigate a small, zombie-infested classroom or ditch that pesky pterodactyl monster. Also, the hallways are pretty narrow, so it would take very little time to get from place to place, but it's so annoying. I got used to it after a while, but it never stopped costing me some health every once in a while, and sharp turns are always a bitch when it's literally impossible to make a 90º turn without stopping and standing like an idiot for a second. If only Harry can communicate with the demons, he might say, "Whoa, guys, give me a second to make a right turn real quick, this isn't fair."

Also, the bumpers make Harry take exactly one step in the desired direction, with about a half-second recovery. I don't know when you would ever need that unless one of the skinless child-demons challenged you to a dance-off. I guess it's supposed to be a dodge, but I feel like the enemies are too fast or the space is too small depending on where you are. Or it could just be my idiocy, that's a definite possibility. What I love, though, is how you're just an average guy. You get more badass as you go along, but Harry Mason is just a middle-aged writer with some guns and a kick-ass emergency hammer (the best melee weapon by far, and everyone who thinks the axe is better should stop playing on easy). Because of this, you have marginally worse accuracy the farther you are from the target, and shooting in darkness is hell. This makes the game terrifying, and add in the fog that constantly surrounds you when you're on the streets as well as the fact that your radio emits static and then crackles whenever enemies are near, and you will always have a death-grip on the controller.

To be honest, I was pretty skeptical at first, partly because all the voices are recorded one line at a time, so the voice acting can sometimes be pretty bad, and it wasn't that scary when I was only facing pterodactyls and skinless dogs.

The stuff of nightmares?

At one point, you have to cross through some guy's house to make it to the school. It's foggy daytime when you enter through the front, but when you exit out the backyard, it's pitch black night. You survive by the light of your pocket flashlight, and that is when I got hooked, when I actually started bracing myself at the slightest sound. And then there's the school.

It was about eleven p.m. when I got to the school. I was already on edge because I had walked there in the goddam night, and then I went into the school courtyard and saw this:

The stuff of fucking nightmares.

And this is verbatim what I said as I threw the controller: "Shit no stop I was not ready for this stop I can't, I'm sorry, I can't right now screw this I can't," and then I turned it off and went to bed. The whole school is like this, and just to top it off, there are two dimensions to Silent Hill: the normal, foggy dimension which is scary enough as is, and a dimension called "The Otherworld," where the floor turns into bronze grates and the walls are also bronze but covered with blood and things are about a thousand times more terrifying.

The whole game is basically running around Silent Hill, solving puzzles and killing/running from enemies, trying to find your daughter while interacting with a few remaining humans and figuring out why Silent Hill's new motto is, straight from the game, "Welcome to Hell." Such safe and fun destinations include the local hospital (and its Otherworld counterpart), the sewers, and an amusement park. I know it's cliché to say this, but can I please just be sent to fight a giant mutant lizard in a brightly-lit airport or grocery store? One bone I have to pick, however, is the fact that in order to get the better endings (there are four total) you have to do totally random and unrelated side quests. I got the bad+ ending, which sucked balls, but then I played again with a walkthrough and got the best ending. It's very satisfying, I suggest looking up how to get the best ending beforehand, because I got really upset when I finished the game the first time. Also, for a Playstation game, the storyline is very rich and intriguing, with a pretty disturbing history. The only problem is that it's practically impossible to unearth the details, they're hidden pretty deep. I suggest using http://mysilenthill.com/silent-hill-story-explanation/, it's well-written and very helpful.

Returning to the characters/dialogue thing, even though the voice acting leaves a bit to be desired, the characters are actually very fun. Even evil characters have some redeeming qualities, and I'll be damned if I didn't vocally cheer Harry on every step of the way, because his habit of interrogating people about his daughter's location along with his sympathy and no fear of doing what needs to be done to survive makes for a very lovable character, and I would have been very disappointed at seeing him die. Cybil was a softhearted hard-ass, the best kind of hard-ass, and I always breathed a sigh of relief whenever she showed up, even though I knew deep in my heart that the time to split up again was inevitable. The crazy Dahlia Gillespie, rude Dr. Kaufman, and sweet nurse Lisa are all good characters, and seeing how they all fit into the puzzle that is Silent Hill is always rewarding. And last but not least, and I don't know how I've neglected to mention her, the ghost-like girl Alessa, of whom you constantly have dreams and visions. The game has a lot to do with her and her connection to Cheryl. Oh, and as a bonus, I listed all these people without even having to look up the names, that's how memorable they are.

Conclusion:

As long as you can get past the controls and don't mind being confused and scared, it's great. I love games with a plot, with soul, but I also pay a lot of attention to how the game handles and I still loved it. Some camera angles are a little annoying, but there are also some really quality ones (there are usually good shots in winding alleys), and there are lots of little details that make the atmosphere much more effective. This game also has very short and well-animated cutscenes every once in a while that, while not adding too much to the game, I thought were very cool. Overall, I'd easily recommend this game to most friends, and as long as you can appreciate the older stuff, this is easily one of the better horror-adventure games.

Shivers 31: Shriek Home Chicago

This is Shriek Home Chicago, otherwise known as, and it says this on the back of the book, "Terror on Troll Mountain II." Now, I was dreading this since the moment I discovered this book, but- and I really can't believe I'm saying this- Shriek Home Chicago is really good. I'm serious. I apparently hated the first book, but this one is not bad, because M.D. Spenser took one look at Terror on Troll Mountain and said, "Well, screw this." This book is so over-the-top and ridiculous that it's hugely entertaining. This book does not take itself seriously at all, and is written with a level of head-shake-inspiring corniness that only Shivers could pull off, and- for the first time ever- M.D. Spenser pulls it off perfectly. There will be no extra segments because this whole book is one big Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters, Beautiful Imagery, and Hip References combined with whatever other random segment I would've come up with. It's truly spectacular.

Maybe the first book was like this too, and I was too new to the Shivers series to appreciate it, but I don't think so. I think this is a unique book. It starts off with our previous protagonist, Paul Alberti, looking for his right shoe, eager to pick up Anthony, who is visiting Chicago from Italy, from the airport. Paul looks in his closet when all of a sudden he sees the Orco and he jumps back and it's a dream sequence. Starting with a dream sequence, maybe it's not that unique. To be fair,  I feel like M.D. Spenser or whatever genius he paid way too little to write this book for him just included this as a joke, because as Paul Alberti (who in this book is much less annoying than in the first book- don't get me wrong, he's still annoying, but in a funny way) is searching through his closet, he finds "'Mad' magazines. Empty Doritos bags. Ukulele. Run-DMC tape. Snickers wrapper. 'Huckleberry Finn.' [sic]. Hawaiian shirt. Fur-covered foot. An old collection of Smurfs.
Wait a minute. Fur-covered foot?"

It's like something out of a Scooby Doo cartoon, and it's not the funniness that makes me appreciate it (I mean, he's no Bo Burnham), but the fact that considering such a ridiculous threat as a mountain troll in Paul's closet, M.D. Spenser writes in a way fitting the situation: utter silliness. Then the book goes over Paul and Anthony's experience with the Orco, the giant mountain troll that tormented them in Italy before being pushed off a cliff. M.D. Spenser handles sequels well; I didn't get bored of reading a review of the events in Terror on Troll Mountain, but it said enough to jog my memory. Later, Paul and "Mrs Alberti," as she's legitimately called in the book, wait for Anthony, whose inadequacies in the English language are expressed through random insertions of "-- how you say? --", at the airport. It's actually pretty obnoxious. It's at the stupidest parts, too, like "We should just keep our lips -- how you say? -- zipped."

When they get home, Anthony reveals that he suspects the Orco is alive and angry because he'd been getting "how do you say it? –– bad vibes." The whole book, while third person, definitely includes traces of Paul's thoughts. For example, "In Italy, most pizza crust is so thin it's practically see-through. Well, not that thin, but it'd seemed that way to Paul." Silly M.D. Spenser, an impartial narrator can't correct itself. Oh, and yet another burn against Italy (there are quite a few). Later, they go to a shopping mall, where Anthony challenges a young kid to a "computer boxing match" and Paul goes to look at action figures. Oh, and another thing about this book: the protagonist has an actual personality! It's insane. Paul is not just some mindless plot device, he is a real character. It really is a momentous occasion; I attempted to call the Los Angeles Times about it but they hung up on me. So did the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Santa Monica High student newspaper. The only newspaper that was willing to hear me out was The Onion, but... yeah.

When Paul tries to find his cousin, he discovers that Anthony had run off and starts to panic. Then, a furry brown hand lands on his shoulder and, in one of the most amazing scenes in Shivers history, the next line is "Hey! You like my mittens? Fifty percent off!" It's like in The Simpsons.

HEY BART, WANNA SEE MY NEW CHAINSAW AND HOCKEY MASK?

When the pair gets home, they watch Treasure of the Sierra Madre before asking to watch the news in an effort to stay up late. JUST MAKE SURE IT'S NOT FOX HAHAHA no but they really are the scum of the earth. The news claims that many children had been reporting Bigfoot sightings. Luckily, there's a reality show dedicated to finding him that somehow lasted more than one season. M.D. Spenser also does this weird thing where he writes a statement followed by a question for that statement followed by an answer. For example: "The next morning, Paul woke up early. How early? Before either one of his parents. For Paul, that was pretty early." It's so strange, I would hate that if it was in any other Shivers book.

So the pair decides to head down to a nearby park because a kid who had seen Bigfoot supposedly went there every day. They start walking up to him and handle the terrifying "big kids approaching a much smaller child" situation perfectly: Paul says "Don't worry, Jimmy... we're not gonna beat you up or anything." The thing I love about this book more than anything is that the main characters, especially Paul, act like idiots, so all evidence suggests that they shouldn't have lived half as long as they have; because of the way they act, other characters actually treat them like idiots. It's awesome. This kid Jimmy gives off a I-hate-dealing-with-idiots-like-these vibe, probably because Paul "felt like a private eye or an undercover cop, getting ready to pump a snitch for information." I don't even have to attempt to be funny, this book does it for me.

Jimmy leads them into the woods, where they get ambushed by a poodle which is understandably mistaken for a giant furry man. Jimmy bolts, but they find out from his description that it was, indeed, the Orco. When they get back home, Anthony proposes that they go after it with dynamite, machine guns, and grenades, because "I thought you could buy all the weapons you want in America." Now, one might expect me to make a statement on gun control. Well, I won't. I won't succumb to your expectations, I barely even care about gun control myself. So there, consider your expectations defied.

Paul, thinking his cousin has gone over the deep end, goes downstairs to make himself a sandwich. As he's reaching into the refrigerator, a hairy hand clamps over his mouth and tells him to be quiet but it's actually... the Orco. Legitimately, it's the Orco. 43 pages in and there's already a tangible threat, this book is awesome. But here's where it gets better: the Orco talks. In a British accent. "It was the voice of James Bond, or one of the Beatles, only huskier." Is... is M.D. Spenser just listing off well-known British people? The James Bonds don't even sound like the Beatles.

So the Orco demands a sandwich, and tells Paul about how he was human once, and how he stowed (stew?) away on Anthony's plane (yes, because that's possible), and how he likes to eat children, and yada yada yada he talks way too much. Then Anthony comes downstairs and Paul yells at him to run, but the Orco catches them both. He starts to eat Paul when his dad comes down and they discover that adults can't see the Orco. Nevertheless, the Orco stops eating Paul and leaves. Once upstairs, Paul and Anthony decide to visit Zia Anita, their crazy aunt who happens to live in Chicago and who had never appeared or been mentioned until this very moment. When they get to her house, they realize that she'd also seen the Orco, but since it only appears to adults, she can't do anything to help except maybe do some research or something. Wow, even their deus ex machina is useless, these boys are screwed.

When they get home, the boys discover that Paul's mom has to leave for work all day the next day, so they're completely alone. Once again, I love this book. After mom leaves, the boys take a bus over to the Field Museum of Natural History, where I would assume they learn things. Once inside the museum, they walk around for a while before coming upon an empty room where the Orco kidnaps them and drags them into a fake cave. I just want to know how it's possible for a giant mountain troll to stalk these kids in a museum without having been noticed by, say, other children. Whatever, he pulls them in a hatch and threatens to bring them back to his evil lair, which has the best view in the city (plot bells). Anthony challenges him to a fight, which he loses pretty badly. The Orco starts advancing on Paul, who backs up into a cupboard and knocks over a bunch of cleaning chemicals and stuff. God, I remember how much of a klutz Paul was in the first book. Pissed me off then, too.

Paul then figures out how to get out of this sticky situation by lighting a match and preparing to light the chemicals on fire when he realizes he needs a cool line before lighting flammable liquids. The good news about this book is that I can say "classic ___" about a character and not be sarcastic. The bad news is that I can say "classic ___" about Paul and not be sarcastic. This is how the snappy finishing-line goes: "Paul  lit one of the matches and called out: 'This light's for you!'
Not the greatest line, he had to admit. It actually didn't make much sense. A confused look spread across the Orco's face."

Can I say, one more time, how much I love this book? Anyway, the Orco grabs Anthony and runs away. Paul manages to climb up the hatch in which they entered when he's apprehended by a cop and charged with arson. He stomps on the cop's foot and escapes (yeah, really). The POV, while still 3rd person, becomes all detective-y as Paul deduces that the Orco is in the top story of the Sears Tower, which was under construction in the beginning of the book. That's actually really clever.

Paul sneaks up there and gets knocked out by the Orco. Considering how unbelievably half-assed his plan was, good.  When he comes to, he's next to Anthony and the Orco is making a stew for them. He explains his whole evil backstory: he was a totally evil pirate, lots of enemies, so he looked for a Fountain of Youth in Pinzolo, where he murdered all his men and drank from it, and the murder violated the spring and now he's the Orco so he has to feast on the blood of the innocent once a day.

Just when the Orco is about to murder Paul, Anthony cuts through his ropes with a pocket knife he didn't mention until that moment and starts hitting the Orco with a rolling pin. The Orco is scared, because it turns out that he was just a big scared bully the whole time (which actually kind of makes sense). Then the Orco fades to dust because it's midnight, and I'm just glad his weakness isn't camera flashes. The cousins go friendly jostling each other into the sunset, having burned a museum and assaulted a cop.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters (yeah, I lied, but it was just too tempting):
1. "And Paul hadn't been able to hit her back or anything because she was a little girl and it was his mom's school and he'd get busted for sure."
2. "He'd gone over the edge. Grenades! Machine guns! TNT! Sure, and maybe they could swing by Rent-a-Tank while they were at it!"
3. "This light's for you!"

Conclusion:
The fact that the sequel to Terror on Troll Mountain managed to be better than the original is a feat within itself. Not a large feat, granted, but a feat. But this book completely ditches any attempt to stick to the children-horror genre, instead becoming its own goofy action-adventure thing and doing a pretty decent job in that category. This book is perfect in a way that no other Shivers book has been, because not only does it have a compelling storyline inspired by characters I actually care about, it does it without taking itself seriously in the least. This is what separates this book from the other good ones, and the best part is that it wouldn't have been half as effective without all of its predecessors, both crappy and OK. Thank you, M.D. Spenser.

P.S. Sorry for the late update, I have been extremely busy this week. I'll make more frequent reviews starting now.

Under the Dome

I am a total sucker for Stephen King. Despite what I view as a tremendous gap in writing quality (I'm slightly less awesome), he reminds me of myself quite a bit. That being said, I'm not sure I could ever type out something as intricate, clever, and completely bat-shit crazy as Under the Dome. Seeing as how it's a 1,072 page book (and not of the Shivers series, for once), I'm not writing a synopsis. No way. I will, however, go over some of the plot, up to where it really picks up, I guess, and provide my opinions.

It all starts on October 21st, when Claudette Sanders is taking a flying lesson. On that exact same day, a man named Dale Barbara, or "Barbie" to his friends, is on his way out of the small town of Chester's Mill. All is peaceful, it's all good, when all of a sudden a giant invisible Dome lands on the city.

Well... essentially. We'll leave it at that. The dome cuts a woodchuck that happened to be hopping near Barbie clean in half, inspiring him to maybe take a step back or two. Claudette Sanders flies her plane into the Dome and just explodes, which also probably caused some other people to take a step back or two. Honestly, this is when things start to pick up, and they don't go back down. This book has a constant stream of shit hitting the fan, and it goes off the rails for so long that it practically blazes a new path. Here, I'll show you what I mean.

Barbie meets a man on the other side of the Dome, and the two hit it off. Meanwhile, 21-year-old Junior Rennie, during one of his many migraines, decides to pay this girl, Angie McCain, a visit. You see, Angie sort of instigated a fight between Barbie, who is ex-military and totally badass, and Junior's posse. Junior, because of his tendency to be a wild card all the time, punches her over and over again until she dies. I mean, I'm sure a lecture or heart-to-heart conversation would have sufficed, but OK. He actually makes a reference to Shawshank State Prison, which would be annoying if children horror writers did it but is kinda cute in a Stephen King book. To be fair, Shawshank is an actual prison, but it's also in Ohio, which is a few states away from Chester's Mill, Maine.

Plenty more people die because of the Dome, including the Chief of Police, who I think would have made a great good guy had his pacemaker not exploded when he touched the Dome. It does that, it has a tendency to blow up electronics people have in them. Barbie and his new friend find out that the Dome goes all the way around, which makes sense seeing as how it's a dome. One thing I will say about this book is that it has a lot of foreshadowing. Which is fine. I don't really dislike foreshadowing, but it does end up being a bit excessive. For example, 26 pages before the Chief of Police dies, Stephen King says that he dies. He says that the next time his wife saw him, "he was dead." Well, thanks for spoiling it for me.

I understand the need for foreshadowing, especially in a book like this. Most of the time, it effectively builds up suspense. At one point a doctor, Rusty Everett, who becomes an important character, doesn't snatch an important file (I'm not going to spoil what it contains). The book says that he will come to regret it several times, which is nerve-racking, it makes me fear for what will happen next. When King says that a big event will end badly, I'm on the edge of my seat, I have to know what happens. When I learn that a character is going to die... it's just disappointing. I still want to read the book, but I try to stop caring about the character. I end up feeling much less when the character actually dies. I'm not completely sure how to express it... It's kind of like in Lost, with the flash-forwards starting in season four (I'm currently on season 4). When I see that a character dies in the future, I'm surprised, but I'm also like, "Hey, what the hell, Lost, I don't wanna see this crap, I wanna be surprised, I wanna be devastated when somebody dies, I don't want to know episodes before it actually happens." Obviously, Stephen King likes doing this, since it happens constantly in The Stand as well; maybe it's a matter of opinion, but I cannot get myself to like it.

Getting back to the story, there is a lot to cover. The town is run by three Selectmen: First Selectman, Andy Sanders, Big Jim's puppet; James "Big Jim" Rennie, the main antagonist, and Second Selectman; and Andrea Grinnell, Third Selectman, with a good moral compass but addicted to Oxycontin. Big Jim becomes a sort of dictator, putting a complete tool, Randolph, in the position of Police Chief and making Junior and his buddies the new force. God, are they ass-hats. The worst is Carter Thibodeau, because not only is he cruel, he's also smart. A dangerous combination.

Along for the ride are the three musketeers: Jon McClatchey, Benny, and Norrie. These three radical skater-dudes are as gnarly as they come. There's Julia, owner of the local newspaper, Reverend Lester Coggins (can I get an Amen) and Reverend Piper Libby, each of their own church. There's professor Thurston Marshall, his girlfriend Carolyn, and the Dorphans (Dome Orphans) Alice and Aiden. They're adorable. Then there's one of my favorites, The Chef. He is always high off of crystal meth and lives in the basement of a church. He's everything I wanted to be when I grew up. He says things like, "can I get an Amen/Hallelujah," "Can you dig that happy crappy?" and "You can't trust your Oriental races." He's blatantly racist in a way that seems almost innocent, and it is very entertaining.

There are so many characters I can't even begin to list them all. King does an amazing job with character development; everybody changes in one way or another, people change sides constantly, and each person is so three-dimensional they're almost four-dimensional, and you really can't find it in you to wholeheartedly despise anyone, although I wished for plenty of deaths. Junior is a despicable character in the beginning, but when he meets two children cut off from their mother by the Dome, he acts nice for them, and he almost makes you want him to be happy. It is fantastic. There are so many not-so-mini mini-climaxes that the whole book is a thrill ride from beginning to end, but when the real climax happens, you're still aware enough to cry yourself to sleep.

Much of the book is centered on the battle between Team Barbie and Big Jim, who is leading most of the rest of Chester's Mill. Team Barbie just never catches a break, never, and so many other factors come into play that you'd think that you'd get confused and that the plot would be convoluted but you don't and it isn't. King manages it perfectly. I will complain about one more thing, though: Julia's dog can hear dead people. All dogs can hear "the deadvoice." It's very sudden, and crucial to the plot. The voice tells the dog to deliver an important file to one of the main characters. But... God forgive me... because whynot? This could be a reference to an earlier Stephen King book, or a connection to a later plot point that I suspect might be true but that I don't want to address because of spoilers, but I don't think so. I think it's just a big Deus ex Machina. Stephen King can't just say, "Oh, there's been a long, non-paranormal battle raging for a while, and there's a crucial file hidden away somewhere that the good guys need... oh, and dogs can talk to ghosts now, can you dig that happy crappy?" It's kinda lame.

One thing I did love was the change in moods. It was always perfect, from sappy and cheerful to dark and heartbreaking in a single paragraph; always where you'd expect the changes to occur, and the optimal tone for each situation. One minute, Rusty is chillin' with his daughters or the Chef is providing deep philosophical statements, the next Carter and his buddies are raping some poor girl or your favorite character is brutally murdered. There is only one term I can think of for atmospheres and a story done this well: gripping.

Oh, and the climax is amazing. As demonstrated time and time again, King loves to- and does it well- end with a bang.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
There is an unholy amount of these, but this one stands out to me because it's cheesy as hell and kicked in before I could appreciate the changes in tone. It's about Rusty's daughters. "Rusty called back, and stood to blow kisses from the palms of his hands. Each girl caught one; when it came to kiss-catching, they were aces."

Beautiful Imagery:
"He was in the middle of the road again––fucking the white line, Phil would have said." Oh, and Phil is The Chef, by the way.

Hip References:
This is great, King actually mentions a nonexistent sequel to Lost called The Hunted Ones. He says that one of the characters watched it. I think Stephen King is thinking of making a sequel to Lost. I cannot describe in words how amazing that would be, I just can't, but I will say this: if he actually creates a show called The Hunted Ones, and it is "a clever sequel to Lost," I will write a twenty page essay explaining why Stephen King is the greatest thing since- no, why he's better than- sliced bread, and I will email it to him and post it to this blog.

Watch Out for This Character:
Her name is Velma Winters. She is the scum of the earth. It's hard to explain why I hate her so much, other than the fact that she's a selfish asshole, so I won't. To explain myself would mean that Velma has some meaning, any significance at all, but she doesn't. She is awful.

Dude, Don't Look, but I Think That Guy's a Psychopath:
Here are some Junior Rennie quotes:
1. "I'm fine as rain."
2. "At least that's what I breed and see on TV. Right or false? True or wrong?"
3. "'Minions,' Junior whispered, 'Just another one of Big Jim Rennie's filet minions.'"
These are his less insane moments.

Conclusion:
Read it. Everything happens all at once, so there's never a dull moment under the Dome. The characters are... human would be the best word for them, so it's easier to hate them than to love them, but it makes it feel all the more real. And the main characters are definitely worth reading about. Stephen King does such a great job manipulating the reader's feelings for Chester's Mill that you really can't hate the ending, and the morals and values to be taken and interpreted are a gift all on their own, so I will say this: when you finish this book, think about the wisdom Stephen King has bestowed upon you, and wear it home, it'll look like a dress.

Shivers 30: Creepy Clothes

Well, looks like I'm back from hiatus early, and just in time to catch... Creepy Clothes. Great. When I was on "vacation," I was hoping against hope for two things: a book not about haunted clothing and for there not to be a sequel to Terror on Troll Mountain. God, I have so much to tell... I guess I'll start by announcing an update coming soon: The first Silent Hill, which I bought for my PlayStation (1). It's been fun and effectively terrifying, especially considering its age.

Speaking of future updates, I'm running out of Shivers. Six more books left. If any of you guys have any recommendations about what to read, watch, or play next, don't hesitate to comment or email them. Oh, and since it's summer time, I'll post even more than usual, just... you know, in celebration of summer. Maybe I'll even bug some friends to write a thing or two. It'll be grand. For now, though, I'll get to the book.

There is only one phrase that can be used to describe this: holy shit. It's insane. I honestly think that M.D. Spenser wrote this at three o'clock in the morning after a night of heavy drinking. He said to himself, "Hey, self, ya know what kids these days don't get enough of? Real fuckin' life." Either that or it was ghostwritten (which is actually highly likely). Usually, I wouldn't believe that, since Shivers wasn't the most popular series of its time, but this is drastically different. It gets real.

The book starts out with twelve-year-old Patricia waking up in her bed, unable to find anyone in her house. Eventually, she stumbles upon Abby, the housekeeper. Of course, she's black. The first black character in as long as I can remember and her first line is "Child, you scared me to death!" The two of them soon find Sam, Patricia's ten-year-old brother. The word I want to use to describe him is "slow," but that doesn't quite cover the complete lack of intelligence.

All of a sudden, a police car shows up in their driveway. Sheriff Yancy (be warned: there are many proper nouns in this book) comes inside and tells the children that their parents got in a car crash. Don't worry, this is Shivers, they're fine, but they will be in the hospital for a while. You know what's great about this book? Characters have personalities. I think M.D. Spenser actually did spend a lot of time on this, because he probably asked himself, "Now what would this character say?" during dialogue instead of the usual, "How can I best make the plot go by faster?" or, you know, stuff it. For example, when Abby the housekeeper hears this news, she starts pacing back and forth. I could imagine that character doing that, but not some other characters, it's amazing!

Anyway, their neighbors come over and hear the news and they all start crying. That's one thing I can use less of in this book: crying. Jesus, their parents got in a small car crash, they didn't die, they didn't even sustain permanent injuries, get over it. The Sheriff suggests that they see the parents, so they go to the Emergency Room and I swear it's something straight out of Silent Hill or Resident Evil or, to reach out to our modern gamer audience, Outlast. It smells awful, there are sick, crying, and bleeding people everywhere, it seems like something straight out of a horror movie. Take that, hospitals.

Some friendly advice to doctors was inspired by this chapter: never start off your sentence with "I know your mom looks really bad," which is verbatim what the doctor says. The rest of that sentence, no matter how positive, will not go over well. The kids later see their father, a silly and cheerful man who has a wounded leg. The children are scared out of the room by a blood-curdling scream coming from an old woman with tubes (plural) in her nose and throat. Now I'm completely sure that M.D. Spenser suffered some kind of hospital-related childhood trauma.

It turns out that, in the event of an emergency, Patricia and Sam were to be entrusted to their aunt, Dolores, whom they've never met. Hours later, they land in Atlanta (oh, they live in Virginia, by the way) and meet their aunt: a bony, witchy woman. Picture The Simpsons's Crazy Cat Lady. She takes them to her crappy, smoke-filled car and they head off to her apartment. Apparently, the only people who smoke are douchey middle-schoolers and sad, lonely middle-aged women. Take that, smokers.

This is a little strange, but I'm going to remove the Hip References bit from the end because there is an overwhelming amount of references, the first saying that Aunt Dolores's house looks like the house from Psycho. So... nice? I mean, it's a nice house. I wouldn't want to live there, because, you know, it's a set in Universal Studios, but it's nice. The inside is not so nice, though, and reeks of smoke and desperation. Despite their less-than-satisfactory lodgings, the two manage to get some sleep, until... Patricia mistakes the radiator for gunshots and starts screaming. I hate her, I really hate her. If there was one thing I could change about every Shivers book, I would make all the main characters not be mindless, soulless clods so I can feel a little bit of connection with the protagonist, which is currently like trying to bond with a clay figure. But, when you're a blogger reviewing children's horror books, you don't deserve to be able to change things.

Oh, sorry, I got so caught up in something I forgot to mention that the kids saw a man in a wheelchair with an army jacket glaring at them from a balcony. That's important. The next morning, he angrily and bitterly glares at Patricia from the street. Take that, wounded veterans. With nothing to do and Dolores at work, the kids start exploring and find a set of stairs leading up to an attic from their aunt's bedroom. We're going to play a little game to figure out how they respond. You ready?

Do they...
a.) act like sensible and respectful children and leave it be until their aunt returns from work.
b.) not (a), this is Shivers
c.) (b)
d.) all of the above, but not (a), this is Shivers.

The kids find a big trunk of clothes... Creepy Clothes! The kids try some on because isn't that what kids love to do nowadays, and the kids are sent back in time through the Magic Treehouse. Seriously, a wind blows through, the room starts spinning, and they're back in time. It was a very popular children's series that I read as a kid and this is almost completely ripped off of it. Nice job, M.D. Spenser, you used material already used in another children's book.

Anyway, the kids wake up in somebody's backyard and see the stereotypical deadbeat stepfather walk into the house. He has a white t-shirt, black pants, a nearly bald head, a tattoo, and yes, a cigarette. Add "abusive stepfathers" to the list of possible smokers. Soon, two kids come outside, whom the reader immediately realizes are Dolores and the kids' dad, but the protagonists don't realize it for, like, another fifty pages. Oh, and they can't see Patricia and Sam. Dad gets stuck in a tree, so Dolores helps him down and tears her dress. Her stepfather calls them over, screams at them, and then hits 11-year-old Dolores across the face.

Yeah, holy shit.

Then Dolores just stares at him with hatred, and Dad tries to say it was his fault but Dolores stops him so that, and it says this in the book, the stepfather won't hit five-year-old Dad too. The two children had been raised by their stepfather ever since their mother died. Holy shit.

All of a sudden, a harsh wind blows their hats off and the children go back to the present. They sneak out unnoticed and eat dinner with their aunt. Nobody's talking, so Patricia decides to break the ice by effectively saying, "Hey, tell us about your childhood, you were raised by your stepfather, right?" Personally, I would have commented on the weather, that day's activities, cute animals, The Holocaust, anything but her stepfather. I know it's stupid to continually complain about the unintelligent protagonist of a lesser-known children's horror series, but she is a blatant ass.

The next day, they go up to the attic again, put on more clothes, and go back in time- to what I can only infer is the 70's. There is a song playing, which Sam describes as "that Jimi Hendrix song mom plays all the time... the one about Purple Haze." You mean Purple Haze? There are people holding signs saying to give peace a chance, dancing to the music. The mellow vibes are amplified by an assortment of hypnotic tie-dye t-shirts and posters. God, am I glad I was not alive during the 70's.

Up on stage during this anti-war rally is Aunt Dolores and a man named Paul Griffin, stirring these hippies into a frenzy. The stepdad comes in military uniform and begins screaming at Dolores before punching Paul in the face. He drives Aunt Dolores back, but not before the dynamic duo jumps in the back of the truck. The only truck in the book. Take that, truck drivers.

Back at the house, Dolores gives Dad a box of money she's been saving so he can go make something of himself. With the children he had, I'd say he ended up failing. On that note, the children take off the clothes and head back to the attic. There, they find a newspaper telling of Dolores's attempt to murder her stepfather when she was 25. She shot her stepfather. I said it once, and I'll say it again: holy shit.

The siblings hear an argument coming from Dolores's bedroom between her and some man. He told her he needed the kids gone, she told him they had nowhere else to go, she told him she needed him gone so she wouldn't have to explain why he is in a wheelchair, and he leaves. Aunt Dolores hears them in the attic and starts screaming, saying things her stepfather had said, when all of a sudden their dad shows up, having been let out of the hospital. The older siblings make up and explain that after Dolores got out of prison, she got bitter and blamed everything on Dad. The guy in the wheelchair was Paul Griffin, her boyfriend, who had broken his legs in a car crash while running from the police with Dolores. Now that she faced the past, she's happy.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"Patricia didn't know what internal damage meant, but it didn't sound good." I mean, it's pretty self-explanatory.

Beautiful Imagery:
"It was made out of satin, and was very full, kind of like something a fairy princess would wear."

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover:
The cover, title, and back-of-the-book description were co-conspirators in a plot to make this book seem stupid and awful. It's not about haunted clothing at all, really, I don't know why Paradise Press would allow such an unappetizing cover.

Holy Shit:
Seriously, holy actual shit.

Conclusion:
M.D. Spenser took a good premise and, unlike in The Terrible Terror Book, had it retain its goodness as the book progressed. This is the only Shivers book where I was truly excited to find out what happened next, and I actually looked forward to opportunities that I could read it. The side characters are charming, though uncreative, and show personality and even development far beyond what I'd expect any Shivers book to be capable of. I just don't think it should have been part of the Shivers series. The book is a little heavy compared to every other piece in the series, and just doesn't seem to fit. I might even go so far as to say that it would deserve to be a totally separate children's novel altogether (but with different protagonists). In conclusion, you did well, M.D. Spenser, and I'm proud of you. This book is a great improvement, and you get props for writing it.