Intruders

Intruders by Michael Marshall

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I’ve written about Michael Marshall before on this blog, so there’s no point in re-hashing his dark, nihilistic outlook on life.  Let’s just say that it’s present in this book here, contrasted nicely (and not a slight bit oddly) by his apt observations on humanity.  This is a man who knows people, and probably has a good finger on what makes them work.  He’s also depressing as hell, and when you’re already in a funk, he’s probably not the best man to turn to.

The fact is, I’ve been pretty quiet lately.  The blog hasn’t been that active lately, and according to my records, this is only the third book I’ve read this year.  That’s not so good for me.  I’ve moved to a different state, and moves being what they are, I’m still adjusting.  That I’m still adjusting six months after the move is indicative of my current mental state.  I’m not suicidal, but I am down, in a funk, what-have-you.  So my reading has seen a decline lately.

The last two books I’ve chosen to read have NOT been the proper selections.  They’re both fairly dark and hopeless.  Now, my wife wants me to read The Kite Runner, so I’m sure I’ll be a devastated wreck at the end of that book.  After that, I plan to read some My Pretty Pony and Karen Kingsbury books.

No, not really; I’m not THAT desperate.

As dark as he is, Michael Marshall is a good author.  His stories are always tense and compelling, and the darkness gives them a more serious edge than the typical thrillers you might encounter among the bestsellers.  In this one, an ex-cop is approached by an old high-school friend, now a lawyer, who is trying to unravel a mystery concerning a man whose family was murdered, the experiments he was running in his basement, a missing ten year-old girl, and a vast conspiracy dating back hundreds of years.   Anyone who’s read Marshall before will know that conspiracies are nothing new in his world, so this should coma as no surprise to those readers.  Shoot, that isn’t even a spoiler; it’s pretty plain from the get-go that something vast is underway.  True-to-form, it gets your attention and will keep you reading.

Unfortunately, the explanation for it all is pretty lame.  That doesn’t come into play in the novel until the last 75 pages or so, so there’s a lot of good stuff to get through before you get there, but for all that set-up, you might wonder why the pay-off is so small.  It will require a significant suspension of disbelief to accept it, and maybe because of the tone of the novel, I was less likely to find it acceptable.  Who knows?  Just be prepared for some disappointment.

That being said, the final ending (the denouement, maybe?) will leave you unsettled, like a good horror novel should.  Depending on how vivid your imagination is, you might find yourself wondering how real the events are.  It gets a little under your skin and into your brain, and if only for that being so effective, the disappointing explanation works.  Like Hot Fuzz becomes a pastiche of itself just as you think that the story is too ludicrous to contain itself, The Intruders manages to pull out something deep and affecting from what appears to be stupid and contrived.  So despite my reservations, I’d recommend the book.

Just make sure you have the Prozac ready before reading.

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