Horror novels are having a hard time. The genre simply isn’t the powerhouse it once was, having been supplanted in public consciousness by the modern thriller: just as taut, just as nasty, but with a slightly more commercial, less overtly supernatural edge. The horror writers who are flourishing have moved away from the more generic creepy-slasher narratives a lot of the old guard fell prey to. Joe Hill is one such writer. Over the past few years, he has carved out a furrow of his own, packed with haunted rock stars (A Heart-shaped Box), demonic possession (Horns) and strange soul-vampires who drive evil cars (N0S-4R2).
His new novel, The Fireman, seems at first to be playing in the same sandbox. It’s the story of nurse Harper Grayson, who watches as the world becomes overrun by a disease known as dragonscale. At first the sickness causes the victims’ skin to be covered with an ashen, patterned mark, not unlike a tattoo; eventually, they explode. It’s like something you might find in a George RR Martin novel (the marks are reminiscent of greyscale in A Song of Ice and Fire) crossed with spontaneous human combustion. Harper becomes pregnant as the world is descending into chaos, and her writer husband, Jakob, reacts badly. They’ve been discussing ending their lives together should the worst happen, but the baby changes Harper’s mind. And Jakob? He falls prey to that most writerly of illnesses and becomes psychotic.
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