Despite having a general curiosity about the paranormal, I never read so many books regarding the subject. The only time I ever read something similar to this book was when I was fourteen years old; a book from Stephen King which I had borrowed from a friend. Years passed, I forgot even the name of the book (way to go, brain!). On my eighteenth birthday my best friend gave me this book as a gift and I got really surprised when, a little before starting to read it, I discovered the author was actually Stephen King's son. It seems I am destined to read paranormal stories coming from this family.This is a story about an aging former rockstar, Judas Coyne, that has certain peculiar interests. The most intriguing of them is his desire to collect artifacts which have, at some point, had any relation with the paranormal. Unfortunately, one of his new acquisitions turns out to be not that harmless: he intentionally buys a suit which is supposedly haunted by a ghost; what Coyne was not expecting is that the whole thing would be true. At first, Coyne and his girlfriend are reacting rather neutrally to the presence of the ghost, believing that it eventually will go away. As the story moves forward, though, they find out that the ghost isn't merely a random nuisance; it's not just destiny. Everything that happened from the point when he found the suit on the website was planned meticulously and executed as a revenge orchestra.This book is a token of Hill's admiration for rock, molded in the shape of a ghost story. Throughout the story and the book itself there are clear references to old bands from the 60's, mostly the ones that probably influenced Joe Hill over the years. Even though it might feel a little too obsessive, for some people, it didn't bother me for the book is very well written; the characters are likeable enough, being well depicted and I can't recall one single point where the story felt dragged on.To be honest, initially, Coyne was a character which I couldn't relate to; the fact that he was a rich guy that didn't know what to do with his life besides drinking and collecting potentially dangerous artifacts didn't make that much sense. If it was me with all that money I would spend it travelling the world and buying every book I found interesting, for instance. Regardless, halfway through, Hill starts to take the story into a different path. The focus goes from terrorizing paranormal story to a more reflective philosophical journey. We are gradually shown parts of Coyne´s past what serves two purposes: firstly, it makes the story as a whole make more sense; secondly, it turns Coyne into a much more realistic, thus believable, character. We learn that he is not haunted only by the random ghost, but also by very common human feelings. He has regrets and fears as every other human being.All things considered, I really liked the story and Hill's writing style. It's brilliant how he managed to humanize his characters in such a short time. I also liked the message the author delivered about the power that music has over human feelings. I can totally relate to it, since in the darkest parts of my life, so far, music has helped me get calmer, think things through and get back on my feet. I would strongly recommend this book to any paranormal fan that also like new literally flavors from time to time. This book is full of them; Joe showed that he is a very talented writer unafraid of taking steps towards the unconventional, transforming a seemingly common story into an intriguing journey through human feelings and morality. Interesting quotes that I didn't include in the review: Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst. All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together. If hell was anything, it was talk radio — and family. The Last Passage(view spoiler)[ So. Reese at least did not know everything her mother had done, which Jude could only take to mean that there really was some mercy to be found in the world.“I am sorry about what I did to your hand,” she said. “I mean that. I have dreams sometimes, about my Aunt Anna. We go for rides together. She has a cool old car like this one, only black. She isn’t sad anymore, not in my dreams. We go for rides in the country. She listens to your music on the radio. She told me you weren’t at our house to hurt me. She said you came to end it. To bring my mother to account for what she let happen to me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and I hope you’re happy.”He nodded but did not reply, did not, in truth, trust his own voice.They went into the station together. Jude left her on a scarred wooden bench, went to the counter and bought a ticket to Buffalo. He had the station agent put it inside an envelope. He slipped two hundred dollars in with it, folded into a sheet of paper with his phone number on it and a note that she should call if she ran into trouble on the road. When he returned to her, he stuck the envelope into the pouch on the side of her backpack instead of handing it to her, so she wouldn’t look into it right away and try to give the money back.She went with him out onto the street, where the rain was falling more heavily now and the last of the day’s light had fled, leaving things blue and twilighty and cold. He turned to say good-bye, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed the chilled, wet side of his face. He had, until then, been thinking of her as a young woman, but her kiss was the thoughtless kiss of a child. The idea of her traveling hundreds of miles north, with no one to look out for her, seemed suddenly all the more daunting.“Take care,” they both said, at exactly the same time, in perfect unison, and then they laughed. Jude squeezed her hand and nodded but had nothing else to say except good-bye.It was dark when he came back into the house. Marybeth pulled two bottles of Sam Adams out of the fridge, then started rummaging in the drawers for a bottle opener.“I wish I could’ve done something for her,” Jude said.“She’s a little young,” Marybeth said. “Even for you. Keep it in your pants, why don’t you?”“Jesus. That’s not what I meant.”Marybeth laughed, found a dishrag, and chucked it in his face.“Dry off. You look even more like a pathetic derelict when you’re all wet.”He rubbed the rag through his hair. Marybeth popped him a beer and set it in front of him. Then she saw he was still pouting and laughed again.“Come on, now, Jude. If you didn’t have me to rake you over the coals now and then, there wouldn’t be any fire left in your life at all,” she said. She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, watching him with a certain wry, tender regard. “Anyway, you gave her a bus ticket to Buffalo, and…what? How much money?”“Two hundred dollars.”“Come on, now. You did something for her. You did plenty. What else were you supposed to do?”Jude sat at the center island, holding the beer Marybeth had set in front of him but not drinking it. He was tired, still damp and chilly from the outside. A big truck, or a Greyhound maybe, roared down the highway, fled into the cold tunnel of the night, was gone. He could hear the puppies out in their pen, yipping at it, excited by its noise.“I hope she makes it,” Jude said.“To Buffalo? I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Marybeth said.“Yeah,” Jude said, although he wasn’t sure that was what he’d really meant at all. (hide spoiler)]
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)Regular readers know that one of the subjects I'm often talking about here at CCLaP is that of so-called "genre fiction" versus "mainstream literature," and especially of the natural danger of the former; that many genre novels are as popular as they are simply because they deliver that genre's fetishistic details in spades, not necessarily because they're good at the building blocks behind all good literature (or in other words, character and plot and style, the same criteria off which CCLaP's reviews are based). So why bother reading genre pieces when you're not a natural fan of that genre? Well, because every so often, a genre novel will come out that is good at the literary ABCs, that does appeal to audience members besides those who naturally love that genre to begin with, and as a result become much more exciting and worthwhile projects than simple mainstream literature; to cite a good recent example, think of Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer-winning The Road, how on the surface it seems like any other post-apocalyptic science-fiction thriller but in reality actually tells a much deeper and more profound message than most other books of that genre.That's what led me, frankly, to reading 2007's Heart-Shaped Box this week, the surprisingly popular debut novel by Joe Hill; because it's a genre novel itself, to tell you the truth, a genre I don't usually care for that much (horror, to be specific), but one that's been getting a lot of attention in the last year from places other than the horror community, a small-press novel that has nonetheless landed in the top 10 of the New York Times bestseller list and with a big-budget Hollywood adaptation by Neil Jordan coming out later this year. Ah, but then I actually read it, and am now even more confused than I was before; because to be perfectly frank, Heart-Shaped Box is an okay novel but certainly nothing better than most other horror books, or at least from the viewpoint of this non-fan who tends to lump all their storylines together. Because really, if you want to think of genre novels in a standardized, almost scientific way, you can really think of them like this -- that all genre novels basically start with a semi-hacky plotline full of easily-guessed cliches (which is why they're known as genre novels in the first place), and how good or bad that novel turns out to be hinges on where that author goes with that semi-hacky plotline, either upwards into unexpected territory or downwards to wallow in its hacky, cliched mess.And that's the biggest problem with Heart-Shaped Box; unlike the best genre work out there, the stuff that legitimately breaks through to a general mainstream audience, here Hill chooses to wallow in the most predictable cliches available whenever given the choice, whenever given the chance to otherwise elevate his material into something truly unique. Because I mean, seriously, just how many more horror projects do we need that feature as its main villain a creepy horse-faced old man in an antique black suit and fedora hat who talks with a threatening southern drawl? Or dogs that can somehow preternaturally sense the looming evil around them long before the humans do? Or sassy grandmas who accidentally provide the key to the story's entire resolution, through their folksy sayin's spouted around their homey kitchen during a down moment in the plot? These are all bad cliches of the horror genre, the things that make me as a non-fan flee from most hackneyed books within that genre; the entire reason I picked up Heart-Shaped Box was because I thought it was going to be better than that, given the fanatical grassroots popularity the book has inspired since first coming out.Unfortunately the book is not that; it's a decent horror story, don't get me wrong, but ultimately nothing better or even different than a typical Stephen King novel circa 1982 or so, all haunted cars and cheesy inner dialogue and badly dated rock lyrics and the whole bit. (And speaking of which, by the way, can I just get this off my chest, please? What self-respecting death-metal veteran would ever possibly consider Counting Crows and Coldplay among his favorite bands? Cheese And Rice, Joe Hill, pick a music style and stick with it already, or don't bother making your main character a grizzled death-metal veteran to begin with.) If you're already a fan of horror novels, by all means go ahead and pick it up if you haven't already; if you're like me, though, and tend to only tackle a handful of such projects per year, Heart-Shaped Box unfortunately should not be one of them.Out of 10: 6.8, or 7.8 for horror fans
Do You like book Heart-Shaped Box (2007)?
Wow, what a great debut!Now that I have that out of the way, let me start out my review by saying that Heart-Shaped Box is the creepiest, scariest new book that I have read in quite some time. Mr. Hill tells an excellent story; well thought out with wonderful character development. The thing that I really loved about his introducing us to the characters is that he just threw us into the ride with them without too much background and then built them up into very complex and likable personalities through the course of the book without setting us up with a "here's what this character is all about" sort of summary .The story-telling in this novel is top-notch. Hill weaves a grand adventure fraught with tension and nail-biting moments that you won't want to put down. My only complaint with the novel was that sometimes his style/structure didn't flow extremely well and I had to re-read a sentence or two to comprehend what he was trying to say. These instances were few and far between, so it wasn't a distraction to the wonderful flow of the novel.If you couldn't tell, I highly recommend Heart-Shaped Box. It's a great read. One word of caution though, if you're reading alone in a dark and quiet farm-house out in the boonies, I would suggest turning on some lights before running upstairs to get something. I didn't and I almost scared the bejeepers out of myself with the images from the book still lodged in my head!!
—Stefan Yates
The scariest thing about Joe Hill's debut book, Heart Shaped Box, isn't the actual story, but what lies between the front cover and the inside title page of the Harper paperback version. In it, over 18 reputable newspapers and acclaimed writers attempt to prop up little Stevie King, Jr's Joe Hill's novel with some seriously excellent reviews. Scary because all these awesome reviews lead you, the reader, to expect that Heart Shaped Box is the next BIG thing in horror.Only it's not.Not by a long shot.It must be tough to be an aspiring writer when your dad is Stephen King. It must be even tougher when you decide to make your first published novel a horror one. That's alot of pressure, and unfortunately, Hill fails IMO. Perhaps he should have sharpened his pen with chic lit. a-la Nicholas Sparks, but then where would he have fit in all the tats, genital piercings and the snuff film? Not to mention the 2-dimensional characters who you never grow to care about, or the horror that fails to materialize over 351 looooong pages.Hill might have what it takes to eventually be a credible horror writer, but he doesn't do himself any favors having such a glowing cadre of book reviews for a book so undeserving of them. It may lead the reader to suspect daddy calling in some favors....
—Hannah
Joe Hill, Heart-Shaped Box (Morrow, 2007)There are times when you want a book that will challenge you, something immensely difficult but rewarding, something that will make you see the world in a slightly new way when you're finished with it. And then there are times when you just want something that's a damned good read. Heart-Shaped Box certainly qualifies as the latter. It's not deathless literature by any means, but once it gets its hooks into you, it won't let go until the very end.Joe Hill is very much a chip off the old block (in case you're one of the three or four people left on the planet who don't know which block that is, I won't say, but it's obvious when you read the book), and much like his pappy, he writes books that are long on both character and plot and very, very fast on pacing. The characters in this case are Judas Coyne, semi-retired rock star, and his current girlfriend Marybeth, whom he calls Georgia (after the state where she grew up). Coyne, a collector of weird occult artifacts, is alerted to an online auction by his manager: a woman is selling a suit that supposedly harbors a ghost. It's right up Coyne's alley, and he buys it. The only problem is, the ghost is not a fan of rock and roll, and not a fan of Judas Coyne in particular. While Hill certainly has the character thing down, there were some pieces of set decoration that looked as if they were going to play a much larger part in the story, but ended up being mostly, well, set decoration; I would have liked to see some props that were (or gave the impression of being) more than just props. There were also a few subplots that cried out for further development, but when you've got this book in your face, demanding you finish just one more chapter before going to sleep, these seem like minor quibbles. Joe Hill's got chops. If you don't mind your mystery with a twist of horror, this is definitely one to pick up. ****
—Robert Beveridge
