Spawn is just one of those classic Hutson novels that has shaped him into the respected splatter author he is today. The novel doesn't weave a particularly complex plot, or delve into strong charcterisation, but what it does do is produce some light, horror entertainment. The book is basically about two disturbed men and the unnatural consequences of their deeds.Harold Pierce is released from a mental hospital where he has spent all of his adult life. His new job as a hospital porter involves him in the burning of aborted foetuses - an act which brings back nightmare memories of the death by fire of his baby brother Gordon. The trauma is such that the deranged but gentle Harold begins to neglect his duties.Paul Harvey is a convicted murderer and his escape from prison places the Exham police force under a great deal of pressure. Their vigorous manhunt yields no results but when they begin to investigate a brutal series of murders no one has any doubt that it is Harvey who is decapitating the hapless victims.Nothing notably outstanding sticks out from the book, but I must say that I did enjoy it. It's one of those novels that you really don't want to put down as your dragged from page to page, until you're at the gorey climax. The important thing with this novel, as with most if not all Hutson novels, is not to expect a masterpiece. Mr. Hutson writes gorey, enjoyable, easy to read, splatter horror with no complex or detailed plots. And he's a master at what he does!
Over the last few years, I have been reading some of the finest horror literature in the world, delving deep into the British ghost story masters James and Le Fanu, the spritualist-horror masterpieces of Machen and Blackwood, the darker American visions of Bierce, Chambers and that dark prince of the macabre, Poe, the early 20th-century efflorescence helmed by talents like Lovecraft, Smith and Howard and of course the current masters of the form such as Ligotti and Campbell as well as emerging giants like Barron and Pugmire.And now I've read Shaun Hutson. This isn't the worst thing ever - writers like Richard Laymon and the authors of a hundred disposable splatter paperbacks from the 80s boom were as bad and often worse - but it's not good by any means. The writing is amateurish and in need of editing, the plot is a mish-mash of cliches and poor taste, the characters are cardboard cut-outs and there's no real moment of dark epiphany, just a series of rather obvious gross-outs that culminate in the usual predictable 'twist' ending. For all that, I'm giving this a two-star rating simply because of its honesty - Hutson clearly set out to write exactly the kind of novel that he wound up writing. It's trash, but at least it's honest trash and nothing - the title, the blurb, the cover art or what you can glean by scanning the first few pages in a bookstore - pretends otherwise.
