I’m officially disenchanted with Richard Laymon. Because after reading his latest posthumous release, AFTER MIDNIGHT, the Laymon books I’ve disliked outnumbers the Laymon books I enjoyed.
When Laymon is good, he’s great, but when he’s bad, he’s terrible. Unfortunately, AFTER MIDNIGHT falls into the latter category. Like THE LAKE, it smells as if Laymon wrote a single draft in one long night and turned that in. It’s lazy, and there’s no need for it to be more than 400 pages; when something this loose gets that long, it’s not plotting, but typewriter masturbation.
This particular session is narrated by Alice, a young woman who lives in her best friend’s guest house, and housesits her nice home while the family is on vacation. One night while enjoying the big-screen TV and microwave popcorn, Alice notices a strange man emerge from the woods, strip naked and take a dip in the pool. Paranoia sets in, and before you know it, Alice is in for a night of killing and screwing, killing and screwing, and yes, killing and screwing.
Laymon unwisely chose Alice to serve as the book’s narrator. Though she’s supposed to be 26 years old, her voice is as immature and grating as a spoiled teenager. Just as I couldn’t stomach listening to someone like that for 10 minutes in real life, I didn’t want to spend 10 pages with Alice, either. She’s neither likable nor sympathetic, thereby violating one of the cardinal rules of fiction. Not to say that rules can’t be broken, but if they are, you’d better have a damn good reason for doing so. AFTER MIDNIGHT doesn’t. It’s certainly not the best legacy Laymon left behind. –Rod Lott
“His tongue got me. I gasped and flinched with the sudden shock of it. His mouth lifted off me. ‘Looks like I’ve awakened Sleeping Beauty. Does this mean I’m a prince?’ He went crazy on me, plunging and ramming as if he needed to get someplace where nobody’d ever gone before. By damn, I think he succeeded. When he was done, he stayed inside and settled down heavily on top of me. When he could talk, he said, ‘Are you okay?’ I answered by flexing some muscles down there.”
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That’s too bad. I also had a good run with Laymon but the last couple have let me down. I’m not sure if he meant for the drafts he left behind to be published as-is.
I’m hoping Leisure will bring out SAVAGE and THE STAKE domestically, and stop churning out these poorly edited first drafts. And speaking of Leisure, I’m a little put off with their whole line of horror fiction right now. Everything from them seems diluted and rushed lately.
Most of Leisure’s recent horror titles have ranged from terrible to disappointing. I’d single out SURVIVOR as the exception, despite its in-need-of-editing flaws.
However, I’m not giving up hope for a few of their forthcoming titles: Douglas Clegg’s THE ATTRACTION, W.D. Gagliani’s WOLF’S TRAP, Brian Keene’s THE CONQUEROR WORMS and their uncensored reprint of Jack Ketchum’s OFF SEASON, which I’ve never read.
I don’t want to argue that “After Midnight” is one of Laymon’s better efforts, but your comments make it appear that the book is just a first draft left unfinished when Laymon died. Not so. After the collapse of the US horror market in the early ’80s, Laymon continued writing and publishing, and was particularly popular in England and Australia. “After Midnight” was originally published in 1997, as a cursory glance at the copyright page should have told you. The recent Leisure edition was merely the first American publication, which is the case with most of the Laymon novels Leisure has published. Leisure has already started reprinting some of Laymon’s earlier stuff that was originally published here but is long out of print. Once you’ve read such 70s classics as “Flesh”, I think your opinion of Laymon will rise.
After Midnight was an incredible book. Just because some people don’t have the stomach for it does not make it a lazy effort. I found it amazing how well the author submerged himself into the character. I loved it. What an imagination that guy has.
The stomach comment refers only to the narrator’s voice, not Laymon’s hard-R style, with which I have no problem.