Miêville, China.  The Scar.  New York: Ballantine-DelRey, 2002.  638 p.

 

While we were collecting titles for the second edition of Hooked on Horror: A Guide to Reading Interests in the Genre, my co-author, June Pulliam, and I couldn't help but notice the increased number of genre crossovers (compared to the number we found when writing the first edition of the Readers' Advisory guide).  We had to grapple with terminology such as Christian Horror, Western Horror, Dark Fantasy, Sci Fi Horror, Romance Horror (including Bodice Ripper Horror), and Detective Horror.  Normally, these texts were interesting in and of themselves, if nothing else as studies of how the boundaries of the horror genre, as well as those of other genres, could be stretched.   Of course, the problem with cross genre fiction is that it is usually neither here nor there, as it attempts to straddle the fence not only thematically, but stylistically as well.

Where this creates problems is obvious even to the casual reader: romance fiction has its own language and set of familiar motifs, which to put it lightly, clash horribly with the tropes and formulae of horror fiction.  No one but hardcore S&M fans would ever see Jack the Ripper as the potential hero of a bodice ripper tale, yet crossover fiction such as Mary Ann Mitchell's Marquis de Sade as vampire series (Sips of Blood, Quenched) relies on the ability of the writer to coexist in these two fictional worlds.  Unfortunately, her most recent addition to the series, Cathedral of Vampires, fails as both a romance novel and as a horror novel.

The premise of the de Sade series is actually a fairly interesting one: the Marquis de Sade has survived the French Revolution,  despite being the object of a woman scorned, as Madame de Montreuil, his mother-in-law, is intent on keeping him imprisoned because she was smitten with de Sade prior to his marriage to her daughter.  Hearing the rumors of his sadomasochism, she decides prison--or an asylum--is the best place for her son-in-law.  His indiscretions result in a war of passion between himself and Madame de Montreuil.  According to Mitchell, she envisioned that the two, as vampires, could spend an eternity tormenting each other.  However, Madame de Montreuil, on becoming a blood lusting vampire, is forced to rethink morality.  She becomes the only thing a woman can become in vampirism: a dominatrix. 

Cathedral of Vampires takes up the story right after de Sade is able to briefly escape his mother-in-law, who after being resurrected by young vampire lovers Justin and Cecelia, is angrier than ever.  Justin, a young vampire a la Anne Rice's introspective and moral Louis, attempts to "do the right thing," but is predestined to fail because of his dark inheritance (Mitchell states that Justin is loosely based on Sade's Justine).  

The problem with a character like Justin, and with the whiny and insistent Cecelia, who is in love with Justin and wants him to acknowledge his dark side, is that they are, since Interview With the Vampire made them popular with the homoerotic foils Lestat and Louis, standard vampire pulp fare.  Hence they are easily predictable and boring.  Even their thoughts and language lack any originality and excitement.  Take the opening passage of the novel for example,

Justin stood naked in front of his mother's crypt.  His body, soaked in blood, shimmered in the moonlight.  The shine of his muscles rising and falling with the catch of each breath seemed to grow more intense....  Cecelia wept to see his beauty.  Her mouth watered and her body tensed.  She could reach out and touch him.  Reach out and caress his beautiful face dripping with his gift.
 

If a writer were asked to write a passage using the most hackneyed, overdone, sappy purple prose possible, s/he would have a difficult time topping Mitchell's contribution in Cathedral of Vampires.  Granted, Mitchell is simply writing in the language of Romance; the problem is that fans of horror, to whom this title would most appeal, do not speak this language.  And I do not need to go into the reasons Cathedral of Vampires has only a limited appeal as a Romance novel, as only the extremely hardcore S&M portion of that audience would be able to stomach the blood, gore, constant beheadings of vampire-zombies (yes, another holdover from Rice's Vampire Chronicles), and incest that Mitchell has to offer.

Unfortunately, Cecelia and Justin make up a great portion of the novel.  Let's just say that I tried very hard to skim to passages that included neither of these awful characters, and was virtually unable to do so.  And when they are on the page, they insist on talking, once again producing more badly written purple prose.  Perhaps their literary existence fits in well with a novel about the Marquis de Sade--I would have had to have been masochistic to continue reading, and sadistic to inflict this novel on any other reviewer.

Although China Miêville is a much more talented writer than Mitchell, The Scar suffers from the same crossover problem.  It does have the advantage over Cathedral of Vampires in that Fantasy is more closely related to Horror than is Romance, which means that although it is lacking as a horror / gothic text, it does have appeal as Fantasy Fiction (perhaps falling under that umbrella term, dark fantasy).   Miêville has a facility with language that enables him to spin a complex web of imagination and veracity. 

In Perdido Street Station, Miêville created an original mythology by building, word by word, brick by brick, the world of  New Crobuzon.  The Scar  continues where Perdido Street Station left off.  Also set on Bas Lag, Miêville's new contribution starts out on the edge of New Crobuzon and moves out to sea.  Bellis Coldwine, a translator, is on the run, so she books passage to the colony called Nova Esperium.  Throughout the voyage, we're also introduced to Shekel and Tanner Sack.  Shekel is a cabin boy on the ship, and Sack is a remade (a genetically modified human) being transported to work as a slave in Nova Esperium.   Coldwine's and Shekel's growth is the impetus of the tale, as are Miêville's elaborate mythologies and conceits. 

My personal problem with The Scar is one of fatigue, as Miêville sometimes overdoes it while creating his brave new world.   Miêville's writing style, his atmospheric place names and effective, suggestive word twists (many machines in this novel operate on chymical energy, for example), combined with his sense of the mythical history of Bas-Lag, make The Scar readable, although I think hardcore horror fans will be greatly disappointed if they are looking for fearful monsters.  Miêville's worlds are necessarily filled with grotesque and monstrous beings; however, they are seldom threatening enough to merit the fear response that most effective horror, and most effective crossover horror, elicit.