I’m thrilled to announce my latest project – a horror novella of around 37,000 words entitled Nightmare Tenant.
Chivron Tower is a relic from the past. A twenty-five storey monument in concrete, steel and glass to a bygone age, for years it has been left to rot in an anonymous part of the city. But the winds of change start to flow through the Tower’s corridors, landings and stairwells with the swing of a sledgehammer, screwdriver and paintbrush. New people begin arriving after decades of dereliction. But the very soul of the Tower grows restless, disturbed by this modernisation. The story follows the new residents – the good and the good-for-nothing who realise that all is not as it seems, and the facelift is only skin-deep as they face life and death in a building occupied – in every sense of the word – by a nightmare tenant…
I’d originally started this story in October, hoping to put it out in short story form by Halloween, but this simply didn’t happen. I’d actually been toying with this idea – my idea of an innovation on the classic “haunted house” horror trope – for some time and once I started writing it I just couldn’t stop!
What’s really exciting about this story is that it’s the first novella that I have written – as I wrote the first draft, which I have very recently completed, I realised the story I had in my mind just seemed to “fit” into this form. There was too much story for a short story, but not quite enough for a novel so the novella format called and I accepted the charges! I was pleasantly surprised with the twists and turns the story took – not just a pure horror, but shades of soap opera and disaster movie threaded in there – and the work to edit it into something great begins imminently!
I’ve already got some really exciting plans for Nightmare Tenant – building upon my experience writing The Landlady, except I wasn’t shackled to writing a homage to any particular author; instead, this story contains my voice throughout it’s very DNA – culminating in an independent release in Q1 2021. Stay tuned for more updates on when you can move in!
I’m gradually learning to be a bit more adventurous with my book choices, and those efforts continue to pay dividends with The Silence.
I picked this book up not quite sure what to expect. This edition was a tie-in to a Netflix movie derived from the book that has middling reviews. I sensed something supernatural about The Silence, which may have been why it languished a little longer on my shelf than it ultimately warranted.
It’s an interesting premise: the apocalypse in The Silence is brought about not by aliens, or nuclear Armageddon, but by the unearthing in Moldova of an ancient, unknown species of reptilian creatures that have developed in the dark. Indeed, Pandora’s Box quickly opens wide and quickly these creatures, christened Vesps, begin to spread, causing havoc across Europe.
The narrative focusses on Ally and her family as they watch this disaster unfold on the news and through social media. There’s a sense of foreboding, waiting and inevitability from us, the reader, watching the Vesp menace get steadily closer to the United Kingdom. Indeed, the story unfolds over a matter of days where the world changes completely, and we follow Ally and her family, joined by Ally’s terminally-ill maternal grandfather and Ally’s father’s outdoorsman-like friends, with whom the families have coexisted in the same, small, sleepy town as the realisation sets in: to survive, the family must flee their lives as they’ve known for ever for an uncertain future far away, where safety from this unknown threat is not even assured.
So far, so good. The tension and sense of foreboding in these initial chapters is palpable, and the atmosphere – one of dread, a knowing that it’s a matter of time, and how these people cope – and don’t cope – really sends an electric tingle with every word. Indeed, scenes of panic-buying at shops in preparation for some kind of end-of-the-world scenario seemed prescient in the climate in which I write this review, with similar behaviour regarding the coronavirus pandemic the world is currently experiencing. Maybe that’s what made these brooding, dread-filled chapters resonate more – my real experience of this so recently perhaps attenuated my senses. It’s effective.
Quickly The Silence becomes a story about the journey, not the destination, but it’s less The Road – which I hated, and more One – a novel I adore. The journey is horrifying for various different reasons and it’s traumatic for everyone. The landscape shifts. The objective changes in the face of the facts presented on the road. Society is seen to slowly disintegrate as the journey progresses, leading to new twists.
What I liked about this was, with The Silence, along with One, and other post-apocalyptic books (The Girl With All the Gifts is a fine example) is that the story is about the journey and what it does to the characters. There is, I’ve noticed, not going to be a happy-ever-after at the story’s conclusion. The world has changed monumentally in all these stories. It’s a story of adaptation to survive, and to survive that traumatic transition from the comfortable life you and I can relate to into the horrors thrown against society and the characters we observe this through.
However, it’s not all perfect for The Silence. There’s a number of aspects and concepts I felt were good but not fully developed, which I think is a shame – they needed more time in the oven!
Ally decides to chronicle her experience of the Vesp invasion through a scrapbook app on her iPad, and she monitors the results of this through social media. Later in the book, as society slowly falls apart at the seams, “grey areas” without electricity develop across the country, threatening Ally’s memoir through the scourge of a dead battery, unable to be charged. This is nice but I feel it is somewhat shoehorned in as a little bit of an afterthought, with the brownouts beginning toward the last third of the book. And I don’t feel a massive affinity for Ally’s scrapbook as its knowledge being kept for posterity, and it isn’t called up on in the story in any real active way
One of the interesting themes is that Ally, as a protagonist, is deaf. The prose handles this pretty seamlessly – Ally “speaks”, but she signs. It’s revealed that the Vesps cannot see visually and are guided by sound. Late in the book we are introduced to a sort-of cult called The Hushed, led by a somewhat one-dimensionally ominous Reverend who want Ally to help their cause, the goals of which are unknown. We meet The Reverend for the first time at random, and he crops up in a series of increasingly-sinister vignettes until the end of the book.
The Vesps themselves, while having an interesting take on an origin, are essentially mindless pack animals in their hunting. I would’ve liked to have seen a more intelligent foe to contend with modern society, and I don’t think it would’ve been beyond a stretch of the suspension of disbelief from them having evolved in hidden caves to begin with.
These aren’t cardinal sins by any means – I enjoyed The Silence enough to wish that these had been done. But they’re not fatal errors or omissions by any means. The Silence is by no means a bad book – I certainly enjoyed it, but like I said before, these areas needed more time in the oven to really wring the most potential out of the story. That said, it was a punt that paid off for me and I would have no hesitation in giving it a recommendation – and I think Tim Lebbon is an author whose work I’ll be exploring more about in the future – The Silence was a vocal introduction.