In upstate New York, in the woods around Woodstock, Dutchman's Creek flows out of the Ashokan Reservoir. Steep-banked, fast-moving, it offers the promise of fine fishing, and of something more, a possibility too fantastic to be true. When Abe and Dan, two widowers who have found solace in each other's company and a shared passion for fishing, hear rumors of the Creek, and what might be found there, the remedy to both their losses, they dismiss it as just another fish story. Soon, though, the men find themselves drawn into a tale as deep and old as the Reservoir. It's a tale of dark pacts, of long-buried secrets, and of a mysterious figure known as Der Fisher: the Fisherman. It will bring Abe and Dan face to face with all that they have lost, and with the price they must pay to regain it.
well, now: this is some kind of 'how would S. King write a Lovecraftian story', even with the obligated sex scene, which surprises you.
it's not a bad book, i just don't really like this style. I get everything told, what appears vaguely at the edges of the field of view.
and, to start a discussion about the 'true' genre of cosmic horror, it is not in the spirit, but uses expertly the staff and leitmotifs to write something about grieve and loss.
despite what i just said, it's fine and the old-man-narrator of the audiobook converts it into quite an enjoyable experience.
The Fisherman by John Langan is one of the most gripping Lovecraftian novels I have read in a very long time. As a fan of the genre, I've read plenty of interesting takes on cosmic horror, but The Fisherman is by far the most effective. Right from the off, you are invested in the characters and the layers of the story, with each section of the tale being as captivating as what preceded it.
This is very much the sort of book that is perfect on a cold, and rainy night. You'll open it and find that several hours have passed by. Peak cosmic horror at its best. Can't wait to read more of John Langan's work.
I'm not sure whether it's a story with a long digression in the middle, or a story with a long framing device bookending it, but either way an odd construction—a tale split in the middle by another story as long as the rest combined. That middle story is the more vivid one to me, the characters more fleshed out, the setting more vivid, and that sort of works given that the middle story is meant to be almost an infection, capable of carrying additional details even if they aren't told.
The outer story drapes itself in the weight of loss, and I don't know that it quite carries it. Those human elements aren't what has stuck with me, at least. Not in the same way as the more fairy tale-like middle story, which spans generations and continents. That one is a story of duelling dark magicians, more compelling but I …
I'm not sure whether it's a story with a long digression in the middle, or a story with a long framing device bookending it, but either way an odd construction—a tale split in the middle by another story as long as the rest combined. That middle story is the more vivid one to me, the characters more fleshed out, the setting more vivid, and that sort of works given that the middle story is meant to be almost an infection, capable of carrying additional details even if they aren't told.
The outer story drapes itself in the weight of loss, and I don't know that it quite carries it. Those human elements aren't what has stuck with me, at least. Not in the same way as the more fairy tale-like middle story, which spans generations and continents. That one is a story of duelling dark magicians, more compelling but I guess less weird than a lonely fisherman stumbling onto the fringes of that story. So what this really is, is a weird story that manages to explain itself without losing its impact.
I offer that much longer version of the story here, when and where we were first introduced to its principle players. Doing so means stepping away from my own tale for a lot more time than I'd like. Without what I keep calling Howard's story, however, everything that happened to Dan and me, all that badness that found us out and chased us down, makes far less sense than it does with it.
If I were to imagine a writing prompt that tasked me with inserting a story within a story that was longer than the main story proper, I would look to this book as guidance on how to do that properly. That may sound condescending, and like I'm accusing the author of performing just such a writing exercise for it's own sake, but that's not my intention; I simply have never read a book structured in this manner …
I offer that much longer version of the story here, when and where we were first introduced to its principle players. Doing so means stepping away from my own tale for a lot more time than I'd like. Without what I keep calling Howard's story, however, everything that happened to Dan and me, all that badness that found us out and chased us down, makes far less sense than it does with it.
If I were to imagine a writing prompt that tasked me with inserting a story within a story that was longer than the main story proper, I would look to this book as guidance on how to do that properly. That may sound condescending, and like I'm accusing the author of performing just such a writing exercise for it's own sake, but that's not my intention; I simply have never read a book structured in this manner and it genuinely intrigued me.
The book begins with our first-person protagonist, introducing himself in the first line: "Don't call me Abraham: call me Abe." I'm sure there were a dozen other Moby Dick references and motifs that flew over my head during the course of this book, but at least I caught that one. Abe is a widower who starts a friendship with a younger coworker, Dan, who is also unfortunately a widower. The two men lost their wives in wildly different circumstances however, and it was interesting watching them dance around their respective emotional landmines and instead bond over a newfound interest in fishing.
Then comes the mother of all fishing tales, the life-changing trip that was just supposed to be a weekend outing at a new stream and instead ends up altering both their lives permanently. And Abe does a good job at hyping you up as the reader in anticipation of just what the hell happened out there. But in order for it to make sense, he stresses that he has to share a story about that very creek he heard second-hand the same day all this supposed craziness goes down. This side-story is honestly close to two-thirds the length of the book and had me hooked (pun intended) right from the start.
When Abe finally gets to his own personal events, it's a disturbing tale in its own right, but this middle portion of the book is where it really shines. There's an abrupt shift from a contemporary to a historical setting, and a whole town's worth of named characters are introduced to get to the bottom of some unexplainable events centered around a stranger known only as "The Guest."
Curiously, this is the second book I've read this year relating to old towns in Upstate New York that were destroyed to make room for a reservoir, the first being Scott Carson's The Chill. However where that book was about bitterness, scorn, and revenge, The Fisherman was focused more on themes of grief, the poor decisions it can drive us to make, and the consequences of messing with things we don't fully understand. The relocated residents of this book don't find a means of retribution or settling the score against the government that uproots them, they find something so much worse that they would've been better off not finding it at all.
I loved the mental landscapes this book took me to, the unsettling events that happened to the workers building the first reservoir, and the overwhelming sense of insignificance that oppressively weighed down on the characters during both of this book's climaxes. This is the first year that I've made an active effort to expose myself to horror novels, and while there's a time and place for ghost stories and slasher thrillers, this book struck the exact flavor of terror that I've been looking for.
This is book is a slow burn, but i felt it was paced well. It's not simply a scary story, and I'm sure plenty of readers wouldn't consider it all that terrifiying; for me this was an interesting meditation on the lengths people might go to when they're overcome by grief, and the price people might pay for feeding the delusions that provide them comfort.
I have to admit, I'm not familiar with Lovecraftian horror, but if its anything like this, then I have no interest. At best, this is a weak knockoff of cosmic horror. At worst (and if glowing reviews are to be believed), it's a defining work of the genre. Regardless, it wasn't great.
Firstly, I can certainly understand why the structure of the story might be praised. It was a unique decision, but it was not one that I enjoyed. Bookending the "real" story with the one of Abe and Dan kept me from investing interest in any of the characters, and I found the third act to be rushed and sloppy.
While the writing was fine, the characters were forgettable and seemed to function solely as plot devices rather than developed individuals with complex motivations. This made the shifting perspective in the second act more frustrating and confusing.
And goodness …
I have to admit, I'm not familiar with Lovecraftian horror, but if its anything like this, then I have no interest. At best, this is a weak knockoff of cosmic horror. At worst (and if glowing reviews are to be believed), it's a defining work of the genre. Regardless, it wasn't great.
Firstly, I can certainly understand why the structure of the story might be praised. It was a unique decision, but it was not one that I enjoyed. Bookending the "real" story with the one of Abe and Dan kept me from investing interest in any of the characters, and I found the third act to be rushed and sloppy.
While the writing was fine, the characters were forgettable and seemed to function solely as plot devices rather than developed individuals with complex motivations. This made the shifting perspective in the second act more frustrating and confusing.
And goodness gracious, the descriptions. So much of this book was devoted to descriptions of scenery or landscape that had no bearing on the story at all. I am not opposed to descriptive heavy text, but only when it contributes to the plot, the world building, or the tone of the story. The descriptive text in this book focused on minute details of scenery which did not contribute to a feeling of horror, dread or unease.
Which brings me to where I think this book failed the most. It was not scary. It did not convey horror. Being Lovecraftian, I expected the story to at least make me feel dread, or even revulsion that you might feel from the brief moments of body horror. But throughout, I couldn't help but feel that it was a sad story that turned into a strange story. This felt so.... entry level.
I suppose I can understand why this book might be enjoyed by hardcore Lovecraft fans, but you'd have to forgive a lot of flaws in my opinion.
Some good scares and a very well written opening but, perhaps because of its unusual narrative structure, it felt long for me and the final 50 pages were a slog.
I really really enjoyed this book. The telling is similar to his first book, "House of Windows", but it's far more gripping. It's a story and it's told brilliantly, like a story should be. You can imagine sitting in a booth in a dark bar and listening to an old man spin his tale. I'm a sucker for all things Lovecraftian and this is full of it. Spooky, dark and very enjoyable.
