Without Light or Guide is the second in Teresa Frohock’s “Los
Nefilim” series of novella. Set in the Spain of the nineteen-thirties, it follows
some members of Los Nefilim – the children of Angels – as they struggle with
defining themselves, whilst working for or against schemes pushed by their
angelic overlords and daemonic opponents.
Frohock’s Spain
remains as vividly detailed as ever. The
sense of a society on the brink of change remains, and is even exacerbated.
There’s a feeling of hidden conflicts, quite aside from the supernatural
concerns at the centre of the narrative – anarchist bombings and police
brutality exist side by side, and the city at the centre of the story teeters
between the expectations of the two.
This also serves as a nice corollary for the tensions between angelic
and daemonic entities. Here too, there is a feeling of an approaching storm, as
individuals look to either keep their heads down, or position themselves for
any coming conflict. A cold war looks to be gradually warming up, and the
environment reflects that, the sense of imminent catastrophe, dread, and a sort
of febrile vitality, very well indeed.
Alongside the thematic similarities, Frohock does some
excellent environmental description – the sewers packed with a sort of squamous
ooze were particularly vile. I couldn’t get away from them fast enough! There’s
also the urban bustle of the city, and the gradual shifts in atmosphere – all
precisely crafted, and environmentally and emotionally effective. I was pulled
into the terrifying and extraordinary world of pre-revolutionary Spain, and
didn’t come out until the last page.
The characters, of course, stay on the page. Several of them
are familiar from the previous novella in the sequence. The central
relationship, between Diago and his partner, remains an absolute delight. T
There’s
a rawness here, a reaching for emotional truths which immeasurably strengthens
the core of the story. Diago and his lover are both men struggling with what
others think of them, and they of themselves and each other – but Diago’s
emotional growth, and acquisition of the strength to commit, are key tenets of
the narrative, and the author makes them seem believable and honest.
Diago’s family is a core part of the narrative; alongside
his relationship with his lover, he’s also exploring feelings for his long
estranged father, and newly discovered child. The latter, especially, plucks at
the heartstrings and adds a degree of weight to the prose; Frohock approaches
the parent-child relationship with care, and it comes off the page as
plausible, as well as terrible and beautiful, providing an intangible emotional
heft to the text. The relationship with his father is seen as rather more
fraught, and here the sense of alienation and estrangement is captured
masterfully, if brutally, in the text.
The villains…well, as usual, they’re rather scary. There’s a
slowly building horror throughout, which is counterbalanced by some rather more
graphic moments laced through the text, before the climax. The antagonists feel alarmingly alien when
appropriate, and a few are disturbingly human. They’re all thoroughly
interesting to read, even when being truly terrible.
As ever, I’m trying to avoid spoilers, so I won’t get into
the plot too much. Suffice to say that Diago is on the move again, being
gradually drawn into the intrigues of the Nefilim. There’s a slow burn buildup
at the start of the text, but it flows wonderfully as the tension ratchets up
in the prose. The stakes are, as ever, rather high, and there’s a sense of
characters living with the consequences of their decisions. It’s a creepily
compulsive journey for Diago, and the reader is taken along for the ride, by
turns disgusted, terrified and thrilled. There’s more of the Nefilim here than
before, and Frohock’s prose packs a punch.
Is it worth reading? If you’re new to the series, I’d start
with the first in the sequence. But if you’re looking for more of pre-war
Spain, of a world where angels and demons fight a gradually escalating war
amongst our shadows, and where family and love are nothing – and everything –
then yes, this is a thoroughly enjoyable sequel.
No comments:
Post a Comment