This book had been sitting on my shelf for some time before I finally got around to it a couple weeks ago. Ironically, I had been thinking a lot about Lovecraft’s work lately, of which I’m a huge fan. I say ironically because I was not aware of this novel’s connections to Lovecraft—specifically his short story The Dreams in the Witch House—before I picked it up. If you haven’t read that story, I’d advise doing so before reading this novel; it isn’t essential, but it is nice to compare and contrast the novel against its inspiration. You can find it here if you’re interested. I consider it one of Lovecraft’s most successful stories, personally.
Prey follows David Williams (why do modern horror novel protagonists always have such generic names?) fresh from a separation with his wife and doing his best to eek a living for himself and his young son Danny as a handyman. At the start he agrees to take on a summer gig restoring and refreshing Fortyfoot House, an old Victorian estate on the Isle of Wight—which, if you don’t know, is just off the southern coast of England. So David takes little Danny and moves into Fortyfoot House, and almost immediately he starts hearing weird noises in the attic. He soon learns from the locals that a rat-like monster called Brown Jenkin is rumored to inhabit the house. This is no big revelation. There’s a quote from The Dreams in the Witch House about Brown Jenkin at the front of the book. We’re definitely in Lovecraft’s domain here, only Masterton has transposed the “witch house” to his own British turf rather than Lovecraft’s familiar setting of New England. Whereas the Lovecraft piece takes place in the fictional setting of Arkham, Massachusetts, Masterton places his story in the very real town of Bonchurch, near Ventnor.
When meddling locals start dying off, it seems like we’re in pretty standard haunted house territory for a good chunk of the novel, though Masterton’s writing is pretty engaging so the story never feels draggy during that initial setup. It is not without problems, which we’ll get to in short order, but by and large the first half of Prey is interesting if not exactly original. If you’re a fellow Lovecraft fan, there is also the anticipation of seeing how a writer like Graham Masterton, who is inclined towards the more gruesome and visceral side of horror (Lovecraft was all about solidly establishing atmosphere first and then mindfucking his readers hard and heavy) will handle beloved Lovecraftian icons like Brown Jenkin and Keziah Mason. When Keziah—spelled Kezia in the book—and Jenkin finally do show up in the flesh in the latter half of Prey, they definitely do not disappoint. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself here.
Early on, Masterton also introduces a third character into the family dynamic at Fortyfoot House: a 19-year-old free spirit named Liz, whom David invites to stay for awhile since she has nowhere else to go and was planning to squat there anyway before she learned David and Danny were actually residing there for the summer. A freshly divorced 30-something, a cute teen girl with no attachments . . . I think you can see where this is going. Yep. But despite some pretty graphic descriptions of their sexual antics, it still isn’t half as creepy as the main male character’s completely extraneous romp in the woods with a 16-year-old in Simon Clark’s Darker. At least here there’s a plot-specific reason why Liz seduces David, even if it winds up being kinda gross. Anyway, this is a horror novel, and if you can’t handle a little freaky sex, you’re probably reading the wrong genre, seriously. Horror and freaky sex go together like whips and cherries . . . or something.
Besides, the book gets a whole lot more disturbing before the end, trust me. Think some of the darker elements of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and you probably won’t be far off the mark. And when Masterton’s mind is at full dark, he isn’t nearly as restrained as McCarthy. So there’s that.
But I digress. Whereas the first half of Prey feels like a decently written if rather standard haunted house novel, the second half shifts into something else entirely: something that involves time travel, kidnapped children (one of whom is quite a bit more than what she first appears to be) and the devil, who isn’t even the most powerful villain here—more like Evil Santa’s twisted little helper. There’s also an environmental message that was clearly more of an afterthought than the point of the story, which ultimately weakens whatever validity that message might’ve had. Overall, the final third of the novel, while ambitious and certainly disturbing, is a bit of a mess.
Above all, the book’s biggest problem is the main character himself, whose motivations often defy belief and leave one shaking their head a little too often. The most frustrating thing is that, every time it feels like David is about to get back on track, he goes and does something stupid again, putting not only himself but his little son in needless jeopardy once more. I’ll grant that if a story is intriguing and provocative enough, a dumb protagonist can be kinda fun. I mean, we’ve all gotten a thrill from yelling at that idiot in the stalker film who went upstairs to hide instead of running away from the house like they should’ve, haven’t we? I have anyway. Luckily for Masterton, David Williams is a lot like that—just when you think he’s finally come to his senses, he goes and does that dumb thing you knew he was going to do because that’s how the plot needs to play out, and you want to slap the crap out of him.
Still, by the end, despite all the nutty turns it’s taken, it all kinda sorta makes sense. And David may not be all that smart or noble as a character, but he does feel like an Everyman who is just trying to scrape by the best way he knows how, and who gets mixed up in something that is way beyond his ken. He’s not the protagonist I would’ve written, but he comes across as basically decent if lacking in imagination and perspective, and I know a lot of people like that myself, and even care about some of them. Ultimately what redeems Prey, however, is just the sheer madness and monstrosity of the world Masterton has created within. Whatever else he may have gotten wrong, he definitely got the horror right, which is all-important for this kind of book. I’ll tell you this: I will not soon forget the Brown Jenkin of Prey.