Hotel Doom Service: The SeaHarp Hotel (ed. Charles L. Grant)

                                                                                         

Back for another visit to Greystone Bay, and this time we're staying in the swanky accommodations of the SeaHarp Hotel. This is the best of the books so far--you can read my reviews of volume 1 here and here, and of volume 2 here. 

Introduction by Charles L. Grant

Synopsis: A series of letters, following the SeaHarp Hotel through its changes of ownership. And what's with that mysterious room?

Thoughts: Grant's "introductions" to the series aren't the usual forewords; instead, they're appetizers which get you in the mood for the quiet, moody doom to come while providing bits of exposition. As I mentioned, this is my favorite book of the three I've read so far, and this is Grant's best intro as well. 

Ex-Library by Chet Williamson

Synopsis: A man trying to repair his marriage at the SeaHarp Hotel stumbles into the reading room, where an old man badgers him into reading and then rereading an M.R. James short story.

Thoughts: Glendfiddich and M.R. James? Two great tastes that taste great together; Williamson knows the way to my heart. 

I have hesitations about stories which use other stories as major elements, for the same reason I think it's rarely a good idea for a song to sample another, better song. However, James stories seem to work well for this (it's been years since I read Lisa Tuttle's "The Mezzotint," but I remember that being a good read as well). At any rate, Williamson isn't as focused on James per se as he is on the horrible apparition at the end of "Oh Whistle, And I'll Come To You, My Lad." I feel like James would have appreciated the smoking room ghost story tradition that Williamson participates in here. 

There is also something nicely old-fashioned and suitable in the morality of the story, such as it is. It reminded me a little bit of Russell Kirk's supernatural tales like "There's a Long, Long Trail A-Winding." Even if Kirk probably wouldn't endorse this story's suggestion that sometimes what you really need is a divorce, I feel like he'd have to agree that, given the alternative, it's preferable. 

The Coat by Al Sarrantonio

Synopsis: The good news: A coat scavenged from the SeaHarp Hotel helps a wino kick his alcoholism. The bad news: It does that by turning him into a misogynistic serial killer.

Thoughts: The first "nasty" story in the series since Bloch's "Nocturne" in Greystone Bay, although this is much more explicit (and much, much better). I associate Sarrantonio with a goofier, Gahan Wilson-esque brand of the grotesque, so stories like this or his "Children of Cain" put me off a little bit. But while "Children of Cain" is just an unpleasantly explicit riff on the same "incipient serial killer" material you often see, this has the same crude, brutal purity of an early Misfits song, or an early 80s slasher like Madman. 

It doesn't feel like it has much to do with the SeaHarp, or Greystone Bay generally, other than the general Friday 13th the Series style of 'possessed by a cursed object.' But, it has a strong ending. 

Beauty by Robert R. McCammon

Synopsis: One of the prizes of the Greystone Bay Beauty Contest is a weekend stay at the SeaHarp Hotel. Or, in one girl's case, a much longer stay. . .

Thoughts: The magic of location isn't limited to within the stories of the Greystone Bay series; it happens with the books themselves. Taken outside of context, several of the stories here would be too slight for me to really enjoy. However, in the context of the Bay and the SeaHarp, things change. 

"Beauty" is a good example. McCammon's two previous Greystone Bay contributions were big Twilight Zone affairs with lots of special effects, but this is a simple ghost story. It's a little sad and a little spooky but that's it. However, that's all it needs to be: It works perfectly with the setting. I think part of what makes this the strongest so far of the Greystone Bay books is that it has the most consistency of tone. Taken on their own "Beauty" and many of the other stories wouldn't rank high for me, but all together they're great.   

The one thing I'll note is the characterization and dialogue here feels much more Southern than New England. Fair enough, given that McCammon is from the South, and it's not like it's explicitly Southern. Maybe it's just that I have a hard time imagining anyone from Graystone Bay talking to their "Momma."

Services Rendered by Bryan Webb

Synopsis: A whaler gratuitously kills a mother whale right off the coast of Greystone Bay, leaving her calf orphaned (and doomed). Years later, the whaler's son visits the SeaHarp Hotel, and learns why his mother always kept him from the sea.

Thoughts: There's a clever,  EC-esque pun in the title, if I'm not mistaken. This story is only okay, and doesn't have that much to do with the SeaHarp--the hotel feels shoehorned in a little. However, the whaling focus gives us the requisite New England flavor. 

Like "Beauty", this is an above-average story that gets extra points just for being in touch with the flavor of the project. This seems to have been the only story (at least per ISFDB) that Bryan Webb wrote. More's the pity, as this is well-written and polished. 

Aquarium by Steve Rasnic Tem

Synopsis: An antiques appraiser gets hired to value a trove of old furnishings at the SeaHarp. By coincidence, this was the same place he sometimes visited as a young orphan. . . 

Thoughts: Steve Rasnic Tem's stories always require careful reading, and this one demands it. Part of it is that, as compared to his other two contributions to the series so far, the horror here is harder to see--the story in Greystone Bay is Aickmaneseque horror (particularly that masterpiece "The Hospice"), which is never straightforward but still clearly identifiable, and the story in Doom City is actually straightforward (though the implications are not). 

This one is trickier, although more rewarding than "Fogwell" from Doom City (I still like "In a Guest House" from Greystone Bay more than this one by a little bit). Part of it is that there's not the same sense of threat that there is in the other two stories. There is horror, although of a subtle and realistic kind, but essentially all of it happened before the story begins.

What is going on here is a lot of clever layering and of meaning and building the same theme from different angles. The aquarium metaphor is obvious--SRT spells it out for us on the second page. Less obvious, perhaps, is the fact that Michael now measures and appraises as a living, and he was once subjected to the same measurement and appraisal as an orphan. 

Ultimately, this story reminds me a lot of H.P. Lovecraft's "The Outsider"--a Gothic story of uncovering forbidden and disturbing secrets of lineage and origins. Like that story, it's an effective and moody prowl through ancient edifices and dark histories. The key difference is that the crowning horror of "The Outsider" is the narrator's moment of recognition of his reflection; in "Aquarium," the horror is that Michael is not reflected in the end. I admit to still struggling with the implications of that--I think it's just that he still feels himself to be an outsider, even now, but we (and he) already knew that from the beginning of the story. 

Unless. . .Unless there are similarities to certain other Lovecraft stories as well at play, and the title and the fish metaphors and the ending and the reference to "[d]istorted embryos. As if under water" suggests something more overtly monstrous as well.

I don't think that's the case, but this is Greystone Bay. 

Three Doors in a Double Room by Craig Shaw Gardner

Synopsis: An aging salesman and his frigid wife are attempting a second honeymoon. Lake Tahoe didn't work the first time, so maybe Greystone Bay will work? Not bloody likely--and the fact that the wife's lover Hank is present at the SeaHarp is just the start of the trouble.

Thoughts: Great title--it sounds like it could be the name of a giallo. Tre Porte in una Camera Doppia? It feels kind of like an Italian crime movie, too--the ornate, luscious version of the SeaHarp, dripping like a melting cake, and the room, with its three doors, the passage between each marked by broken glass. Imagine kaleidoscopes and blurry views of broken crystal suddenly coming into focus, and drops of blood on the carpet.

The story itself is elegant--Gardner threads the needle of making what's going on obvious to the reader, while still effectively communicating the protagonist's disorientation. 

Revelations by Melissa Mia Hall

Synopsis: An amateur tarot reader retreats to the SeaHarp Hotel after his lover's suicide. 

Thoughts: Great; maybe the best solo Hall story I've ever read (although her Masques III duet with Doug Winter, "The Happy Family," is my favorite). The pacing is excellent; Hall mixes exposition, forward plot movement, and descriptive ornamentation in a way that seems easy, so you know it isn't. 

The end is a perfect example of a good quiet horror ending (although this, like "The Happy Family", feels (tarot cards notwithstanding) more akin to Dennis Etchison's subtle, psychological brand of quiet horror than the often more explicitly supernatural quiet horror of Grant &co.). It doesn't wholly make sense--not just that the events don't make sense according to generally accepted science and metaphysics (that's table stakes--we're in Greystone Bay, baby!) but that there's not a clear supernatural mechanism by which what happens, happens. However, the meaning, not the facts, are what matters, and the meaning flies through the air to hit you between the eyes--a randomly thrown dart that was always only meant for you, because you in fact deserve it. 

Room Service by Les Daniels

Synopsis: Geoffrey Darling's all but ruined after his stocks take a nosedive, so he pulls his last half-million out of the bank and keeps it in a suitcase. This just causes more stress, but a stay at the SeaHarp to calm his nerves doesn't improve things.

Thoughts: I have thoughts for another micro-anthology: The Bourjaily Book of Stories Written by Camp NECON Hall of Fame Members That Are Set In A Hotel And Are Semi-Comical And Possibly Involve Turning Into An Animal And Are Entertaining But Don't Quite Stick The Landing, Oh Well, which would feature this and Chet Williamson's "Change of Life" (I'm pretty sure Chet's story took place in a hotel and not an apartment, but I can't find my copy of the delicious Hotter Blood to confirm). 

Is that harsh? There's a lot going on here. It's overstuffed, not unlike a briefcase full of money or a guest after a gluttonous room service feast.

The conceit of the suitcase is a good one, and it succeeded at giving me immediate anxiety over what would happen to it. And the themes of gluttony and transformation are good as well; they dovetail nicely with Darling's greed and panic. What I don't quite get is the implication that this has all been. . . a long con by the SeaHarp Hotel itself to get its non-existent hands on Darling's dough? That does tend to make it more of a proper Greystone Bay story (the location itself is causing the supernatural unpleasantness), but it seems like small ball. 

Evil Thoughts by Suzy McKee Charnas

Synopsis: Fran and her younger boyfriend Paul have moved to his hometown of Greystone Bay. Complications ensue, primarily in the form of a nasty neighbor and unexplained mushrooms.

Thoughts: Great story, shame about the ending. Most of this tale is an effective bit of obsessive rumination. Charnas weaves possible supernatural horror in with social and psychological deterioration reminds me of Ramsey Campbell. I think the problem here is the presence of the "witchy" neighbor: Without her, the mushrooms as part literal/part metaphor could work nicely. However, adding in a malevolent presence undercuts the implicit moral of the story, and doesn't actually add anything.  

Blood Lilies by Robert E. Vardeman

Synopsis: Alan Mitchell is dying of AIDS, but he's going out on his own terms. Before his suicide, though, he plans a final week at the luxurious SeaHarp Hotel. His plans get sidetracked when he encounters an old flame and a new breed of plant with a special diet.

Thoughts: As I said, everyone brought their A-game to this book! Vardeman's first contribution to the Greystone Bay mythos was mildly smutty fun, and his second fell flat for me. This is a delight, though: Sensitive and beautiful and unexpected.

In some ways this is one of the "main attraction" stories in the book: The cover-art showcases the blood lilies, and they get a shout-out on the back cover matter as well. So, I thought (especially on the heels of having just rewatched the 1986 Little Shop of Horrors) we'd follow a formula: Guy wants to die, decides he wants to live after all, BLOOD LILIES chow down, ho-hum. No such bad luck.

Instead, Vardeman weaves the plot elements (AIDS, the relationship with Elizabeth, suicide, and the lilies) into a delicate tapestry (maybe a winding shroud) that's emotionally satisfying while still carrying a scary kick. 

Second best story in the book, and that's only because Gardner's story is that good. 

Interlude by Wendy Webb

Synopsis: An elderly woman checks herself into the SeaHarp for a final visit. But first, a dinner party. . .

Thoughts: Another old-fashioned ghost story, and aside from a few macabre touches, not very horrific at all. I think this suffers from coming after Vardeman's story, because this is also about checking into the SeaHarp Hotel to die, but it's not as good. That is mostly because Vardeman's story captures some of the poignancy and traces of hope that this one does but in a more unexpected way--and, all while developing a bona fide horror story.

But this is a good enough story in its own right. What lesser stories would treat as revelations, Webb trusts the reader to figure out for themselves. And it oozes class. Sure, it's a lightweight, but you know what else is lightweight? Toto. And you know what gets me through long afternoons at work? Pumping my fist to "Hold the Line." 

A Muse for Mr. Kalish by Leslie Alan Horvitz

Synopsis: A trio of Broadway producers spirit the linchpin of their newest venture--the brilliant but mercurial and self-destructive playwright Kalish--out of New York to Greystone Bay. They hope that cutting the writer off from his lifestyle of booze and women will spur his productivity. However, a mysterious fellow guest at the SeaHarp Hotel complicates things.. . 

Thoughts: This is a great deal of fun; a snappy showbiz story with humor and fun characters. It reminded me of the Joseph Payne Brennan stories from the previous volumes. The fantastical element also reminds me of Brennan's stories--it's an old-fashioned set of pulp tropes with just a hint of tongue-in-cheek. There aren't any surprises here, although I do wonder what Kalish's hit play Sleep With Their Fathers was about. . .

No Pain, No Gain by Thomas F. Monteleone

Synopsis: A Miskatonic University professor stumbles upon a creature that feeds on pain and fear. The only ethical way to study it? Bribe a bellboy to stash it in the SeaHarp Hotel where the guests are a constant psychic buffet. 

Thoughts: From the title, I thought this would be a glib story about complications at the hotel gymnasium, but Monteleone has something else in mind. This is a fun one, snappy and breezy, in a way that makes even some of the darkest vignettes in the story clip along pleasantly without being too depressing, but also without being flippant or shallow. 

The vignette-driven nature of the middle section also keeps the pacing good, flipping back and forth between the growth of the deimophage and the misfortunes of the hotel guests.  After this, the ending feels anticlimactic and the pace slows down, and the ending is preordained. Which isn't to say it's bad. 

Old Friends Never Die by Bob Booth

Synopsis: Sixties rock band The Snappers have their best days behind them, but the group--and co-front man Mike Condon--made the transition into middle age with more than a little residual success. The only problem for Mike are his constant dreams of being dead, and always at the same mysterious location. The exact location that's on a brochure for a seaside getaway called the SeaHarp Hotel . .  .

Thoughts: Here's something that's not fair to the story at all: The second we see references to Jimi, Janis, and Jim, I immediately thought of Stephen King's boomer jukebox nightmare "You Know They Got A Hell Of A Band." Which isn't even a story I particularly love, and I believe it came after Booth's tale, but the comparisons were impossible to ignore. 

If we get past those comparisons, we have a decent dark fantasy-- Last Year at Marienbad with The Big Chill's soundtrack. 

The problem? The titular "old friends". Our narrator and his bandmates didn't burn the candle at both ends or live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse. Instead, they had the sort of successful career that's a pipe dream for most musicians, but is far short of the tragic, iconic, Icarus-esque arcs of folks like Joplin, Hendrix, and Morrison. To put it bluntly, Mike isn't in the same league.  

The way I'd change the story would be to cut the 27 Club stuff but keep most of the rest of it the same. The hazy, floating nature of the days Mike spends in the SeaHarp are good, and you could even keep him being an aging rock star. That would make the story better stand on its own, and out of the shadow of giants. As it is, this made me want to go re-read "The Play's The Thing" from Doom City, and maybe combine that with Horvitz's story to produce The Bourjaily Book of Stories From Greystone Bay About Supernatural Complications In The Production Of Plays.

Ami Amet Deli Pencet by Nancy Holder

Synopsis: A California woman inherits, for apparently no reason, a sprawling but damaged mansion in Greystone Bay. She checks into the SeaHarp during renovations, and finds herself caught in something beyond herself, yet intimately connected to her.

Thoughts: An ambitious and ultimately flawed one to close the book on--sort of like Gardner's "She Closed Her Eyes" from Doom City. Like that story, this one brings back some elements of Greystone Bay mythos from the first book in the series (here, it's the Croomes), and tries to tie its weirdness to something more fundamental about the town's dark history. And, like that story, this has some very strong moments that don't all work together. 

It's also very much like Holder's story in Doom City, in that it has both the strongest parts of quiet horror (effective imagery and psychological suspense,  and tasteful subtlety) and the weakest (a lot of build-up and mystery that promises to pay off, only to fizzle into a confusing conclusion). 

I get that you could make that criticism, if you were so inclined, of the ending of "Revelations", so what's the difference? I think the difference for me is that (and I get this is subjective) Hall's story doesn't explicitly explain what's happened to the narrator or why he deserves what happens to him, but it's laying the case out for you with implication and noodling around in your subconscious the whole time. The pleasure in a story like that, or in some of the other writers who traffic in psychological ambiguity (Steve Rasnic Tem and Dennis Etchison again jump to mind; so do Aickman and Kafka), is when your conscious mind shows up at the end of the story to find your subconscious already there, waving to yourself. It's a glorious uncanny moment. Here, it's more a little. . . messy.  

Not to worry--Nancy Holder had plenty more trips to the sea in store for us that are very worthwhile.