Herald of the Hidden

 

Herald of the Hidden & Other Stories by Mark Valentine
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

"Four stars?!?" you scream.

I know, I know, it's Mark frickin' Valentine!

And I love Mark Valentine's work. Love, love, absolutely love.

But everyone has to start somewhere, right? And this is what we have here: several early tales, more raw, more . . . "cheeky" is the word that comes to mind. Does this mean that it's bad? No, not at all. It's excellent. But when comparing these tales to his more mature work, one must consider that what we see in the voice of such masterpieces as The Collected Connoisseur took years to hone and perfect. Here, we see a younger Valentine, obviously incredibly gifted, finding his way, showing "flashes" as they say in the sports world, but lacking the full consistency of later work. I understand that completists will give these stories the same sort of reverence that one holds for a black metal band's "demo" tapes - a sort of worship of the raw, the untamed, the under-produced - and I can surely appreciate that sentiment. But once one has read his later work, it becomes clear that these were early tales, for the most part. One must note that certain of these stories were, of his own admittance, published in low-circulation zines back in the '80s, a sort of literary-weird samizdat that evokes the punk and metal zines of the same period.

Speaking of metal, maybe it's because I'd been listening to Watain and Cult of Fire while reading, but Ralph Tylor, lead protagonist of "St Michael & All Angels" struck me as The Connoisseur dressed in a denim jacket, black jeans, and high tops. That picture is probably all wrong, but it's how I pictured him and I'm sticking with it. Tyler is just the sort of person I loved to hang out with as a teen - smart, a bit bookish, interested in the outré, but also a bit . . . metal. This probably has to do with my teenage years spent in England breaking into haunted medieval priories and such (usually to drink and make out with girls - as one does as a teen. Or at least I did.) while absorbing as much metal and punk as I could. I see a little bit of myself in Ralph Tyler. Maybe more than just a little bit.

The second story, "The Folly," was anything but. A clever tale with a moralistic streak, it will appeal to many a vegetarian, and cause horror in the hunter. This furthered my feeling that Ralph Tyler is a less refined and less controlled individual than The Connoisseur. A sort of Hardy Boy to the Sherlock, all of which is meant as a compliment to the writing.

Ralph Tyler differs from The Connoisseur remarkably in one way, as evinced in "Madberry Hill": he is not above rank deception and might (and does) willingly endanger others to sate his curiosity about the supernatural. I had earlier thought that Tyler might be a rougher version of The Connoisseur, and, after reading this tale, I'm convinced of it. Ah, the recklessness of youth! Slap a patched denim battle jacket on that young man!

"The Ash Track" struck me on a couple of different emotional levels. First, the story itself, which I won't spoil, is melancholy and poignant, thick with pathos. Secondly, it takes place, partially, in Bedford, which is the city I lived closest to while living in the UK, so there's some emotional resonance there for me. Who knows? I might have walked the Ash Track myself, given my many ramblings about the countryside?

"The Grave of Anir" is an unsurprising story, but satisfying. The ending is something straight out of the M.R. James playbook. A nice Arthurian mystery that may or may not be a ghost story. You decide.

I loved the gothic and morose "William Sorrell Requests . . ." a great deal. The dreary funerary atmosphere lends the perfect backdrop to a story of either mass hysteria, possession, or communal guilt. Or, perhaps none of these. But then, maybe all of them. Only William Sorrell knows for sure, and dead men tell no tales, as they say. Brilliantly gray and sodden, this story sticks in the brain.

"The Hermit's House" is a little more straightforward than most of the stories in this volume. Make no mistake, it is firmly in "the Weird," but the resolution is fairly straightforward. A simple plot, but written so well (as Valentine always writes) that it can't just be dismissed as a "minor" story. Valentine's pen lends weight to what might otherwise be a flighty, ephemeral tale.

"Herald of the Hidden" is the closest I think I've seen Mark Valentine get to "cosmic horror," though of a decidedly English variety, meaning that those horrors are rooted deeply in the history, nay, pre-history of Avalon. Here is a glimpse (and we almost see altogether too much) of what came before, of what lurks in the hills and dales among the trees. It's a wonderful sort of departure from his "typical" work.

Valentine takes a shot at colonialism, by way of Ralph Tyler, in "Heritage of Fire". I honestly thought the esoteric investigator was going to meet his end here, but then who would explain the cultural implications of English development in the denouement, had he died? Someone has to bring bad news to capitalist developers, I suppose.

The Almanac" was one of my favorite stories of this volume (though not the favorite - see below). It shows a growing maturity in Valentine's writing, something that would later manifest in The Connoisseur stories. The unresolved mystery adds to the weirdness, taking it a notch further than those clearly-explained revelations of earlier tales. There's an abstract quality to it that I love about Valentine's work, that I consider his "signature". It's difficult to explain, as it seems so ephemeral. Maybe that's all that needs to be said.

"The Guardians of the Guest Room" is a ghost story proper, something that would have been right at home in the four-color horror comics of the pre-code era, but with a step up in eloquence. I'd be curious to see this one illustrated in that old, '50s graphic style. Valentine would have at least one customer for this grisly comic; namely, me.

Words are important, even critical. But Valentine's tale of crucial misunderstanding in "Go to the West," which could have become a mere trifle of a story, something that any child could write, is instead transformed by the last sentence. Oh, those words are so critical. You must understand. You absolutely must! Be careful with your signs and wonders, seekers of gnosis!

Tree Worship" is a mythic idyll of understated tone, but brilliant atmosphere, a good story to read as winter turns to spring. It is a thread of pagan Genius Loci only briefly interrupted by modern intrusion, a suburban hiccup preceded and followed by the long, steady breathing of the land itself.
Odd. Though one of the earliest stories in the volume, chronologically-speaking, "Woken by Candlelight" reads like Valentine's later, more mature works: subtlety of mood, languid action, an emergent realization of wisdom in the form of a mystical revelation. This beautiful tale is a herald of things to come in Valentine's poetry, the Connoisseur, and The Nightfarers. Definitely re-readable. The best story in this volume and one worthy of any weird-best-of collections. You need to read this tale!

In a village with little secrets running about, that crazy old lady might not be so crazy after all. Maybe she sees things as they really are and, if so, she'll fit right in with those that know "Their Special Glee". It's a story of folk and horror, of a sort, but of a sort that never confronts one directly as so much folk-horror does, but nips at the heels and toes. Clever and sly in little ways, I loved this understated tale.

In the end, I'm conflicted. On one hand, I want to recommend this to anyone who hasn't read Valentine's work, but that's not the way I encountered his work. I was thrown in the deep end with The Nightfarers, and I've not been the same reader (and indeed not the same writer) ever since. I suppose everyone needs to travel their own path, but in the end, I think that most would agree (and those that disagree are, well, just plain wrong) that Mark Valentine is one of the greatest living writers of weird fiction in practice today. So, however you choose to do it, start reading Valentine's work (I've included lots of links to reviews of some of his other books in this review). If you start here, fine. If you end here, fine. Valentine's weird fiction is a sort of ouroboros of excellence. You can't go wrong, wherever you begin.

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