Fireman, The (Book)
Brent R. Oliver
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Written by Joe Hill
Published by William Morrow
Available on Amazon
I love Joe Hill. I stumbled across Heart-Shaped Box before I knew who his daddy was, so I feel I got the real experience. I devoured that book and wanted more. By the time his second novel, Horns, came out, I knew who he was and where he came from. Notwithstanding that, Horns was even better than Heart-Shaped Box. It was a goddamn tour-de-force of creepy, weird storytelling. After that I went back and read his short story collection, 20th Century Ghosts, which was also fantastic.
Then I met Joe Hill at a book signing for NOS4A2, and he’s just as marvelous a person as he is a writer. He was humble, witty, sweet, smart, generous, and all-around awesome. I made him a sandwich. It’s a long story.
After reading NOS4A2, I was a touch disappointed. It was a great book, but I felt it lacked some of the astonishing originality that made his earlier work shine. It seemed to be a little more traditional horror and a little less innovative. Nothing wrong with thatm and I still enjoyed the shit out of it.
And now we have Mr. Hill’s newest novel, The Fireman, and unfortunately, I didn’t totally love it either. The originality here is stunning; this is a one-of-a-kind read. But it tips the scales at a meaty 747 pages and has a tendency to ramble and lose focus. In addition, the protagonist seems a bit boring and flat, and the titular character is made to be so human that his heroics fall somewhat flat. He’s almost too flawed.
This book introduces us to Harper Grayson, a nurse at the edge of the Apocalypse. Harper’s a gentle, practical soul dedicated to treating victims of a new plague threatening to burn the world down. It has a long, sinister, scientific name; but the public just calls it Dragonscale. A highly contagious disease, Dragonscale tattoos its victims with gorgeous black and gold designs all over their skin. Once they see the first tattoo, it’s all over. No cure. No hope. They’re resigned to waiting for the spectacular finale, which is bursting into flames and dying in agony. When? Weeks, maybe. Could be months.
Harper ministers to the sick as best she can while society burns down around her. The disease is spreading fast and no one is safe. Not even George Clooney.
She and her husband, Jakob, have a deal: If they get infected, they’ll take suicide before they die by fire. If they see the Dragonscale’s beautiful tendrils bloom on their skin, they’ll opt out before immolation hits.
When Harper is marked by Dragonscale, Jakob, who’s an increasingly abusive prick, is ready to off them both. He doesn’t have it himself, but it’s only a matter of time, right? It’s a contagion, and surely she’s passed it to him. He should see the gold and black swirls any time.
But Harper is pregnant. She’s seen infected women at the hospital where she works give birth to healthy babies, unmarred by the tattoos. She knows she’s a goner but wants to see if she can make it long enough to give birth to a bouncing young ’un unmarred by the dragon.
Abandoned by her unstable, fuckwitted spouse, Harper stumbles through the suburban woods and is more or less rescued by “The Fireman”of the title himself, a British guy in a dirty turnout coat who talks a bit like he’s trying out for Monty Python. With his help, she avoids the murderous Jakob and the newly-formed Cremation Squads, self-elected pyros determined to torch the infected before they can spread the disease. She’s led to a secret camp deeper in the woods where those suffering from Dragonscale live peacefully and learn to control their affliction, not just delay or outright prevent their flaming demise; some of them can manipulate the subcutaneous fire for personal defense or, if pushed, offense.
Harper is now caught between two worlds: the smoldering ruins of her life before Dragonscale and the uncertain flickers of hope she sees in the camp with her new brothers and sisters. Is there a safe place to have her child, or will everything (and everyone) burn to a cinder before she can?
This is a breathtaking story, truly sweeping in scope. But it’s just too damn long, and there are too many easy roads taken. The camp is basically an uneasy religious cult, with people vying for power and influence. Jakob is a psychopath, and I felt no connection to him at all. Hating him is far too easy once his personality shifts into killer mode. And Harper is the classic good woman pushed too far, with little else to bolster or redeem her.
Despite the fact that the Dragonscale plague is truly inventive and monstrously horrifying, everything that surrounds it seems to drag on for ages. The Fireman lacks the muscle to power through a story that, while sprawling and all-encompassing, remains a little mundane and fatuous. I felt like a lot of pages were wasted when it could have been cut down to a leaner weight that packed more of a punch.
And The Fireman himself was designed to be a truly mortal, cracked character, which is admirable. He’s learned to control the flames the Dragonscale produces, but the cost to him has been enormous. He’s considerably more sinner than savior, and I think that’s great. However, his tale is as much soap opera as true tragedy, and that gets old. He didn’t have enough charisma to actually catapult him into the role of hero.
Overall, The Fireman is a worthwhile read. It needs to hit the gym and work out, lose a little bit of the excess flab, just like me. But Joe Hill is an honestly great American writer and as genuine a person as you could want. He’s a consummate badass with a pen, and there’s more than enough in this book to astonish, startle, bewilder, and delight. No matter its mass, the good far outweighs the bad, and I recommend checking it out.
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