Suicide Motor Club, The (Book)
Written by Christopher Buehlman
Published by Berkley
Available on Amazon
Christopher Buehlman’s novels establish a tone early and then stick with it. He’s so good at doing it that it almost seems as if he’s writing in a different voice with each book. The atmosphere actually modifies the prose to the extent that readers feel drawn into something wonderful and new each time they jump into his work. It’s a singular skill and one which keeps me on my toes because I never know what I’m going to get.
With his latest novel, The Suicide Motor Club, I got something totally unexpected. Mr. Buehlman’s work has always had a certain grace to it. Whatever the subject matter, he maintains a fluidity and poise that infuse his stories with elegance, no matter how simply those stories are told.
That elegance is gone in The Suicide Motor Club. It’s a harsh, white-knuckle rocket ride straight into goddamn brutality. Mr. Buehlman’s new voice in this book is rough and choppy, and it conveys a tone of graceless monstrosity that grabs the reader from chapter one. And I mean that in a good way.
In this book we’re introduced to Judith and a shitload of vampires. These are definitely not the majestic, mysteriously sexy creatures that have been popularized in the last decade. These are beasts. Mean, conniving bastards that lure their victims in with half-assed charms or just straight up smash them off the highway with their muscle cars and lick the blood off the burning pavement.
Which is what they tried to do to Judith and her family. They took her son and left her husband dying inside the shattered wreck of their car. Unfortunately for the bloodsuckers, Judith survived. Not unexpectedly, she wants her boy back and the monsters exterminated. Without warning, she finds herself in a unique position to try to make both those things happen.
That’s all the synopsis you’re getting from me. I don’t want to take a chance on giving away the slightest hint or preparing you in any way for what’s going to happen to you if you pick up this book… which you absolutely should.
This book is a high-speed romp through American back roads and shit-kicker towns. It roars with gleeful violence, honest-to-god undead monsters, and heroes nearly as untrustworthy as the villains. And yes, it will tear you a new asshole.
The idea of a clan of vamps terrorizing the highways in big-block Camaros and GTOs is amazing. Further, the notion that they’re actually almost immortal and can charm humans out of their right minds is both horrifying and refreshing. And, again, these aren’t suave monsters. They’re not the least bit cultured or refined or somehow exquisite in their brutality. They’re just savage demons roaming the roads and ripping people’s blood from their bodies.
The Suicide Motor Club is another fabulous entry from Christopher Buehlman. His work continues to be as highly original as it is relevant. His is a voice we need in modern horror.
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