The decision to get comfortable with a big mug of tea and no impending commitments before beginning this novella turned out to be only half correct. I was right in suspecting “The Harm: A Polyptych” would be devoured in one sitting. I should, however, have had a mug of neat whisky for the chill that now curls around my insides.
Gary’s latest novella from TTA press is a thought-provoking, gripping tale. The plot revolves around three young men – Tyler, Roarke and Potter – who were horrifically abused as young boys in a disused warehouse on the bank of a canal (a location beautifully rendered for the cover by Ben Baldwin).
It commences with a traditional, narrated introduction to the scenario – similar perhaps to one of Clive Barker’s more whimsical works – which is an unusual and pleasant surprise. But once the story begins, any such fond familarities are swiftly demolished.
We first meet Tyler, a moderately successful family man, on a dismal night out with his colleagues from work. The depiction of bland, urban life is tremendous – in which even a birthday visit to a nightclub is depressing – and it soon begins to curdle into something nasty. Strangers and family begin to treat Tyler with violence, unprovoked, and the scene is set for a classic McMahon spiral into his damaged past.
Next is Roarke, a violent criminal who rules his deprived neighbourhood with fear. His nightmare begins when he falls asleep half-drunk on a night bus, and finds himself in a silent and unfamiliar part of town.
Last of the trio is Potter, a very lonely man with sexual issues and an unhealthy affection for illegal execution videos. He discovers, just like his old friends, that the ghosts of his childhood experience will not relent. The Harm… almost a literal beast of despair in this book.
The terrors that befall our haunted protagonists seem disjointed and random at first, but by the claustrophobic conclusion, it has all fallen into place. This one of those rare treats that inspires reflection, both upon the themes and mechanics of the story itself, and also the world around us.
There’s a real sense of the ephemeral nature of life, and just how fragile it is. Gary uses this to bring humanity and frailty to the characters, whether they be sympathetic or odious. It hammers home the sickening power of abuse, and the insidious ways in which the legacy of damage spreads, while at the same time being a very tight and grimly entertaining horror tale.
I highly recommend this book. Gary’s prose is as rich as ever, evoking atmosphere in every detail, without drifting into excess. Along with the flowing snippets of dialogue, it brings colour to the bleakest of horror landscapes. There are a few surprises, but rather than being a story that relies on shocks, The Harm delivers ice-cold realisation.