The Ceremonies [Mass Market Paperback]

T.E.D. Klein entered the world of horror fiction with a great big splash when The Ceremonies was published in 1984. The novel was met with much critical success, being nominated for a 1985 World Fantasy Award and winning the British Fantasy Society award for best novel. Stephen King proclaimed it the most exciting horror novel since Peter Straub's Ghost Story. The Ceremonies really is a magnificent work of horror, but it is not for everyone. If you like action on top of action, you may find yourself bogged down and discouraged by this novel. At over 500 pages, it is rather long, and it can seem even longer than it really is to readers seeking quick thrills. Klein builds this novel quite slowly and tediously, creating an atmosphere of impending doom that grows in short increments from one page to the next. It is not the awful events that make this horror novel work; it is the atmosphere of dread and suspense. One cannot help but detect a little bit of Lovecraft in Klein (and not just because one of the characters is called the Old One), although both men's style differs considerably. The power that stands to be unleashed by the completion of "the ceremonies" described here is gargantuan, an awesome, world-destroying creature called up from the depths of the earth, a creature too ancient to even be labeled evil.

There are several storylines running through this novel, and their paths converge on only a few occasions, which is a facet of the writing that may bother some readers. Jeremy Freirs is a graduate student and teacher who decides to spend his summer working on his dissertation and preparing for the class he will be teaching in the fall on Gothic Literature; he thinks he has found the perfect place in Gilead, New Jersey, is a world all to its own, the home of a strict religious sect with extremely puritan ideas. Moving into a former storage building on the farm of Sarr and Deborah Poroth, he expects to spend a productive summer free from essentially all distractions - he is quite wrong in this assumption. Meanwhile, in New York, the rather reserved Carol Conklin goes about trying to survive in the big city on a small income from her job at a library. She meets Jeremy in New York just before he leaves for the summer, and a connection is made which will find the couple developing a romantic relationship on somewhat strange terms. What Jeremy and Carol do not know is that this relationship is the work of a strange, little old man known as Mr. Rosebottom. Rosie is actually the Old One working to bring his master back after a very long absence, and Jeremy and Carol are the unsuspecting keys to his success.

It can take some time to really get into this novel. A lot of time is spent introducing the characters, describing their true standing in the events to come, and introducing us to the Poroths, their farm, their community, and their ascetic religion. In time, the story comes alive in much the same way that untold numbers of snakes and worms come to infest the countryside of Gilead. Some might say that nothing much happens until late in the novel, but plenty is going on in terms of building the proper atmosphere in which this novel lives and breathes. The religious tie-ins to the events at the Poroth farm work beautifully in this context. As much as I love this novel, though, I have to say it is not perfect. Despite the rich and closely cultivated storyline, the relationship between Jeremy and the virginal Carol is rather mechanical, never developing the least bit of spark; Jeremy is in fact much more attracted to Deborah Poroth than he is to Carol. I did find the Old One to be a really effective character, one strong yet mysterious enough to hold this novel together as it see-saws back and forth between Jeremy in Gilead and Carol in New York, but there is seemingly a weakness in terms of character development here that prevents me from giving this novel five stars. Despite this fact, The Ceremonies is a truly landmark effort deserving to be read and admired by all who pursue the darker paths and are willing and eager to let the plot develop at its own pace without becoming frustrated over the lack of action early on.

I fondly recall beginning this book, Klein's 'The Ceremonies', a little over a week ago; I was sat on the porch on a fulgurous afternoon as the rain and thunder harmonised above the mountains and in the woods; great clouds swirled above, and their mist shrouded the tops of those aforesaid summits, concealing what secrets?, I pondered. Another thought occurred to me: never was there a more appropriate diurnal reflection of the subject of the book I held, and, within the bounds of weird fiction, there was unlikely to be such a thing again; sadly, the prospect of another Klein novel appearing seem equally unlikely, a lamentable situation, given this novel's excellence.
Klein's accomplishments in this book are indeed considerable; it is an exquisite example of a reflective and tentative study of weird phenomena, inspiring horror with chilling subtleties woven through the languidly-paced narrative. Klein operates by a code of sensitiveness; this is not a novel of cheap scares and break-neck speed, but a brooding, slow story, cumulatively creating an atmosphere of unease.

The briefest of plot synopses: New Yorker Jeremy Freirs, a teacher and scholar decides to spend his summer, as part of his job, reading systematically through the complete historical body of horror fiction in Gilead , a rural backwoods community inhabited by a puritan religious sect, staying with the Poroths, a young farming couple. His newly-met girlfriend, Carol, who intermittently visit's the farm, has met an old man named Rosie, who recruits her as a research assistant on a generous wage; although as the novel progresses, one rapidly questions the man's benevolence, and ponders his curious relationship with Poroth Farm.

This isn't the first novel I've read where religious fundamentalism forms a primary theme; Campbell's 'The Hungry Moon', one of the greatest horror novels I've read, and King's woeful 'Carrie' both deal with the topic, although I must say 'The Ceremonies' presents it refreshingly objectively, and seldom in crude and hackneyed manner; it isn't difficult to poke fun at fundamentalist Christians, and their portrayal as ignorant fools has been a cliché in fiction for decades, but Klein never stoops to such predictability. He presents us with two `specimens' from the community, in the form of Sarr and Deborah Poroth, both of whom, and more especially Sarr (the most interesting character in the book), are very well rounded, their staunch faith does not inevitably make them a laughing-stock; our prejudices, when we learn of their lifestyle, prove ill-conceived one we get to know them - Klein's characterisation in this respect is as memorable as it is mature.
The other characters are presented efficiently; and the book's chief antagonist, Rosie, is an haunting conception; his attempts to conduct the ceremonies through Carol in order to awaken his `master' are presented in such a way that the reader knows his malign intent, but the rest of the protagonists see him merely as an eccentric; it's certainly an effective use of dramatic irony. Dark enigma and snatches of the uncanny enrobe this man, as he goes about whistling some ancient un-melodic death song, plotting the end of man.

Similarly, Poroth Farm and the surrounding woods are beautifully realised; the pastoral setting appeals particularly to my taste, but the mysterious woods and their strange past could hardly fail to induce excitement in any fan of the weird. As the novel progresses and the horror cumulates, one gets the acute impression that something is wrong with Gilead; Klein gorgeously introduces elements of ancient rituals, cults, astrology and elder gods, flavouring the book with folk-lore mythology and occultism. There are some eminently memorable scenes in this book, and among them are the unsettling way in which Rosie persuades Carol to enact some primeval dance to his mellow flute in a shady corner of a wood during twilight - there is something wonderfully elemental about much of this book, and the evil it portends is all the more shocking because of it. The wonders that this book is able to offer are frequently inexpressibly brilliant.

Flaws in this book are few, but it is worth drawing attention two to prominent ones. Firstly, a potentially intriguing character, Sarr Poroth's mother, is underdeveloped and used far too infrequently; she is Rosie's only real opponent, as she possesses the gift of foresight, and sees what may materialise given his success. In a way, I think it would have improved the book to focus to a lesser degree on Rosie's antics (interesting though they are) and give Mrs Poroth more space to develop. By the end of the book, her significance in the novel becomes almost negligible; although it would have been a poorer story had Klein axed her altogether, he really should have made greater use of her.
The other gripe I have is with the ending. This seems to be a recurrent theme in many horror novels I've read; their impoverished conclusions do not fairly represent the rest of the book, and to an extent the same is true here. For the record, I thought the the events leading up to the very end were well written and paced, and the culmination of all these events rendered the final, dreadful act described in the forest unforgettable; it was brilliantly realised and a grotesquely memorable image, surpassing almost everything else I`ve read in its vividness and gristly implication. However, Klein, for reasons which elude me and betray the whole pessimistic tone and inevitability of doom which I felt reading the book `chickens out', and has a meek, unsatisfying, optimistic resolution to this exquisite explosion of cosmic horror. I was immensely disappointed; I was prepared to see a black curtain thrust over mankind, and the reign of benevolent gods replaced by the darkest evil imaginable, and yet, we get a fairly pitiful resolution to the story, topping an utterly marvellous book with a misshapen crown forged from the basest metal conceivable. Although, it must be said that one's attitude to the finale is ultimately a subjective one, and some readers may be pleased with the optimism of the ending, and my warped sentiments may seem foreign to others; however, I must maintain that this book would have been immeasurably enriched with a bleak, apocalyptic ending.

Aside from those complaints, I cannot stress the importance of this book to its genre enough; I would recommend it to all patient and thoughtful readers. It is one of the best horror novels I've read - it is impossible to emerge from this book without brimming with enthusiasm for it, and it places Klein firmly among the greats - Lovecraft, Blackwood, Machen and Campbell - we are all indebted to him. There is an abundance of truly masterly weird imagery in this book, the quality of which is rarely found in other examples of the genre. We must all hope that this is not Klein's final statement in horror in the novel form.