The small black door in the wall is hard to find. It’s
only visible to certain people on a certain day. In a working class
neighborhood, across the street from a rundown pub, Slade Alley has seen many
strange disappearances through the years – every nine years to be exact. Those
who cross through the iron door are the only ones who know its secrets. But by
then it’s already too late.
Slade House by David Mitchell is told almost as a
series of short stories. Each section is a different year (1979 – 2015, on a
nine year cycle) with a different narrator. While the narrators (and stories)
are vastly different from one another they all have the common thread of being
lured to the Slade House on Slade Alley and then trapped there. I read this
book as part of a Goodreads horror book club, and I’m not entirely sure I
would’ve picked it up otherwise. But I’m glad I did. Mitchell’s unconventional
horror sticks with you, and he excels at writing a distinctive voice for each
protagonist so they don’t all end up sounding the same. At first glance the
narrators (an outsider young boy, a chauvinist cop, an insecure college girl, a
journalist, and a doctor) don’t have much in common. But each section slowly reveals
more about the Slade House and its inhabitants and just what kind of people
they need to attract. Once inside the house, its victim loses all track of time
and sees all manners of nightmares.
Mitchell’s
novel is strange, a bit sad, and quite a ride. I particularly enjoyed sections
three and four. I also liked the fact that I loved some narrators (the shy
college girl) and hated others (well, just one. The cop). To be honest, though,
I’m not sure how I feel about the ending. I don’t think I liked it very much.
The last section feels a little deflated after the excellent middle sections.
The rest of the book is too weird and fun for it to damper my enjoyment,
however. This is a good, quick read for horror fans in the mood for something
slightly different.
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