Ask a handful of people for their surface observations of a given decade and often they’ll state many of the same events and fads. Even the tech-obsessed millennials can provide a reasonably accurate description of what a hippie was. What disco sounds like or why a mirrored ball was suspended above the strange dances that accompanied it. But history has a way of neatly secreting away the more displeasing cultural disturbances of a given time period. High profile murders often secure some measure of immortality, and after them, every cult leader is a Jim Jones or a Charles Manson. But what of the others, those groups that didn’t make the evening news or rack up high enough of a body toll to merit media scrutiny?
Last Days is a well-researched and chilling account of such a fictional cult. More specifically, Nevill’s “Temple of the Last Days” is a representative recreation of one of the 70’s transcendental and enlightenment movements that promiscuously borrowed various Eastern philosophies and perverted their doctrine until a central figurehead could assert control over their supplicants. Before ever unleashing the horrors of the abyss, Nevill unveils the aftermath of the survivors of a cult which met its final end in a massacre/suicide in the Arizona desert. Gripping attention to how trauma continually victimizes those once involved invests the reader from the beginning, signaling the ride ahead will not be pleasant.
Last Days takes its name from a fictional autobiography referenced in the novel by one of the many True Crime titles that cover such events. Skilled but financially challenged Kyle and his best friend Dan take an assignment by a reclusive producer to investigate a long-dead cult of the 1970’s—once called the Gathering, then later the Temple of the Last Days. Specializing in occult and outré documentary, Kyle readily accepts the offer, and a tight schedule of shooting is set to interview key figures and survivors of the cult.
Nevill wastes no time with speculation; soon after their first interview with one of the cult members, Kyle and Dan encounter a series of chilling experiences in a property that served as the cult’s first house. Skepticism becomes debate, and soon debate falls away as panic sets in. Alien dreams invade intrepid Kyle, and the accumulative effects of insomnia and persistence wear down his sanity fast.
As with all of Nevill’s work I have read, a deeper theme is lurking in Last Days. One might struggle to draw comparisons between the end of The Summer of Love and Facebook, between Jim Jones and reality television. As their continued efforts aggravate and imperil the survivors they interview, Kyle feels the effects of their suffering seep into his own soul. He personalizes the senselessness of cults, the human need for self-identification and acceptance, and the parade and endless comparison of one’s own status to that offered by others on social media. During a rant, Kyle defends his growing misanthropy to Dan:
“Kyle shook his head where he lay on the floor, staring at the polystyrene ceiling tiles. ‘So many of them thought they had an audience. They were performing. Because everyone thinks they’re on stage these days. The Show Of Me, mate. Facebook. Twitter. Twitter my arse. Mobile phones? Eh? They’re not for communicating, they’re for broadcasting. Broadcasting The Show Of Me. We are an audience to every s***head with an iPhone. I can’t turn on the telly without some silly bitch with big teeth showing off.’” (Nevill 320).
Kyle is referencing the assembled behavior of individuals who think the documentarians have the lock on them, but he speaks a greater truth: the loss of human interaction in the vain attempt to transcend a normal existence is the result of such misused technology. Furthering this point, Kyle remarks:
“But this out here. It’s {The cult/their murder/suicide} like the distillation of it all. Where it really took hold. In the sixties. I can see that. Manipulative shysters. Naïve people desperate to believe in something, in someone, to be someone. Any different now? Who wants to be ordinary? Eh? No one, that’s who. Everybody’s got to be singing or dancing or drawing attention to themselves. For what? Is there really any talent involved in any of it? Anything meaningful? (Nevill 321).
(SPOILERS AHEAD) The disaffected documentarian continues on in an all-or-nothing stakes bid to remove an ancient evil attempting to reincarnate for the second time. A fascinating origin to Sister Katherine (the cult leader) is provided by an art historian and further connected by Max, the producer/cult survivor. Kyle and Dan never stood a chance to slither out from the specters they hunt with their cameras, and the reader is provided an illuminating look at how documentary and filmmakers perform their craft.
Like The Ritual, Nevill has a way of creating the outdoors on the page that puts the reader in them. Every sound, every texture underfoot, every smell is given deliberate care. In his hands, a sunset is the promise of torment, a sunrise the vestigial recognition a broken character sees as hope. Consider just one line describing a character’s reticence to act and fear: “And Kyle experienced the urgent need to visit the toilet for the immediate expulsion of everything inside him not attached to bone or muscle.” (Nevill 488). The internet is “that Wild West of disinformation and fraud, that infinite sea of piracy, the great electorate where the constituency of billions voted their approval with the click of a mouse.” (Nevill 443).
Never are character’s “frozen in horror” or “too scared to move.” Nevill’s prose is tight and clean, often luring the reader back to reread the previous passage in sheer amazement (well, this writer does anyhow). He is consistent with pace, handles backstory flawlessly and organically, and never do I find myself skipping forward a few pages to see how many are left in a chapter. More often, I’m pissed that I’m almost out of book to read!
I recommend Last Days to any fan of supernatural horror, True Crime stories, suckers for 60’s and 70’s culture, and those individuals (myself included) who share a disdain for the rapid information age, the seamless broadcast of bulls*** that plagues and chokes up our expectations with false messiahs and impotent longings. Like the brainwashed cultists of The Temple Of The Last Days, those defiant few who step back to engage the real world and discard their iPhones long enough to search for self-worth will find it where they should have looked in the first place. Within themselves.
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Last Days Paperback – February 26, 2013
by
Adam Nevill
(Author)
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Last Days (winner of the British Fantasy Award for Best Horror Novel of the Year) by Adam Nevill is a Blair Witch style novel in which a documentary film-maker undertakes the investigation of a dangerous cult―with creepy consequences
When guerrilla documentary maker, Kyle Freeman, is asked to shoot a film on the notorious cult known as the Temple of the Last Days, it appears his prayers have been answered. The cult became a worldwide phenomenon in 1975 when there was a massacre including the death of its infamous leader, Sister Katherine. Kyle's brief is to explore the paranormal myths surrounding an organization that became a testament to paranoia, murderous rage, and occult rituals. The shoot's locations take him to the cult's first temple in London, an abandoned farm in France, and a derelict copper mine in the Arizonan desert where The Temple of the Last Days met its bloody end. But when he interviews those involved in the case, those who haven't broken silence in decades, a series of uncanny events plague the shoots. Troubling out-of-body experiences, nocturnal visitations, the sudden demise of their interviewees and the discovery of ghastly artifacts in their room make Kyle question what exactly it is the cult managed to awaken – and what is its interest in him?
- Print length544 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- Publication dateFebruary 26, 2013
- Dimensions5.5 x 1.38 x 8.31 inches
- ISBN-101250018188
- ISBN-13978-1250018182
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Editorial Reviews
From Booklist
Horror fans will revel in this appropriately chilling tale of modern-day murder and mayhem that stretches back several centuries. When financially strapped documentarian Kyle Freeman is offered a huge fee to make a film about the Temple of the Last Days, a warped, paranoid cult whose members ended their own days in a bloodbath in an abandoned mine in Arizona, he jumps at the opportunity. As he moves about several countries in search of authentic locations, credible interviews, and the appalling truths behind the myth of the cult, he himself begins to experience some shocking, otherworldly events. Becoming a subject of his own research and filming, Freeman sees his nightmarish journey deepen the further he delves into the twisted history of the cult and its participants. This appropriately ghastly tale definitely lives up to its billing as a Blair Witch Project–style novel. --Margaret Flanagan
Review
“Fans of films about haunted places, otherworldly beings, and rituals gone terribly wrong will find this homage deliciously chilling.” ―Publishers Weekly
“Obsession and megalomania, sex and power make for a sophisticated, literate and well-crafted paranormal horror.” ―Kirkus Reviews
“This exceptional macabre tale stuns in its ability to inspire abject, primal terror. Readers will lose all hope of undisturbed, peaceful sleep. Highly recommended.” ―Library Journal (starred review)
About the Author
Adam Nevill (aka Adam L. G. Nevill) was born in Birmingham, England, in 1969 and grew up in England and New Zealand. He is the author of the supernatural horror novels Banquet for the Damned, Apartment 16, The Ritual, Last Days, House of Small Shadows, No One Gets Out Alive, and Lost Girl. In 2012, 2013 and 2015 his novels were the winners of The August Derleth Award for Best Horror Novel. The Ritual and Last Days were also awarded Best in Category: Horror, by R.U.S.A. Adam lives in Devon, England, and can be contacted through adamlgnevill.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Last Days
By Adam NevillSt. Martin's Griffin
Copyright © 2013 Adam NevillAll right reserved.
ISBN: 9781250018182
Last Days
THE PROCESS'An epic story of inhuman savagery'
Irvine Levine, Last DaysONEBLOOMSBURY, LONDON. 30 MAY 2011'Have you ever heard of Sister Katherine and The Temple of the Last Days?'The smile vanished from Maximillian Solomon's eyes when he asked the question; a sign of self-seriousness, or a sudden scrutiny of Kyle's fitness for disclosure; something Kyle noticed about mind, body and spirit types who spoke about their interests with strangers. Ufologists and mediums were the same.But even though Solomon's eyes hardened, the small tanned face of the CEO of Revelation Productions retained its default setting of being vaguely amused. With Kyle. Or maybe with everyone in the world except himself. The permanent half-smile was either convivial or mocking. It was hard to tell which with these people: the successful, the owners of things, the commissioners and controllers he'd dealt with as a film-maker.'Yes,' Kyle said, and then his mind snatched at what he did know about Sister Katherine and The Temple of the Last Days. Fragments resembling instamatic polaroid photos: sun-bleached flashes of a scruffy, bearded man in handcuffs, walking from a police car and into a municipal building;aerial footage of what might have been a ranch or a farm in ... California? Snippets of imagery from something about the cult he'd seen on telly a long time ago. A documentary, or was it news footage?He wasn't sure of the source of the impressions, but they were glimpses of things that suggested a notoriety that had evolved into the noir and the cultish. He knew that much; the group was perceived these days as dangerous and cool. A US Indie band called itself Sister Katherine in the eighties; some industrial band called itself The Temple of the Last Days in the next decade. And of course, he'd recognize the iconic portrait of Sister Katherine anywhere without knowing much about her life; it had been Andy Warholed on to T-shirts in Camden Market, alongside images of Jim Jones and Charles Manson, Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees. A plump, heavily made-up face, its expression beatific, haloed by a purple nun's habit as her eyes searched the heavens. Mother Mary meets Revlon. An evil female cult leader reduced to sick joke gimmickry, lurid nostalgia, and bespoke infamy for disaffected youth. A woman who was killed by ... or did she commit suicide with her followers in America? He couldn't remember, but he knew the Temple had murdered people. Or was it each other? A film star? No, that was Manson's family. Same era because the Temple was a hippy death cult in the sixties. Or was it the seventies? 'The cult,' he said and tried not to look clueless. Too late, his eyes had gone vague and he'd frowned with confusion throughout his hazy recall.Max seemed pleased with his ignorance. It would enable him to expound. 'An organization that began right here in London, in 1967.''London?''Yes. In this city. Few are aware of that. But Sister Katherine was British. Her real name was Hermione Tirrill. She was born in Kent. Came from the remnants of a wealthy family. Her mother even had a title. She was a Baroness, and made sure little Katherine knew she was better than everyone. As did the boarding schools where she was educated until she was fourteen, when her father left his bankrupt family. And little Kathy and her mother were forced into the ignominy of poverty. She came down hard from a pile in the country to a council flat in Margate. Had to slum it in a second-hand school uniform. Down there with the rest of them. Must have been devastating for her, this plump little overachiever with funny teeth, while she watched her former peers become debutantes.'Kyle shrugged. 'I don't know much--''She was a runaway at fifteen and never spoke to her mother again. There was some time in borstal for theft and assault, then prison in her twenties. She was arrested for solicitation, and then again for running a brothel. Embezzlement, forgery too. A petty criminal. We can read what we choose into this. But what we do know from the few that have ever gone on record about her formative years, is that Katherine never liked a level playing field. That's for sure. But she liked power. And status. Wanted back what had been taken from her.'Kyle intuited a taint of bitterness in Max, but something else too: a grudging respect.'But the Temple's origins are fascinating. It grew out of a cocktail of Scientology and apocalyptic millennial ideas, a mimicry of Christian sainthood, occult magic, Buddhism, abelief in reincarnation ... and various other things.' Max seemed to detach himself from Kyle then, and from the conversation and even the room, like an old man reminiscing fondly. 'It could have been so beautiful. Simple psych-therapy techniques, blended with medieval ideas of asceticism and piety. A life free of ego. These were the original values. All cloaked in mysticism for an aesthetic appeal.'Breaking his reverie and now self-conscious about his digression, Max killed the half-smile. 'A well-intentioned concept quickly usurped by a female sociopath and criminal elements. In London it was known as The Last Gathering. It became The Temple of the Last Days in France, during a schism in 1969. At a farm in Normandy where they nearly starved to death. The remnants migrated to America, under the same management. Where they self-destructed in Arizona. 1975. That you will surely be familiar with?'Kyle swallowed. 'I'm not that familiar with it.' He cleared his throat too aggressively. 'With them.''So I see.' Max said with a condescending inflection on the last two words.Momentarily, Kyle felt dizzy with embarrassment, as if he were being asked a question at school that he had no answer for. An illogical reaction, because why would he know anything about them? Had he pretended to? They were hardly important. And Max Solomon had invited him by email to the production offices in Bloomsbury, for a meeting about a 'prospective collaboration' without stating anything specific about the proposal. He felt his face go hot. 'No disrespect intended, but why would I be?''From what I have enjoyed about your work, Kyle, I'd say you might want to be.' Max smiled. And commenced issuingthe impression that he would ever be the unruffled and idly comfortable man, his success innate, entitled to prosperity and that all should know it. Signs recognizable to Kyle. And he instinctively disliked those who exhibited them. A class unto themselves; the money man, the film executive from the upper corporate tier, the self-important producer. Loved being close to the creative flame, stressed their own 'creativity' at every opportunity, and by doing so devalued the very word to house dust. But their aspiration to take ownership of another's work, he'd learned the hard way, was always reinforced by an underhand cleverness that you underestimated at your peril in this racket. They were the reason he had reduced himself to self-financed film-making, and a personal debt so colossal just thinking about it made it hard to breathe.Earlier, he'd been collected from an impressive reception so brightly lit he'd spent the entire wait squinting. When shown into the CEO's office and Max had risen to greet him, his movements so light and graceful, the tiny man had reminded Kyle, uncomfortably and unkindly, of a small clever monkey with quick glittering eyes. A primate rising to its hind legs, dressed in Paul Smith.The man was also tanned the colour of a sweet potato and his entire scalp was covered in a semi-transparent pelt of hair implants. He never understood why balding men paid so dearly for a procedure that only gave them thinning hair. The one time he'd been to Cannes, and the two visits he'd made to LA to talk to film agents, he'd found alien worlds full of men just like Max Solomon.When the email arrived the night before to request the meeting, Kyle had broken an anxious evening of reading jobads online and immediately checked out the Revelation Productions website. Instantly, his heart and its vain hope that the meeting might lead to an opportunity to work again, and that he would earn enough money to stave off his impending insolvency, cooled with dismay. His disappointment grew incrementally the more he saw of the website, until it was total.Revelation had published a book called The Message, which had sold 'Fifty Million Copies!' A strapline that filled most of the company's homepage. He'd seen the book around. It had changed the life of many female celebrities as well as being one of those books that every other woman had been reading on the London Underground for one summer. How long ago that summer was escaped him, but he'd never seen the book being read in public since.As well as The Message, the company produced a massive backlist of books, DVDs, CDs and merchandise that had a contemporary, life-affirming, self-help USP attached. The company claimed their products were 'groundbreaking' and 'definitive' and 'revelatory'. But the brand struck Kyle as being very Californian, a bit vulgar, and dated lo-tech, magic-bullet-chicanery, while also fortifying his aversion to bad science blended with spiritual horseshit. But it had come to this; with the exception of porn, he'd dropped to the bottom of the film industry.His documentary about the American Metal Core scene, Shredding, had been shown dozens of times on cable television, been a hit at festivals in 2006, and was still referred to as a cult classic in the music press; his film about witchcraft at a Scottish University, Coven, had got him into trouble for defamation, but it was also a film once shown on BBC2to considerable acclaim; thirty thousand people had bought the DVD of his film about the European Black Metal scene, Reigning in Hell; and two hundred thousand people had downloaded his documentary, Blood Frenzy, about three missing British hikers who vanished in the Arctic Circle: all of this success was real. Not bullshit. He'd walked the walk. He had a real and enviable filmography. But the distributors for the first three films claimed he owed them money: fifteen grand. And he still carried another ten grand's worth of production debt from Coven like an anvil upon his increasingly rounded shoulders. In total, his last self-financed film and unpaid rent had left him thirty thousand pounds in debt on a variety of credit cards and loans. A day of fiscal reckoning was nigh. Its anticipation made him incapable of a single undisturbed moment of happiness. It had also stolen his ability to relax, which seemed more hideous than losing the ephemera of joy. Something, he noted, guaranteed by the likes of Revelation Productions. Happiness: they promised that in spades. So maybe he should hold out for a DVD on tantric sex.'What makes you think I'd be interested in a cult?''I've seen your work. It has a refreshing openness. When dealing with the niche, the derided, the forgotten. And the unexplained. You're not an exploiter, Kyle. I like that. Or a sensationalist. You have an open mind, my friend. So I began to wonder if we could work together. I have become very curious about your approach. Your vision.'Kyle resisted any show of being flattered, though he was. 'I make films with one agenda. To capture a subculture and to understand it. Or to tell a story honestly. As those who speak to me perceived the experience. I've only made filmsabout things that interest me. Stories that fascinate me, that either no one has told or told well enough. Stuff the mainstream media avoids or just misunderstands. And I won't compromise what I think is the right approach to achieving this. If I can bypass the current Hollywood and film industry business model in the process, it's a massive bonus. Artistic compromise, idea theft, getting turned over by suits. Enough already. I'm done with all that.' He said this as a veiled warning. He'd been told it was unwise to show his bitterness in meetings with producers, that it was unprofessional. These days, he chose to ignore advice like that.Max raised his trimmed eyebrows as high as he could, but the lower half of his face didn't budge. He'd had a facelift as well. The half-smile was starting to convince him it was, in fact, mocking.Kyle tried to smother his rising irritation. But it was like trying to get the wrong size lid on a tin of red paint. His voice came out all tight. 'And my time is coming. For film-makers like me.' He felt silly for saying it, but was also revelling in how the film industry quaked at what digital technology was doing to their age-old monopoly. The least he could do was remind its representatives of this fact. 'Eventually I intend to be the media provider of my own work. For a specific audience. And it will never be any dumbed-down, censored crap put out by executive know-nothings, with their profit and loss sheets, their bottom lines, and their careers. I already finance, shoot and edit the films myself. Owning distribution is the next battle. That's where I stand.''I see.' Max looked at his tiny feminine fingers, spread them on his desk, studied his nails for a few seconds, whileeither frowning or fighting the half-smile; it was hard to tell with someone whose chin was probably once part of their forehead. 'Your film Blood Frenzy struck me as unequivocal in its acceptance of, shall we say, a paranormal aspect to that tragic story. What I took from the film was a strong suggestion that something very old, something that defied natural law, had been responsible for the disappearance of a significant number of people ... in a distant part of the world. Did you come to believe that?'Here we go. 'We all want the truth, Max. I just tried to understand what happened. There's no way I will ever know what really happened up there. I don't think anyone ever will. But I got an authentic sense of the place the story came out of. People suggested things, without much prompting. I never tried to steer the interviews, or to emboss a theory on anything. My mind and my lens were wide open. The viewer is the interpreter. These days everyone wants a say. The world is a hanging jury. I give the audience the known facts and the fallible testimony of the interviewees. And to be honest, I had no idea what that film was going to suggest to me as I made it.''I see. Interesting.'But did he see? While Kyle spoke, Max had been frowning as if he was not listening, but thinking instead of what he was going to say next. It annoyed him even more, if that were possible.'I don't like polemic, Mr Solomon. Most audiences don't either. My trick is to choose a story that is so interesting, the audience has to get involved on some level. It's the most I can do as a director. I don't use stars or shoot well-known events, which is why I've given up on the system.' That wordalmost came out of his mouth on fire. He took a deep breath. 'So I find stories for the neglected mass of non-mainstream viewers. And there's an awful lot of us. I'm totally pull-based from word of mouth online. That's my constituency.''You make a living from this couture approach?'Kyle paused for longer than he wished. 'Not yet. I was ripped off on the music films and Coven. So I made Blood Frenzy a non-product. I gave it away free from my website. Some indie record labels embedded ads on the page which covered some of my costs. I'm in arrears on the rest. But it's never been about money.'He wondered whether he should just get up and leave. He couldn't even pretend he liked the man. And he'd be one of a dozen directors Max was currently feeling out for something tabloid. At least it wasn't over a lunch he was paying for; this was an actual production office. But he could already intuit he and Max were terminally different; if he couldn't trust his instincts after all he'd been through, then what else did he have to go on? Time to split.But then Max had to go and say, 'I believe I have such a story. An extraordinary story. So cards on the table, Kyle. I want you to make a film for me.'
He fought hard to contain an eruption of excitement. A silence thickened about them. 'About the ...'The half-smile withdrew entirely from Max's smooth face. 'Let me bring you up to speed, and then you can tell me if this is to your taste.' Max leaned back in the leather chair that dwarfed him. 'On 10 July 1975, the Phoenix Police Department removed fifteen people from an abandoned mine in the Sonora desert of Arizona. A few hours after SisterKatherine's Night of Ascent had taken place. The mine had been occupied by The Temple of the Last Days since 1972.'Nine of these people were dead, including Sister Katherine. Six were found alive. Of the living, five were children. The infamous Manuel Gomez, aka Brother Belial, was the sixth. Katherine's favourite and her executioner. And Brother Belial was the only adult survivor of that night. I'm sure you've heard of him? He was killed in the recreation room of the Florence penitentiary before he could stand trial. By inmates unknown.'Another five members of the cult, all present at the mine during the weeks preceding the Night of Ascent, were never traced. It is believed they were also murdered, but buried in the desert.'It is this aspect of the cult that has fascinated its biographers, its fans, its exploiters. The criminal case. The police believe the murders occurred as a result of infighting, and drug psychosis, or some manner of suicide pact. The newspapers at the time called it a satanic ritual involving human sacrifice, including the sacrifice of its leader. Who, by the way, was actually beheaded. And that version of events is the one that has endured, as you might say, in the "mainstream" public imagination. So what else does one need to explore as a film-maker or biographer? It's a perfectly lurid story that has enough of everything.'But ...' Max pushed a pile of DVD cases across the desk to Kyle, an envelope file, and an old paperback book so used the writing on the spine was invisible. 'The four documentaries about the cult, and the three feature films, are terrible. What you'd expect. Appalling. Truly awful. Of the many books, only one is worth reading. Last Days by Irvine Levine.Dismissed as fictitious, and now long out of print. But the police officers from the Yuma and Phoenix police departments suggested that, at the very least, Levine's reportage was fastidious with the details concerning the Night of Ascent when the murders took place.'Kyle cleared his throat. 'It all happened a long time ago. Unless any new evidence has come to light, why make another film? Are you saying it just needs to be done right? Is there some anniversary, or a nostalgia thing--'Max held a small hand up and cut him off. 'No. There is a story here that has never been told. Forget the murders. Forget the police investigation. The media exploitation. It is an oft-trampled path. But something else about The Temple of the Last Days has also endured, in folklore and in alternative histories of a Fortean nature. Which is where we come in. You see, there is a very real belief that the group's mystical and occult interests bore dividends. A belief that Sister Katherine achieved something extraordinary. And that her willing death - because, make no mistake, she was slaughtered on her own orders as were her most loyal followers that night - is part of this mystery, the unexplained phenomenon that haunts their story from its very origins in London. Keeps it alive, you could say, for those of us with more open minds. A story no mainstream film-maker would do anything but attempt to disprove. That is, if they gave it any credence at all.'You see, there are other survivors, Kyle. Not of that night, but of the organization. People who fled many years before its end. And others who escaped mere months before its dissolution. People who, one could say, have never, not ever, been able to escape what they experienced in the service ofSister Katherine. And what is unique now, is that a handful of these survivors are breaking silence for the first time since the police investigation in 1975. And when that happens, as you probably know, it's because they have something to say. Something they need to say. But have been afraid to say. And so they have provided us with an exceptional opportunity for a groundbreaking work.'The effect Sister Katherine had on her followers was nothing short of monumental. Life-changing. And terrible. Her cruelty was exceptional. But then, so was her leap of imagination into the inexplicable. She did something to spellbind them.'Max sipped at his glass of Evian. 'It's taken a great deal of persuasion even to assemble what is now a dwindling group of survivors.' He smiled and raised his hands. 'You could say, there is no one else available. I even tracked down the notorious Martha Lake and Bridgette Clover.' He watched Kyle's face for recognition; when he received none, he seemed disappointed. 'The two chief witnesses for the prosecution had it ever gone to trial. They became celebrities once the story broke in seventy-five. Two young women who fled the mine in Arizona with their infants, three months before the Night of Ascent. Alas, poor Bridgette passed over earlier this year. But Martha, dear, dear Martha, is waiting to tell us her part of an incredible story.'Kyle looked about the walls of the room, lit like a clinician's laboratory or photographer's studio. He saw framed book covers about glycaemic index diets and old posters advertising bestselling spiritual awakenings available on VHS. 'Bit off the beaten track for you, isn't it? Not very wholesome.'Max beamed. 'Now this is where I do believe this project will really appeal to you. Revelation Productions have developed a side project. Mysteris. A new imprint for the online delivery of content from a pay wall, twinned with DVD releases. We're embracing the revolution here, Kyle. We want an avant garde element in our portfolio. The new brand will be a base for cutting-edge counterculture film-making, about alternative history and unsolved mysteries. And the Temple story will be the flagship film. You see, the Temple has a very large online following. And one hardly catered for in the manner I propose.'Using digital technology our costs are hardly prohibitive, as you have already alluded to. And once the production cost has been recouped, the profits will be shared on a cooperative basis with the artists.'Max sat back in his chair and smiled, raised his hands. 'Kyle. I can't tell you how good it feels to roll one's sleeves up again, and to get back into the mix, as they say.' He smiled at his walls. 'Do you think I started this company to rest on my laurels? Tesco sells vegan meals and Boots sells aromatic oils.' He shook his head in despair. 'But I was part of alternative approaches to health and spiritual wellbeing when it was original. A lifestyle revolution, Kyle. I was there. Back then. The sixties. And I want to get back in touch with my creative side.'Kyle bit down on what wanted to come out screaming. 'And you want me to make the first film?''Precisely.' Max tapped a manicured finger on the file between them on the desktop; he now seemed unable to disguise an urgency in his offer. 'And I want you to start right away. There's no time to lose. The trail I have followed sofastidiously could go cold. All you need to know about the people you will be interviewing is in here. Their names, biographies, their connection to the Temple are enclosed. As are photographs and details of the locations that must be visited. 'Kyle sat mute, stunned into disbelief, his head a chaos of excitement, fear, and caution. What had just happened never happened. What had just been offered, was never offered. Ever.Max's stiff face managed to loosen with excitement. 'My role will be executive producer. All creative decisions are yours. I will not be on set, ever. You must be self-sufficient. Though I suspect you prefer such an approach. If there is anything you need in the course of the production, you merely call me and I will do my best to execute your requests. Distribution and licensing are already taken care of. My own company is the investor. We take it directly to market. The production money is in place and waiting. For you.'Kyle picked up the folder. 'I need to take this away. Look at it.''The first day of principal photography is this Saturday.'Kyle laughed, and failed to cull the derisory edge to his voice. 'Come again?' Did Max know anything about film-making? 'Did you say Saturday?''The schedule is done. Permission to film at each location has been arranged. Accommodation and flights can be booked today. As your employer, my liability insurance will cover you and your equipment.''Script? I don't know anything, or much about this, Mr Solomon. I need a script. I need to work out how to tell the story. It's all about the storytelling, Mr Solomon--''You have five days to familiarize yourself with the story.' Max prodded the Levine book for emphasis. 'The shooting schedule I have taken the liberty of producing in the chronology of the cult's movements: London, France, Arizona. That will have to be your logline. In essence, it follows their founding to their self-destruction. Six locations in three countries in eleven days. Not one more. No reshoots, no pickups. I want the footage shot within that time frame. Screen lifts for the B-roll and stock footage have been sourced and copies are in that file.' Max beamed. 'What do you say?'Disorientation came down fast. Either his seat, or the actual room, moved. Too many questions, instincts, and suspicions would not settle inside him or evolve into coherence, into language. 'The locations. I need to at least see them first. I need to think about sound, lighting--''There won't be any crowds at any of the locations. They're remote. Derelict properties. One of your specialities. Besides that, there are some home visits. There may be the odd flight path I don't know about, but nothing too challenging for a man of your experience and adaptability. This is extreme guerrilla film-making. Your raison d'être, my dear boy.''A shot list for each location.' He was thinking out loud. 'Vital. You can't plan enough, Mr Solomon, or you're racing against the clock to correct mistakes you never envisaged. My films are pretty simple. One, two cameras. But still, I have to think every scene through.' As he was talking he thought about his debts. He should ask about the fee. Was there one? Had Max mentioned money?'The photographs will have to suffice. There cannot be any more delays. It's why I'm offering you the work. We're too far along now. It can only be done on this schedule bysomeone ... a director of your capability in such a situation. That going to be a deal-breaker?''But ... the people I'm interviewing. I have no sense of them. I need to talk to them first--''No time! The first day of principal photography is this Saturday. I'm afraid I have been let down at the last minute by my team. For personal reasons they were unable to begin.''Team? Who--''And anyway, I'm familiar with each of the individuals who have agreed to be filmed. So you'll have to trust my selections. I don't think any of them will disappoint. We wouldn't even be talking now if I wasn't confident in your improvisation skills. Your ability to deliver on time and on budget. I know you've made films out of fresh air, through a network of favours, and deferred payments. The heavy lifting has been done here. And I have included questions I would like asked.''Now this is where I might have a big problem with an agenda.'Max stood up to close the meeting. He was impatient, fidgety. 'It's hardly prescriptive. More of a guide. And you will see my only agenda is a desire to explore the paranormal aspects of the organization. The very purpose of the film. So I'd guess if I have an agenda, then it should be yours too. How you shoot the scenes is up to you. Frame and compose them any way you like. I want your signature style. And I'll need the dailies delivered promptly. How would that occur?''Er, I used a parallel editing strategy on the last two films. Worked just fine. I rough cut the best footage on Final Cut Pro. Prior to a final edit with my editor, Finger Mouse--''Good. Good.''All the master files go to hard-disc space I rent from him.Compression means it'll take longer than real time to put across at the end of each day, but I can get rushes in a day or two.''Let's try for a day. And your production crew?''My partner, Dan. Can't work without him. And he does the cameras.''So there will be three of you in total. Dan and this Mouse?''That's how I did the last two films.'As Max came around the desk, hand outstretched, Kyle couldn't tell if the executive producer was impressed by their minimalism or pleased at the low cost implications. 'And they will agree to a confidentiality clause. I'm afraid this project must remain undercover until completion. The story remains contentious.''Can't see why not. Festivals? Theatrical release? It would be nice to at least try.''Of course, of course. DVD, internet and TV is our target though. But we shall leave no opportunity unexplored.'Kyle stood up, but wobbled. He was light in the head, had helium in his feet. 'You're ceding creative control to me?''Absolutely.''I'd need to see a contract.''I have it here. You look unconvinced.''I have been ill-used, Mr Solomon. Ill-used. Investors have one thing on their minds: profit at any cost.''Indeed, I hope our collaboration will be profitable. The advance, I think, is generous.''Advance?' The shadow of his debt seemed to waver, even retract. Debt changed gravity and had made the world around him heavier for so long, he felt like he was on anotherplanet in the solar system. Just being within reach of a solution to his burden gave him a moment of unbearable bliss.'Yes. One third now, one on the shoot's completion, one on final delivery of your masterpiece. How you split it with your comrades is entirely up to you. I believe it commensurate with your reputation. I am thinking one hundred thousand pounds, not including expenses, deductible from net receipts.'One hundred grand. Kyle swallowed, felt faint.'Take this away and look at it. Show it to your agent, if you have one. And as you have your own equipment and people, Revelation will merely be the publisher - contractor for the finished article.''I want to see your cash-flow projection.''Of course. Anything else?'Kyle paused for one beat more than he wished to. He couldn't decide whether Solomon was the devil or his saviour.Max beamed; his teeth were perfect. 'Excellent! Then we have an agreement?'Kyle cleared his throat of its constriction, its aridity. He picked up the contract. 'I'll read this first.''I need to know today.' Max looked at his Patek Philippe watch. 'Let's say by five p.m.'LAST DAYS. Copyright © 2012 by Adam Nevill. All rights reserved.
Continues...
Excerpted from Last Days by Adam Nevill Copyright © 2013 by Adam Nevill. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Product details
- Publisher : St. Martin's Griffin (February 26, 2013)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 544 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1250018188
- ISBN-13 : 978-1250018182
- Item Weight : 1 pounds
- Dimensions : 5.5 x 1.38 x 8.31 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #29,415 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #81 in Ghost Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Follow authors to get new release updates, plus improved recommendations.
Adam L.G. Nevill was born in Birmingham, England, in 1969 and grew up in England and New Zealand. He is an author of horror fiction. Of his novels, 'The Ritual', 'Last Days', 'No One Gets Out Alive' and 'The Reddening' were all winners of The August Derleth Award for Best Horror Novel. He has also published three collections of short stories, with 'Some Will Not Sleep' winning the British Fantasy Award for Best Collection, 2017.
Imaginarium adapted 'The Ritual' (2016) and 'No One Gets Out Alive' (2020) into feature films and several other works are currently in development for the screen.
Adam also offers three free books to readers of horror: 'Cries from the Crypt', downloadable from his website, and 'Before You Sleep' and 'Before You Wake' are available from major online retailers.
The author lives in Devon, England. More information about the author and his books is available at: www.adamlgnevill.com
Customer reviews
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1 Star
The copy I got did not have all the pages to it have no idea how it ended. So pissed 😤
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Top reviews from the United States
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Reviewed in the United States on May 20, 2016
Reviewed in the United States on November 26, 2023
A well told tale about cults and rituals. You can tell the author did his share of research for the story, we get a boat load of details about cults and how to film it. Sometimes a bit heavy handed on the details but it does give a feel of authenticity. I can honestly say that this tale has invaded my dreams and waking world. Hearing barking dogs brings me back to this book. If a book can do that to you, then I guess the author did his job. Well done.
Reviewed in the United States on August 9, 2014
I found some exceptional things in this book. There was good pacing, great character development, and eerie scenes. The plot was original and interesting. However, I often found myself dreading parts of the book I knew were going to needlessly go on an on in over-detail. I was never eager to get back to the book, which was unfortunate because at it's core it is a good book and a pretty creepy horror entry. It seemed tedious at times and scenes were poorly paced. Nevertheless, reviews seem to indicate many like this and I respect that my wants/desires in a horror novel may be different than others. So it's definitely worth a read if this is your genre. But if you don't have a lot of patience it may certainly frustrate you at times.
Reviewed in the United States on March 5, 2018
I've read 3 of Adam Nevill's books so far: The Ritual, Apartment 16, and finally this one, Last Days. Of them, Last Days is far and above my favorite. It's terrifying, emotional, intelligent, punchy.
The story of a broke independent filmmaker getting the deal of a lifetime, the opportunity to produce a high-budget documentary on a Jim Jones/Manson Family style cult from the 1960s and 1970s. The catch? It has to be ready in just over a week: interviews in 4 locations in London, France, Arizona, and Seattle, already lined up and waiting. It's a tough job, but one that our main character feels compelled to take. It's his chance to absolve his debts, to have creative direction, to investigate an under-reported and over-sensationalized organization, and to come back into the film world swinging.
From the first interview with an aging hippy, things get weird. Is it paranoia and old binds burned out on too many drugs? The strange sway the Temple of the Last Days holds over its old adherants, the strange feeling of watching and of -presence- still in these abandoned cult compounds, has a profound effect on the filmmakers. They're seeing things, hearing things. Their dreams are haunted. It feels like the past is, in a very literal way, reaching out to touch them.
I've read a lot, and I mean a LOT of horror novels, and Last Days is one of the very best of them. Deeply creepy, intensely effective, and excellently paced, Last Days is one of the very best scary stories I've read in a very long time. Campy enough to be familiar, but with a sense of history, of hopelessness, of people pushed to and beyond their mental and physical extremes, Last Days is rife with tension, genuine moments of dread, and a slow burn that accelerates at just the right moments, a Lemarchand Box (surely some of you have read Clive Barker's Hellbound Heart?) that slowly flowers open, revealing more and more of its horror as it goes.
The only dissatisfying moments of the book are in its conclusion. As with The Ritual, the last bit of the story (only the last 1/6 of it here, as opposed to the last half of the other novel) fails to meet the expectations set by the opening chapters. Once the last layers of deceit and obfuscation are burned away, the nature of the story changes. The horrors that have been set up are confronted, and in a way that the rest of the novel doesn't prepare us for.
That one complaint aside, it's been a long time since I was genuinely unsettled by a book, and the first 50-65% of Last Days is some of the most effective scary writing I've come across in a long time. Definitely happy I picked this one up.
The story of a broke independent filmmaker getting the deal of a lifetime, the opportunity to produce a high-budget documentary on a Jim Jones/Manson Family style cult from the 1960s and 1970s. The catch? It has to be ready in just over a week: interviews in 4 locations in London, France, Arizona, and Seattle, already lined up and waiting. It's a tough job, but one that our main character feels compelled to take. It's his chance to absolve his debts, to have creative direction, to investigate an under-reported and over-sensationalized organization, and to come back into the film world swinging.
From the first interview with an aging hippy, things get weird. Is it paranoia and old binds burned out on too many drugs? The strange sway the Temple of the Last Days holds over its old adherants, the strange feeling of watching and of -presence- still in these abandoned cult compounds, has a profound effect on the filmmakers. They're seeing things, hearing things. Their dreams are haunted. It feels like the past is, in a very literal way, reaching out to touch them.
I've read a lot, and I mean a LOT of horror novels, and Last Days is one of the very best of them. Deeply creepy, intensely effective, and excellently paced, Last Days is one of the very best scary stories I've read in a very long time. Campy enough to be familiar, but with a sense of history, of hopelessness, of people pushed to and beyond their mental and physical extremes, Last Days is rife with tension, genuine moments of dread, and a slow burn that accelerates at just the right moments, a Lemarchand Box (surely some of you have read Clive Barker's Hellbound Heart?) that slowly flowers open, revealing more and more of its horror as it goes.
The only dissatisfying moments of the book are in its conclusion. As with The Ritual, the last bit of the story (only the last 1/6 of it here, as opposed to the last half of the other novel) fails to meet the expectations set by the opening chapters. Once the last layers of deceit and obfuscation are burned away, the nature of the story changes. The horrors that have been set up are confronted, and in a way that the rest of the novel doesn't prepare us for.
That one complaint aside, it's been a long time since I was genuinely unsettled by a book, and the first 50-65% of Last Days is some of the most effective scary writing I've come across in a long time. Definitely happy I picked this one up.
Reviewed in the United States on July 9, 2023
I have never read any book by Adam Nevill and I wish I would have done so long before now. He definitely knows how to draw the reader in and keep them hooked. This book takes you on an absolutely chilling journey through the dark and evil. I will never look at cults the same way.
Top reviews from other countries
Jess
5.0 out of 5 stars
I love this book!!!!!!!
Reviewed in Canada on June 23, 2023
Seriously so good. Came fast and in good condition. Book is amazing
Zhats
4.0 out of 5 stars
Liked this book
Reviewed in Germany on February 7, 2024
I read it in three days, I liked the style...all the talk about what Kyle felt etc. reminded me of Dostoevsky in some way. Not a typical horror...felt like I was watching an english movie...the man knows how to write scenes...I enjoyed this work.
Sarah De Maesschalck
5.0 out of 5 stars
Zalig boek!
Reviewed in Belgium on October 16, 2023
Intens en heel leuk verhaal.. Ik kan dit boek amper neerleggen.. Heb alvast de andere boeken van deze schrijver op mijn lijstje staan! Aanrader!
Arindam Moulick
5.0 out of 5 stars
Get spooked!
Reviewed in India on July 18, 2017
"Last Days" by Adam Nevill is a fine novel. I like reading books about horror, occult and the paranormal. Although I get spooked very easily but I can't say I've had my fill of horror novels and stories; no, not yet. I still remember reading "The Ritual" written by the same author, I was shocked and lost my normal life for days together!! Thank you, Amazon.
Paul M. Feeney
5.0 out of 5 stars
Definitely not the Last...
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on May 18, 2016
As part of my ongoing, continuing mission to read all of Adam Nevill's novels in published order, I come to last Days, which was the novel I believe I first started to really hear amazing things about this writer. I was always aware of him, having bought all of his books as they came out, yet had never managed to start one (don't ask me why, my reading habits are arbitrary and sporadic at best). Yet having read three of his books prior to this, and enjoying each one very much (with The Ritual being both a particular favourite and, I feel, a huge leap forward in an already talented writer's abilities and vision), and with the aforementioned growing praise, I was very much anticipating this particular work.
The plot is, on the surface, pretty basic; an independent film-maker (comprising only of himself, a cameraman and a 'studio'-bound editor) is asked by a film company to create an historical documentary concerning a notorious cult form the 70s. Part of the contract involves visiting specific and relevant locales around the globe, and also a large payment/advance. Being financially in the red, the young film-maker - Kyle - agrees, while at the back of his mind is the suspicion that it's all too good to be true. Well, it *is* a horror novel, after all...
Like The Ritual, Last Days begins without much of a preamble, dropping you right into the thick of the story almost immediately (there is a short prologue which presages and foreshadows the horrific, supernatural events to come, but I felt the book would have worked just as well without this) with Kyle being offered the commission and given a slight history of The Temple Of The Last Days and Sister Katherine, the leader of the infamous cult. In fact, though the first chapter is essentially expositional in nature, it's very skilfully woven into an interview/job description scene, and the information on offer is both essential to the story (for various reasons) and deeply interesting. It also sets the tone for much of the book for almost 50% of the story is delivered through interviews and reminiscences; it is, after all, an attempt to write a novel which is, essentially, 'found footage' in style. Yet for me, these passages never feel like information overload, or, indeed, as though they are taking away from the 'action' of the story (in fact, despite its large size, I found the book immensely readable). Personally, many of these passages offered the most chills and evocation of true horror; there's something to be said for an authentic, second-hand telling that can surpass a conventionally told story. There's a passage early on in The Ritual where a character is describing something he has seen in the forest, and this was one of the most terrifying parts of that book for me. I think Adam manages to really tap into a deep and convincing sense of character in order to make this style work. Which is just as well, as Last Days has a lot of second-hand relating of events.
Yet, as with the leap between Apartment 16 and The Ritual, I feel Adam has, yet again, made a jump both with his style and with his ambition. Though the surface story might feel a little ho-hum - evil cults, rumoured devil worship, murders and ghosts - both the execution and the way the story unfolds are anything but conventional. I put this down to a couple of things; firstly, his prose is, aside from the odd sentence or two, crisp, sharp and to the point. Adam seems to have eschewed long, flowery descriptions in favour of to the point writing. That's not to say the words are dull and pedestrian; it's merely that he has clearly looked at what is extraneous to the story and has only retained or written that which is absolutely necessary for each passage, each scene. Secondly, he writes with an absolute earnest conviction that, for me, refuses to be disbelieved. The characters - while potentially irritating, I don't know, I don't give a fig about needing to 'like' a character in order to enjoy a well-written story - are solid, three-dimensional, follow logical lines of reasoning within the context of events, and react with convincing and increasing levels of fear and dislocation as they go deeper into the cult of Last Days. I also felt the themes that were bubbling under - or coming to the fore in a few instances - helped to heighten the narrative. Adam isn't simply writing about vile occurrences for the sake of it; he is not merely attempting to give us a few cheap thrills to make us watch the shadows. No, with this novel, he is tapping into a wider sense of the horror of mankind. Yes there are supernatural shenanigans going on, but as the story progressed, I felt it was as much - if not more - about the worst aspects of the human race; its greed and hunger for power, for domination over others, for excess, and for bloodshed. It's something that's been on my mind for a few years and in Last Days, many of my thoughts coalesced and became clearer. For me, this is the true mark of a great horror writer (and, indeed, a great writer); the ability to tap into social consciousnesses, to be able to use your writing to examine and dissect themes and concepts that aren't necessarily a part of the main plot, to examine what it is to be human and to shine a light on our darker natures; literary horror writing, in other words.
But of course, there is still a horror story here, and there are some fantastic, chilling set pieces. In attempting to create a 'found footage film' in book form, Adam has succeeded beyond expectation. There are genuinely freaky moments where the main characters move through a darkened building with inly the light of their camera to illuminate the spaces, and the sounds and barely-glimpsed movements are as good as footage from the best examples of this kind of cinema (ironically though, I feel that the book is almost unfilmable due to the long interview sections; any movie would only be shadow of this deep work). Then there are the moments when things emerge from the walls and ceilings, twisted, skeletal forms which are given pages and pages of expert build-up before they appear, over many chapters, until your nerves are utterly shredded at the thought of them. It's a great technique, building on and connecting small details that grow as the story progresses, serving to anchor the idea of these creatures in the mind almost without you realising it; and when they finally do appear, you're already halfway terrified. I also loved the wider mythology, the cult itself, but also the forebears of it and the idea that it is merely the latest of a rippling, echoing occurrence down through the ages. In a way, there are hints of Clive Barker's old style with regards to ancient cults, tribes and the like, but in Last Days they are far less magical and more mired in bleak brutality. I also liked the slight shift in tone towards the end. I've heard some folk complain that Adam has a tendency to go off at a tangent at the end of some of his books; I can't attest if this is one of them, though it does veer - as The Ritual did in a very slight way - into more action territory than horror towards the end. But this absolutely worked for me. It still retains tension and chills, yet feels very logical within the scope of previous events. It didn't come from left-field and provides an appropriate finale to the novel.
However, as with almost every book I've read in the last ten years or so, it's not without its occasional fault. There are the inevitable typos, rare but irritating, the occasional sentence that, I felt, could have done with some restructuring (a personal thing but worth noting), and my biggest annoyance; the constant misspelling of Glock (as in pistols, and spelled in the book as Gloch). I also felt there was a lack of research with regards to the firearms; it's stated at least once that the pistol torch is fitted to the rail on top of the gun, but pistol rails (if they even have any) are on the underside simply due to the fact that the weapon's sights are located on the top. It might seem a small thing, but it did have me groaning each time. Still, it didn't really mar my enjoyment all that much, and I only mention it in the interests of highlighting the advantages of research. instead of a completely 5 star book, it's maybe a 4.8, but I've rounded that up to 5 anyway.
But regardless, it's a powerful, epic and immersive work, which definitely succeeds in its ambitions. It also marks another leap forward for Adam in his immense talent, and I'm heartily looking forward to his next works. Onwards, to The House of Small Shadows...
The plot is, on the surface, pretty basic; an independent film-maker (comprising only of himself, a cameraman and a 'studio'-bound editor) is asked by a film company to create an historical documentary concerning a notorious cult form the 70s. Part of the contract involves visiting specific and relevant locales around the globe, and also a large payment/advance. Being financially in the red, the young film-maker - Kyle - agrees, while at the back of his mind is the suspicion that it's all too good to be true. Well, it *is* a horror novel, after all...
Like The Ritual, Last Days begins without much of a preamble, dropping you right into the thick of the story almost immediately (there is a short prologue which presages and foreshadows the horrific, supernatural events to come, but I felt the book would have worked just as well without this) with Kyle being offered the commission and given a slight history of The Temple Of The Last Days and Sister Katherine, the leader of the infamous cult. In fact, though the first chapter is essentially expositional in nature, it's very skilfully woven into an interview/job description scene, and the information on offer is both essential to the story (for various reasons) and deeply interesting. It also sets the tone for much of the book for almost 50% of the story is delivered through interviews and reminiscences; it is, after all, an attempt to write a novel which is, essentially, 'found footage' in style. Yet for me, these passages never feel like information overload, or, indeed, as though they are taking away from the 'action' of the story (in fact, despite its large size, I found the book immensely readable). Personally, many of these passages offered the most chills and evocation of true horror; there's something to be said for an authentic, second-hand telling that can surpass a conventionally told story. There's a passage early on in The Ritual where a character is describing something he has seen in the forest, and this was one of the most terrifying parts of that book for me. I think Adam manages to really tap into a deep and convincing sense of character in order to make this style work. Which is just as well, as Last Days has a lot of second-hand relating of events.
Yet, as with the leap between Apartment 16 and The Ritual, I feel Adam has, yet again, made a jump both with his style and with his ambition. Though the surface story might feel a little ho-hum - evil cults, rumoured devil worship, murders and ghosts - both the execution and the way the story unfolds are anything but conventional. I put this down to a couple of things; firstly, his prose is, aside from the odd sentence or two, crisp, sharp and to the point. Adam seems to have eschewed long, flowery descriptions in favour of to the point writing. That's not to say the words are dull and pedestrian; it's merely that he has clearly looked at what is extraneous to the story and has only retained or written that which is absolutely necessary for each passage, each scene. Secondly, he writes with an absolute earnest conviction that, for me, refuses to be disbelieved. The characters - while potentially irritating, I don't know, I don't give a fig about needing to 'like' a character in order to enjoy a well-written story - are solid, three-dimensional, follow logical lines of reasoning within the context of events, and react with convincing and increasing levels of fear and dislocation as they go deeper into the cult of Last Days. I also felt the themes that were bubbling under - or coming to the fore in a few instances - helped to heighten the narrative. Adam isn't simply writing about vile occurrences for the sake of it; he is not merely attempting to give us a few cheap thrills to make us watch the shadows. No, with this novel, he is tapping into a wider sense of the horror of mankind. Yes there are supernatural shenanigans going on, but as the story progressed, I felt it was as much - if not more - about the worst aspects of the human race; its greed and hunger for power, for domination over others, for excess, and for bloodshed. It's something that's been on my mind for a few years and in Last Days, many of my thoughts coalesced and became clearer. For me, this is the true mark of a great horror writer (and, indeed, a great writer); the ability to tap into social consciousnesses, to be able to use your writing to examine and dissect themes and concepts that aren't necessarily a part of the main plot, to examine what it is to be human and to shine a light on our darker natures; literary horror writing, in other words.
But of course, there is still a horror story here, and there are some fantastic, chilling set pieces. In attempting to create a 'found footage film' in book form, Adam has succeeded beyond expectation. There are genuinely freaky moments where the main characters move through a darkened building with inly the light of their camera to illuminate the spaces, and the sounds and barely-glimpsed movements are as good as footage from the best examples of this kind of cinema (ironically though, I feel that the book is almost unfilmable due to the long interview sections; any movie would only be shadow of this deep work). Then there are the moments when things emerge from the walls and ceilings, twisted, skeletal forms which are given pages and pages of expert build-up before they appear, over many chapters, until your nerves are utterly shredded at the thought of them. It's a great technique, building on and connecting small details that grow as the story progresses, serving to anchor the idea of these creatures in the mind almost without you realising it; and when they finally do appear, you're already halfway terrified. I also loved the wider mythology, the cult itself, but also the forebears of it and the idea that it is merely the latest of a rippling, echoing occurrence down through the ages. In a way, there are hints of Clive Barker's old style with regards to ancient cults, tribes and the like, but in Last Days they are far less magical and more mired in bleak brutality. I also liked the slight shift in tone towards the end. I've heard some folk complain that Adam has a tendency to go off at a tangent at the end of some of his books; I can't attest if this is one of them, though it does veer - as The Ritual did in a very slight way - into more action territory than horror towards the end. But this absolutely worked for me. It still retains tension and chills, yet feels very logical within the scope of previous events. It didn't come from left-field and provides an appropriate finale to the novel.
However, as with almost every book I've read in the last ten years or so, it's not without its occasional fault. There are the inevitable typos, rare but irritating, the occasional sentence that, I felt, could have done with some restructuring (a personal thing but worth noting), and my biggest annoyance; the constant misspelling of Glock (as in pistols, and spelled in the book as Gloch). I also felt there was a lack of research with regards to the firearms; it's stated at least once that the pistol torch is fitted to the rail on top of the gun, but pistol rails (if they even have any) are on the underside simply due to the fact that the weapon's sights are located on the top. It might seem a small thing, but it did have me groaning each time. Still, it didn't really mar my enjoyment all that much, and I only mention it in the interests of highlighting the advantages of research. instead of a completely 5 star book, it's maybe a 4.8, but I've rounded that up to 5 anyway.
But regardless, it's a powerful, epic and immersive work, which definitely succeeds in its ambitions. It also marks another leap forward for Adam in his immense talent, and I'm heartily looking forward to his next works. Onwards, to The House of Small Shadows...
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