S.E. Hinton has had an interesting career. She sold her first (and subsequently most well known) novel The Outsiders, when she was only 17. That was in 1967. In the years since, her career has been punctuated by long breaks and abrupt changes. She surpised everyone by writing two children’s books in quick succession in the ’90s. Now that she’s back, she’s writing for an adult audience again for the first time in over 15 years.
I can assure you that you will find no cute bunnies or lessons about sharing here. Indeed, Hawkes Harbour alternates between periods of chilling darkness and more lighthearted, but oftentimes very much adult, escapades. As for the dark: I’m as surprised as anyone to see a tale of supernatural horror from this highly acclaimed storyteller. It’s a departure for her, to say the least, but she jumps in with both feet and does not disappoint.
The book begins with our protagonist, Jamie Sommers, in a mental hospital, literally frightened out of his wits. He slowly improves, recounting stories of his former life — from before the unknown episode which so affected him — to his psychiatrist, a man who loves and cares for Jamie as much as we will come to.
As a result, the first half of the book has a very adventuresome feel. Jamie regails us with exciting tales of the high seas. Pirates, smuggling, and reckless scams attempted by him and his partner in crime are recounted immodestly. I was drawn in immediately and could have read without stopping if I’d had a large enough block of time available to me. As it is, the book went by far too quickly.
Jamie’s story is told in a semi-linear fashion. The book begins with some of his earlier adventures, and eventually leads up to the events which so scarred his mind, all the while following his psychological recovery, and eventual release from the hospital. There are few chapters which do not jump to a different month or year at least once. Occasionally you may have to flip back a few pages to double-check whether the next part occurred before or after the last, chronologically, but this is not really a problem.
In fact, despite the jumping around, I had no trouble keeping track of what was going on at all. Even on a first read, this book is not confusing in the least, which is impressive, as this less obvious style can be very difficult to pull off without muddying the order of events for the reader. Hinton has constructed her tale in such a way that it unfolds to optimal effect thematically, and no piece of information is unveiled before we need it. She keeps us interested the entire time, unveiling different parts of the story simultaneously and, through flashbacks and foreshadowing, building tension on multiple levels.
As I’ve mentioned, the first half of the book is filled with the more rousing tales, while the horrific element is carefully hinted at and slowly revealed in bits and pieces. I won’t give away what it is, when the truth finally comes out, nor what happens afterwards, but I will say this: far too many horror stories involve some sort of “nameless fear,” while we, the readers, are left without any real explanation of just what it is that’s so fearsome about it.
We’ve all read a million horror stories involving every kind of monster or circumstance imaginable, and the “insane, suicidal, catatonic guy” has become a stock character: a man whose only purpose is to come into contact with some sort of myseriously horrific circumstance, and end up dead or in an asylum as proof that we oughta be scared, whether the author has bothered to actually pen anything scary or not. It’s quite the cheap and handy out for the hack horror writer.
How great is it, then, that we have here a book which explores the after-effects of just such an encounter, and shows us, first-hand, just what there is to be afraid of in the dark?
Hawkes Harbour is the story of “that guy.” Jamie is every hapless victim that ever found himself face to face with the Boogieman, whose soul was tainted by the dark knowledge of the Necromicon, and who had to live with being the lone survivor of an encounter with just that sort of unnatural terror, which is normally only hinted at.
He is that ill-explored character who struggles to hold together his fractured mind in the aftermath of something that is too often nameless. Will he ever be the same? Can things ever go back to the way they were? We ask these questions just as urgently as he does, because by the time we find out just what did happen to him, we are in all the way and we pray desperately for things to be okay.
That Hinton loves her characters comes through in her writing, and as a result, we cannot help but fall in love with them too. We share Jamie’s apprehension and mutter the words with him when we finally find out the meaning behind his mantra: “Please, don’t let it be dark.” I’d stop it if I could, Jamie. But I’m there with you, every step of the way, to the very last page. In the end, that’s this book’s greatest strength. Because it’s been a long time since I’ve read anything which demanded that kind of commitment. If you ask me, that’s what’s really scary. And if you share that sentiment, then take my advice and let this brilliant bit of literature be your lantern in the night.
(Tor, 2004)
