Book Review: Fellstones (2022)
Flame Tree
(this review is spoiler-free.)
Despite more than twenty years of near-constant horror fiction engagement, this is my first foray into Ramsey Campbell. I decided to pick up this 2022 offering from the godfather of British weird fiction, Fellstones, after Adam Neville recommended it. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, Ramsey Campbell has an expansive and thematically diverse catalog spanning nearly fifty years, and comparisons to Stephen King would not be undue. While Campbell never found an American audience to match his fervent following in the UK, he’s frequently cited by authors on both sides of the Atlantic as a key influence in their creative development. After Fellstones, I intend to eventually pick up his seminal works from the 1980s and become better acquainted with this figurehead of the golden age of horror fiction.
The Past Comes Calling
The story opens with Paul Dustan, a thirty-something entertainment store clerk who receives a surprise visit from his adopted sister, Adele. After an uncomfortable reacquaintance with Paul, she implores him to return to the home of his youth and make peace with his estranged guardians, the Staveleys. Paul hasn’t spoken to them in years, the result of a falling out they had over his decision to study literature rather than music during his university years.
That may sound like a pithy, even absurd, a ridiculous reason to fall out with one’s guardians, but Rafe and Winnifred Staveley have always taken an overbearing and boderline obsessive interest in seeing Paul cultivate his musical talents, and when he elected to depart from their envisioned path, it was as if their very lives began to unravel. With perfect pitch and a genius-level grasp of musical composition, Paul is a true prodigy, a man with near-limitless potential for musical performance. The Staveleys’ interest in his talents were the primary driver in their decision to adopt him when his parents passed away unexpectedly during his youth. His grudge softened by the years away, Paul reluctantly agrees to visit the Staveleys in Fellstones, an idyllic village outside of Liverpool that takes its name from the seven stone monoliths that stand in rough formation at the center of the town.
Upon returning, Paul and his estranged adopted parents initially manage to reunite, and following a great party marked by exuberant and eccentric neighbors as well as a suspicious lack of cell phone service, Paul learns that Rafe and Winnifred Staveley have plans for him beyond this familial reconciliationz: a particularly important and auspicious festival for Fellstones is coming up soon, and the Staveleys desperately hope that Paul will bring his musical talents to bear in the celebration.
Well-traveled Roads
For much of the journey, it’s textbook British folk horror, delivered up sharply enough and making no mystery of what it plans to do. The familiar components are laid out before the reader almost too neatly, as the book doesn’t squander any time with subterfuge; it’s plain the Staveleys and other residents of Fellstones are a bit queer, and their worshipful treatment of Paul’s musical talent has a deeper motive. At this point in the story, I’m on board, though nothing has emerged to set this novel apart. The writing is solid and the pacing expert, but I’d have a hard time identifying an exceptional differentiating element. These will come eventually, but they take nearly 70% of the title to emerge, and the reader is left with precious little page space to actually appreciate them.
There was a time when I was teetering, trying to determine if this book was going to fall among the dregs of those titles I elect to review, or catapult into the higher echelons, as there was a very real period in the reader’s journey where it could have gone either way. I’m happy to say that it ultimately veered toward the better classification, and that Campbell ultimately showed some very interesting and commendable creative angles as the novel moved toward its conclusion. My simplest lament is that it leaves the novel unbalanced, and he would have fared better to introduce these elements a bit sooner in the story.
I know nothing of Campbell’s methods, but feel this sort of thing is almost emblematic of the writers of his generation: identify a good story idea and ride it out organically as far as you can, then return to tighten up the narrative and figure out an end once the original inspiration is spent. I’m honestly not sure how much the author knew at the outset, and the result is that the high-quality stuff kept behind the curtain doesn’t quite get enough time to wow the audience.
There were some other elements that I struggled with as well, and unfortunately those lie in the ever sensitive areas of main character evaluation. You see, Paul is a bit of a dunce, a bit of a plodder. He never tries to connect the mythology he discovers (in a local archives of all things–is this not cliché now?) with the villagers’ strange behavior, never implores that they pull back the curtain in the interest of his own enlightenment, never asks why or how, and never seems dismayed by the supernatural things he witnesses. All this despite their exceedingly cryptic and escalating behavior. It feels like the most middle-class British thing ever, to simply ignore the wild eccentricities of the village folk. Ultimately, Paul feels like little more than a passenger in the novel, and the effect is disharmonious for the reader.
Of course, I must temper my criticism of these elements with applause for others: though still roughly-sketched, I found the background draw of Campbell’s novel to be especially interesting, as he created a unique and original cosmic mystery that really felt like something worth exploring. John Dee, one of my favorite stars in the Western esoteric constellation, is used to add connective tissue to the occult history of the novel. To me, the rich history of occultism in Britain is an endlessly fascinating vein to explore, and Campbell does so far better than most.
When a series of events result in Paul being delayed from leaving Fellstones for the first, then eventually, being drawn back, I thought I knew exactly what to expect and was really hoping the latter half of the novel would provide an original idea, solid explanation, or unexpectedly intelligent plot. I’m happy to share that I got roughly one-and-a-half of those, and found inroads with the novel that weren’t there initially. Readers should approach this as one where you’re going to tread a lot of familiar ground before reaching the strongest elements of the novel, and they may no pay off for everyone (though, again, they did for me).
The Fault in Our Stars
Fellstones has many brilliant elements affixed to a plot that doesn't quite do enough, and the ideas and levels of creativity that are showcased in the novel’s backstory are greater than the execution wherein they are presented. The narrative felt a bit contrived, destined to more or less walk the steps of The Wicker Man until its particular sect of folk mystery was brought to its conclusion. At no point did I wonder what was going to happen in the next arc of the book, and while I was pleased enough to follow the story, it never got me excited.
Verdict: 6.7/10
Strengths:
Makes good use of the available legacy
Solid writing and pacing
Some truly brilliant mystery elements, though introduced too late in the novel for my tastes
Weaknesses
Weak main character
Some curious dialogue choices that occasionally result in confusion over who is speaking
Doesn’t break any new ground until its penultimate act
You can pick up a copy on Amazon, or preferably, at an independent bookstore in your community.
You may also like: The Hallow (2015), The Vessel, Francine Toon
