Oblomov's Reviews > Black Magic
Black Magic
by
by
Year of New Authors
The nobleman Balthasar searches for Ursula, the wife he'd long presumed dead. Briefly accompanied by a young stray of high birth named Theirry, they discover Dirk, a ludicrously handsome, cold scholar of the dark arts, who claims to be Ursala's second husband before her untimely death. Satisfied he is free to persue better matches, Balthasar leaves, but Theirry does not, finding himself enthralled by the unholy talents of the enigmatic Dirk, and thus begins a harrowing adventure of black magic, demons, regicide and the threat of apocalyptic calamaties.
This is decadent Gothic bingo, or a miasma, a Smörgåsbord, or just plain, glorious clusterfuck. We have murder, bigamy, corrupted religion, dark pits, plagues, gender bending and femme fatales. We also fail to have a single paragon character, and even our later 'avenging' protagonists have their own bloody skeletons in the closet. It's a novel of anti-heroes and very compelling ones at that, where we want to put killings and deception aside in the bare hope of an impossible happy ending.
There is a 'twist', which is announced in ten foot high neon letters decorated with bells and girthy willies within the first few pages; so obvious that Bowen doesn't attempt to hide the truth of what or who Dirk could be, adding the potential revealing of that secret to the tension of the plot.
This is a thick and oozing tale of every possible sin and horror Bowen could shoe horn into to its 300 pages, and makes for one wonderful and miserably fun read that is perfect for the spooky season.
The nobleman Balthasar searches for Ursula, the wife he'd long presumed dead. Briefly accompanied by a young stray of high birth named Theirry, they discover Dirk, a ludicrously handsome, cold scholar of the dark arts, who claims to be Ursala's second husband before her untimely death. Satisfied he is free to persue better matches, Balthasar leaves, but Theirry does not, finding himself enthralled by the unholy talents of the enigmatic Dirk, and thus begins a harrowing adventure of black magic, demons, regicide and the threat of apocalyptic calamaties.
This is decadent Gothic bingo, or a miasma, a Smörgåsbord, or just plain, glorious clusterfuck. We have murder, bigamy, corrupted religion, dark pits, plagues, gender bending and femme fatales. We also fail to have a single paragon character, and even our later 'avenging' protagonists have their own bloody skeletons in the closet. It's a novel of anti-heroes and very compelling ones at that, where we want to put killings and deception aside in the bare hope of an impossible happy ending.
There is a 'twist', which is announced in ten foot high neon letters decorated with bells and girthy willies within the first few pages; so obvious that Bowen doesn't attempt to hide the truth of what or who Dirk could be, adding the potential revealing of that secret to the tension of the plot.
This is a thick and oozing tale of every possible sin and horror Bowen could shoe horn into to its 300 pages, and makes for one wonderful and miserably fun read that is perfect for the spooky season.
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