By turns suspenseful, creepy and sad, Disappearance at Devil’s Rock is a simple story that centers around how easily decent people can do terrible things.
Framed around the disappearance of a teenage boy at a state park, the story shifts between events leading up to the disappearance of Tommy Sanderson, and the aftermath of the disappearance, with the search, police investigation and the mother, Elizabeth, and younger sister Kate, trying to cope.
Tremblay, who has a short essay about the story at the end of the novel, makes reference to his work as generally ambiguous, but I would describe what he does here not so much as deliberate ambiguity, but more a technique to create a specific mood, even if it ultimately has no payout for the story itself. Tremblay is, in a way, tricking the reader into believing things in order to spook them.
Much like his previous novel, A Head Full of Ghosts, Disappearance at Devil’s Rock presents seemingly supernatural occurrences, some of which are explained, others of which are not. The problem with this approach is twofold–the unexplained events do add to the atmosphere of the story, but do not materially add to the story beyond that, and as Tremblay has used this technique in two consecutive novels, it risks becoming a predictable shtick. As I progressed through Disappearance at Devil’s Rock, it became clear the supernatural aspects would have no bearing on the overall story or its outcome and at that point those elements almost became irritants that distracted from the real story of how three teenage boys came under the spell of a disturbed young man in his early 20s.
Surprisingly, the breaking of writing rules didn’t bother me at all. Tremblay frequently shifts the POV from one character to another, often in the same scene. There are police interviews that are literally presented as transcripts, though the story overall is not written as an epistolary. Journal notes are presented as huge walls of text.
I was also surprised at how unaffected by Elizabeth and Kate’s emotional suffering. I sympathized over their loss, but didn’t feel much else, and I can’t say exactly why. Tremblay writes well, but there is something in the prose here that created distance and pushed me away instead of pulling me in.
Overall, I did enjoy the story, but don’t be fooled by the pretense to supernatural or non-psychological horror elements. They don’t really inform the story, and act more as decoration around the edges, even if they are presented in a skillful and evocative way.
Also, Tremblay clearly did his homework on Minecraft. đ
Recommended if the premise and central theme interests you, but not a must-read. A Head Full of Ghosts does a lot of what this book does, but with a fresher take on its subject.
And that means eggnog has started showing up at Save-On Foods. Fallnog, perhaps.
Also, it just seems weird that a few weeks ago it was 30ÂșC and now it’s cold enough at nights that drinking hot chocolate is inviting and my little desk fan is gathering dust.
I even started looking at base heaters on the Home Depot website.
The transition from spring to summer, on the other hand, is this teasing, long build-up where the days gradually lengthen and get warmer, flowers bloom, trees bud and blossom, and finally you bask in the verdant green of summer.
Summer to fall is more like admiring the view from the top of a flight of stairs, then someone pushes you down and at the bottom it’s suddenly 15 degrees cooler and everything is turning brown.
My short list is shorter than I thought it would be, but perhaps this is one of those things that turns out to be a blessing in disguise, like when scientists found out that eating chocolate makes you lose weight.
The Short list
Time After Time: A person with Stage 4 cancer finds a translucent stone that lets them move forward and back in time. They use it to see if they can cure their cancer.
One Slip: A man falls over the edge of a waterfall and is presumed dead by his partner. As time goes by the surviving partner sees signs that suggest his lover is still around, but stuck…somewhere.
Wake Up: Person unaware they are in a coma (as is the reader at first), experiences lots of weird and vivid things in the coma world as doctors and family try to break through to contact them.
The Broken Bridge: Expanded version of the long short story in which a man is saved from dying, only to become convinced he was meant to die.
Sanity Road: A long night drive starts to play havoc on the mind of the driver. A Twilight Zone joint, if you will.
The Mean Mind: Scaled-down version of unfinished NaNoWriMo novel in which a small group of people with psychokinetic powers must band together to stop The Bad Guys with the same powers, as they want to reshape the world in yucky ways. (Imagine if one were the right-hand person in the current White House. Talk about scary.)
Time Travel Idea: Yet another time travel story. This time a person goes back 20-30 years to become the younger version they once were, but retaining all the memories they accumulated over those 20-30 years. How does this knowledge help or hinder them?
Looking over this batch, I don’t have any strong, immediate urge to axe any of them–which is good, in a way. It means they all have potential. I may solicit some feedback from a few others and go from there.
I am going to have a target deadline in mind, though: the end of the month, which is exactly seven days hence, Sunday, September 30. On or before that day I will pick one of these seven and then begin the outline process. In the event of a tie, I’ll do two outlines and then choose the stronger of the pair.
Even without having chosen an idea yet, I am already way ahead of where I’ve been for most National Novel Writing Months I’ve participated in. Exciting! And weird.
For my birthday Jeff got me a float and massage at Halsa, which sounds like a brand of Swedish shampoo, but is in fact one of those spas where you can enter a sensory deprivation tank to have an out of body experience or whatever it is that happens when people do these things.
The place was very clean, very white and for the most part, very dark. When I got into my room, Ocean 1, I had to use the flashlight function on my phone to read the instructions on the wall regarding the provided earplugs.
The float was an hour and a half and was a little weird. The first room I entered was a low-lit antechamber with a place to leave your stuff and at the other end a shower, as they ask you to shower first and provide plenty of foamy soap to do so. The shower water took awhile to warm up but once it did it seemed to stay at Very Hot no matter how I adjusted it. I showered and then opened the door to the ocean (room).
This is a chamber that’s tall enough to stand in and large enough that you can lay down without touching any walls. This is important. It’s filled with enough water to get you buoyant, but not enough to drown you to death, should you be inclined to drowning to death. The secret spice is Epsom salt, and enough of it is in the water to keep you floating serenely on top of it, so much so that the top half of your body never gets wet unless you roll around like a panicked dolphin.
Spooky New Age music plays quietly in the background. It fades away when your official start time kicks in.
You are advised to keep your fingers away from your face for obvious reasons. I apparently had a minor abrasion on my inner thigh that I became instantly aware of when it hit the water/salt. It settled down quickly, but I imagine laying down with an open wound would be a great way to achieve immediate agony.
Once in, I had three choices to make:
Did I want to kill the lights? There are two soft blue lights embedded in the bottom of the pool, creating a calm but very visible effect. You can’t have proper sensory deprivation if you don’t deprive all your senses!
Did I want to use the ear plugs? They’re optional, so it’s up to you.
Did I want to use the halo? This is a thin foam ring that you lean your head back into and is recommended for people with neck tension or pain.
I kept the light on at first to get my bearings and skipped everything else. After a few minutes, the spooky New Age music stopped, so my experience was officially on.
My body floated just fine (it normally likes to sink like a very heavy rock), but every time I laid my head back, my neck tensed up. I kept fearing I would dunk my head under water, which would be incredibly unpleasant, uncomfortable and not very sensory-deprivation-y at all.
I got the halo and put it on my head, like an actual halo. This was clearly not the right way to use it, but it amused me. I then used it properly and found if I laced my hands behind my head, with the halo, it seemed to work. Eventually I made it work with my hands hanging at my sides, but it never felt 100% right. I can only conclude that my brain is so densely packed with smarts that my head simply will not float like the rest of my body. But I did get to a point where it felt relaxing and I relaxed.
I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift. As it turned out, I also drifted, which they warn you about. In the dark this could be disorienting, but I was too relaxed now to get up and hit the light switch, so I could get my bearings by just opening my eyes. Not that it mattered, really. But I drifted a lot, mostly because every time I moved my arms it changed my buoyancy and set me gently off. My head would oh-so-gently thump against the wall of the pool. I’d then course-correct because I had arbitrarily determined I must lay in a specific orientation to the door (I later gave up on this and just drifted like a log down the Fraser).
At one point I had to get up to pee. Hardly surprising for me. When I returned to the pool, I ended up tilting and getting water in one ear, then over-correcting and getting water in the other. This was when I decided to use the earplugs because the water in the ear was very distracting.
The ear plugs both help and hinder the sensory deprivation. On the one hand, they make it much harder to hear anything–though there is really nothing to hear, anyway. On the other hand, your own breathing becomes amplified about a hundred times. The alternative is to not breathe, which isn’t a good idea, so I just got used to it and breathed a lot through my mouth, which was quieter.
They kept the water out, though, so that was aces.
I did try to turn the light out several times by drifting close to the switch, but the force required to push in the big rubber button was too much to manage from a supine position and each time I tried I just pushed myself away from it. I could have stood up, but the pool is kind of slippery and injuring myself would not have enhanced the experience.
I did hit the button hard enough to kill the light one time, though, but the action caused me to both push off from the switch and roll at the same time. This was very disorienting in total blackness, so I scrabbled to turn the light back on and re-orient myself.
I’m not very good at sensory deprivation.
Once everything was in place and I relaxed, though, I didn’t mind the soft light being on. With my eyes closed I couldn’t see anything, anyway, which is my preference for how I not see things. I was surprised when the music started piping in 90 minutes later. The time went quickly.
I showered, put on my bathrobe and went to the lounge to wait for my masseuse. I don’t wear robes much, and struggled to prevent a Basic Instinct/Sharon Stone thing from happening.
The massage was an hour long and very thorough. A few places were tight, but I never experienced any actual pain, only a few moments of discomfort as the knots were beaten about lovingly. My neck was not surprisingly the worst. My mind didn’t drift as much here and you’re unlikely to fall asleep as something pummels your flesh, but it was relaxing in its own way. If I was rich I’d have someone do this every week or something.
Overall, it was a zany, strange but ultimately worthwhile experience. I’d definitely try doing a float again and knowing what I know now, I’d probably have more time to zone out and less given over to flailing.
Also my ears were crusty with salt when I got home. That’s not something you normally expect.
Run 597 Average pace: 5:38/km Location: Burnaby Lake (CW)
Start: 12:56 pm
Distance: 5:02 km
Time: 28:23
Weather: Cloudy (not Partly Sunny)
Temp: 13ÂșC
Humidity: 80%
Wind: nil to light
BPM: 164
Weight: 163.4 pounds
Total distance to date: 4565 km
Devices: Apple Watch, iPhone 8
The forecast for today was Partly Sunny. In fact, as I left for my run the weather app insisted it was, in fact, Partly Sunny right now. Which it was, if you consider Completely Cloudy to be the same thing as Partly Sunny.
There was no prediction for rain and that proved accurate, luckily. I headed out, expecting to be a bit slower than the last run due to a combination of factors–not as much walking during the week, eight days since the last run, a slower walk to the lake, and a general feeling of sluggishness.
And I was right! But it was only two seconds slower, which is almost but not quite a rounding error (it was about 12 seconds spread over the length of 5 km, which I totally could have topped had I known I was that close.
The interesting part is the breakdown of this and the previous run. Last time I started a little slower but stayed steady through the first two km, flagged in the third and fourth, then picked up for the final. Today I started out even faster but saw a huge drop in the second km, then stayed around that pace, picking up only a bit by the final km. So it was kind of front-loaded.
No real issues to be reported, though I think the strong start left me a bit winded for the remainder. The knees were the knees. I almost felt a cramp here and there, but they never quite materialized.
It stayed 13ÂșC throughout and I wore a long-sleeved shirt. I would have been fine with a regular t-shirt, as there was little wind. BPM was down to 164, which was nice, and with high humidity, I felt semi-hydrated even without having any water.
There were a few other runners out, including one with a perfectly chiseled body. He was running silly fast and without a shirt, of course. If ya got it….
The number of walkers out was greater than expected, given the sky looked like it might open up for most of the time I was out. And there was one cyclist who startled me from behind post-run mainly because he was riding so fast and blaring music, which seemed odd. His jacket was as loud as the music, too.
Overall, then, a solid effort. I will once again endeavor to run during the week, but who knows how that will go. I have found the motivation to run after work elusive. This week is also the first where the sun begins setting before 7 p.m., so the days of post-work runs are numbered as it is.
It’s the first day of fall and everything is falling into place (see what I did there?)
Anyway, the trees are already donning their orange, red and yellow coats, the nights are now cool enough to make the air conditioner optional and the opportunity to wear shorts outside when not going out for a run are dwindling.
It’s also raining again semi-regularly.
So it’s very fall-like and now it’s official. And I’m okay with that. Early fall is something like my fourth favorite part of a season, when everything is balanced on the edge between the last days of summer and the first days of autumn, but we are still a ways from the trees being bleakly devoid of leaves, the sky perpetually gray, and the threat of snow becoming all too possible. For the moment it can still be sunny and pleasant, everything is green and splendid and I’m not both leaving for and coming back from work in the dark (it’s now dark, but the sun is still up for over an hour yet when I get home).
If I was a poet I’d write something eloquent about fall, but I ain’t, so you get a haiku:
Fall is in the air
Sun, rain, wind and shorter days
Just say no to snow
Looking over the various OneNote pages, Word files and other bits and pieces where I’ve recorded story ideas, here’s a list of some of the more intriguing ones, again rated on a scale of 1 to 10 pounds of James Patterson novels.
Time After Time (yes, YATTS*): A person with Stage 4 cancer comes across a flat translucent stone that lets them jump ahead in time and then back. They decide to see if it can be used to cure their cancer.
I’m not sure this could work at novel-length because I frankly don’t think I’m clever or sophisticated enough to pull it off, and my natural (and sometimes terrible) tendency would be to somehow make light of the inevitable “What does it mean to live? What price to pay?” theme that would develop. For example, maybe the protagonist discovers they can survive the cancer by sacrificing someone else or by allowing something horrible to happen. And I’d play it for laughs. But maybe that could work. Still, a thin, if interesting premise, with potential for some solid characterization.
Rating: 7 pounds of James Patterson novels
Grinder: A thriller about someone using a dating app with GPS locations and getting undesirable results
This has actually happened in real life, where people have used hook-up apps that show location to meet and then beat unsuspecting men. This would probably work better as a short story. I imagine it having either a supernatural element or some kind of Twlight Zone twist to it.
Rating: 3 pounds of James Patterson novels
One Slip: A couple meet in their early 20s and spend the next 20+ years together, experiencing the usual ups and downs of any relationship, against the backdrop of the Vancouver gay community and the specter of AIDs. One day as they stroll around the rugged terrain of a national park, one of the partners slips at the edge of a lookout over a spectacular waterfall. There is a safety barrier but it’s too low and he goes over, as his partner watches in horror. The body is never found. As the surviving partner grapples with the loss of his spouse, he begins to experience odd phenomena that seems related to his departed partner. Gradually he begins to wonder if they are messages “from beyond the grave.” Eventually he realizes that his partner is still alive and somehow trapped in another dimension, one that has a portal just below the falls. The other dimension is unstable and unfriendly and time is running out. The story concludes with a return to the waterfall and a last ditch effort to pull the missing partner back into the world he belongs–or risk pulling both into the bad place where neither should be.
This is a rare in that it’s relatively fleshed out for a simple idea. I like the concept of the surviving partner going from thinking he’s seeing signs of a ghost to gradually realizing his partner is still alive and somehow trapped. It’s a bit goofy, though, but I’d be able to weave a lot of small details into it for added authenticity (write what you know, you know).
Rating: 7 pounds of James Patterson novels
Wake Up:Â Protagonist is in a coma (but doesn’t know it, and neither does the reader at first). The story follows the vivid thoughts inside the protagonists mind, as doctors and loved ones try to find a way to connect with this person from the real world. Their efforts result in strange, seemingly unexplainable phenomena in this “coma world.” Finally, the protagonist sees the message: “If you’re reading this, you’ve been in a coma for almost 5 years. We don’t know if or when this message will reach you. Please wake up.” (Think Inception, but like, sad and coma-y).
This was actually given as a suggestion on the NaNoWriMo forum a few years ago. I like the idea of bridging the gulf between a conscious and unconscious mind. There would probably have to be some bigger stakes at play, and this would require research and I’m lazy and hate research. Still, a solid idea.
Rating: 6 pounds of James Patterson novels
Best Friend Dead. A friend accidentally killing another friend, and trying to hide the fact, or something to that effect.
Pretty thin idea. Basically, “What do you do if you accidentally kill your friend and really, really don’t want anyone to ever find out for reasons?” Could go many different ways.
Rating: 4 pounds of James Patterson novels
The Broken Bridge. After a near-fatal pool accident, two friends find themselves at a crossroads, where taking responsibility can mean more than just growing up, it could save a life.
This was a long short story I wrote a hundred years ago that I think could potentially work at novel-length. It’s dark and despairing, because it’s about a friend saving another from drowning and the saved friend believing he was meant to die, and slowly unraveling as he attempts to “right the wrong.”
Rating: 7 pounds of James Patterson novels
Sanity Road. A man pulling an all-nighter on the road battles to stay awakeâand sane, as the trip wears on his body and mind.
I am a sucker for this idea, even if I have little idea on the specifics. To me it oozes atmosphere. A man has a deadline to meet and has to drive all night, going from the city, through the desert and mountains, before arriving at the destination city. Along the way he thinks he sees things along the sides of the road, maybe something in the backseat–something bumping around in the trunk? He essentially drives himself crazy, then probably dies in a horrible car crash just short of his destination when it’s either revealed that there really was [some awful thing] or he just finally snaps.
Rating: 7 pounds of James Patterson novels
Clean Slate. A person has the ability to literally wipe anything out thingsâwipe the words off a sheet of paper, wash a car out of existence, etc.
An intriguing but slight premise. And I have no idea how to flesh it out.
Rating: 2 pounds of James Patterson novels.
***
Tomorrow I’ll pile together all ideas so far and begin The Winnowing.
Disappearance at Devil’s Rock by Paul Tremblay
