‘Burn this book,’ our narrator orders at the start of Clive
Barker’s 2007 novel (actually, it’s surely a novella). ‘Don’t look at another
word.’
Part of me thinks I probably should have taken this advice.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy parts of Mister B. Gone. It
follows minor demon, Jakabok Botch who escapes from the 9th circle
of hell and ends up in fourteenth century Europe on a series of escapades,
which culminate a century later at the birth of the Gutenberg printing press.
I have to be honest, I was quite worried at first. Botch
narrates his tale in first person and spends an awful lot of time going on and
on at the reader, persuading then threatening them to burn the book in their
hands. Then he lets slip, ‘Yeah, I’m a demon.’ Hmmm.
Anyway, I clearly didn’t burn it. Instead I read on and was
quite captivated by the scenes in hell (pissy demon parents and
‘parasite-infested wastelands’ of rubbish dumps) as well as glimpses into
mediaeval Europe.
But that’s the problem—we only get glimpses. The central
bromance between Jakabok and his demon pal Quitoon is barely developed. Their adventures, which cover 100 years, are paraphrased in a few pages.
It reminded me a lot of Marlow’s Dr Faustus—the buddy bromance
between Mephastophilis and Faustus, their dastardly hi-jinks, the raging battle
between supernatural forces of good and evil…even down to Faustus’ terrified
offer to ‘burn [his] books’ if he might be spared damnation.
Mister B. Gone feels way too rushed, which is a shame. Barker is a skilled and intriguing writer, but this felt like a quirky concept which would have been served better as a short story (and in fact doesn’t it re-explore ideas from the title story from Books of Blood?).
Mister B. Gone feels way too rushed, which is a shame. Barker is a skilled and intriguing writer, but this felt like a quirky concept which would have been served better as a short story (and in fact doesn’t it re-explore ideas from the title story from Books of Blood?).
