I am a fan of the darker fiction.

I have recently finished a re-read my favorite book of all time. The second tale in the Malazan Book of The Fallen series by Steven Erikson. I cannot review that book or that series. I can only tell you now it is a perfect 5 on the -5 to 5 scale. It is highs and lows and a so human. But it is too much and I am too impatient to properly give a detailed opinion on that series. All I can say, is that you should give it a try. I fully recommend it.

Although I am learned that it may not be for everyone. I have friends that have read it, and adore it as much as I do. My mother has read it, and she had less to say about it. And now, on my recent re-read I went through it alongside a friend who is new to the Malazan world. I am seeing that there are some very dark themes, scenes, and events that have affected each of these people in different ways. To me, it is an expression of humanity. A view of brutal natural reality. However, to some, this may be too much. The gore and helplessness and heartbreaks that a reader is subjected to may be in truth disturbing beyond some individual’s faculties. And the new reader has stated, following a particularly dark character moment, that they had to put the book down for a while. When I read that same section, I was fascinated and it was a hook to continue my reading. Not a reason to recoil.

It made me think of a time when a book had me have to step away.

I could not really think of such a time for me. Those black times are to me, thrilling. But as I thought a scene from a book I had read several years ago has come to mind. The book is called One Second After by John Matherson. It was recommended to me with reportedly being a mandatory read for The Obama Administrations defense staff.

The book follows a regular American man and his family after an EMP event affects the world due to some war or something. The cause is less important than the effects of such an event. 10 seconds after electrical infrastructure is destroyed everyone on a pacemaker or a ventilator is dead. 10 days later everyone without water is dead. 10 weeks later and every without food is dead. And so on. The book is pretty tame all and all, and is more of a thought provoker. With some basis in historical natural and manmade disasters. It Emphasizes the importance of individual as well as governmental preparedness for disasters. Manmade or otherwise. It’s a worthwhile read, but it has otherwise left my consciousness.

Near the end of the book there is a scenario where a small militia of college students is attacked. The regular red-white-and-blue blooded American man that we have been following comes across one of his students wounded during the battle. The girl is shot in the stomach and is bleeding beyond the ability of their medical resources to save. And as she dies, she is calling for her father as if she is a little girl.

This has become a kind of cliché. Surely you have seen movies or heard of the trope. Mental regression is a real psychological phenomenon, but I have never done more than roll my eyes at its depiction in literature.

Except for in this book. It must be the way it is set up and written. But this scene horrifies me.I place myself in the shoes of the college age girl. I was in college when I read it in fact. I see myself hurt and scared. And to think that I would be in such a desperate situation that my mind believes I am child. To be so confused. To be without control of self. It terrifies me. Because I could see how that could happen to me. Or anyone.

I am having trouble describing it. Perhaps you’d simply have to read it. Just like Malazan. And now that I think on it the horror and extremes of Malazan seem so real to me because at a certain point, its innocent. The breaking of our usual mode and deteriorating into violence and helplessness strangely leads to a state of innocence. Life and Death. Predator and prey.

We do not say that the hawk is cruel to the dove. It is innocent even in killing. And when that girl is dying, she becomes horrifyingly innocent. Unwillingly innocent. Like a wound, sudden and permanent. Like a cancer, you’ve always had in you. Is you. And that frightens me.