Review: Dawn of the Dead (Novelization) (1978)
1978’s Dawn of the Dead is one of the most influential classics in the horror genre, and particularly in the zombie genre. At first blush, the idea that the novelization to such a film would be a quality book given the source material makes sense. A great story should translate at a very basic level.
That’s not entirely the case for the novelization of Dawn of the Dead, sadly. Originally published in 1978, shortly after the release of the film, the novelization has the feel of a slapdash cash-in. Co-authored by George A. Romero and Susanna Sparrow, the book adapts the screenplay of the film with minor additions. While paced fairly well, it is a pale imitation of its source.
What Works About the Novelization?
I can offer this much in the favor of Dawn of the Dead: It was good enough that I finished it over the course of successive nights before bed. It’s not a particularly challenging read, but there is some value in the familiarity of it. The core story is good, classic, even. Being lifted wholesale from the screenplay, all the strengths (and weaknesses) of the film are laid out on the page. Dawn of the Dead remains Dawn of the Dead. It is just the way it is experienced has changed. Regardless, the core story, the experience of Roger, Peter, Stephen, and Francine, is right there and it entertains and thrills on occasion. This can be enough sometimes.
Some of the additions are interesting and ultimately rather disconcerting. The novel’s first two chapters, our introductions to Stephen and Francine, and Roger and Peter are the best chapters of the book. This is where the book feels the most like a serious attempt at translating the screenplay to prose and is where the novelization is likely to hook most readers. The depiction of the chaos of the newsroom and the tenement raid in successive chapters is some of Romero’s social criticism in overdrive. It is also where the voice of Sparrow, as co-author, is strongest.
The novelization is breezy and the pacing is pretty good overall. If you have seen the film, nothing about what I am about to say is a spoiler. But the story moves into overdrive after the death of Roger and before I knew it I was in the finale, the final crush of zombies and all. At 232 pages, the last near 30 pages feel almost like a sketch in comparison to what came before. Regardless, it cannot be claimed that the book is at all slow.
What Doesn’t Work About the Novelization?
Ultimately, the flaws of the novelization come down to a couple of things, all related to the novel’s usage of a third-person omniscient point of view. The film uses this as a shorthand in echoing the cinematic eye of the film, but ultimately this does cause a great many problems and really drags down the experience of the book.
The first major issue is that we are told rather than shown a great many things regarding character thoughts and motivations. Peter, a fascinating character in his own right, played with magnetism by Ken Foree in the film, is almost a parody in this adaptation. Whereas the film could sell the quiet, calculating and ultimately tragic characterization of Peter with the emoting of Foree, the book literally lays out his internal thoughts in such a way it comes off as frankly amateurish. With so much access to the character’s heads, it all comes off as too much. And it is so, so much worse for Roger, the heart of the story’s damnation of greed and consumerism and masculine rage. All the characters have their moments on internal thought spelled out in such a manner. Subtlety and subtext completely abandoned.
Third-person omniscient narration can lead to confusion as well. Perhaps it was because I was reading the novel before bed and my concentration took a hit, but I often had to re-read paragraphs frequently. I found myself suddenly thrown by a jump from a moment with two characters in one location to another location with a different character, much later without so much as a transition. The irony is that in the film, these moments in the film are clear due tot he cuts; I was not so fortunate here. The novel does little to create some form of transition between scenes. It’s particularly a problem in the last third of the novel. A montage of excess and malaise in the film does not translate to prose without some sort of editing trick.
Ultimately, the book feels like a prosed-up version of the screenplay. Substantial additions are few and far between, primarily located in the first couple of chapters. From then on, however, the story is merely that of the movie without any real care of playing to the strength of the written word. There was so much potential. For example, there is the presence of a pet store in the novel and a puppy named Adam that comes off particularly alarming given the implications. Perhaps a more serious adaptation may have explored that further.
Final Thoughts
I think I can find no more damning praise for the Dawn of the Dead adaptation as a book than the fact the Amazon listing for the book lists the following under the synopsis of the novel:
“Dawn of the Dead is one of the best horror movies ever made.” Roger Ebert
The great zombie story deserved better than this hasty novelization.
(3 / 5)
You can find the Dawn of the Dead novelization, published by Thomas Dunne Books and St Martin’s Griffin, on Amazon.
Published in April 2023, Catriona Ward’s novel, Looking Glass Sound, continues her tradition of crafting intricate narratives that defy easy categorization. Like her acclaimed The House on Needless Street, Ward expertly weaves a web of clues and red herrings that will unravel with each reread. Is it an atmospheric horror, a twisted serial killer mystery, or the coming-of-age tale of a writer? The answer, as Ward skillfully demonstrates, is all three.
The Plot.
In 1989, sixteen-year-old Wilder Harlow, travels to the Maine coast with his mother and father, for the summer. His family has inherited a cottage on Whistler’s Bay, all hope that this will be a fresh start for him.
On the first day, Wilder meets Harper and Nat; teens who roam the town with little to no adult supervision. The two quickly become his guides to the town’s hidden secrets.
As they explore the bay’s eerie beauty, Wilder discovers a sinister undercurrent. A terrifying figure known as the “Dagger Man” has been terrorizing families; breaking into homes and photographing sleeping children at knifepoint. Meanwhile, a more chilling mystery unfolds: women have been vanishing from the town for over a decade.
Wilder and his new friends are drawn into the mysteries and the truth begins to unravel as they explore the hidden corners of the bay.
This is only the first section of the book. What follows is Wilder’s experience through college, eventually returning to Whistler Bay as an elderly man. On his return things begin to twist and we find that everything we’ve been told is not strictly fact.
Highlights.
Catriona Ward is known for writing strong characters and here she does not disappoint. The novel introduces us to Wilder, Nat, and Harper as teenagers whose complex dynamics and relatable angst draw us in. Wilder’s college roommate, Sky, adds another layer of depth, offering a poignant exploration of queer coming-of-age.
While Ward’s intricate plot keeps us guessing, it also presents a minor challenge: the sheer number of twists and turns can sometimes blur the lines between characters: making it difficult to keep track of names and relationships. The introduction of two characters named Sky and Skye, in particular, can be confusing. Despite this, Ward’s character development remains consistently strong. Looking Glass Sound is a compelling exploration of human connection and the complexities of memory.
Drawbacks.
The overwhelming drawback for this novel was the structure. The first half of the novel follows a straightforward, linear timeline, allowing us to connect with Wilder and his friends on a personal level. However, the narrative takes a significant detour in the second half, adopting a complex frame-within-a-frame structure, or perhaps more accurately a book within a book… within a book. This shift can be disorienting, as readers are constantly pulled back and forth between different time periods and perspectives, often only to discover that certain events were not entirely as they seemed.
While this unconventional approach adds a layer of intrigue, it can also make the plot feel fragmented and difficult to follow. Ward’s decision to interrupt the narrative with explanations and asides can sometimes disrupt the pacing and immersion. While this choice may be intentional, it can also leave readers feeling lost and confused.
The Final Take.
This is not my first Catriona Ward novel, nor it will be my last. Ward writes stories that are built to confound the reader and make them question everything they’ve read. Looking Glass Sound pushes this a little too far. In my opinion is the weakest of her novels that I have read so far. In saying that I did enjoy the atmospheric horror of the introductory chapters and the dark academic feel of the college section. Following that I found myself becoming a little fed up with deciphering the plot.
(2.5 / 5)
“You can’t win against the mountain. The mountain always finds a way.”
Published in July 2024, Alisa Alering’s debut novel, Smothermoss, is a chilling blend of folk horror and dark fairytale. Though concise, this novel packs a powerful punch, its narrative dense with metaphor and a suffocating atmosphere. Not for the faint of heart, Smothermoss is a haunting exploration of the sinister lurking beneath the surface of the ordinary.
The Story.
Set in the rugged Appalachian Mountains of the 1980s, Smothermoss follows the lives of sisters, Sheila (17) and Angie (12). The two live with their mother and an elderly woman in a crumbling cottage in the forest. Both Sheila and Angie are the object of ridicule and bullying within their school community, the sisters cope with this bullying in starkly different ways. Sheila retreats into silence, avoiding conflict and longing for escape. Angie, meanwhile, immerses herself in a fantasy world, battling imaginary Russians and believing her handmade cards hold prophetic power.
When two women hikers are brutally murdered on the nearby Appalachian Trail, Sheila becomes more withdrawn and avoidant of the world, while Angie becomes convinced she’s destined to capture the killer. Little do they know; a far greater evil lurks in the forest.
Highlights.
Alering’s masterful characterization of Sheila and Angie was the true gem of Smothermoss. Despite being told in the third person, the alternating chapters offer a bone deep immersion into each sister’s perspective. In recent fiction, author’s have not quite captured the authentic voice of a young character. However, Alering nails it. Angie’s pre-teen naivety shines through and never accidently matures past its 12-year-old existence. While Sheila’s late teenage anxieties and queer coming-of-age struggles are beautifully rendered.
Another highlight of this story is the lyrical prose. Smothermoss has a rhythm; it reads like poetry in places and in others could be mistaken for a children’s fable. Reading about the visceral and raw events and thoughts contained in Smothermoss, in such beautiful but simple language adds to the unsettling experience, and enjoyability, of reading this story
Drawbacks.
There were a couple of things that had me a little confused during this book. Several shorter chapters leave the sisters entirely behind and focus on rabbits and other forest animals. At first, I interpreted these to be metaphoric. The animals standing in for the killers point of view, or perhaps the murdered women. This book is so heavy with metaphor that this seems plausible, but I finished the book still questioning myself about this.
The other issue I found was that many of the subplots in this story are left unexplained or unfinished, turning to the last page with many questions that will never be answered. (Which has resulted in sleepless nights because I just want to know what exactly that rope is among other things!)
The Final Take.
At its core, this is the story of two sisters growing to understand each other and supporting each other through adversity.
Beyond that, Smothermoss feels like a fairytale dragged through the mud.
The small size of this book (just over 250 pages) might lead people to think it is a quick or easy read. Don’t be fooled, as Shakespeare said, “though she be but little, she is fierce.” This is a complex story, with heavy themes and dark subtext.
I want, and hope, to read this story again because I know that there is much more to uncover here. The metaphors are dark and unnerving, the characters deep and moving, the natural imagery thick. I was not at all surprised to find out that Alering grew up in the Appalachian Mountains. Only someone familiar with the area could have described the people and place with so much heart.
(4 / 5)
Book Reviews
The Unmothers.
“There was a horse that gave birth. There was a baby. There was a tree. There was a price.”
Leslie J. Anderson’s debut novel, The Unmothers, is a chilling folk horror that delves into the darkest corners of motherhood. Published in August 2024, this slow-burn tale introduces a world where women’s rights are under threat.
With a subtle touch of Eldritch horror, Anderson weaves a narrative that explores the complex themes of motherhood, choice, and the lengths a woman might go to maintain control over her own body and destiny.
The Story.
Journalist Carolyn Marshall is sent to cover the story of a horse giving birth in the rural American town of Reaford. The attraction of this occurrence for a newspaper? That the baby is a healthy human baby boy. Marshall quickly debunks this story but decides to stay in town and follow her journalistic instinct to a bigger scoop.
Beneath the town’s quaint facade, Marshall uncovers a web of dark secrets. A drug epidemic is ravaging the community, immigrant workers are dying under mysterious circumstances, and the town’s powerful patriarch, John Daily, seems to hold everyone in his debt. As Marshall delves deeper into these troubling issues, she becomes increasingly entangled in the lives of the locals.
Through her interactions with the townspeople, Marshall hears whispers of a sinister presence lurking in the nearby woods. The locals share chilling tales of what a young woman in Reaford might do to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. As the story unfolds, Marshall must confront the terrifying truth about the town’s hidden past and the dangers that lurk within its borders.
Highlights.
I was never a young girl that oohed and aahed at the sight of a horse. After reading The Unmothers though, yeah, I get it. Anderson’s vivid descriptions of these magnificent creatures brought them to life in a way I’d never experienced before. The way she portrays their gentle nature, combined with their raw power and potential for brutality, is both captivating and unsettling. It’s a testament to Anderson’s skill as a writer that she can make even the most mundane details of these animals feel extraordinary.
Drawbacks.
The Unmothers is a complex novel that delves into the interconnected events of a rural town, both past and present. In the first half of the book, the sheer number of characters and viewpoints can make it difficult to keep track of the plot. However, there are a few pivotal revelations that occur near the midpoint. This helps certain characters become more prominent and memorable, making the story easier to follow.
The Final Take.
The Unmothers is a haunting and unforgettable read that will leave you both terrified and deeply moved. Anderson’s masterful storytelling draws you into a world where the line between the natural and the supernatural is blurred.
The novel’s focus on horses, a subject I’m not particularly knowledgeable about, was a pleasant surprise. I was fascinated to learn about the unique characteristics of foals, including the tentacle-like growths on their hooves which had me Googling for proof.
This book is a must-read for fans of horror, folk tales, and thought-provoking fiction. It’s a powerful exploration of motherhood, choice, and the dark forces that can lurk beneath the surface of even the most seemingly idyllic communities.
(4 / 5)
