"The man who wears the names of rivers knows that he is no longer like other men, that some part of his fearful work has changed him forever and he can never return to the simple, painless life he lived before.... The invaders are everywhere, and Their agents are everywhere.... In [his] dreams They walk the streets without fear, spreading the androgyne contagion, and the sky burns with the roaring engines of Their warships."
In a novel about a serial killer, the evocation of the killer's madness can make or break the book. In The Crow: The Lazarus Heart, Poppy Z. Brite delivers her usual complement of gay/transsexual pale-faced lovelies dressed in black Lycra and lace, giving just enough of a spin to their aesthetics that they are mildly entertaining to read about. But the way she puts the good gory meat into the story is through the character of a mesmerizing serial killer whose unique brand of paranoia serves as a sly commentary on Brite's own fiction. This is a short and relatively simple novel for Brite, but its narrative momentum never lapses: the plot structure hangs together better than in her longer, more ambitious works. It's overwritten in places--Brite wants to use two similes where one will do--but it's fun. And that's what horror is all about. --Fiona Webster
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