Creed

"Sometimes horror is in the mind and sometimes it's real."

...and sometimes it just ain't that good.

I'm truly starting to wonder why I'm doing this to myself. I'd only read Herbert's first two novels, way back when they were first released, almost fifty years ago. Of course, over the intervening five decades, as a horror fan, his name kept coming up and coming up. When he passed away ten years ago, I decided I really need to read more of his stuff (why do I do this? I'm doing with Cormac McCarthy right now, too).

Anyway, long story short, covid came, along with the lockdowns, so I gathered up all the James Herbert audio books and started going through them, roughly chronologically. But there came a point where I felt I was getting show more seriously diminishing returns. I could almost feel the ideas abandoning Herbert's once-fertile mind. It felt like he was very much writing to a formula.

So, for exactly a year, I didn't read anymore Herbert. I broke that ban four days ago and while I've decided, with only six more books left to go, I might as well finish him off, after this novel? Yeah, I'm kind of regretting that decision.

There's really nothing to like about this book.

Creed himself is utterly unlikeable. He's presented as someone willing to bend any rule and—true to Herbert form—screw any woman. I have a particular distaste for any fictional character who, while in the middle of an extremely horrific, life-threatening moment, still finds himself getting aroused because there's a hot woman around...even if he hates her. Creed does this more than once in this novel.

To be fair, it's a signature Herbert move, and I'm to the point where I expect it. But I still hate it.

And his supporting characters aren't much better. They're filled in with lackluster, sloppy distraction, so you don't really get to know any of them. However, that's not a bad thing, because none of them are really worth exploring.

The story itself seems to have been made up on the fly, with no concern to making it cohesive, or to even, at times, make sense. And then Herbert, having written himself into a corner, also has to resort to giving the reader the climax, such as it is, then gamely keep going to have a character come back and then provide the info dump required to allow the reader to make some sense of what the hell they just read.

And, finally, there's the curious narrative voice that Herbert busts out with no rhyme nor reason whenever he happens to require some quick explanation. Instead of working it into the story—like he also should have done with that ending info dump—he instead basically stops all forward action and breaks into the story, not necessarily stating, "Hi, I'm James Herbert, and I'm gonna tell you some stuff you need to know right now," but coming damn close. He basically uses the voice of someone who knows everything about what's going on, and is just helping you get some context.

Honestly, there was a point, about three-quarters of the way through this, where I began to think James Herbert had a thought, and maybe even made a bet with either his agent or his editor or his publisher.

Something along the lines of, "Hey, so, I've kinda got nothing here. It's really thin story that doesn't make a lot of sense, so I'm not even gonna try at all. Instead, I'm just gonna slapdash some scenes together, puff out the length of the manuscript with some name-dropped scenes of him trying to photograph celebrities, then, whatever needs explaining, I'll do at the end. Should take me...oh, I don't know...a week to throw it all together? How much you wanna bet having that 'James Herbert' name with still shift a lot of product, despite it being inked up toilet paper?"

By the time I finished the book?

Yeah, I was convinced this was the case.

This is one of the laziest, nonsensical, padded-out, boring, underwhelming horror novels I've ever had the misfortune of reading.

Another one like this from him, and I'm done. show less

4.5 stars!

This book was a rocking good time! Any fan of 80's style horror would dig this novel.

We have a paparazzo named Creed that is generally disliked. He is greedy, selfish and obnoxious. Thing is, you are rooting for him anyway. Mr. Herbert created a deeply flawed, but likable protagonist.

The best part, next to the 80's pulp feel, is the humor. Herbert somehow manages to have you laughing, sometimes even in the midst of dire situations. Then there's a few inside jokes; at one point Creed spots a rat and thinks: "Didn't he read somewhere that rats were taking over the city? Good idea for a book there. Somebody ought to do it." Anyone familiar with James Herbert's works chuckles right there.

I'm not going to get into the plot, the show more description does that. I will say that this book stoked up my Herbert jones and I can't wait to read more of his books. Highly recommended for fans of 80's horror.
For a good time, call Creed! show less

My favourite James Herbert book - and not just because I am a picture editor for a newspaper that uses a fair number of paparazzi shots: this story has it all - humour, horror and excellent characterisation.

Creed, the hero, is a total sleeze-ball who is saved from being completely despicable only by his humour and self-knowledge. The opening sequence is immediately gripping: having staked out a cemetery in the hopes of seeing celebrities at the funeral of a former star, he instead witnesses a sinister man masturbating on the grave, and not in a nice way.

Naturally, Creed photographs him and, despite the distance separating them, his subject is immediately aware of having been snapped. The thrills occur thick and fast when Creed show more actually develops the film [something photographers tended to do in the pre-digital days] and gets his first glimpse of those evil, burning eyes.

It's not long before he is paid a visit and forced [although to be honest he is so terrified not much force is required] to hand over the film. However, its too late, his son is kidnapped and he is made to act against character - a fate common to many of Herbert's male leads - and come to the rescue. Funny and frightening, it is a grand read! show less

This was... interesting. It definitely had some flaws, but the nature of the protagonist/hero, being a sleazeball that you need to root for, gave it a unique flavor, and it was overall a fun read.

The hero of this book, Joe Creed, is a sleezebag paparazzo, which is the singular noun for paparazzi. He has few positive attributes. He would do anything to get a good photograph so that he can sell it to the newspapers. He has an ex-wife whom he hates. He even hates his young son. This unendearing character holds our attention because of his complete lack of scruples. What makes this book so satisfying is that, despite himself, he does the decent thing, and at the end of the book, he becomes it's hero. It even has the corps of the paparazzi charging to the rescue like the calvary, which has got to be one of the cleverest twists I have ever read. The book is genuinely frightening. If the end doesn't quite resolve itself satisfactory, show more then the rest of the book succeeds in carrying you effortlessly from one page to the next. show less

Good book, enjoyed the build up and the ending but the middle got a bit strange for me, and dont get me wrong i love strange! just wasnt my kind of strange haha would definatly read more James Herbet however, loved the writing style, bit cheeky in places referencing his own work ;P looking forward to reading the rats at some stage!

It was ok but a bit of a slog