 Being a fan who isn’t necessarily old enough to have been there at the beginning of Stephen King’s career, I’ve always been curious when that cultural tipping point was for him. The moment when Stephen King became “Stephen King”, if you will. My personal opinion is that it was The Stand that elevated him into those upper realms of literary success and branded his name into the minds of readers all over. And this may seem like grandiose dramatizing on my part, blowing up the work of a friend but if there’s any justice in the world, this book will prove to be that moment when readers alike start whispering the name of Duncan Ralston. And the book we shall come to speak of with such reverence is The Midwives. Before I even get into the book I think it’s important to take note that this book comes rushing in on the heels of Ghostland, an equally impressive book that had just begun to clear from our minds before another amazing book was dropped. It was like that moment when the Beatles released Rubber Soul and then months later was like, “Oh, and here’s Revolver as well. Cheers.” Again, taking me back to the roaring seventies and eighties, the height of Stephen King’s career when he would sometimes put out three books in a year, all equally good. To see Ghostland and Midwives hit the market at practically the same time flies in the face of all that should be rational in the world. And dipping again into realms outside the actual book, the stereotype and cliche is you can’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe. But there are plenty of covers that send you diving for your wallet. Ghostland was one of those books. Midwives is another. Duncan pulled out all the stops on this one, rolling out a cover that is breathtaking, disturbing and captivating. All at the same time. It’s a cover that takes you by the shoulder and draws you in, promising not safety but merely the assurance that something memorable is about to happen. I’m not normally a fan of book covers that lean too closely to movie posters but this one is classic. I’ll cop to it, I’m a sucker for stories about little horrific pockets of humanity that exist under their own rules, tucked away so neatly amongst the folds of society that we don’t even know that they are there. And Duncan plays up this aspect perfectly, giving the reader a chilling perspective on what the main characters will only gradually begin to understand. There are two primary narratives running through this, first that of the escaped serial killer and his pursuit of the author who gained fame and fortune off of his crimes. The attempt to flee to safety leads the author back to his childhood home and creates the second thread, that of his re-immersion into a town where even the horrors of his nightmares fall short of reality. It’s a book that I had trouble turning away from. That also is a cliche but it happens to be true in this case. The characters and the sinister undertones of the town create an atmosphere that is impossible to ignore. And the paranormal aspects of the story are woven in so cleanly and are so believable that the book could almost cross the divide and be accepted into the so-called ivory tower of “literary” horror. It’s a book that takes the fantastic and puts it on a level where you could actually believe it. And the nostalgic side of me loves that the style feels quite similar to the grittier classics of the seventies, alongside titles such as The Exorcist and Rosemary’s Baby. These are books that take you into the disturbing worlds that for all you know could be happening just down the road or maybe even next door. It’s a glimpse into dark possibility and even if you dismiss the paranormal aspects it’s still a chilling reminder that you never really fully know the people in your lives. That you could be one drawn curtain away from your entire world falling to pieces. It’s a brilliant mix of a suspenseful attempt to escape the attention of an escaped serial killer, along with the creeping dread of a community that you can’t help but be unsettled by, despite knowing nothing solid about it. If you haven’t read anything of Duncan’s before, start with this. Then read another. And another. And another. I promise you won’t be let down or feel the drag of such a journey. We are sitting at the ground floor of what should be a heralded and brilliant career. Do yourself a favor and book yourself a ticket.  A killer on the loose. A writer on the run. A town plagued by an ancient evil. On tour with his latest book, true crime writer Martin Savage discovers one of his most-dangerous subjects has escaped. The so-called "Witch Hunter," a delusional murderer of women and their unborn children, holds a deadly grudge. He'll stop at nothing to get his revenge, and destroy everything Martin cares about. With nowhere to run, Martin and forensic psychologist Sheila Tanner flee to the town he left when he was a boy, after his mother was locked away in a psychiatric facility. A town hidden deep in his past, where no one would think to look for them. But things are not what they seem in Barrows Bay. The idyllic island holds terrible secrets. An ancient evil lived here long before the first Irish settlers crashed upon its shores in a coffin ship. An evil wearing the innocent faces of elderly midwives who've delivered every child in the Bay for two hundred and fifty years. Martin and Sheila think they’re safe in his childhood home. But Martin’s mother has plans for them. Plans that require sacrifice. And sacrifice requires blood.   Comments are closed.
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