First Things First…
I can’t help but wonder if this story relates to “The Book of Blood,” the first story of Barker’s Books of Blood volumes. That’s the framing device for all the stories that follow, about tortured souls carving their stories into the skin of a false psychic. So, simply because of “skins” being in the title, it’d be cool if there’s a deeper connection. But if not, I’m always happy to get to the next story from Barker that I haven’t read yet.
3 Things I Like
3. The Posse
It eventually becomes clear that the monsters are the good guys. So, the posse hunting them must be bad guys, right?
Well… they’re an angry, violent, murderous mob. Not exactly great qualities.
But in their defense, they don’t understand what they’re facing. And it’s not like the monsters explain themselves. They just know there’s a troupe of giant, supernatural demons that have seemingly abducted a child from their community.
Now, that alone isn’t enough for me to like the posse…
But I do like their courage. Davidson, the out-of-towner from the beginning of the story who first spots the demons crossing the desert, “… could only watch with admiration the way these foolish, hardy people were attempting to confront impossible odds. He was strangely enervated by the spectacle; like watching settlers in some movie, preparing to muster paltry weaponry and simple faith to meet the pagan violence of the savage.”
Even though their cause is ultimately wrong, and the demons they’re facing down aren’t savages at all, I like how the story still paints the townies as courageous underdogs with the conviction to protect their own, odds be damned.
2. Sleepwalking Through Life
I’m fascinated by Davidson. When he first encounters the monsters, and one of them destroys his Mustang, he wonders what he could possibly write on an insurance form to explain the damage. In the midst of surreal chaos, he’s worried about something so mundane.
But near the end of the story, as he’s trapped and death is just around the corner, it says…
“He scarcely thought of himself. Of the East, of Barbara, of the children, he thought not at all.”
It seems that, in the earlier example, once his fear subsides as he realizes he’s safe, his thoughts immediately return to life’s petty realities. But in the later example, he calls for help, and his thoughts don’t seem to extend beyond trying to survive.
There’s not even a mention of him having a family, or of him being from the East, until that line on the last page of the story. It’s sad that, even in the most unprecedented, unimaginable situation, this guy fails to appreciate what’s most important in life.
1. Monstrous Dads
These creatures are called “monsters” and “demons,” and they’re said to have been “spat out” from the desert. It’s a nice swerve when this procession of monsters crossing the desert turn out to be loving, doting fathers returning for their son.
1 Thing I’m Mixed On
1. The Ballad of Lucy and Eugene
“He’d pleasure her all day and all night sometimes; in the house they were building, or out on the sand in the late afternoon. The desert made a fine bed, and they could lie uninterrupted beneath the wide sky.”
Narrator
I won’t make excuses for Eugene. He’s an abusive asshole who can’t cope with the cards life has dealt him, and he takes it out on his son (or stepson, I’m not exactly sure how to classify their relationship). Either way, he beats Aaron, and it’s implied that some of the abuse is sexual, or at least trending in that direction.
That said, despite how utterly wrong it is to take out his rage on a kid, Eugene has a compelling reason to feel aggrieved. Before the monsters came, he and Lucy had a loving, committed relationship. Then these creatures arrived and literally pulled him out of her mid-intercourse so they could take turns having sex with her. As he hung in the air, “… he saw his wife twenty feet below him, still bare, still spread butterfly wide, with monsters on every side. Casually, without malice, they threw him away, out of their ring of admiration, and out of her sight.”
I’ve re-read this passage, along with the next few paragraphs, a dozen times, and I’m still struggling to evaluate the situation. It sure sounds like these giant creatures raped Lucy. There was no asking for or giving consent. They did what they did with the intention of impregnating this stranger, so they could restart their ancient creation ritual.
But even though no words were exchanged, it seems Lucy was receptive from the start. Not only does she remember that day fondly, she felt a loss in the moment, as soon as the creatures left…
“When they went away, and her skin was touched with sunlight again, she felt, though on reflection it seemed shameful, a loss; as though the zenith of her life was passed, and the rest of her days would be a cold ride down to death.”
Also, they were gentle, caring lovers, that never harmed her. She welcomes their return. And the love and affection they shower on Aaron is in stark contrast with Eugene’s abuse.
Tim Matassa
