Reading By Numbers

From the minute I held it in my hands, I knew that Faces in the Fire was going to be a book I’d never forget.

Confused initially, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. The first chapter was numbered “34.” It had to be a mistake, right? Part of a series, I thought. Flipping through the pages, I was sure that this was a sequel and I had somehow over looked the first book. As I searched the stacks leaving myself with only false hope, I realized this was the only one.

Immediately, I was intrigued.

The chapter numbers followed no noticeable pattern. They jumped around, seemingly at random.

The incoherent chapter numbers struck a note in my horror-hooked mind and I couldn’t help but read it. (I would LOVE to tell you the sequencing, but it gives too much away.) Faces in the Fire was written by T.L. Hines. Hines is famous for leaving it to the readers to tie up the lose ends. It’s a risky move to create a story with so many questions and neglect to answer them. If done wrong, you might just be labeled a lazy writer…Not Hines. Shockingly, once I’d read the final page, satisfaction was all I felt. In some strange, un-geometrical way it had come full circle.

Unfortunately, about two minutes after I finished, I reflected on the puzzle piece story line and the almost mystical characters. Suddenly, intrigue turned to rage. It hit me almost simultaneously as I went to put the book down. All the questions I had gathered from the book, had been ANYTHING but answered. I found myself saying “Hines, really? You can’t do that to me!” Slowly, I began to see the genius in it. My rage transformed into astonishment and admiration.

I've quoted Steven King about this in an earlier post, and I’ll do it again.

"All the arts depend upon telepathy to some degree, but I believe that writing offers the purest distillation” (Steven King, On Writing). In this same book, he states, “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s” (Steven King, On Writing).

Hines accomplishes this beautifully. Faces in the Fire showcases that every reader can and will make their own interpretations of a story. Each can take what they want from it and decide for themselves what they want it to mean. Reading Faces in the Fire is like those Paint by Number kits? You get a picture and you match the paint colors to specific numbers. But no one really uses those numbers, the real pictures come from those who make it up themselves.

It's sort of like that.

Hines provides a general guideline for how the story plays out, but ultimately, the colors, the details, the answers it’s all up to the reader.

Another aspect of Hines writing that deserves a moment of our time is his ability to make the unbelievable believable in the span of about two pages. The main character is a man named Kurt. Kurt has a special talent that is usually only portrayed as entertainment. He can hear ghosts in the possessions of dead people. Kurt takes control of this situation by collecting the clothing or objects that speak to him. Typically, I’m laughing at this sort of thing, but in light of Faces in the Fire, it only added to the eeriness and excitement of the story. It seemed perfectly normal that someone could hear the ghosts of people in their old things. This simple ability of getting people to believe whatever idiocy you put in a book, is fundamental to any story, especially to a horror story. (Not to say Hines book is idiotic nonsense, but hopefully you get my point.)

I would not describe Faces in the Fire as graphic or gory. It’s not openly scary as most stories try to be. It is one novel I would definitely place on the Thriller end of the scale. Instead of blood and guts or psychological panic attacks, it is composed in a fashion that draws the reader in. It’s mystery captivates and allures, until your dependent on knowing how it ends. This bewitching power is why I consider it to be a great story. Faces in the Fire is twisted and strange (therefore qualifying it, in my book, to be considered among other Horror/Thriller/Suspense novels). The way it mesmerized me as I read was fascinating. It managed to blind me with my own addiction.

You will be forever annoyed and in love with the nonsensical set up of Faces in the Fire. T.L. Hines is a lyrical enchanter who will leave you with the satisfaction of uncertainty.

Books or Movies?

Separating genres is difficult. For the most part, when I reference “Horror Fiction” I include anything falling under that category, but I also tend to take into account anything labelled as “Thriller,” “Suspense,” or sometimes even “Speculative.” I am obsessed with anything scary. Books or movies. However, there is something about a book that makes the whole experience come full circle. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never pass up a late night filled with terror and panic on the TV screen. Yet watching and reading are two EXTREMELY different adventures. For one, with a movie, what you see is what you get. While the director can leave some things up to imagination, ultimately the interface between you and the horror depends mainly on how much you can take or how much the director wants to show.

On the contrary, a book is practically on the opposite end of things. While the author creates a framework and a plot, your mind (your subconscious even) fills in all the details.

If a director points the camera at a room during a crazed man’s fit of insanity ending in a violent massacre that leaves an innocent bystander dead, the viewer is subject to only what the camera shoots. Suppose a writer, on the other hand, portrays that same episode in a novel. In this case, the scene, when read, will look surprising different to all who read it. In my opinion, this intensifies the fear factor greatly. Suddenly, the readers are viewing the frenzied outburst through their personal filters, implanting their own fears and apprehensions.

No two people will undergo the exact same experience.

This, to me, is the magic of books. They are unfinished, incomplete works of art.

In his book, On Writing, Stephen King argues that telepathy is quite a normal occurrence. King writes, “All the arts depend upon telepathy to some degree, but I believe that writing offers the purest distillation” (King 95). He goes on to explain by using On Writing as an example. “I’m writing the first draft of this part at my desk…on a snowy morning in December of 1997. … So let’s assume that you’re in your favorite receiving place just as I am in the place where I do my best transmitting. We’ll have to perform our mentalist routine not just over distance but over time as well, yet that presents no real problem;” (King 95, 97).

King goes on to explicitly describe a table supporting a cage that contains a rabbit, using distinct detail. After the illustration he asks, “Do we see the same thing?” (King 97). He states yes, in fact for the most part everyone who reads that will see the table upon which sits a cage housing a rabbit. (To enforce my point that no two experiences are the same, King also says that minor details will probably have changed, such as the exact shade of the red table cloth.)

For books to be concluded, they need to be read and experienced. The images must come alive in the reader.

If you’re not a big reader, then by all means, continue satisfying your horror addiction through the TV screen. I have no objection to a dark room, the aroma of popcorn and Chinese food. The wafting light of silver screen-nightmares nurturing short-term fixes. However, to the truly fear-wrought adrenaline junkies, the suspiciously devout bookworms, and the read-between-the-lines aficionados, may your habit never be kicked and may your desires never be completely indulged.

SOURCES:
King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. New York, NY: Scribner, 2010. Print.