BiblioAddict

“Pop Art” from 20TH CENTURY GHOSTS
by Joe Hill
William Morrow / Oct. 2007
336 pages / $24.95

and

ODD THOMAS
by Dean Koontz
Bantam Books / Aug. 2006
400 pages / $7.99

In the space of two weeks, I have embarrassed myself by becoming a misty-eyed fountain of tears in public spaces. The first of these experiences occurred when I was on a plane from D.C. to Boston, and the second happened when I was in a doctor’s waiting room. The cause of these mortifying displays of emotion? Two horror stories. Now, I’ve learned over the years as a reader to eschew expectations when it comes to certain writers working in particular genres, especially when it’s a writer with which I’m not very familiar. Having said that, whenever I read horror, I rarely expect to be moved to tears. However, if Joe Hill’s short story “Pop Art” and Dean Koontz’s novel ODD THOMAS is any indication, I should not be surprised to turn into a whimpering fool the next time I venture into the horror genre.

Hill’s “Pop Art” recounts the friendship between a twelve year-old outcast and the inflatable boy, Art. Art is the Seinfeldian “Bubble Boy” turned on its head. Rather than living in a bubble, Art is the bubble: he’s made of plastic, he can float, he doesn’t have legs, and his lips don’t move. And Art is as nice and amicable as the “Bubble Boy” in the popular Seinfeld episode is ornery. Technically, Art has no heart and no brain, but the touching aspect of “Pop Art” is that the story itself, with its budding friendship between two such unlikely characters, has heart and brains in spades.

My best friend when I was twelve was inflatable…. Talk was mostly what we did – in his condition rough-house was out of the question – and the subject of death, and what might follow it came up more than once. I think Arthur knew he would be lucky to survive high school. When I met him, he had already almost been killed a dozen times, once for every year he had been alive. The afterlife was always on his mind; also the possible lack of one…

Also, I can say truthfully, he was the most completely harmless person I’ve ever known. Not only would he not hurt a fly, he couldn’t hurt a fly. If he slapped one, and lifted his hand, it would buzz off undisturbed. He was like a holy person in a Bible story, someone who can heal the ripped and infected parts of you with a laying-on of hands. You know how Bible stories go. That kind of person, they’re never around long. Losers and jerks put nails in them and watch the air run out.

Of course, this is exactly what happens in a manner of speaking. The tragedy that befalls Art would have been enough to dissolve me into a puddle of tears. But, when Art meets his particular challenge with more courage and acceptance than someone twice his age, I was a complete gonner. Even now, as I re-read portions of it to remind myself of certain details, I can feel the tears welling up.

It’s been a long while since a story has made me cry so strongly, which makes the fact that less than a week later Dean Koontz’s ODD THOMAS had me bawling too almost unbelievable. What is going on here? Is it me? Have I become more sensitive than usual or is it just a coincidence of stories? As sensitive as I have a tendency to be, I vote for the latter. What gets me easier than anything else are stories in which bad things happen to good people. I suppose it was just my misfortune – if one could call it that since they were both excellent – to have read two stories of that kind within such a short time.

Over the course of 446 pages, I fell in love with Odd Thomas. From the opening pages and that first intriguing scene, the modest short-order cook who sees ghosts and has a sense of premonition which helps him prevent crimes had me at hello. In ODD THOMAS, he is warned by the appearance of evil hyena-like shades that something terrible is about to happen to his home town Pico Mundo. Odd has two days, at the most, to prevent the imminent catastrophe and save the lives that will inevitably be lost.

Odd is unlike any hero I’ve read in a very long while. For starters, he’s incredibly humble. He truly loves being a short-order cook, and whenever he considers a career change, it’s to become an esteemed car tire salesman. Secondly, though many of his actions are in fact heroic, he is not devoid of fears and vulnerabilities. By his own admittance, he has plenty of them- one of them being a fear of guns. He doesn’t help the Pico Mundo P.D. solve crimes because he’s on a mission, but because he feels an overwhelming guilt when he doesn’t.

Like Art, Odd is a genuinely open-hearted, good person who doesn’t deserve the hand with which he’s dealt. Also, like “Pop Art,” ODD THOMAS doesn’t end without Odd suffering tragic battle scars. Once again, I found myself blubbering like an idiot as I turned the final page. I also found Koontz’s writing subtly impressive. It’s deceptively simple, yet several passages and pages flow like water, with a clear and smooth poetry. ODD THOMAS is the first in a trilogy of books, and if you haven’t guessed yet, I plan to read the following two books as soon as possible. At least next time, I’ll know to keep a box of tissues handy.