The descriptions of ancient ruins and lost cities really set the mood, and I'd have loved to check out more of Larry Brand's work. Brand imbues everything with a strange, eerie vibe that wouldn't have been out of place in a 1930s issue of Weird Tales, and while the horror here is pretty low-key, mostly, the occasional bursts of terror and violence come out of nowhere in a shocking fashion, especially after being lulled by the dream-like nature of the prose. The plot itself is fine, but it's the writing style here that made it unique and kept me absorbed. Could his dreams be about the mythical and near-forgotten lost city of Thule, said to have been inhabited by some sort of super-race of unholy demon-creatures conjured from the depths of the netherworld? And are they manifesting themselves once again? When people start ending up dead, gruesomely murdered by a powerful supernatural force, Alric must figure out the connection between the pyramid and the primeval city of his dreams. Alric begins having sinister dreams or visions of an advanced, Atlantis-type city from thousands of years ago while he and his wife are camped out nearby. But while the pyramid is being excavated, inexplicable things start happening. It's about an American archaeologist and his wife who fly out to Jerusalem once the golden tip of an ancient pyramid is somehow uncovered in the desert near the city, a pyramid that seemingly predates the Egyptian structures. It reminded me at times of both Clark Ashton Smith and early Karl Edward Wagner, due to the archaic language used throughout, as well as the elaborate imagery. Admittedly, I probably would have bought it anyway based on the cover alone, but Birthpyre was excellent pulpy weird fiction somewhat in the Lovecraftian tradition (though not a pastiche at all), and not the standard 80s midlist horror novel I was expecting. Now this is why I still take the occasional stab in the dark while out book-hunting. Alric wondered how many times their cold, bilious breath had been felt by men, how many times their purulent spirit had invaded the pores of civilization, like some virulent disease for which the body had inadequate protection. How much human suffering had been brought about in their unspoken name? How many had died? Through the centuries the screams of their victims could be heard, a low wailing against the pulse of history. Here's the not gaudy at all cover (by Terry Oakes) of my 1981 Corgi mass-market, 239 pages (285 for Avon edition).Ĭreatures of the night, of the ruins, their presence was palpable it exuded from the misshapen stone vertebrae like the rancid smell from a corpse.

Birthpyre by Larry Brand