Product Description

One man's death is another man's pleasure in national bestselling author Michael Slade's most dazzling novel yet.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #2445798 in Books
• Published on: 2004-04
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 428 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Horror fans who don't mind prose riddled with puns, old movie references and plot-stopping lectures on everything from ancient Egyptian spiritual beliefs to geographic profiling will welcome the pseudonymous Michael Slade's Death's Door, an over-the-top near-parody of psychothrillers, in which RCMP Chief Superintendent Robert DeClercq gets on the trail of a missing mummy and a multitude of mayhem-making murderers. "Slade" is now the father-daughter team of Jay and Rebecca Clarke.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Customer Reviews

That does it: another writer falling back on previous fame
Once upon a time, "Michael Slade" wrote original, interesting stories with well-nuanced characters in a sub-genre of "splatterpunk". But that was 20 years ago, and the original authors behind the Slade name (John Banks, Jay Clarke, Lee Clarke, Richard Covell) have dispersed, leaving the father-daughter team of Jay and Rebecca Clarke to trade in on the earlier "glories", and all we get are the now-standard "Special X" characters and a franchise name. Pity. OK, I'll concede that there is a veneer of intelligence usually lacking in graphic (as in "gore-riddled") crime fiction, but just sticking a bibliography at the end of every book doesn't necessarily make that book intelligent in and of itself. "Death's Door" is the most egregrious example of laurel-resting I've come across in a looooong time, worse even than Stephen King's last two or three thousand books. Not only are the major characters recycled, including the villian ("Mephisto", oh, dear.....), they are now recycled cardboard. Zinc Chandler gets to bang his head (again - poor man would be in an institution by now), DeClerq gets to act the swell and brood (alternately), "Ghost Keeper" is even more of a stereotype than his last appearance, as is Ed "Mad Dog" Rabidowski (full-blown psychotic now), and the rest of the crew, well, what did you expect?

I really hate it when an author can't break new ground and instead feels entitled to dish out familiar material to an apparently easily-satisfied fan-base. Believe me, if this was "Michael Slade's" *first* novel, no publisher would touch it.

Do yourself a favor: if you've already read the first four Slade books ("Headhunter" through "Cutthroat"), you've read all that's *worth* reading. You can stop now and pick up something else, something different, original, and not continue to encourage sloppy, condescending, franchise gunk.

Slade, if you come up with something OFF of the "Special X" gravy train you've been riding a little *too* long, I'll be delighted to check it out. Otherwise: you've sold me your last book.

A Killing Education
After following the adventures of Mounty Robert DeClercq and his cohorts in Special X through some 10 reincarnations, I can proudly say that I have discovered something called Thriller Writer's Stress Syndrome (TWSS). It appears as a drive by a writer (or writers, in this case) to outdo previous volumes in a series in number of victims slaughtered, frequency of slaughters, or grossness of means. "Death's Door" certainly attempts to set a new standard for acreage of surgically ruined corpses. And for total number of psychotics between two covers. And for the most extensive number of side-bar lectures used to fatten a plot (more about this later).

What starts out as an investigation into the bloodthirsty theft of a rare mummy that spans two continents, turns into the discovery of a snuff film studio, which then turns into the unmasking of what could best be described as a medical mayhem club, which... You get the idea, every chapter of two the killings get worse and the killers get crazier. This time we also get a case of incessant cliffhangers. I cannot tell if it is deliberate, or accidental, but the book turns into an outrageous parody of the entire hack and slash genre. It is funny in a "you dropped the coffin on my foot" way.

It would be much more effective if the writers would interrupt the plot less often for a lecture on anything from paraphilia to which side of their brains Native Americans use to think. It is simply too much information - often distracting, and in the last case, more than a trifle offensive. The writer's who make up Slade have always been prone to excess, but the last few volumes have been less successful at walking the thin line between a thriller and an encyclopedia of the grotesque. This time the overload manages to distract from the intensity of the plot and reduce the impact of the crimes.

Despite all this, it is quite possible to like the underlying style despite its foibles. Especially if the reader has a taste for the ridiculous, which I admit I do. The Slade books can be an enjoyable way to fill a few hours of life's tedium. But don't expect the bone-jarring horror of the first few volumes in the series. This is mayhem a la mode.

Top Notch Thriller
Michael Slade just keeps getting better and better. Can't wait for the next installment in the fight between DeClercq and arch villian, Mephisto. It is bloody and sadistic, but that is the nature of the villian -- someone who knows no restrait in his desire for the ultimate pleasure and we don't know yet what that is. You can see Mephisto going deeper and deeper into evil and DeClercq and crew doing their best to stop him. Couldn't put down and rates five stars (I normally don't give more than four).