Born out of the collective unconscious, archetypal entities some call demons randomly possess individuals. By turns benign, harmless, and malevolent, they create havoc wherever they go and keep the normal populace in a state of constant fear.
Possessed by a trouble-maker demon as a child, Del Pierce is over his affliction. At least, he was, until a car accident reawakens the demon and inches him toward madness with every breakdown. During his journey to be cured, he encounters a variety of odd characters, from a possessed Philip K. Dick to a punk-rock priestess, who all think there’s something special about Del; whether that’s good or bad is one of the many issues he needs to confront.
Plucked off the bookstore shelf, Daryl Gregory’s Pandemonium, his first novel, isn’t very attention-grabbing. A generic title (offset by “demon” highlighted in evil-eye red—cutesy) and a cover that doesn’t tell you much at all (as pretty as it is, care of Greg Ruth) almost destine it for mid-list obscurity, at best. That’s a shame because looking past the packaging, you’ll find a unique fusion of psychology, pop culture, and occult tropes that ultimately yields a novel unlike any other.
Gregory wastes no time and lays most, but not all, of his cards down in chapter one; we see possession in action and the frenzy that ensues, the interplay between Del and his family, a cornerstone of the human element in the novel, and the demon lurking in his head, awake and eager to get out. It’s that commitment to forward motion that animates the plot throughout; not to say there aren’t downbeats, but the story moves at a brisk pace, driven by the anxiety over Del’s demon breaking loose. Even when possible solutions dead-end, he perseveres, knowing he has to do something.
As the main character and narrator, Del receives the most fleshing out; he’s neither saint nor Samaritan, but all the same, he faces his own problems and weaknesses head on, never above asking for help when needed. Gregory renders Del’s sanity just questionably enough that we can still trust him as the narrator without completely eradicating some degree of skepticism.
Although Gregory explores a number of Del’s relationships with family and friends, he really brings to life the fraternal dynamic between Del and Lew. A big lug with a fondness for computer analogies, Lew trades verbal jabs with his brother; even so, whenever Del needs help—whether it’s driving across several states or footing a bill—he always rises to the occasion.
Gregory gives Del a believable, authentic voice; you’ll rarely come across the kind of overwrought language that certain novels seem to demand, and the tone remains generally conversational without being too affected. As regards infodumping, Gregory errs slightly on the side of excess, to lend credibility to some of the more psych-heavy exchanges.
All these qualities together would make a fine novel worth being proud of, but Pandemonium’s greatest strength lies in its singular milieu. The novel is set very much in the here and now—save the demonic presence—so Gregory can reference Philip K. Dick and A.E. van Vogt, the O.J. trial, and golden age comics for better verisimilitude. Jungian psychological theory informs the way characters understand the demon phenomenon, and it’s explained so clearly that any layperson can grasp the concepts; it does occasionally get to be too much, but those instances are rare, and brief.
By all rights, Daryl Gregory should earn more than a few fans with Pandemonium; in addition to putting a new spin on an old idea, he shows a talent for character, voice, and pacing that will no doubt improve with experience. Whatever the book’s success, he’ll be a novelist to watch for down the line.
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Martian Time-Slip, by Philip K. Dick