Art… creating something from nothing, creating something from disparate materials can enliven a person’s passion or it can drive a person down a dark path. People say of art that it opens up the creator to something primal. In Andy Marino’s It Rides a Pale Horse, an artist (Peter Larkin, Lark to his friends) is charged with creating something…dark, tapping into primal forces. Maybe charged is too open of a word, Lark is essentially forced to open up his creative mind and what he aims to produce is more than art.
The Larkin siblings are known around the small town of Wofford Falls. Both are artists, but Peter Larkin, Lark to his friends, is the hometown hero. The one who went to the big city and got famous, then came back and settled down. He’s the kind of guy who becomes fast friends with almost anyone. His sister Betsy on the other hand is more… eccentric. She keeps to herself.
When Lark goes to deliver one of his latest pieces to a fabulously rich buyer, it seems like a regular transaction. Even being met at the gate of the sprawling, secluded estate by an intimidating security guard seems normal. Until the guard plays him a live feed: Betsy being abducted in real time.
Lark is informed that she’s safe for now, but her well‑being is entirely in his hands. He’s given a book. Do what the book says, and Betsy will go free.
It seems simple enough. But as Lark begins to read he realizes: the book might be demonic. Its writer may be unhinged. His sister’s captors are almost certainly not what they seem. And his town and those within it are… changing.
And the only way out is through.
The novel starts with Lark excited about his latest sculpture having been sold for a good price. He lives with his sister Betsy in Wofford Falls, a small town (though not stated, perhaps New York or New England?) The siblings are fairly well-known within the community as their art has drawn some interesting attention. Lark decides to deliver the sculpture himself and upon delivery, he is provided with a strange grimoire that provides illustrations of grotesque and horrific sculptures. Lark’s buyer then shows pictures of Betsy bound to a chair, a prisoner. He must create the sculptures pictured in the horrific text in order to save his sister. As it turns out, Betsy is also a painter, though her skill seems to be focused on forgeries and may have strange effects on people’s perceptions.
Lark is instructed not to contact the police, but his best friend helps, as does his agent. This doesn’t make his task any easier, because the art he must create is comprised of very particular, and at times, grisly components. The end game for Betsy’s captors and Lark’s “employers” might just lead to the conjuring of something very, very evil.
A lot of what the story is about is how art is a gateway, to many things – emotions, desperation, darkness. Marino gets that down pretty-well. He also does a very nice job of conveying dark imagery and horrific potential. The relationship between Lark and his friend feels fairly genuine and comes through in their dialogue. There’s something to be said for the sense of “other” that hangs over Betsy and Lark as artists. Sure, they are people, but because they have an ability to tap into something, they also seem somewhat unknowable as characters. There’s a distance between them and the reader, at least that’s how I felt.
I realize a sense of chaos, maybe a feeling of disjointedness, is intentional in the novel. For my reading sensibilities; however, that aforementioned distance made it difficult for me to fully entrench myself in the novel. There’s a shift between characters perspectives away from Lark in certain chapters that was jarring (again, probably intentionally), with that second narrative feeling groundless which ultimately left me disconnected to the perspective that wasn’t Lark’s. The characters in that second narrative thread were rather annoying to the point I felt the urge to “fast forward” through their sections and get back to the “main” thread from Lark’s perspective. The nature and purpose of that second narrative did eventually become clear, but by the time that clarity arrived in the novel, I’d already stopped caring about those particular characters. I also felt disengaged during the long passages and discussions around the artistic methods, which added to my frustration with the novel.
Marino does some interesting things with his characters, at least Lark and his two companions, pens engaging dialogue, and has a knack for crafting some horrific, visceral scenes. Unfortunately, those elements – while strong – weren’t strong enough to carry through the portions of the novel that didn’t work for me. That dichotomy ultimately left me feeling frustrated with the novel.
© 2022 Rob H. Bedford
Published by Redhook Books | Trade Paperback | October 2022
Review copy courtesy of the publisher
