Gay Rebel Scum

Posted by Shannon Fay

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The title, the cover art, the tagline (“A picture is worth a thousand nightmares”) would lead you to assume that The Macabre is a horror novel. Yet, while there are some pretty horrific deaths in the book, at its heart the novel is a fantasy adventure in which the main character tracks down magical paintings in order to save the world as we know it. It’s reminiscent of Clive Barker, but Clive Barker at his most fantastical: less Hellraiser (1987), more Weaveworld (1987).

Lewis Dixion is a Black, gay painter in his early thirties from Baltimore. At the start of the book, his mother has just died. While still dealing with the loss, he travels outside the US for the first time, to the UK. He’s been invited to take part in an exhibit being held at the British Museum, but this high honour turns out to be a ploy to bring him to London. Once there, Evangeline, the director of Britain’s magical intelligence service, enlists Lewis’s help. It turns out that he is a descendent of Edgar Dumont, a British painter who lived during the late 1800s and whose paintings are full of magic, bringing death and despair to the people in their vicinity. Evangeline wishes to use Lewis’s own magical ability and connection to the paintings to find the works of art and neutralize them. Lewis agrees, in part because he is immediately captivated by the world of magic, but even more importantly because he is a good person who wishes to save lives.

The book manages to weave together its episodic structure with an overarching narrative. Lewis will become aware of a painting, travel to its location, and use his innate powers to attempt to neutralize it. But from the start Lewis is wary of Evangeline, and with each mission it becomes more and more clear that she may have ulterior motives for finding these paintings.

Each painting has a different effect on the world around it, but there’s a constant theme of each attaching itself to someone who has suffered a loss. The paintings sap energy from their patrons, in return giving them the illusions they deeply desire. The paintings are unpredictable and dangerous, and people (both magical agents and civilians) die gruesome deaths when they are activated. These moments are especially compelling as some of these deaths are brought about by Lewis himself as he rushes to do the right thing, inadvertently screwing things up because of his lack of experience with magic. Lewis, as someone who just lost his mother, is highly sympathetic to the people under the sway of the paintings, but his good intentions often do more harm than good.

Aside from this thematic throughline being very satisfying, the chapters featuring the paintings are just fun. Lewis and his comrades have to operate like spies in order to get close to the owners of the paintings and come up with almost heist-like plans to save the day. Another satisfying throughline within the novel is the relationship between Lewis and Noah Rao, Evangeline’s righthand man. When Lewis first meets Noah, the latter acts like a pompous ass. But Lewis holds his own against the posh snob, and eventually it becomes clear that Lewis was acting standoffish in order to try and dissuade Lewis from stepping into the dangerous world of magic. As Noah and Lewis start hunting down the paintings together, there’s still tension, but that tension takes a on a new dimension as Lewis starts to develop romantic feelings for Noah. They have great chemistry—during an early mission they pose as boyfriends in order to get close to a target, and their fake dating scenes had me kicking my feet and grinning. Even as Noah and Lewis race around the world engaging in magic shenanigans, the moments showcasing their relationship shine. Later on in the book, when things get serious and the characters are in mortal peril, I was genuinely upset at the prospect of Noah and Lewis being separated one way or the other.

The art caper plot does have a major failing. Part of the fun of a global heist story like this lies in the exotic locales. Aside from Baltimore and London, the characters also travel to Nigeria, Australia, India, France, and Japan. But they could have easily travelled to Egypt, China, Spain, or wherever for all the detail we get on the page. No location really gets described, no place feels all that different from anywhere else, despite being set on widely different parts of the globe. I would have been happy for even clichéd descriptions of tourist locations. They go to Osaka at one point, which is a nice departure from Tokyo as the go-to Japanese city; but it may as well have been Tokyo for all the care the narrative gives the setting. Give me the giant mechanical crab!

Another issue with the book is that its international cast all sound the same. Specifically, they sound American. I’m not looking for some over-the-top “’ello, guv’nor” speech inflections, but some form of British slang or phrasing would have helped sell the Brit characters a lot. This is especially the case since Britain vs. the US is a big theme of the book: With Lewis being a Black American man and Noah being British-Indian, they occasionally debate the opposing natures of the US and UK, discussing how the US prizes individuality where the UK is more concerned with the collective. Colonialism is also a theme: It’s no coincidence that the UK magical intelligence agency operates under the guise of the British Museum, a storehouse of pilfered artifacts. There is also nice nuance in how both Evangeline and Noah, high-up agents for the British Museum, are people of colour, showing that even those who have been marginalized can buy into the system for their own gain.

One of the best examples of the book exploring colonialism comes early on when Lewis recalls the invitations he’d received to come to the UK:

Distinguished Guest Lewis Dixion:

As you may know, England has a long, accomplished and storied history. But often at the expense of others, leaving a gash on our beautiful nation’s relationship with previous and currently held colonies.

This is why we are honored to invite you to the British Museum exhibit, in partnership with Tate Britain, entitled: A Lesson in Deference. This exhibit will showcase one artist each from the 120 colonies held by Britain over the years.

And we have selected you to represent your nation: the United States of America. (p. 44)

The letter is such a simpering, insincere example of self-flagellation. By showcasing just one artist from each colony, they are reducing them to a literal token representation of that country. And also, Lewis doesn’t even end up taking part in this exhibit since, as previously mentioned, it is merely a pretext to get him to the UK to enlist his help. The British Museum is not looking to celebrate Lewis, but to use him.

While the characters talk a lot about colonialism, unfortunately as the book goes on it feels like its anti-colonial themes are relegated to just talk. When the true antagonist of the book is revealed, the characters become dead set on stopping her and keeping her plan from coming to fruition. Which of course makes sense in the moment (reality is at stake and all that), but it also doesn’t address the fact that the villain is just one person in a much larger organization, someone acting in service to a world power. She is a cog in a well-oiled machine. Even if they stop her, the machine will keep going and someone with the same aims and goals will replace her.

The end of the book comes close to addressing this issue. The main characters break away from their old ways in order to form their own group, operating outside of any nation or organization. It’s nice to see this ragtag gang create something outside of the established power structures, but their efforts seem like a drop in the bucket compared to the forces that are well entrenched in the world. It’s a happy end for the characters but feels less than satisfying after all the broader issues have been raised.

When it’s firing on all cylinders, The Macabre approaches the fantasy-spy fun of Daniel O’Malley’s The Rook (2012). The problem is that, despite having a lot of good elements, outside of a few electrifying set pieces they often they fail to spark.

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