With his first Arkham Horror novel, In the Coils of the Labyrinth, David Annandale delivers a slow-burn tale of physical illness and mental torment that ably demonstrates why this is such a perfect author/setting combination. Worn down by what she’s long suspected is tuberculosis, Professor Miranda Ventham reluctantly checks herself into the Stroud Institute, Arkham’s newly-opened sanatorium. While the care she receives there seems genuinely beneficial to begin with, something about the Institute feels unsettling, and Miranda’s plagued by troubling, confusing dreams. Determined to understand what’s happening, and helped on the outside by her friend, parapsychologist Agatha Crane, Miranda sets out to learn what she can about the Institute and its director, Donovan Stroud. As dreams and reality become harder to tell apart though, the darkness at the heart of the Institute threatens to drag her down and never let her go.
There’s something really interesting about an Arkham Horror story that mostly does away with tangible monsters, cultists, secret societies and brave investigators, and instead concentrates on the Romantic poets, early 20th century healthcare, and the blurring boundaries between dreams and reality brought on by serious illness. This sort of quiet, subtle horror is arguably what Annandale does best, and in Miranda he’s created a brilliant protagonist who’s both utterly out of her depth and, strangely, ideally suited to the danger she finds herself in. She’s remarkably relatable as she struggles to understand what’s real and what’s brought on by her illness, and it’s impossible not to sympathise with her – initially bedridden, wracked with coughing fits, surrounded by equally unwell strangers and stern nurses in a creepy building with odd, twisting corridors. Not to mention the vivid nightmares filled with snakes, worms and worse.
What’s also notable here is that while Miranda and Agatha might not be seasoned occult detectives (although Agatha isn’t that far off), they are impressively well coordinated, working together as an effective team and, crucially, communicating well with each other. Miranda is largely constrained by the bounds of the Institute, while Agatha’s increased agency sees her venturing as far as wind-swept Galloway in Scotland, but the way they share information and treat each other as equals is strangely refreshing. Cleverly bridging the humanities/sciences divide, between them they manage an impressive balance between willing belief and academic rigour that works well with the slow-burn nature of the story, as they gradually piece together the reality (and history) of the Institute and the true scale of the danger they’re in, by way of Wordsworth, a rough sea voyage, some very un-academic breaking and entering, and some decidedly strange group therapy.
You could perhaps view this as Miranda’s first steps towards looking beyond Arkham’s general sense of malaise and entering the world of the occult, and as such it would make a good first Arkham Horror novel for readers not familiar with the setting. Regardless of familiarity though, readers who generally prefer slow and subtle horror to in-your-face monsters and demons will find a lot to appreciate (and be creeped out by) here, not least in Annandale’s depiction of tuberculosis and its effects. That unsettling feeling of being ill, and of illness warping your sense of reality until you’re not sure if what you’re seeing is real or not, runs throughout the story, and likewise the questions and doubts thrown up by the contrast between the Institute’s medical purpose and sinister nature. Look elsewhere in the range for really overt Lovecraftian cosmic horror – this takes a different approach, focusing on the slow build of tension and the anticipation of the inevitable, and it works really well.
Review copy provided by the publisher
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