Member Reviews
This was such an odd-cross section of historical fiction and horror and the paranormal, but it works so well. The grim realities of life as a hobo, and riding the rails around America, combined with ghosts who don't always have the best of intentions. Guignard did an excellent job of bringing both setting and characters to life while weaving an unforgettable story that will have chills running down your spine in the hottest weather. The writing style was unique, and although the plot doesn't move along at a smooth pace, it seems to feel right for this story. Overall, an intriguing read that has me wanting to read more from this author.
It's been awhile since I read a book that has stayed with me as long as this one. I picked this one up mostly because I've been fascinated by the Hobo Code since reading about something similar in The Adventure of the Dancing Men by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The idea that it is a secret code that leads to an alternate reality is fascinating, and the alternate reality, Athanasia, is utterly remarkable.
There is so much to unpack with this story, which, really, is about stories and how they are used to keep memories alive. Storytelling goes back to the earliest days of humans, where people used stories as a way to remember and to teach. Guignard uses that in a cautionary way when describing the inhabitants of Athanasia and how their actions cross over from memory to real life in very unexpected ways. I was particularly fascinated with the American Revolutionary characters included here, and Guignard's presentation of how the memories of one particular Founding Father persist was rather frightening.
The commentary on truth and how storytelling is designed to take "truth" and make it bigger is something the reader will think about for a long time. The desire to be remembered is something we all experience, but some need more. In many ways, this story is an allegory for our current rabid social media culture, where people so crave attention that they make up personas and lifestyles just to be noticed and remembered.
This would make an excellent choice for book discussions. Highly recommended.
3.5 stars. The premise is incredibly unique, taking me in right away. The history seems to be well-researched, as well. Guignard addresses the trope old as Peter Pan: fairies (or, in this case, dead people) only exist because the living believe in them. Although the book is not always consistent in its treatment, the fact that it bothers to address the issue of the free will of (the dead, fairies, insert what you will) is a major plus for me. When I began, I hoped I would be able to give this book five stars.
So why the 3.5 stars? Well, the book lost some serious points with me because of content issues, possible “magic” inconsistencies, and less-than-stellar pacing and characterization.
I’ll list content issues in more detail below, but things that might really throw some readers off include a fairly significant amount of coarse language, as well as some scenes of/threats of sexual violence.
I won’t go into the magic inconsistencies because of spoilers, but there seems to be a system of “magic” that is not fully realized and thus reaches sometimes-inconsistent results.
The book’s two main weak points are pacing and characterization. The book meanders (yes, I realize the irony of complaining about meandering in a story about hobos riding the rails!). In places, the story becomes almost a serial, with episodes used merely to highlight the unusual premise rather than to generate narrative tension. I would have had less difficulty with the pacing issues, though, had the characterization been more three-dimensional. The book’s secondary villain is the most egregious victim of flat characterization. He seems like little more than an avatar of the Eeeevil Rich White Man (as opposed to the Wise Native American Guide, a trope we also see). Perhaps that could have worked, but given the villain’s identity as a particular important historical figure, the treatment really broke my suspension of disbelief.
Content issues (tailored for Catholics) (may not be exhaustive): scenes of and threats of sexual violence; a non-marital sexual relationship; sexual innuendos; implied masturbation; a very significant amount of coarse language; an assisted suicide; significant violence both in the “real” world and the “memory” world; fortune-telling.
In sum, I thought this book had a lot of promise, and I would be interested in reading more works by Mr. Guignard.
One of the most unique books I have read to date.
The author is a master of world building and characterizatiotheThe writing style is one that I can see myself reading again and again, it's that good.
I would recommend this to anyone who wants to read a novel different from everything they've read before.
Overall rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ / 5 stars
This was certainly an epic tale. There's a multitude of historical characters in the book, and I really enjoyed them. John Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, Paul Revere, Harriet Tubman, Wyatt Earp & Company, Pocahantas.... and the rules of The Deadeye allow them all to exist at the same time. The biggest problem was that I had a hard time feeling any connection to the main character, Luke. And, ultimately, this is a story about a journalist collecting info from a man telling stories about another man (Luke) learning to tell stories... and the events aren't necessarily chronological. As King Shaw - the journalist's interviewee - points out, you arrange the events of a story in a way that's meaningful not just according to a timeline. Nevertheless, I didn't care for the way the story was broken up.
I will say, the final showdown is EPIC. It was by far my favorite part of the story. If the whole book had been written that way, it would have been a bigger hit with me.
Content wise, there's a pretty significant amount of language, including quite a few f-words. The thing that bothered me the most was the description of a rape within the early chapters of the book. It was not graphically described, but for some reason the description that was given bothered me a lot. It just grated on my brain like sandpaper, and I couldn't forget about it. One of those things I wasn't expecting, and felt angry after reading it that I'm stuck with it.
Overall, a pretty tall-tale kind of adventure story about the power of the spoken word and the capacity to provide life through legacy to those we care about.
Doorways to the Deadeye is a uniquely creative fantasy riff on the concept of storytelling. And, storytelling is approached from several angles. To begin with, the story is told through the voice of a modern-day reporter who is telling of his meetings with King, an aging hobo, who at times tells parts of his own story, but more to the point tells the reporter about the Prince of Hobos, Luke Thacker, who has the ability to read the secret hobo signs, to travel back and forth to the purgatory where the dead dwell as long as they are remembered, and to live out a hobo’s fantasies of calling trains whenever needed, and literally riding the rails like no one has ever done before.
The special purgatory, Anasthasia, houses people who are remembered as legends. And, Luke, new to purgatory, becomes the getaway driver for John Dillinger, is hunter by Wyatt Earp and his brothers, is almost given forty whacks by Lizzie Borden, exchanges secrets with Pocahontas, and hides in the underground with Harriet Tubman. To his shock and surprise, the longest lasting people in this ghostly realm are those whose legends have grown over time.
And, sometimes those legends are built up and distorted and sometimes people are forgotten and not remembered and they fade away. How do you save those who are but ordinary people and are only remembered by a few? Such as Daisy, Luke’s lifelong love who met such a bitter end. How do you prevent others from distorting history (and poor Ben Franklin does not fare well in this story)?
This is a story told in layers and that slowly reveals itself. Although the surface story is about the hobos of the 1930’s riding the rails and getting thrown off the trains by yard bulls, particularly one who became a legend greater than Paul Bunyan, the magic of the story is how it dips back and forth into worlds of fantasy and history.