Norman Prentiss, Invisible Fences (Cemetery Dance, 2008)
The title refers to the barriers we put up for ourselves or those around us, the invisible rules that bound our behaviors through our own conditioning. Don't go play in the woods, they're full of dope fiends. Don't cross the street alone; a kid got run over by a car out there. Don't play with power tools, don't swim after eating, don't . . . you get the idea. And Nathan, the protagonist of Invisible Fences, is not the sort to test those boundaries. He'd rather stay safe on the inside, with devastating consequences for the one time he strays. . . . .
If Invisible Fences were simply a ghost story about the consequences of a single act of transgression, it would be fine enough. Prentiss has an easy, conversational style that makes the book a smooth and pleasant read. As a narrator, Nathan is good company. He doesn't overexplain, overdescribe, or overact. He relates his tale in solid, unvarnished prose, which makes it all the more believable when things start getting odd. That very same down-to-earth quality allows the reader to buy Nathan's reaction and ultimate way of dealing with the supernatural forces he has unleashed, a graceful, almost humble denouement.
The book is more than that, though. Gently, it raises the question of responsibility for tragedy, and of the costs borne down the years by the survivors. For while a childhood tragedy of Nathan's may forever alter his family's life for the worse, that tragedy is the direct result of Nathan's entanglement in the invisible fences his parents have set around him. Is the catastrophe theirs? Who bears the guilt? Or is the best solution simply to go on living as best as one can, within the boundaries one agrees to dwell within?
The answers can be found within Invisible Fences. Or, if not the answers, then at least the questions. For fans of quiet horror and family drama laced with the supernatural, that will be more than enough. Prentiss handles a story that could have been melodramatic or slight and instead infuses it with a quiet dignity and an admirable style. If you're missing the work of the late Charles E. Grant, you'll find what you're looking for here.
