How far are you willing to go for success? Do the people at the top deserve to be there? Danger Slater's roaringly funny new novella, Starlet, explores these questions as it follows titular Starlet Déjà in her quest for fame. This is my second Ghoulish Books read, the first being this year's fantastic The Day of the Door by Laurel Hightower, and I have to say I’m quickly falling in love with another indie press. This is my first Danger Slater read. His reputation for bizarro precedes him, so I had some idea what I’d signed up for when I requested this book with gross-out, ooze-out bliss.
Fame. Fortune. Jellyfish. We have the thematic trinity of the novel spelled out for us by the book's cover. Déjà is new to Hollywood. She’s a Midwest girl with big dreams, but she keeps hitting stumbling blocks that hinder her ascent to stardom. Her lucky break turned out to be anything but as her recently filmed pilot didn't get picked up. Meaning, despite delivering a great performance, she’s still a nobody, starving herself between indulgent celebratory slices of pizza after each audition. That is until Hollywood's hot star, Brandon Bowers, takes notice of her. Déjà and Bowers' relationship immediately moves beyond professional, with the familiar story of a powerful man using his position to prey on the ambitions of young women. However; his sexual proclivities are anything but familiar as he encourages Déjà to take part. No spoilers.
The satirical element carries this first chunk of the novel, there's little indicating the bizarre and grotesque turns that await Déjà in her journey in these early pages. Hollywood is portrayed as self-serving, predatory, and perverse before a spec of blood even touches the page.
Interspersed between chapters are fake film reviews for Brandon Bowers’ most famous films. They make vague sweeping statements about the brilliance of Bowers’ performance. There’s a bitingly funny cynicism towards critics as Slater spins some baffling bullshit that feels perfectly authentic. In this economy of attention, praise is a political calculation and the critics layer it thick with Bowers at the height of his career.
As the narrative progresses and Bowers is portrayed in an increasingly sinister light, the once dazzling reviews jump forward in his career. I really like the effect here as we enter the story, the reader is only allowed to see Bowers as young Starlet Déjà does, and once that veneer melts away in gory, gooey, heaps do we see Bowers for what he is, a lucky hack who didn’t have the chops to stay at the top.
Speaking of melting, there’s a lot of gross shit in this book. Once things turn towards bizarro land, there’s cannibalism, mutations, impractically captive wild predators, buckets of blood, dismemberments, human body parts as weapons, and of course– jellyfish. The rich and famous will do anything to keep their throne, which in lieu of talent, means they have to stay young and beautiful at any cost. Some readers might bristle at the bizarro element, which is clearly derived with skepticism from popular conspiracy theories. The genre is meant to prod, and the absurdity of the narrative is poking fun. The entire Hollywood ecosystem and its periphery are on the table here. Starlet is a splatterpunk weird horror-comedy with a real message about the limitations of determination for victims of the system, and the limitations of charisma for those abusing it. Starlet hits shelves on August 27th.
I received an advance reading copy free in exchange for honest feedback and am leaving this review voluntarily. Below are links to purchase STARLET from two of my favorite St. Louis bookstores which Nocturne Books and Media is not affiliated with but firmly believes deserve your support.
Comentarios