The Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps by Michel Faber, Text Publishing, ISBN 9781847678911

Michel Faber is what one refers to as an eclectic writer. This might sound like I’m going to be disparaging – but oh, how I’m not. Faber is the kind of writer who makes other writers seethe with envy. A writer who can tackle, and excel at any genre. Whose horror stories (Under the Skin) make Stephen King’s look like Little Golden Books. Whose historical fiction (The Crimson Petal and the White) is one of the BEST historical novels ever written (yes, ever). And whose contemporary fiction is so contemporary it makes you cry tears of tidy white surfaces.

So what has occasioned this review is that Canongate (and in New Zealand and Australia, Text Publishing) has released new editions of Under the Skin and The Hundred and Ninety-nine Steps. This book contains two novellas (well, let’s be honest, these aren’t long enough to be novellas, more like long short stories – big margins don’t fool anyone, Canongate) – the eponymous story and The Courage Consort.

Despite this minor quibble over length, both stories are excellent. The Hundred and Ninety-nine Steps is a vaguely creepy literary sleuth with a dab of historical fiction (and the use of “axe” for ask, which sent me to google and, lo, an idea for another post), and romance. We’re in Whitby – scene of several famous literary mysteries – with Sian, an archaeologist who is having some rather disturbing bad dreams and who meets a good looking young man with a mysterious manuscript in a bottle. This leads to uncovering of a long forgotten crime and lots of canoodling with a very fluffy and cute sounding dog. Which is an oddly endearing plot point.

The pacing in this story is spot-on – I just kept reading and reading and reading and then suddenly it was over! It’s the right mix of gripping and suspenseful. Which is how the whole “Faber, other writers, seething with envy” thing happens – this is a small story, almost a bagatelle, and really there isn’t a lot here. But somehow the man makes it amazing.

The second story is The Courage Consort – and Faber repeats his trick. This time we’re with Catherine – the soprano in a vocal ensemble who have travelled to a chateau in Belgium to rehearse for 10 days. Catherine is a strange character – appealing yet afflicted – she’s convinced herself she’s batty and a bit useless. She’s drifting along in a misty sort of daze until rather suddenly a tragic event brings her up a bit short and to a rather stunning life-realisation. Then – bam! – end of story and the reader is left again thinking “Lordy, how did he do that?”. There aren’t any firework-type theatrics (nothing as dazzling as in Under the Skin, anyway) but everything just comes together so perfectly that the reader feels completely satisfied.

Everyone should read Faber. If you don’t like history then read his horror, if you don’t like horror then read his history and if you don’t like either than read his short stories. If you don’t like any of that, well, then there’s no hope for you, I’m afraid.