Review: Fly On The Wall by Inigo Mort

Rating: 8/10

When Dylan arrives at Camp Valour, he isn’t looking for salvation – he’s hunting a story.

Under the guise of recovery, documentary filmmaker Dylan checks into an elite rehab clinic run by a charismatic self-help guru who promises to cure even the deepest childhood wounds.

Hidden camera at the ready, Dylan is convinced it’s a scam – until the treatment begins to work.

As long-buried memories claw their way to the surface, Dylan starts to question everything – his past, his purpose, and even his sanity.

Once the truth is revealed, Dylan will do anything to forget – if the clinic lets him leave at all.

A fiery little number that will burn the back of its reader’s throats, redden their cheeks and leave them coughing and spluttering, Inigo Mort’s second novella is precise, pacy and pretty damn good. It packs a punch. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect going in, only familiar with Mort as a wonderful reader and reviewer, not as a writer, but I was not disappointed by this little book, which by the way, has quite a lot of plot packed into it. A nuanced commentary upon trauma and coping mechanisms, “Fly On The Wall,” is sharp and confident, packed with action, twists and more heat than a scotch bonnet- I read it compulsively in a single sitting. Out and available for free on kindle unlimited, this one is like Netflix’s “Apple Cider Vinegar,” meets T.J Payne’s “Intercepts,” with shades of LaRocca, and is a nifty, if not sweaty, way to spend a rainy afternoon.

We follow Dylan Pastor, a documentarian yet to take off, who has caught wind of grifter turned guru Owen Sharkey and his novel rehab facility. Sharkey treats unresolved traumas, facilitates the inner-healing of the child, using psychogenic pain, triggered by chilli peppers. The entire operation reeks of a scam to Dylan, who, not lacking unresolved traumas, and with the unwitting encouragement of loved ones, checks himself in, recording the whole time through his prosthetic eye. What he doesn’t expect is for Sharkey’s fiery regimen to work… with shocking revelations bubbling to the surface, leading Dylan to question everything he knows to be true, in addition to his sanity.

Far from fiery gimmick, beneath the burn Mort’s novella is largely occupied with trauma, and how we may be able to cope with and process it in a healthy manner. He seems to advise against knocking back vials of concentrated capsaicin. All jokes aside, Mort notes the obvious relationship between trauma and addiction. Sharkey’s method, losing yourself in a brief, scorching heat, enjoying the quick sharp burn of something new, could well be a metaphor for exactly that. There is later commentary upon forgiveness and how perhaps, healing may arrive through it, yet the easy platitude that this path is universal is resisted, with Mort recognising too those who find catharsis outside of forgiveness. “Fly On The Wall,” is a novella that says a lot about trauma, but it seems to boil down to the idea that, outside of harming yourself, there is no correct or incorrect way in which to deal with it. 

In addition to an utterly unique and equally compelling plot, Mort gives us one of my favourite narrative devices, that of the unreliable narrator, which, as you’d imagine goes hand in hand with the examination of childhood trauma. Dylan is not a duplicitous narrator who intentionally misguides the readers, nor (primarily anyway) is he insane to the point of incoherence- he simply has some repressed traumas that he has bricked over. A defence. When, with a healthy dose of the supernatural, these horrific moments do come into startling clarity, it’s intense and shocking and forces us, alongside Dylan to question everything. It’s thrilling and gut-wrenching and completely honest.

A bittersweet recognition of how people stumble, and stumble again, and perhaps one day, through grit, grace or bloody resistance, begin to heal, “Fly On The Wall,” is well-written, paced and polished. An intimate and explosive novella that scorches and soothes, and despite all its ichor, bloodshed and pus, as well as its leanness, left me feeling rather nourished, I deeply look forward to following Inigo within the genre, both inside and outside of their writing.