Synopsis:
Charlotte, seeking to make a documentary for her graduate thesis enlists the older Seth, a burned-out film teacher with a history of scandal, to film the daily life of a rising tennis star, Bobby Weller. It’s a glimpse into the world of the rich and dedicated that turns horrifying when Bobby murders both his parents on live TV. It’s patricide, an echo of Zeus rising up against Cronos, the young gods replacing the titans. Now, the very public slaughter prompts the filmmakers to trace the threads of blood to the rich and powerful and the horror of global destruction. Can they stop the Gaia Chime? First, they need to find out what it is…
Review:
“The Gaia Chime,” by Johnny Worthen may be a blood bath, but it’s one scattered with rose petals and infused with lavender bath salts. Scalding as opposed to soothing, Worthen tempers earth-shattering revelations and gag-inducing passages with indulgent and decadent prose as well as sublime pacing. It’s elegant, visceral and inescapable. Commenting on some heavy social issues, Worthen holds our faces to the abyss, the climate, the generation gap, violence and forces us to face it, whilst whispering poetry in our ear. With a prologue that is particularly excellent, and a plot to match, this one is out March 11th from Flametree press- thank you for my ARC.
We follow Charlotte and Seth, who using Robert Weller’s money, are creating a documentary on a renowned tennis player, Robert’s son, Bobby Weller. They interview him in the locker room, and whilst he appears slightly on edge, he doesn’t look like the type of guy who would cave in his parent’s skulls with a tennis racket. Half way through the match however, for all of the cameras to see, that is precisely what he does. Despite the fact their wholesome sports documentary has come grinding to a halt, patricide tends to have that effect, Charlotte and Seth decide that there is still a project to be had. It doesn’t take them long to figure out that there is more than daddy issues to Bobby’s breakdown, and there’s more violence and death to be had- unless they can stop “The Gaia Chime.”
Johnny Worthen has whipped up what is ultimately a howling, blood-slicked, bone-rattling warning. Beneath the goosebump-raising, near-future spectacle Worthen creates is an unflinching and brutal meditation on social issues such as class and capitalism, current affairs that, rather interestingly, are underpinned by the mythos. Far from a dusty retelling, Worthen drags the allegory into the modern world. He takes the bones of ancient rebellion and fleshes them out with dystopian splendor. Titans still exist, but today they wear designer suits, and clutch portfolios rather than thunderbolts- the rebellion against them, delirious, violent… messy. It’s an electrified, full-throttle call to action. It has a similar effect to “The Deluge,” by Stephen Markley, an important book. The weight of history crashes against the urgency of the now, leaving us with a novel that transcends entertainment- although that it does- demanding something of its readers. If you haven’t already put Worthen on your must-read list, consider this your final warning. The storm is coming- “The Gaia Chime,” will make damn sure you feel every tremor.
As I said, Worthen’s writing is gorgeous, rich, lyrical: intoxicating. I revelled in its sheer artistry, savoured it, although admittedly it’s not going to work for everybody. For those who are concerned that they may get bogged down by such dense prose, it’s worth noting that any fatigue is combatted by the undeniably brilliant pacing. With each chapter the tension is ratcheted up, before a grand reveal- you will have to fight every bone in your body to not read one more chapter.
A book that grabs you by the lapels, shakes you rigorously and screams at you, if you like your horror bleak, prophetic and packed with sci-fi elements, Johnny Worthen’s “The Gaia Chime,” is a book you need in your short, insignificant existence. At the rate at which the world is circling the drain, you’ve probably not got long left to read it, so time is of the essence. Miss it at your peril.
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