James Herbert (1) (1943–2013)
Autor(a) de The Rats
Para outros autores com o nome James Herbert, veja a página de desambiguação.
About the Author
Horror writer James Herbert was born in London, England on April 8, 1943. Before becoming a full-time writer, he worked as a singer and an art director for an advertising agency. His novels have sold more than forty-two million copies worldwide and have been translated into thirty-three languages, mostrar mais including Russian and Chinese. His stories are simple, yet compelling and usually have a young, jaded man as the hero. Besides writing his novels, he also designs the book covers and handles the publicity. He currently lives in London, England with his wife and children. (Bowker Author Biography) mostrar menos
Image credit: © Pan Macmillan
Séries
Obras de James Herbert
Flesh and Blood 1 exemplar(es)
Moon; The Magic Cottage 1 exemplar(es)
Lara's Lament [short story] 1 exemplar(es)
The Ghost Hunter 1 exemplar(es)
Others [short story] 1 exemplar(es)
Associated Works
Etiquetado
Conhecimento Comum
- Nome de batismo
- Herbert, James John
- Data de nascimento
- 1943-08-04
- Data de falecimento
- 2013-03-20
- Sexo
- male
- Nacionalidade
- UK
- País (para mapa)
- England, UK
- Local de nascimento
- London, England
- Local de falecimento
- Woodmancote, near Henfield, Sussex, England
- Locais de residência
- London, England
Sussex, England - Educação
- St Aloysius Grammar School, Highgate
Hornsey College of Art - Ocupação
- art director
singer
author - Relacionamentos
- Herbert, Eileen (wife)
- Premiações
- World Horror Convention Grand Master Award (2010)
Order of the British Empire (Officer ∙ 2010) - Pequena biografia
- Herbert's first novel, The Rats, depicted London overrun by mutant flesh-eating rodents and sold 100,000 copies within two weeks of being published in 1974.
Since then, he has published 23 novels in more than 30 languages, selling 54 million copies worldwide. His latest book, Ash, was published lin March 2013.
Herbert was appointed an OBE by the Queen in 2010 - the same year he was made Grand Master of Horror by the World of Horror Convention.
Membros
Resenhas
Listas
Prêmios
You May Also Like
Associated Authors
Estatísticas
- Obras
- 41
- Also by
- 14
- Membros
- 13,335
- Popularidade
- #1,749
- Avaliação
- 3.5
- Resenhas
- 257
- ISBNs
- 679
- Idiomas
- 14
- Favorito
- 40
There are bad writers.
There are bad books.
We all know and fear them: shallow, inconsistent plot, flat writing, unrelatable characters, character development absent or unbelievable. Uff.
Then, once in a Pope's death, as they say in my town, one stumbles upon bad writing pushed to the limits of the sublime.
If there is a firmament of the awful novelists, this Herbert guy shines there, next constellation to Giorgio Faletti, in the same hemisphere with the best of the worst of Thomas Harris (I am thinking Hannibal, here. He must have been on something nasty while writing that one, thanks to God for the laughs).
Plot? At the service of the manly man, intent in saving Britain from fog, madness and unmanliness.
Character development? Who needs it? Our manly man needs not changing a iota of his musky self. Women around him, on the other hand, being helpless and evidently dim-witted cannot develop by God's decree, if not in the nature of their adoration for the manly one: submissively erotic while young and desirable, maternal as soon as they start, ahem, wilting. Then, and only then, are they allowed to become intellectually gifted.
Even the Government with its Secret Departments cannot but capitulate in front of such a critical mass of testosterone and entrust him, and only him, with saving the world. Because any civilian who happens to be the only survivor immune to the effects of the fog would be left free to come and go from a secret government facility and asked to risk his life, just him, to get a sample of the evil mist. And why wouldn't they, my friends, why wouldn't they.
Style? Who needs style, when we can have body horror aplenty, the triumph of TELL WHAT YOU WANT BUT JAYSUS, NEVER SHOW, and possibly the purplest, most off-putting sex scenes ever written? Also: a bunch of possessed schoolboys lynching an ecstatic gay teacher (because gay and pedophiles are one, in Herbert's Little Britain); lesbian sex imagined by a countryside provost, and remember that lesbians will regret their mistake; and an impressive mass suicide scene.
Absolutely advised, for All the Wrong Reasons!
I will leave here some gold nuggets as soon as I can get a copy back from the library.… (mais)