Ash Wednesday

Failing to follow through on the promise of Soulstorm, Williamson disappoints in this second horror outing, a turgid ghost story that entertains only sporadically as it lumbers after the laurel of high art. An original premise, always a pleasant surprise in this genre, does grace the maneuverings: one night, the ghosts of anyone who ever died in the small, sleepy town of Merrydale, Pa., inexplicably show up in the spot and posture of their deaths. Translucent electric-blue, buck-naked, and immobile, these spirits do nothing - other than attracting world-wide media attention, which eventually dies down, and provoking the novel's cliched cast into various overwrought responses. Prominent are a N.Y. model who returns to Merrydale to be near the glowing ghost of her long-dead boyfriend, and a greedy federal official who tumbles headlong into bribery; but center stage are two 40-ish males: Jim Callendar, a local newspaperman who, while moonlighting as a bus driver a few years back, accidentally crashed, killing several kids including his son; and Bradley Meyers, a violent, burnt-out Vietnam vet who also lost a son in the crash. Shunned by townspeople since the accident, Callendar wears a heavy mantle of guilt; Meyers thirsts for vengeance. When the ghosts appear, the two men, like twin moths to the flame, take to visiting the crash site, gazing upon their neonized dead children. Meyers' pent-up anger eventually explodes into a murderous rampage; he stabs Callendar, who shoots him dead: a sort of blood expiation for them both. Meanwhile, the ghosts remain - forever? A pat on the back to Williamson for setting his sights high above schlock; but overly familiar characters (are all Vietnam vets crazed?; are all officials corrupt?), too-pat plot convergences, and a story that doesn't frighten in the least add up to a work that will satisfy neither genre fans nor the wider audience the author clearly seeks. (Kirkus Reviews)