SavSn-icon

People often for­get that the dis­as­ter movie wave of the 1970’s had its roots in the lit­er­ary world.  Airport, The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno were all nov­els before they were films (in fact, The Towering Inferno was a syn­the­sis of two dif­fer­ent nov­els, The Glass Inferno and The Tower).

The nar­ra­tive sprawl and ensemble-driven nature of the dis­as­ter genre is a per­fect fit for the novel for­mat — where the only expenses to be dealt with are paper, ink and imag­i­na­tion — and the book­shelves were reg­u­larly crammed with dis­as­ter–themed nov­els through­out the 1970’s.  A lot of them were throw­aways and cash-ins but some offered intrigu­ing vari­a­tions on the format.

Savage Snow is a par­tic­u­larly inter­est­ing vari­ant on the disaster-novel.  The setup seems to be stan­dard­ized genre mate­r­ial: a freak bliz­zard hits Boston, bury­ing the city in pun­ish­ing waves of snow as a series of char­ac­ters in their own lit­tle sub­plots cope with their own unique storm-related dilem­mas.  However, the way author Will Holt deals with his mate­r­ial is much dif­fer­ent than the above syn­op­sis would lead you to believe.

For one thing, the plot is not con­structed around scenes of destruc­tion and cliff-hanger moments aris­ing for the chaos they cause.  In Savage Snow, that kind of vis­ceral thrill is lim­ited to an effec­tive scene where a tidal wave dev­as­tates a coastal com­mu­nity and a plot thread deal­ing with the effects of snow pileup on a con­cert hall that has a flimsy “mod” design scheme.  However, both scenes are han­dled in an art­ful, impres­sion­is­tic man­ner that is twice as haunt­ing as a more carnage-oriented treat­ment would have been.

Instead, Savage Snow builds itself upon sev­eral dif­fer­ent sub­plots that casu­ally inter­sect with each other à la a Robert Altman film.  There’s a spoiled rich wife on the run from her mausoleum-like exis­tence, the two broth­ers whose hit band is try­ing to stage a con­cert at the con­cert hall, an ethereal-minded preg­nant woman try­ing to make her way to the hos­pi­tal and the street­wise hus­tler who helps her, a t.v. reporter who sets out on skis to make his name by cov­er­ing the storm, the banker who ends up in an erotic ren­dezvous with a recently-immigrated French divorcee and the banker’s wife, whose atti­tudes and san­ity are tested by some unwanted vis­i­tors to her home.  There’s also a run-down hotel run by a sad-sack cou­ple that becomes a refuge for storm vic­tims — and a meet­ing ground for dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters at dif­fer­ent moments.

Holt deftly cross­cuts back and forth between these sub­plots, push­ing them for­ward in skill­fully described but punchy install­ments that help him main­tain a steady pace.  He also uses the dif­fer­ent phases of the snow­storm to orches­trate his dif­fer­ent plot threads in a way that keeps the over­all nar­ra­tive in focus.  He’s got a knack for vivid details and keep­ing the set­tings fresh by describ­ing them via the dif­fer­ing view­points of his char­ac­ters.  Holt had a music-biz back­ground so his depic­tions of the minu­tia and psy­cho­log­i­cal games at play in the life of a tour­ing act are par­tic­u­larly con­vinc­ing, with the brother act run­ning the band (Savannah Sound) offer­ing the rich­est and most con­vinc­ing char­ac­ter­i­za­tions of the book.

Holt’s approach to his mate­r­ial also sets Savage Snow apart from the disaster-novel pack because he’s more inter­ested in the psy­cho­log­i­cal effects that the storm has on its char­ac­ters than the storm itself.   It tests the met­tle of the char­ac­ters, bring­ing out both their good and bad aspects at dif­fer­ent times.  There are few vil­lain­ous types to be found here — instead, there are peo­ple with vary­ing degrees of char­ac­ter flaws.

The storm also brings out hid­den desires, result­ing in a few sex scenes intense enough to raise the reader’s eye­brows (a back­stage orgy staged by the band is the most notable, offer­ing a few unex­pected shocks amidst the steamy sce­nar­ios).  However, even that aspect of the novel doesn’t descend to mere smut­ti­ness — instead, it’s another way in which char­ac­ter­i­za­tions are explored, offer­ing an uncom­pro­mis­ing insight into where the char­ac­ters’ bound­aries lie — and how eas­ily those bound­aries can be blurred under the right circumstances.

In short, Savage Snow is a wor­thy addi­tion to the dis­as­ter genre thanks to its unique approach to its nar­ra­tive and its unex­pected psy­cho­log­i­cal depth.  It’s the rare exam­ple of the genre where the lit­tle storms going on inside each char­ac­ter are as inter­est­ing as the chaos that sur­rounds them.

Reviewer’s Note:  Your Humble Reviewer picked up this tome thanks to a blog entry at the excel­lent Phantom Of Pulp site.  That site’s review of this novel can be found here.