Review by Paul Skevington
Published February 2, 2008

I guessed that 'Baltimore' was going to be, at the very least, an interesting little book when I saw the names of the two authors, Mike Mignola and Christopher Golden. Mignola is best known for the 'Hellboy' comics, which mix the supernatural together with a distinctly noir sensibility to create one of the most distinctive series of the last few years. Golden is primarily associated with the 'Buffyverse', having been one of the most prolific authors of the highly successful Buffy tie-in novels.

What I didn't predict was that this book would turn out to be such an interesting and compelling piece of fantasy fiction.

According to most reports, Golden wrote the book whilst Mignola came up with the majority of the plot and contributed the illustrations that are scattered throughout the book like deliciously poisonous candies. This arrangement seems to have worked exceedingly well with Golden's solid and evocative prose complimenting the gothic expanse of Mignola's powerful imagination.

'Baltimore' is a tale told through a series of entangled framing stories, initiated as a group of strangers meet in a pub at the request of their mutual friend, the eponymous Lord Baltimore. They soon discover that each has been subject to the attentions of the unseen world and they encourage one another to recount their tales of personal terror.

The stories these men tell will be familiar to readers of horror fiction, featuring such well worn subjects as lyncanthropy, demonic puppets and, of course, the equally eponymous vampires. What raises 'Baltimore' above other works dealing with these subjects is the strong, unifying vision that it has, the consistency of tone and the effective use of these qualities in creating a moving piece of commentary about war and its dire consequences.

The opening of the book is set on a First World War battlefield, complete with all of the horrors and the misery that this period in history had to offer its soldiers. On this plain of death, Lord Baltimore comes face to face with the creature that will come to haunt him, a hideous shape-changing vampire. His meeting with this monster starts an avalanche of change that results in the world of Baltimore being decidedly grimmer than our own. Here, the horror of the war does not subside with its resolution but spills over its bloody boundaries into the world at large, infecting everything with the taste of death. The sailor Demetrius Aischros sums up the situation, 'Hope. Life Colour. All gone now. Eradicated.'

This sense of decay and loss thematically unites the stories that follow, as each man's tale speaks of corrupted magic, wonders turned monstrous and faith betrayed.

The town of Cicagne where Aischros foolishly spends the night is typical of this, with Aischros wondering to himself if he will 'get sick just from visiting'.

The stories skew towards the darkly sorcerous in a way reminiscent of early fairy tales, appropriate enough as the authors use the metaphor of the 'Tin Soldier' to represent Baltimore and the world he inadvertently creates. Extracts from Hans Christian Anderson's tale run throughout the work as chapter headings with each quotation seeming more ominous here than in its original context.

Whilst some stories, like the tale of 'Cicagne', stand apart from the central narrative, others drive it forward, until all points collide together at the final meeting place in an ending both unexpected and filled with powerful imagery that reinforces the central idea of war as an infection, a disease that man can essentially never be cured of. Man is forever under the dominion of the Red King.

This is not to underplay the illustration's role in creating the overall impact of the work. Perhaps due to Mignola's close involvement with the book, he manages to avoid the trap of other illustrators whose work is sometimes more disruptive than it is helpful. Here the images serve the flow of story. They frequent the edges and the corners of the pages, drawing the eye forward and deepening the mental images of the reader without disturbing them. The occasional full-page illustration is all the more valuable due to this. Mignola's style eschews naturalism for highly stylised and edgy line-work. It has an eerie magic all of its own.

The authors are currently writing a screenplay for a film based on this book, which just proves that sometimes Hollywood does get it right. No book is more deserving of this treatment in my eyes.