Hold on a minute before I review Intensity, I need to ramble for a few paragraphs first. I assure you, it's relevant.

I don't read a lot of fiction, I prefer non-fiction. I used to love fiction, but I think I've mostly lost my taste for it. I probably read fewer than ten novels a year, and most of 'em make no real impression on me. (That's novels, long works of fiction, as distinct from books in general. I have no idea how many books I might read in a year.) But, as I said, fiction seldom resonates with me and I usually go back to the biographies, histories and essays that entertain me the most.

My favorite novelist is probably Elmore Leonard. His books go down like candy and I try to read a couple of titles from his catalog every year. Leonard's work is just pure, escapist fun.

Sometimes I'll read fiction if it's by a favorite writer primarily known for non-fiction. C.S. Lewis is probably my favorite writer of any kind, and I raved at the blog the about how much I loved his novel Till We Have Faces. But Lewis's fiction is something else altogether. Lewis used fiction as a vehicle by which to advance the same theological themes and ideas that he put forth in his non-fiction.

And now and then I'll read a Chuck Palahniuk novel if I just want a visceral jolt. Palahniuck's work is seriously weird, but his voice is unlike any other and his best stuff is creative, thought-provoking and rewarding. I admit that I didn't enjoy the last Palahniuck novel I finished, a gruesome satire of reality television called Haunted, but I'd recommend most of his other books (especially Diary and Fight Club) to fans of subversive prose.

Now and then I'll check out a fiction genre that I'm not typically interested in, and that sometimes results in pleasurable reading. When the National Review raved about the sci-fi novel The Mote In God's Eye by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, I went out and got a copy. I was glad that I did. I enjoyed it quite a bit.

I mentioned all of that to explain why I decided to read Intensity by Dean Koontz ... and why I enjoyed it so much.

And I did enjoy it. Very much. In fact, if I'm honest, I turned the last few pages with a huge lump in my throat and immediately told my wife "You've got to read this, I think it's the best novel I've ever read."

I'd always thought of Dean Koontz as a pulp novelist, one of those guys who churns out two or three crappy horror novels a year and never really writes anything worth reading. Then the National Review profiled the guy and I read that article and found out that Dean Koontz

• is a Catholic convert


• is a conservative


• is a dog lover

.
Hmmm, I thought. Sounds like my kinda guy. I oughta read one of his books. The novel that National Review seemed to recommend most was Intensity, so I picked up a copy.

Here's the plot summary from Amazon:

A young woman staying as a guest in a Napa Valley farmhouse becomes trapped in a fight for survival with a self-proclaimed "homicidal adventurer", and races to warn his next intended victim. Unrelentingly terrifying, this book lives up to its name...

Koontz tamps down on his usual libertarian soapboxing to let the story race; which it does fast enough to give readers whiplash as they hold on to what may end up being the most viscerally exciting thriller of the year...

Turns out that Intensity is EXACTLY the kind of book I like to read. In fact, it's pretty much the perfect book for me.

Intensity is a solid, all-consuming page-turner, like Leonard's best work. Man, I could NOT put this thing down. I know that's a cliche, but it was literal in my case. I carried this book around with me for the past three days and read every time I had a few free moments.

But Intensity is also a book with a lot of theological and philosophical substance. If you like to think about what you're reading, Intensity will give you a lot to like.

The narrative tells us about the two primary characters, the killer and his hostage, primarily through internal monologues. These sequences reveal two characters at diametrically opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to issues like love, hate, human nature, and the meaning of life.

Consider what Koontz reveals about his heroine ... and about the world view that her story promotes ... in this passage from Intensity:

For a long time ... she'd known that being a victim was often a choice people made. As a child, she hadn't been able to put this insight into words, and she hadn't known why so many people chose suffering; when older, she had recognized their self-hatred, masochism, weakness.

Not all or even most suffering is at the hands of fate; it befalls us at our invitation. She'd always chosen not to be victimized, to resist and fight back, to hold on to hope and dignity and faith in the future. But victimhood was seductive, a release from responsibility and caring: Fear would be transmuted into weary resignation; failure would no longer generate guilt but, instead, would spawn a comforting self-pity.

Contrast that with the perspective of the killer she's up against:

The Big Lie is that such concepts as love, guilt, and hate are real. Put Mr. Vess into a room with any priest, show them a pencil, and they will agree on its color, size, and shape. Blindfold them, hold cinnamon under their noses, and they will both identify it from the smell. But bring before them a mother cuddling her baby, and the priest will see love where Mr. Vess will see only a woman who enjoys the sensations provided by the infant...

All men and women, in Vess's view, are fundamentally nothing other than animals--smart animals, indeed, but animals nonetheless; reptiles, in fact...

This is the philosophy of Mr. Edgler Vess. He embraces his reptilian nature. The glory of him is to be found in his unmatched accretion of sensations. This is a functional philosophy, requiring its adherent to endorse neither the black-and-white values that so hamper religious persons nor the embarrassing contradictions of the situational ethics of the modern atheist and those whose religion is politics.

While the story is, on the surface, a cat-and-mouse game between a killer and his intended victim, there is much more under the surface. Intensity is also the story of a woman who survived a traumatic childhood by learning to repress, to avoid, to cut herself off from feeling ... and who finds herself forced to assert herself, to risk everything, and to learn to trust in order to save her own life and the lives of others.

And, Intensity is the story of a self-styled pantheist, a man who recognizes that when all is sacred, nothing is sacred. A man who sees life as nothing more than opportunities to experience sensations, and who equates all sensations, with no experience having any more value than any other. Koontz's villian is someone who will literally kill someone to watch the expression on his or her face change. What's interesting about him is that he justifies his homicidal tendencies with a lot of the same language that today's pseudo-bohemians put forth as "enlightenment." There are a lot of "WOW!" moments to be had while reading this book.

The visceral thrills to be had in Intensity are enough to recommend the book on the face of it. But there is much more here if you want it. Intensity is a book with much to offer the amateur apologist, the arm-chair philosopher, and the casual reader who's just looking for a good, tight thriller. Intensity is an ambitious book that achieves everything it's author intended. The book choked me up with a powerful ending, raised goose-bumps on my skin a number of times, and left my mind swimming with thoughts about God, mankind, and the purpose of life. I've never read another novel that satisfied me on so many levels. Intensity is one to own and read and reread. It's a keeper.

Labels: Books, Personal, Politics