Afraid to Death by Marc Behm.
London: No Exit Press, 2000.
$24.95 (paperback) — 183 pp.

When Joe Egan was 11 years old, he met Death — a beautiful blond dressed in a black raincoat, black boots and a black beret. Joe noticed that she had violet eyes. She called the little boy by name, asked directions to a neighbor’s house and walked away noting that she would see Joe later. That afternoon, the neighbor died. Not long afterwards, the blond showed up again ... just before Joe’s mother died. Little by little, Joe figured it out, and several years later, when he heard that a blond in a black raincoat was looking for him, he left town.

As a child, Joe had learned to play cards and discovered that he was good at it — good enough, in fact, to make a living as a gifted poker player. He had an intuitive sense for gambling. He could sense other things, too. He learned to read “portents,” hints that the blond with the violet eyes was near. Perhaps he would hear the lyrics of a song, read an oddly worded headline or see a billboard with a message that had a double meaning. When he felt the uneasiness grow, he had learned to run immediately — no packing, no good-byes. He became accustomed to abandoning his apartment, clothes and car, because when he sensed that Death was approaching, he knew his survival depended on immediate departure. The escapes were often close. He sometimes saw her — the sensual blond — across the street as he escaped out the back door. He had even passed her in train stations or the bus depot — she was arriving as he was departing.

Over the years, Joe Egan abandoned people, too — a wife in Raleigh, a lover in Atlanta, a handful of close friends in Las Vegas, and as the years went by, his close encounters with violent-eyed Death became ... narrower. He found it necessary to abandon bank accounts, destroy credit cards and assume new identities. He was often broke and homeless, but since he had the gift of cards, he managed to survive, moving from city to city, becoming adept at finding the all-night poker games that thrive in every city. As he grew older, he noticed that the lovely blond didn’t age. She had also changed her tactics. Now, she had associates, people who had been bribed or coerced into acting as her confederates. Joe could trust no one, not even lovers. Then, too, a few friends paid a terrible price simply because they had the misfortune to have known him. He became increasingly paranoid and sometimes, he fled without cause ... He sensed that his time was running out, and he would finally open a door or turn a corner, and find himself face to face with the smiling blond ... and this time there would be no escape ...

Afraid to Death could easily be read as a kind of allegory, I guess. Perhaps Joe Egan is Everyman and perhaps his flight from Death is the dilemma that all of us face. Perhaps, like the old medieval play in which Everyman finds himself abandoned by wealth, youth and beauty, Joe Egan must finally confront his destiny. “To this end we all must come,” said Hamlet.

But, this reviewer doesn’t care for that grim and moralistic interpretation. The tone of Afraid to Death seems inappropriate to a cautionary tale. Joe Egan may be doomed but he is a funny, quirky guy. As he races down alleys, hides in dumpsters, shaves his head and effortlessly slides in and out of a dozen identities and relationships, he never loses his sense of humor. Well-read, imaginative and with a delightful knack for self-deprecation, Egan is having fun despite the stress and anxiety of his situation. The narrative style is delightful — a breezy noir that reads like Cornell Woolrich or Jim Thompson — a kind of wry acceptance of doom.

My favorite passage in Afraid to Death deals with Joe Egan’s “sexual rebirth.” The years of anxiety and stress have reduced poor Joe to a kind of eunuch, and he has ruefully accepted the fact that he will probably never have “a sex life” again. The years go by, and then he meets Iraq, a sensual medium (with some impressive physical attributes) who decides to “restore” Joe Egan to “the world of sensual delight.” A short quote will suffice:

“Deep within him, in a long disused railroad yard, a sleeping switchman woke with a start. Taken by surprise he quickly jerked levers and pushed buttons and turned rusty knobs. Cogwheels covered with cobwebs grated and turned, dusty light bulbs glowed and blinked, ancient fuses crackled with sparks. Cables creaked.

Out of a ramshackle engine shed, rolling on shaky tracks, a vintage puffing locomotive appeared, the whistle wailing.”

Marc Behm is a remarkable writer. On my own personal shelf of 10 favorite novels, two are by Marc Behm. When Queen of the Night came out in 1977, I read it twice. It was a frightening, darkly comic and kinky journey through Nazi Germany. A few years later, Behm published my favorite, Eye of the Beholder, a novel I still consider the best detective thriller of the 20th century. Then, something went amiss and Behm stopped writing. Recently a strange, uneven novel called The Ice Maiden was published in London. Now, Afraid to Death, also published in London, like The Ice Maiden, seems bound for oblivion simply because it bewilders the critics. I’m a little confused myself. Certainly, it is a quirky work that is difficult to classify. The majority of it is a tense, exciting tale ... but then, near the end, it becomes something else.

One final word of caution. If it is possible for an author to subvert his own work — actually render his own creation pointless, Behm does so in Afraid to Death. What may be even more puzzling is the possibility that it is intentional. Readers may find themselves totally immersed in Afraid to Death until the final chapter. If it is possible to render an entire novel meaningless with a final chapter, then this novel is a perfect example — a kind of literary suicide. In fact, Behm may have accomplished the deed with the final sentence, possibly even the final word. Perhaps, such an astonishing accomplishment requires a kind of ... talent.

Why did he do it? I have no idea. I will venture to say this: Until the last page, Afraid to Death is a darkly humorous, sexy, mesmerizing journey.

(Gary Carden is a writer, storyteller and lecturer whose book, Mason Jars in the Flood, was recently named Book of the Year by the Appalachian Writers Association. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com.)