To say that this book--which prefigured both of these comparisons by a goodly distance--is a more Mad Maxy version of "The Road" is no Rolling Stone-esque hogwash, or blind youthful insistence that the contemporary is the all; it is merely and delightfully accurate. Zelazny was a brilliant writer, and the most lyrical of his genre. He and Ellison led the fine and too short-lived generation of science fiction/fantasy/horror writers who believed that the offerings of literature could be offered here as well, and devoted their lives to proving it. It's not that they didn't succeed, it's just that there wasn't anyone to succeed for. Among the many exquisite passages in this little book is what is quite possibly the longest sentence in science fiction, an utterly flawless apocalyptic prose poem that extends slightly beyond two pages. One who is wise and open returns to it again and again and has trouble moving beyond it, though at this point one is near the end. It is all the more lovely for coming directly after the completion of the most flawed part of the book, a love interest (aptly named "Corny", and making it difficult to believe that the man was unaware of his limits) that was clearly forced in to flesh out the original story into something which is still barely book-length. This fleshing is the only thing keeping the book this side of masterpiecedom, and makes one wish that we were better at printing novellas than we are. And then Zelazny comes storming back in to obliterate the mind with Old Testament-style revelations and one no longer cares about anything else, just loves the thing and wishes he were still alive. As a side note, I'd purchased this along with that holy of holies, "Lord of Light", for a housemate, a young man who works in a welding shop and fashions hefty blades after-hours for his recreation, on account of a barbarian fetish. Also he is a fan of comics and metal and such; I don't recall what I said when I learned that he hadn't read Zelazny yet, but it was something along the what-the-hell-do-you-mean-you-haven't-!-how-are-you-even-alive-right-now line. Much to my dismay, our flawed generations have permitted him to lapse out of print again, and it took some doing to even find these two. I remembered the long gone days when Powell's was awesomer and you could buy his books for $0.50 or so, and missed all the more the piles of them that I owned but was forced to box up and put into storage when the hard times set in years ago and which remain even now. But these two I found and promptly bought, and then I went home and started reading them myself. I told my friend that, while I was aware Christmas was approaching, he was just going to have to wait a little longer. This seemed to offend him, but I was steadfast. "Damnation Alley" now has a beer stain on its pages, thanks to some douchebag at the bar messing with my things while I was out a-smoking in the rain, but as the stain does not encroach upon the text it strikes one as somehow fitting and so I did not beat the man. I have finished it in time for my friend to return from his holiday vacationing, which is good, as it means that I can hand him his presents freely and not begrudge. Should he petulantly balk, I'll choose the rusty sword without the leather on the handle and offer that he pick up the more polished and comfortable one, and we'll entertain the crackheads by having us a duel in the yard.
Okay, this was my first full Zelazny experience, and I have to say I liked it—a lot. The story is simple enough: in a post apocalyptic America, where the country has been split into two nations, one being the Nation of California, the other being whatever the citizens of Boston have decided to call it, runs a stretch of road that has been named the Damnation Alley. Since constant hurricane force winds prevent air travel, it is the only umbilical between the two countries. Enter Hell Tanner. Hell is a likeable guy, as long as you don’t piss him off. He’s a Hells Angel, outlaw, and ex-con, and given the mission of taking much needed serum to Boston so a plague won’t wipe out that half of the population. For his reward, he’ll get a pardon from the Nation of California. Hell accepts the offer to clear his name. (I am going to intentionally leave some parts vague; I think these parts really add to the character of Hell and I would hate to ruin this for the next reader.) Along the journey, Hell is going to have to battle giant bats and butterflies (yes, I said butterflies) and Gila monsters and spiders. There are rumors of people who have reverted back to primitive behavior and who attack all travelers. There are biker gangs and enough weather phenomena to make even the hardiest adventurer think twice about making this run. Sure this sounds like the makings of a really campy B-flick, but this is Hell Tanner we’re talking about here, the grandfather of such famous iconic men as Mad Max and Snake Plissken, the original post apocalyptic anti-hero. (And, for me anyhow—please tell me if you agree or not—I also had a sense that Holden Caulfield was used as a model, only in that post apocalyptic, not a wimpy whiner sort-a way.) But even with all that excitement, there is a fundamental storyline that Zelazny was trying to convey: the Cold War was starting to scare the shit out of him. I mean America was one lunatic away from pressing the button, and Russia was trying to keep numerous lunatics at bay. Zelazny handles this subject with care, never mocking it as one is used to seeing in these types of novels. For Zelazny, he wanted Hell Tanner to not only be a hero but he also wanted him to be a hero and a man in a world that was closing in on the brink of annihilating itself. Pretty impressive subject matter for “just” a sci-fi book, IMO. There is one scene that I will remember fondly: Hell and a biologist named Kanis are discussing what happened [in their world] and why it happened, and Kanis keeps asking Hell to kill him but also reneges continuously as well; this is a very cyclical conversation. Anyways, while reading this section, images of Waiting for Godot came to mind, and I started to laugh, not because it was funny, but because the only other alternative was to cry over this fully realized bleak world, and I truly began to understand what was in store for these survivors even if the serum eradicated the plague. This will definitely not be my last Zelazny novel.VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
What do You think about Damnation Alley (2004)?
Forget the movie. Read the original book.Two guys make the trip across a post-apocalyptic America to deliver a life-saving vaccine. Or something like that. It's been a while since I read it. But I do remember that one of the two men making the trip was named "Hell" Tanner, a former Hell's Angel. He can take care of himself. And the kid he accompanies.In the movie they turn Tanner into a wimpy soldier. Not a Green Beret or Special Forces type of soldier, but... not a former Hell's Angel kind of guy.So we get a road trip through an atom-blasted wasteland. With a former Hell's Angel. All the better to survive the experience.
—Steve
DAMNATION ALLEY might best be termed bubblegum science fiction. The creatures that inhabit Damnation Alley are straight out of B-movie material. The story is bereft of subplots. Hell Tanner is not a man given to flights of introspection. He has no character arc. Other than a few days of love for a woman whom he did not take the time to learn anything about, Tanner remained a passionless person, driven only by his desire to be free and his desire to drive.Zelazny’s prose is sparse. Except for the description of the earth’s new climate and geological changes and the dream sequence with the priest, Zelazny is not given to rhetorical fancy. But for a few, seemingly randomly placed vignettes that describe events in crisis panicked Boston, the story is straight forward with no subplots. The characters are unrefined and have just enough backstory and development to tell the story.One of the axioms of fictional writing is that your main character must go through some sort of change to make a story successful – what professional writers of books and screenplays call the character arc. Tanner has no character arc. He leaves Boston the same man he was when he left California. One can’t help but admire a writer who breaks the fundamental rules of the craft and successfully tells an interesting tale.Like bubblegum, the tale was sweet and pleasurable to sink your teeth into. The book was fun to read. With a plot that is well paced and an anti-hero that is likable, yet despicable, DAMNATION ALLEY is worthy of being mentioned with some of the better works of science fiction. One can't help but think that perhaps the highly regarded Mad Max trilogy was not inspired somewhat by Zelazny's tale.The novel was made into a movie starring Jan-Michael Vincent. It is only loosely based on Zelazny’s tale. Most fans of science fiction cinema seem to despise it. I saw it when it first came out in 1977 when I was just 11 years old and I liked it. I saw it a second time just a few years ago and I liked it again. I would not call it a great movie, but I have seen movies deemed great by critics and science fiction aficionados that I’ve enjoyed less.
—Brian Schwartz
Damnation Alley is about a biker named Hell Tanner who has to take some plague serum from LA to Boston, travelling a route called Damnation Alley across the nuclear wasteland that is the United States in a car that might as well be a tank. Along the way he encounters such mutants as giant Gila Monsters, spiders, bats, butterflies, and snakes. Hell Tanner should be regarded as Snake Plissken's ancestor of sorts. Every time he had dialogue I kept hearing Kurt Russell's voice. The writing is a little cheesy but it fits with the story. Overall it was enjoyable but nothing fantastic. I'm tempted to track down the movie but there are pictures from it in the middle of the book and they look nothing like I pictured. Jan Michael Vincent was way too pretty to play Hell Tanner.
—Dan Schwent
