by George Veck
Rating: *****
Twenty-eight-year-old Amelia Paxton is trapped in an abusive marriage, used as a physical and psychological punchbag by her husband, Detective Sergeant Drake “Pax” Paxton, one of the most corrupt, degenerate coppers in Chester Police Force, and there are a few to choose from.
Pax has ensured that Amelia has become completely isolated, literally and figuratively, a forsaken state compounded by her crippling valium dependency for which Pax is the willing, controlling supplier…
Belabour is another tough, unfiltered story from Veck that plumbs the depth of human depravity, abuse, and addiction. If “rock bottom” had a basement, it would be where Veck’s characters dwell.
Like his previous novels*, Belabour requires an open mind, and its content is not for the faint-hearted. Personally, it’s a horribly compelling, darkly humorous, and thought-provoking read that I found difficult to put down.
Pax’s relentless abuse, which Amelia has been subjected to for nearly a decade, and her subsequent reliance on valium have rendered her a pitiful husk of a woman. Consequently, she could appear one-dimensional, and Veck could have written her into a stereotype.
However, he avoids this. Although the reader meets her in a miserable condition with little hope of salvation, tiny fragments of her undimmed personality flicker through. But Pax’s ten-year brutal, ironclad grip on every aspect of her life has destroyed any spirit.
She’s not without a touch of cunning, mainly deployed when obtaining and maintaining her supply of pills, and occasionally, her decision-making echoes with hints of a more forceful, emotionally intelligent woman than the addicted, beaten shell she has become.
Amelia’s feral younger brother, Anton, also under Pax’s coercion, is relatively useless due to his rampant drug problem, although odd moments of regret and guilt bubble up.
But it’s Pax who controls the narrative, or thinks he does, for at least three-quarters of the novel. Vicious, amoral, and psychopathic, he possesses no redeeming features yet is a pathetic figure in several respects. His barbaric behaviour stems from a severe inferiority complex, which is highlighted early on with an excruciating scene in a Chinese restaurant.
Notwithstanding, he elicits no sympathy, and neither do his self-serving acolytes, such as Fletcher, Konrad, and Steph. All turn a blind eye to Pax’s actions as they feed their own grubby habits and hustles. Amelia and Anton’s mum, Dianne, is a particularly loathsome example of derelict motherhood.
Veck’s pace is blistering and his writing crawls with visceral, skin-itching realism. Characters lurch from one wretched drink-fuelled, drug-addled grift to another, sinking lower into the morass as they do. Words spew onto the page. Occasionally, they trip over themselves and get a little scrappy, but their raw, authentic quality, riddled with jargon and scored with grim humour, is exactly what this story needs.
There is no main, propulsive plot but the scattered, trembling threads of various intentions and tangents that have consequences, some connected, some not, for the bulk of the cast. Given that the majority are unable of coherent thought, this sketchy narrative structure is both credible and complementary, and its unpredictability keeps the pages turning.
An amusing but poignant side-angle involving Larry and Solly residing in HMP Horn Cross is worthy of its own book. Larry is the only personality with a minuscule shred of drive and decency, but it’s a low bar, and his ending, well-intentioned though it is, puts pay to his ambitions.
Realistic, disturbing, and addictive, Belabour is another work of gritty genius from Veck. Highly recommended.
*Click here for my review of One Visit.
*Click here for my review of Monotone Masquerade.
*Click here for my review of Spurious Scrapper.
*Click here for my review of Ogwen Blues.
*Click here for my review of Rough Visit.
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