Although the above level is achieved by only a few positions in the genre, there are also those whose components seem to suggest that everything is in its place and then fall apart like a house of cards. Together with his Elevator, Tomasz Sablik enters the dangerous territory of play with constant understatements with the viewer. This is a risky procedure in that it takes a lot of sense not to bore the reader with the enigmatic atmosphere, and on the other hand, not to reveal himself with the twist that is supposed to turn everything upside down earlier than exactly when the author plans it. The elevator succeeds, although it happens that Sablik walks on thin ice.
According to the unwritten rules of psychological horror movies, the story of the book begins in an extremely enigmatic way. In the foreground, we have Robert Rot, a taxi driver who struggles with both a complicated family life and an affliction that plagues him. The headache that returns at regular intervals, blurring the reality, is only a prelude to a real nightmare in which the protagonist will soon find himself. The line between what is real and what is imagined is less noticeable than we would like to think, and if truly demonic forces are integrated into the whole, we can expect only one thing – trouble.
In ElevatorSablik focuses on methodical discovering of the next elements of the complicated puzzle, revealing subsequent fragments of the main character’s personality. And Robert Rot is a figure as intriguing as full of contradictions – on the one hand, a loving father, on the other, a man prone to violence and clearly struggling to control his anger. When he comes across something that cannot be humanly explained, he tries to cling to reality, slowly sliding into the abyss of madness. But are you sure? Sablik does not give us an unequivocal answer to this question, efficiently maneuvering between consecutive delirious visions and glimpses of the gray everyday life. Inevitably, the plot conducted in this way does not twist the pace, but the perspective of events that appears in the further part of the book,
The elevator, however, does not necessarily focus on causing us panic – it is more a game of appearances and the constant clash of two opposing views on subsequent accidents. On the one hand, we constantly feel that there must be something more behind the whole scandal, on the other hand, we are never sure how the events will ultimately turn out. The author’s ability to look into the characters’ heads in such a way that their stream of consciousness not only does not tire, but also be able to intrigue them, comes to the rescue.
At the beginning of the text I mentioned that in building this specific smokescreen, however, Sablik can drift a bit too far – and in some cases he seems to reveal more details about the true essence of the events than he intended. The very end of the story, according to the author, is actually supposed to turn the whole story around by one hundred and eighty degrees, but the degree of surprise depends on the experience of a given recipient in horror literature. I have a feeling that the genre of stagers will most likely sniff the crowning surprise per kilometer.
Even if this happens, however, the whole cannot be denied a decent style and gloomy atmosphere, which together successfully maintain the reader’s interest in what Sablik devised for his heroes. Although it is difficult to call the Elevator a world-class work, it does its job – that is, causing a feeling of anxiety – quite well.
Ultimately, it is worth recommending Elevator , especially to those who deal with literary horror rather sporadically. No fountains, but solid – this is the motto of Sablik’s book, which, supplemented with another, high-quality edition of Vesper, for many can easily become a gateway to more regular adventures with horrors poured out on the pages of novels. In other words, check it out.
