by Jay Bonansinga

First, he returns for the first time since The Black Mariah to the overtly supernatural. Oblivion is, in part, a sort of variation on The Exorcist, wisely using some of the same themes while remaining completely independent of the William Peter Blatty seminal novel. Second, it can be argued that in Oblivion his characters spend half their time doing the pursuing, though in point of fact the other half is spent in flight, so perhaps this does not signify a change of approach as much as a shift in focus.

Martin Delaney is a defrocked priest now about twenty years removed from his priesthood days. Steeped in the bottle and more than a little self-pity, he finds himself in a Chicago Christmas blizzard, unsteady and near falling-down drunk, when he is approached by a former altar boy, now grown, who seeks a favor. Martin's fall from grace involved an unsanctioned exorcism in which the young victim, a supposedly possessed boy from the Projects, had perished—mostly at Martin's hands. Martin's certainty is that the possessing evil force used his own pride against him. Now an attorney, ex-altar boy Jimmy Dodd wants Father Martin to bless a certain house, believed to be haunted, in a low-key ceremony. Having done the occasional off-the-books house blessing since his glory days, Martin agrees—but he's surprised when Dodd informs him that they must travel in secret to the house and that he must be blindfolded on the way there. The family does not wish anyone to know about Martin's attempt to exorcise a presence which has caused them more than a little discomfort. But the blizzard kicks in, some things go wrong, and a small group of people are stuck in this house of evil—and escape is not an option, not until the force has had its will.

Now, telling more would ruin an aspect of the plot which, needless to say, drives the narrative toward the unexpected. Using Martin's first-person, emotion-laden account of his own moral struggle during and after the first exorcism (and his arrogant pride in disobeying his bishop's orders), Bonansinga gives us his most personal look at a protagonist's psychology. Given this chance to make amends, Martin accepts the challenge—but is this house's haunting presence the same one Martin faced twenty years ago, and is this invitation a trap for Martin's soul?

As in any novel by Jay Bonansinga, the action is engaging and this time also genuinely eerie, following the best haunted-house tradition. And there is a surprisingly deep subtext about faith and religion, sin and redemption, and just what is the corrupting nature of evil. Father Martin is an eloquent spokesman whose wise and saddened voice reflects the moral struggles within us all, whether we acknowledge them or not.

Cemetery Dance does its usual great job with the limited edition hardcover, which sports an evocative Alan Clark cover. While Jay Bonansinga has written faster, more cinematic thrillers, Oblivion is a welcome end effective foray into a more traditional form.