The Hangman’s Ritual by Nick Antosca Review
CCM, 2013
156 pages | Amazon
Nick Antosca’s The Hangman’s Ritual is a dark thriller driven by an oddly disturbing question: Is it possible to empathize with an executioner? In some ways, the book reminds me of the violently twisted narrative of Oldboy. Not the Manga comic, nor the new American remake, but the South Korean bomb-in-your-face that feels like an octopus ripping out your throat. At the same time, it delves deeper into a noir world, paying homage to the film while weaving its own identity. There’s a Hotel where people are inexplicably locked away for an unspecified number of years. In Oldboy, that’s the starting point for Oh Dae-Su’s gruesome journey. In The Hangman’s Ritual, the Hotel takes center stage and its curator, Casper, is our titular Hangman. His wife is dead and his son is inflicted with an illness that will kill him unless he takes special pills that only the owner of the Hotel, Simon Sobel (co-owner of one of the largest hedge funds in the world, Arkin Sobel), can provide: “In the weeks after she disappeared, he was possessed by panic. Like a demon took hold of him. He ran a fever. It must be an elaborate trick, an evil prank. Later, when Dylan got sick, he had the same panic, the same impression of surreality. Lives don’t collapse this quickly.”
Only, they do. They unravel, crumble, and implode. The Hotel gives Casper structure. His hospitality management extends beyond keeping towels supplied and business administration. He is caretaker of the living damned. They are hapless victims, stuck in a murder castle reminiscent of H.H. Holmes, a sadistic prison bound in madness and tedium as though the two siphoned off of one another. New guests are welcomed with a pleasant message on their TV repeating in a sequence, giving them the run-down with a casual apathy reminiscent of an infomercial. The check-out is Hotel Californiasque with a literality that only the most macabre would appreciate: “Check out = end your life.”
Casper deals with the chores necessitated by the Hotel, feeding the prisoners three meals a day, taking out the trash, and helping them to “check out.” He meets an arcane assortment of characters, each with their own tragedy. Their hidden sins bind them to Arkin Sobel. When Casper—along with another victim—attempt to notify the police about the Hotel, Sobel traps Casper and forces him to be a guest in the Hotel he once maintained. Antosca’s prose throughout is succinct yet vivid, putting the focus on Casper’s plight and his deteriorating sanity. Knowing the routine and yet being driven mad by it, this could be a parable for contemporary consumerism with everyone fed information through a tube. Antosca takes the allegory to another level when he explains the “Hangman’s Ritual” through a desperate prisoner who is giving advice on survival:
“Political prisoners do this. The goal of those who imprison you is to break you. They can torture you into submission and press you information. If you give in, the cost to your spirit is great. So you have to create something they don’t know about. Do you follow?”
“Something they can’t take away, yes.”
“Give yourself a secret ritual that you observe no matter what. Just the fact that you observe it gives it meaning. No matter what they do, maintain that ritual.”
The Hotel, then, is our society and we are all prisoners, incubating in a hatchery that has been forced on us by our own needs. There is an illusion of stability, a television that succors and distracts. But it’s clear even the American dream becomes a nightmare when caged within a sun-less hotel room. Redemption isn’t a consideration. There is only the price of staying outside of the prison cell created by the mega-rich which, in turn, means being an executioner for those who fall out of line. Casper’s “ritual” is a wrenching siren call for his desires as he fights off the terror of monotony:
“The Ritual is the key. If he survives, it will be the Ritual that kept him alive. You have to have something they can’t take away… He does mental exercises, playing a game of chess against himself until he loses track of where the pieces are. When he feels flickers of despair, he performs his Ritual or visualizes certain images… There is a perpetual battle to maintain control.”
Of course, control is a matter of perspective when everything around you is being monitored and regulated. The Hangman’s Ritual is a quick-paced read that is very entertaining and can be finished in a single setting. What makes the book so compelling is that it isn’t just about a Hangman’s Ritual, Casper, or even Oldboy; it’s about the question Nick Antosca proposes to the reader: What is your ritual? The troubling implication is the realization there’s no check-out in the hotel called life, at least not one that you’ll like.
