The Count of Eleven

When an ignored chain letter leads to near disaster, family man and video store owner Jack Orchard allows his obsession with numerology to lead him on a murderous rampage. 25,000 first printing. $25,000 ad/promo.

From Publishers Weekly

Veteran horror-meister Campbell ( Waking Nightmares ) fails to thrill convincingly in this tale of a gentle man who kills to improve his luck. Loving husband and doting father Jack Orchard runs a video store in the idyllic English seaside town of New Brighton. When the shop burns down and he discovers his insurance had lapsed, Jack knows why: he'd received a chain letter and broken the chain! Orchard digs the forsaken missive out of the trash. "Turn ill luck into good," it begins. "Mrs. Marsha Indick of Iowa sent 13 copies to friends and was cured of a 20-year-old cancer . . . This letter can change your life." Numbers begin rushing through Jack's head. Besides 13, there is 11, the number of letters in his name. Jack--who will later call his transformed self the Count--makes 13 copies of the letter and mails them. Anticipating good luck now that he has relinked the chain, he is bitterly disappointed when bad things happen instead: his wife loses her job; the bank reneges on a loan; thugs attack his teenage daughter. By Jack's twisted reasoning, this run of bad luck means the chain has been broken by all the recipients of his letter. When each proves unresponsive to his pleas, mild-mannered Orchard becomes the Count and begins a series of repetitively gruesome murders that carry this plodding tale to its predictable denouement. Copyright 1992 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal

Horror veteran Campbell ( Midnight Sun , Tor Bks., 1991) offers an intriguing blend of his usual scary story with a Peter DeVries/Kingsley Amis-style comedy-of-no-manners-at-all. Jack Orchard is not only a clumsy oaf with a genius for the ill-timed and inappropriate joke but also the victim of a stretch of very bad luck. He decides his ill fortune is caused by those who failed to pass on the chain letter he sent them--so he kills them with a blowtorch. Comedy alternates with horror as Jack's personality becomes increasingly split between his own bumbling self and his efficiently murderous alter ego, the Count of Eleven. This novel will appeal to a broad group of readers beyond Campbell's horror-fan base; buy it for general fiction collections.- Marylaine Block, St. Ambrose Univ. Lib., Davenport, Ia.Copyright 1992 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Kirkus Reviews

Though best known for his occult horror (Midnight Sun, 1990, etc.), Campbell built his career on psychothrillers barely tinged with the uncanny (The Doll Who Ate His Mother, 1976, etc.). Here's a new one, about an antic serial killer, intriguing for its unusual blend of horror and farce but lacking much punch. Jack Orchard, owner of a suburban Liverpool video-store, believes wholeheartedly in luck--which he's fresh out of: As the story opens, a series of pratfalls causes his shop to burn down; he's denied a bank loan; and he learns that his shop was uninsured. But then a chain letter arrives, promising to ``turn ill luck into good'' if Jack mails it to 13 others, which he does. And it seems as if his luck is changing--until a hoped-for job falls through and his daughter is attacked by thugs. To Jack's increasingly addled, numerology-clogged mind, this can mean only that some recipients of his letter failed to mail it on in turn, with misfortune rebounding on ``whoever's most accident-prone''--i.e., Jack. What to do? Why, confront the culprits and--for reasons Campbell never quite makes clear--begin to kill them off with a blowtorch. The first murder does seem to improve Jack's fortune--he lands a job--but when his wife loses hers, it's time for several more deaths, most depicted in gruesome slapstick (``a convulsion of his whole body sent Foster jackknifing backward several feet. `Murder,' he shrieked, `murgle, murglub,' and sank''), until Jack becomes known as the ``Mersey Burner''--and then slips off to Greece, where he ends his spree. There's no doubt a gleam in Campbell's eye as he confounds thriller conventions--no cop-vs.-killer here, and little suspense- -and lays on the wryness, but, despite lively language and character-shading, Jack's evolution into a killer doesn't wash, the murders become repetitive, and the ending lies flat on the page. Back to the occult, Mr. Campbell, please. -- Copyright ©1992, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

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