07/16/2025 Exploring the Labyrinth with Kit Power: Earthworm Gods, essay 5
- Candace Nola
- 3 hours ago
- 7 min read
Exploring The Labyrinth
In this series, I will be reading every Brian Keene book that has been published (and is still available in print) and then producing an essay on it. With the exception of Girl On The Glider, these essays will be based upon a first read of the books concerned. The article will assume you’ve read the book, and you should expect MASSIVE spoilers.
I hope you enjoy my voyage of discovery.
Earthworm Gods
I decided to do something a little different for this one and picked up the Leisure paperback (my prior reading in this series has all been on eBook). Part of that decision was financial, in that it worked out significantly cheaper, but part was about an attempt to try to experience this book in a way that first-time readers will have, back when they picked this up in 2006.
There is a substantial history associated with Leisure Books, which I have no intention of addressing in this article - it’s a story that frankly deserves its own book, and I have neither the time nor research chops needed to write it. For now, let us just say that for a while back there, in the early to mid Naughties, Leisure Horror seemed to be a good line to be a part of, with direct order customers as well as bookstore coverage, and a lot of big names in the field - and it didn’t end well.
Also, Keene was a big part of that stable.
I mention this because there’s a good chance that, for many fans following his work via Leisure, it’s likely that Earthworm Gods was considered Keene’s third novel, not his fourth. Terminal was written for a different publisher, and there’s therefore no mention of it in the ‘Other Leisure books by Brian Keene’ section at the front of the paperback. Also, as noted in the last essay, Terminal was less straight genre than his other novels, and did not sell well, so word of mouth will have been muted at best.
I mention all this because I found it interesting how much Earthworm Gods felt like a spiritual successor to the first two Rising novels, in both the apocalyptic contours of the tale, and the escalating sense of dread and calamity.
Our narrator for this tale is Teddy Garnet, a World War II vet in his eighties, who as our story opens is huddled inside his house, nursing some alarming-sounding injuries, and telling us about the end of the world. It’s a bold choice, going with a first-person narrator at the end of the story, writing down his version of events for us, but it works incredibly well, I think - mainly because Keene absolutely nails the voice. He’s mentioned on The Horror Show that Teddy was based on his grandfather, and that intimate understanding, combined with Keene’s vivid empathic imagination, creates one of my favourite, most well-rounded Keene creations so far.
I mentioned earlier that this story feels more like a Rising type tale than a continuation of Terminal, but it’s also fair to say that what this does share with Terminal - the first-person narrator - is an undoubted strength of the writing. It allows Keene to tell the story without any distance, placing us, the reader, directly behind the eyes of Teddy, as he tries to negotiate a world sliding slowly but inexorably towards collapse.
Keene weaves this first third of the narrative skillfully, introducing the characters in Teddy’s life gradually, allowing the dialogue and interactions between them to build a picture of the relationships - Carl, good-hearted, if prone to verbal rambling, and crazy, dangerous Earl, with his NWO conspiracy theories and small arsenal of guns. I was especially impressed with Earl, actually. Such characters are often written sneeringly, and can easily slip into caricature, but Keene manages to avoid this. He does it partly by juxtaposing Earl with Teddy and Carl - two fundamentally decent men from similar circumstances - and partly just by realistic characterisation and dialogue. Earl feels real and rounded, without becoming either likeable or particularly sympathetic, and I was impressed by how well Keene pulled that off.
And of course, next to the human monster, there are the Worms.
Keene has said the inspiration for this was observing a mud puddle during a rainy day, squirming with worms, and wondering to himself how it would be if they were being pushed to the surface by larger worms underneath… and if so, what of the worms under them? How big might they get?
Keene seems already to have developed a very highly developed sense of how to build such a theme, playing with reader expectations, while ultimately delivering. He also has a great line in escalation, especially in this book - the scene in chapter two where a robin is eaten by a worm, followed by the discovery of larger and larger holes in the grounds around the house as the story develops… it’s fun, because given the title of the book, we actually have more information than the protagonist does - we know what the holes mean long before he does/can, and yet there isn’t that feeling that can sometimes develop where the reader feels impatient with the characters - at least, I didn’t. Thinking about it now, that may partly be explained by the choice of first-person narrator, actually after all, the guy telling us the story knows what’s going on, now. He just didn’t then.
As well as the Worms themselves, there’s also the rain, which becomes almost a background character by the end of the book. It’s a terrifying notion all by itself - the notion that one day it starts raining, all over the world, and just never stops - and not a million miles away from what climate change may yet do to the planet, if we don’t make some fairly radical adjustments to our behaviour as a species. Keene handles it well, allowing occasional descriptions to remind us of the constant noise, the grey quality of the light filtered through constant cloud cover, and a cold dampness that permeates the very air. That, plus the constant mud, creates a melancholic bleakness of surprising power, even before giant worms start erupting from the ground and eating everyone.
Of course, eventually, they do, and Keene’s characteristic flair for action horror creates some memorable, cinematic sequences - especially the attack on a helicopter, which introduces some new characters and sets up the second act.
I really dug the structure of the book. It felt like a really bold decision to shift voices for the middle third, effectively allowing one of the other survivors to become the narrator for the middle of the story. I’ve since learned that the reason for doing this was to combine two novellas (as well as adding substantial amounts of extra text) into a novel length work, but absent that information, it just seemed like a really exciting and unexpected choice, and reflecting on it, I still think it not just works, but actually lifts the book. Sure, we could quibble about whether or not Teddy would really be able to recall Kevin’s story so well that he’d transcribe it this faithfully, but that strikes me as a fairly petty complaint, and one that could be narrowed just as well at most first-person narratives.
Besides, Kevin's story is mesmerising, taking in a band of survivors living in the upper stories of a flooded World Trade Centre in Baltimore. Keene excels at these quickly sketched, memorable characters, and mapping out both the tensions between them and the ties that bind them together as survivors. It also allows Keene to give us more details of the horrors that inhabit this flooding world, beyond the worms - mermaids that have the deadly hypnotic power of sirens, for example (and in a neat touch, with the power to psychically seduce gay women, as well as men, which added an extra level of tension to proceedings).
We’re also treated to another vintage action horror set piece, as the survivors launch a desperate assault on the ‘satanists’ - a terrifying cult who has occupied a nearby building and are enacting gruesome human sacrifices. Keene plays the tension in this sequence like a master, with the infiltration of the cultist’s building - poorly lit, dripping with moisture, strange not-quite-nonsense graffiti (including a nice Rising shout-out) - being atmospheric and nerve-shredding. Similarly, once the guns start firing, the carnage is both immediate and cinematic. I know I keep banging on about his stuff, but Keene does it so, so well, and… well, look, I’m a writer myself, and this stuff is really hard to do well, and Keene does it so well it’s a little irritating… or it would be if it wasn’t so captivating.
The conclusion to that part of the tale is about as bleak as I’ve already come to expect from Keene’s work to date and sets up the mood of escalating dread nicely for the return to Teddy’s tale.
I really enjoyed the climax of the book, with another suitably dramatic, cinematic sequence… but also, a really touching coda, as Teddy, gravely injured, limping around in his collapsing house, wonders at the fate of his now-absent companions, his only answer the relentless pounding of the rain. It’s a bold choice to end on, but also a realistic one, I think - how often in life do we get to know how it ends? I mean, basically never, if you think about it. The story always goes on without us.
I’m left with an overall impression of a stunning portrait of old age, with all its fears and petty indignities - again, an astonishingly accomplished act of imaginative empathy for an author writing in his early thirties - as well as a gripping pulp horror creature feature with some brauva action set pieces. I know we’ll return to the world of Earthworm Gods at some point, and I am already looking forward to it.
But next up is Dark Hollow - also known as Rutting Season. Yikes. Wonder what Keene’s got in store this time?
KP
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