"The Autopsy" (1980) follows the exploits of a pathologist who attempts to determine what killed a group of miners in an isolated Colorado hamlet. It's one of the most beloved horror/sci-fi stories in the history of both genres, having received nominations for the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award. Readers are smitten with it; aficionados can't wait to recommend it to newbies.

So there must be some reason I didn't like it. Maybe I'm just an old grouch, right? I've wrestled sincerely with the question and, yes, there is a reason that I emphatically disliked "The Autopsy": it takes a pretty good pulp horror premise and ruins it with ludicrous overwriting. Slathers it with ten-dollar words that weigh down the story's momentum like a huge rusty anchor. Sometimes a beautifully clear, evocative sentence lights up the page ("In the freezing half-light all movement felt like defiance"); more often than not, Shea's pompous wordiness is self-defeating. In a story of mechanical horror such as this ("mechanical" in the sense that it pertains to physical forces rather than to matters of the spirit), a sense of steady movement isn't just important: it's everything. The story is supposed to sweep me up and carry me along. I don't want to stop in the middle of one gudgy run-on sentence after another to look up forensic terminology.

Two stars for the premise, which is interesting despite the needlessly byzantine execution. I really wanted this one to be more fun than it was. ( )