DEPRAVED – BRYAN SMITH

Upon picking up Bryan Smith’s latest Leisure release, I expected the oft-trodden path of innocent folks blundering into the backwoods and falling foul of snaggle-toothed hillbillies.

Centred around the isolated town of Hopkin’s Bend, the hideous inhabitants are preparing for their annual holiday feast, and no prizes for guessing what, or who, is on the menu.

But I discovered very early on that Depraved also has plenty of tricks up its filthy little sleeve.

 This book has all the genetic mutation, cannibalism, murder, dismemberment, rape and torture that you could hope for, but the impressive bodycount doesn’t stifle a dark sense of humour. The story itself moves at a breathtaking rate. Within minutes of the off, the main characters are all in terrible jeopardy or running for their lives, and it’s very much to Bryan’s credit that I cared, despite having only just met them.

It’s also an extremely visual read – colourful and evocative – as we travel from the dirty, forest shacks and their inbreeding families, to the grim, sound-proofed rooms and glistening flesh of the town’s strip-joint. The Sin Den is an inspired creation, a horrific and lurid gem; think Porky’s meets 8mm.

Like much of Richard Laymon’s work, Depraved strikes upon how normal people, in certain circumstances, are capable of extreme violence, even stooping to unnecessary atrocity. The transformation of the protagonists did seem to occur a little too quickly here, although I suppose the hook is that we’re all only a gentle push from savagery. However, I prefer this possibility insinuated, and at times the story explains it too clearly, but overall, this is a minor gripe.

The second half is an assault, and never stops twisting as we discover more about Hopkin’s Bend and the corruption, sex slavery and ancient evil in which it is steeped. Yes, there’s a good old-fashioned curse. I found this supernatural angle less interesting at first, but its execution and resolution is fiendish, and it also delivers a snippet of extreme bizarro so debauched that I didn’t know whether to laugh or put the book down in disgust. I suspect that either reaction would have pleased the author.

This book is a genuine page-turner, an overused phrase I don’t particularly like to apply, but one that is too appropriate in this case. There are truly gripping moments; Bryan is a master of edge-of-your-seat chases and escape attempts. It’s also been a while since I’ve read a novel epilogue so satisfying, and I put the book down with a low, slightly nasty chuckle.

Depraved is noisy, sick, and certainly not for all, but if it sounds like your cup of blood, then get ready to clink glasses with the devil. You’re going to have fun.

DARK JESTERS HAS ARRIVED

Today I received my contributor copy of Dark Jesters, an anthology of humorous horror.

10 authors, 10 tales, 1000 laughs and a couple of screams!

A slick little book, it’s edited by Nick Cato and LL Soares, and features an introduction by the latter. The table of contents is:

• FOSSILIZED BRAAAINS by William A. Veselik
• THE PLAGUE OF GENTLEMEN by Matthew Fryer
• TONGS AND THE ROACH by David T. Wilbanks
• BLESS THE BEASTLY CHILDREN by Laura Cooney
• WOLF PLUGS by Jerrod Balzer
• HACKS by Sam Battrick
• PAPA’S GOT A BRAND NEW BAG by Robert Guffey
• CURSE OF THE BLIND EEL by James Roy Daley
• RETIREMENT by Rob Brooks
• DEADNECK WOMAN by Mark Justice

Dark Jesters is published by Novello and available from Horror Mall here.

DIFFERENT SKINS – GARY MCMAHON

You know that moment when you hear a new band, read a book or watch a film that strikes a deep chord, and you realise with excitement that you’ve just discovered somebody seriously worth following? It happened to me almost a year ago when I first experienced (“read” not being a strong enough word) a story by Gary McMahon.

That story was “Heads” in ”We Fade to Grey”, an anthology of horror British horror novelettes of which he was also the editor. A supernatural descent of a tale, I was immediately struck by two things. Firstly, it was the flavour of the prose, conjuring place and atmosphere through tiny details and exquisite similes, but never at the expense of story. The second thing was the strength of the characters. So real and genuine, they felt more like people I’d actually met, at once involving me in their plight, however unpleasant this might be.

Hungry for more, I purchased “Dirty Prayers” (Gray Friar Press) and “How to Make Monsters” (Morrigan Books) and demolished them with glee. These are wildly imaginative collections, infused with horror in the purest sense of the word, but also tremendous humanity. We meet broken people, shrouded in guilt, love, anger, rejection and loss, and we feel their fear and pain. As Tim Lebbon has pointed out, Gary’s writing has soul.

The monsters in his stories take all forms. Sometimes, they are small-scale; psychopaths, ghosts and the potential for madness. Other times they’re the vast, metaphorical beasts of cities, societies and governments. This is horror for you: the normal person living a normal life surrounded by the lurking shadows and frustrations of the 21st century that leak into your existence, perhaps without recognition.

We live in a world populated by the damaged, and much of Gary McMahon’s world seethes with anger. He is a writer whose patience with ignorance or stupidity has run dry, and his craft has no time for the beaten path. You would think that this would be depressing reading, but the stories have such colour and vibrant life, despite the subject matter and the terrible trials that weigh down our long-suffering protagonists, that the end result almost seems hopeful. But only almost. The author has a refreshing aversion to happy endings.

But anyway, on to “Different Skins”, his latest release from Screaming Dreams; a short book of two novellas that sports delicious artwork from Vincent Chong.

In “Even the Dead Die”, London is a seething hive of threat, and an early metaphor certainly rings true from my experience of the metropolis: “overcrowded streets filled with vacant, directionless zombies who see nothing past the bubble that surrounds them”.

We meet the city through Mike, a man boiling with frustration, who begins to encounter old faces (or are they ghosts?) on the city streets, drawing him down into the nightmares of his past. He meets a young tattooist by the name of Sheena, who initially appears to be a pleasant antidote to his lonely madness, but actually has terrible baggage and secrets of her own and will serve him as a guide rather than a distraction.

This excellent story has a sobering concept of the afterlife, and ponders that what may seem like poetic justice in this life could all be rendered cruelly irrelevant. There’s also Lovecraftian vibe, the feeling that reality is just a fragile skin over something infinitely more ghastly.

I thought the second novella, “In the Skin”, would struggle to scale the bar set by the opener, but I needn’t have worried. This is a stunning piece of writing.

A man returns to his troubled wife and young son after a business trip to New York to discover that things have changed; his world is suddenly askew and sinister, his son is slipping away and morphing into something horribly other.

We all know that feeling of awaking from a nightmare, when the terrifying experience is still fresh and overwhelming. Few writers can capture this helpless, unpleasant place to be on the page. Well, Gary McMahon can. And he can do it very well.

There are similar themes to the first story; his New York is cleaner yet more dishonest than his London, and no less grim, and the claustrophobia is maintained even when the city is forsaken for the English countryside. “In the Skin” also has a poignant family aspect, used in this instance to chilling effect. The tale gathers weight, increasingly intriguing and uncomfortable in equal measures, until we collide with the mindblowing conclusion; absolute horror at its bleakest and most raw.

Different Skins is a succinct summary of a talented writer at the height of his powers, and one that I would use as front-line ammunition against any detractor of our beloved genre who reckons that horror is tired, shallow and contrived.

So what are you waiting for?

Gary McMahon

Screaming Dreams

(If you can find a copy, I would also recommend “Rain Dogs” from the sadly defunct Humdrumming press, and be sure to bag a copy of the imminent “Hungry Hearts” from Abaddon books, Gary’s first and very well deserved mass market novel release)

BULL RUNNING FOR GIRLS – ALLYSON BIRD

I’m a bit late to the party with this review.

I met Allyson (and acquired this collection) at a ghost story reading she organised just before Halloween last year, in a pub on the edge of the Yorkshire moors. I’d dipped into it a couple of times last winter, but then the book disappeared into one of the many teetering stacks that decorate this house and I only rediscovered it the other day. I’m glad I did.

The author is a friendly, easy-going person with an honest love for the written word and the genre, and this passion certainly comes across in Bull Running for Girls. The writing is subtle, gentle; it doesn’t leap out and grab you like the prose of some of my favourite genre writers such as Gary McMahon or Poppy Z. Brite, but perhaps here lies its strength. The characters and moods carry the tales, and there’s a quiet, almost modest wisdom that kept me coming back for more.

“The Caul Bearer” opens the collection: a gorgeous Lovecraftian tale of horror by the sea. The rich imagery and mournful atmosphere are never turgid – as even Lovecraft himself could be - and the tale contains a genuine shock, affirming from the off that the author isn’t afraid to tell a story.

Another favourite is “Hunter’s Moon” in which a woman tormented by memories of a terrible housefire escapes to rural France, but discovers that the past – both her own and that of others – won’t leave her alone. This is the story that Allyson read on that misty night almost a year ago, and while she has a very pleasant reading voice, at the time I wasn’t overly impressed. I think the switching tense caused confusion in spoken-word form – perhaps it wasn’t the best choice – but on the page, it’s a powerful tale, and very real, despite the presence of the supernatural.

“Shadow upon Shadow” is a dark nightmare of a ghost story in which a troubled woman having an affair faces an occult, palpable evil. It has a brilliant climax, short and understated, as it lets the action speak for itself.

“The Bone Grinder” introduces a budget hotel worker who realises that some of her female colleagues – cheap labour from Eastern-Europe – seem to be disappearing in sinister circumstances. It’s compulsive reading, with a grim theme of how economically disposable human life can be regarded.

A change in tone comes with ”The Shy Boy Bar and Eatery” in which we meet a couple of visitors to the establishment of the title; a pirate-themed restaurant on the North Carolina shores. I detected an uneasy atmosphere from the outset, and was prepared for a ghastly descent, but it turns out to be one of the more light-hearted and fun tales.

“The Critic” opens with a magic circle of vampires discussing undead cinema, but the humourous gambit soon makes way for real darkness as the protagonist – a man plagued with grisly visions – is drawn into their undead microcosm. “Wings of Night” immediately follows – another tale of predatory desire – in which a dissatisfied and promiscuous theatre usher searching for identity accidentally discovers a taste for murder.

I particularly enjoyed “In a Pig’s Ear”, a tale of science and evolution. A future scientist bears a son, the product of her own laboratory tinkering, with fascinating consequences. An adept piece of speculative fiction, this is one of those stories that makes you smile with the outrageous possibility of it all. Also playing with some alternative rules of evolution is “Blood in Madness Ran”, although rather than the future, here we’re back in time and surrounded by Roman Gods and monsters. It’s fast-paced, brutal and full of colourful imagery – like any self-respecting mythology - and the climactic revelation is a joy.

Being a sucker for laughs, “Silence is Golden” is a definite favourite. A widower, struggling to follow his dead wife’s instructions for her funeral, discovers that she will not lie down and rest. Dripping with gallows humour, both from the characters and the author, this story has the feel of an old-fashioned farce; uncomfortable, sometimes cringe-worthy, but very funny and one that’s impossible to put down.

The book is billed as “adventure-horror”, an interesting label that seems perfectly appropriate. In addition to an impressive timeline – this collection spans from ancient times to the SF future – there’s a real international flavour. We visit Hong Kong, France, Spain, China, Pompeii amongst others, and the evocation of these locations suggests that the author is very well-travelled, a dedicated researcher or simply has a great imagination; possibly all three. I was also pleased to discover that “Bull Running for Girls” doesn’t just refer to the title story, picked for its catchy hook, but a metaphor that is present throughout.

It’s not a perfect collection. A couple of the stories are weaker than the others, and at times, the book would have benefitted from sharper editing, but it’s well worth the cover price. There’s a pleasing order to the tales – the triumphs and lows are carefully measured – making it work as a complete reading experience rather than just a coffee-table collection to occasionally browse. Allyson Bird has a great eye for detail, and understands the small touches that inject reality into a story. It’s a book with genuine heart and feeling – something often missing from noisy, lurid contemporary horror - and I look forward to what her future craft will bring.

Allyson Bird

Screaming Dreams Press

-Edited to add that I’ve just heard this book won “Best Collection” last night at the British Fantasy Society’s awards ceremony at Fantasycon, 2009.

Congratulations Allyson! Beating Gary McMahon’s excellent “How to Make Monsters” nomination is an achievement alone. Enjoy the glory!

PICTURES OF THE DARK – SIMON BESTWICK

“There are dark places everywhere…” begins the back cover, and if you want some festering inside your head, then this collection is a good place to start.

After reading Bestwick’s acclaimed apocalypse novella “The Narrows” last year, my hopes were high, and I was more than happy with what leaked from the pages. This a real mixed bag of atmospheric scenarios – historical, apocalyptic, urban, remote, supernatural - and something for everyone. Well, okay, not everyone. Perhaps it’s more for those who order their steak rare and can stomach (perhaps even like) the discovery of a writhing maggot in the meat.

The excellent openener “Love Amongst the Bones” is a tale about awakening sexuality and necrophilia, but the writing is so masterful and elegant that the subject matter, bizarrely, doesn’t seem offensive at all. The characters are strong, giving the impression that these are people we’ve actually met.

This is one of the most notable things about the Bestwick’s writing. He infuses his characters with such tremendous humanity that when coupled with a strong social awareness, the intrusion of nightmare becomes a personal experience to the reader. For example, “Going Under, Flying High” begins with a couple’s pleasantly bland, domestic routine before the man receives a telephone call that seems to be from his long-dead wife. As the tale descends quickly into horror, we share his confusion, understand his torn loyalties. These are ordinary folks, living ordinary lives that are shattered out of the blue. It could almost be happening to us.

Some of the tales are very bleak, in a way that modern life can often be. “Touch the Dark”, an exercise in social and personal misery, features a troubled man who moves to a threadbare apartment block that is plagued by suicides and slowly starts to realise that there might be more to the deaths than simple deprivation. The depressing “Close my Eyes”, about dementia and the tragic decline of old-age, draws us into the heartbreaking plight of a man watching his father’s mind rot before his eyes, before concluding with a genuine shock that sinks the mood yet another notch.

There are stories with an immense sense of place, such as the haunting “From Those Dark Waters, Where the Lost Bones Lie”. Here, a divorced loner sunbathing beside a reservoir witnesses a troubling chain of events involving a stranger and his children. There’s a nightmarish quality to the experience, where even the innocent seems sinister and wrong, even if we can’t quite pin down exactly what the problem might be.

Other stories worthy of particular mention include “Starky’s Town”, a cracking urban jaunt that actually breathes fresh life into the zombie genre – not an easy task – and can be read purely for the ride or analysed for social metaphor. Bestwick’s stories often have deeper layers, but they’re never rammed down your throat nor dampen the entertainment value, and I was grinning by the end. Another that made me smile is “Drop Dead Gorgeous”, an instantly engaging tale told from the point of view of a jaded barman in a singles club, and the sad and predatory people he meets. There’s real substance shrouded in this short fix of supernatural entertainment.

The perfect antidote to such fun is “The Slashed Menagerie”, a definite favourite, although it seems wrong to use such a positive word. It’s a horrible story in which privelege breeds the abuse of power, and we encounter such vulgar, sociopathic cruelty that it leaves a lingering bitter taste. I won’t even tell you what it’s actually about because I wouldn’t want to spoil the horrific realisation. This exposes another of Bestwick’s talents. You often don’t have any idea what lurks around the corner (you may believe you do, but you don’t) and it’s best kept that way. A scene is introduced - sometimes a genre staple that fosters a deceptively reassuring familiarity -  then bam. There’s even a couple of vampire tales, but I wouldn’t dream of telling you which ones lest I ruin the surprise.

Despite the dark flavour of much of this book, the author also has a sense of humour. “Welcome to Mengele’s”, a story about lust, greed and celebrity, opens with a blunt scenario of bestiality, necro-porn and surgically-enhanced corpses that was impossible to turn away from. At least I hope it was supposed to be funny, because if not, then it would appear that I need more help than the author. But when you can write like this man, you can get away with anything.

Another strong favourite is “To Walk in Midnight’s Realm”. Containing subtle shades of “The Narrows”, the mountainous Welsh countryside is the setting for a solidly plotted horror adventure that features love, loss, the walking dead and an intriguing take on the afterlife. A tale to savour for both its aching pathos and its gruesome action, and one that I will read again.

The last story “When the West Wind Blows” brings the proceedings to a close with aplomb. I love apocalypse fiction and enjoyed the downward spiral of civilsation into chaos as a man attempts to protect his wife’s grave from unnamed, hellish scavengers.

I highly recommend “Pictures of the Dark”. The prose is sharp and the author certainly isn’t afraid to tackle taboo subjects head on; this is a very adult book. But while you will stumble across corpse-abuse, torture and carnivorous cruelty of all kinds, it’s never sensationalist or unnecessary. The horrors are intelligent, sewn into the fabric of the tales, drawing you deeper into the plight of the oft-unfortunate protagonists. There are tropes, but no cliché. There are startling twists, but none contrived. Bestwick really knows how to finish a short story, and I never once felt cheated. Sometimes shocked or sad, sometimes amused, other times profoundly disturbed, but always satisfied.

Gray Friar Press

Simon Bestwick

TALES FROM THE SMOKING ROOM

Hand of Danjou Press. Edited by Benedict J. Jones and V.C. Jones.

This anthology from Hand of Danjou press is exactly what the title suggests; a collection of macabre and startling stories from the brandy and cigar-smoke ambience of a Victorian-era gentlemen’s club.

It contains 7 tales, most of which are 1st person and favour an appropriately traditional style of storytelling, often finding the narrator lounging in a leather armchair of the smoking room, the witching hour upon him…

The opening tale is Stephen Bacon’s “The Strangled Garden” and features a country garden walled-off after the unexplained disappearance of a child, grown into an impenetrable tangle of vines and lurking darkness. The baleful atmosphere and period language are faultless - the work of a very meticulous writer – and the inevitable adventure into the garden builds to a classic finale.

“Room Three” by Matthew Crossman is a very dark, downbeat story of madness and a family curse, and also contains the single most creepy and disturbing line of dialogue in this anthology. I may have actually shuddered.

Matthew Harding uses a tried and tested trope with “Iron Ape”: the discovery of a scientific artefact that goes hideously awry. But it’s an intelligent story, evocatively told, and the mechanical monstrosity of the title has a palpable presence of violent power even before the threat is actually unleashed.

“The Decent Thing” by V.C. Jones is a single-page flash piece that leads nicely into “Parlour Games” by Mike Chinn. Here, a sinister Russian brings the after-dinner entertainment to a smoking room familiar with illusion and grand-guignol, but not quite expecting the terrors that will arrive when the clock chimes midnight. 

The second flash piece is “Serendipity” by Trudi Topham, a gruesome but light-hearted Vault of Horror style story of graverobbery and reanimation. Finally, the proceedings are closed with”A Game of Billiards” by Craig Herbertson. This is an engaging and neat finale regarding a colonial-era love-squabble that concludes with brutal retribution.

While the quality of the stories is good, “Tales from the Smoking Room” is clearly published from a home printer and would’ve been improved by keener editing. There are several errors and the font is strangely peppered with gaps and too small for A4, but for £2 (Yes, that’s £2) it’s tremendous value for money. Light your cigar, have the butler pour you a large glass of port, and enjoy.