“Dr. A. C. Presents: Horror 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies: Vol. 1”
Edited by Aaron Christensen
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
Greetings horror fans!
I know I am among my people.
Because who but a hard-core horror fan would read a review of a collection of reviews of horror films?
That’s right.
People like you and people like me.
We have our favorite horror genre films and although we recognize the merits of most of the genre there are those few that will always hold a special place in our black hearts.
“Horror 101” is a collection of essays where devoted horror movie enthusiasts, people like you and people like me, are given the chance to have their three pages worth of time on the soapbox to sing the praises of their favorite horror films, but not in the manner in which we’ve come to expect.
A little back story…
I met the editor in Montrose, Illinois, at the Chicago Fangoria Weekend of Horrors in February of 2008.
As invariable happens when you put a bunch of shrewd and charismatic salesmen in a room we pitched each other with our wares in passing conversation. In all honestly, I think that he hailed me on the second morning and asked me how the show was going and after I told him I asked him what brought him out to the convention and of course he mentioned his book but he didn’t hawk me. He wasn’t overbearing. He didn’t scream “BUY MY BOOK!”. Instead he told me what it was about and I told him that it was a happy accident that he was there to sell his book and I review books for Icons of Fright. We agreed that I would stop by and check out his table when I got around to getting around the vendor room.
On the Sunday, things had slowed down enough that I finally got a chance to walk around and check things out and found Aaron Christensen’s table. He had a variety of books and other horror miscellanea for sale and I recognized a few that I had read and complemented him on having several of the John McCarty genre readers for sale.
Although I thought I had talked my way into a free copy in exchange for a review, the editor ran his line about how the books cost him however much they cost and although he couldn’t give one away he’d be pleased to sell me one at a discount with the understanding that I would follow through and review it.
Being a published author myself, I understand all too well the bottom line and until I pull in some royalties I’m still in hock with my publisher for the first batch of books I ordered up to send out as thanks and for review. So I forked over whatever I forked over and put the book in the small pile of stuff that I picked up that day.
This is unusual for me because being who I am and what I do, I usually get free books. Not that I go out and ask for them but whenever I end up talking with an author, the conversation somehow takes a detour into the part where I mention that I review books for Icons of Fright and sometimes they give me a copy of their book for review and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I ask and sometimes they’re sent unsolicited and although I’m not building a bomb shelter out of books I’ve almost got a stack of books as tall as I am that I’m not quite sure not to do with.
Having paid for the privilege of parting these pages I was going to be pissed if the book sucked.
Not that you’d ever know if I thought so.
If I can’t think of anything nice to say about a book I don’t say anything at all, and thankfully that’s only happened, like, once or twice over the past year, where books were so completely irredeemable that I declined to provide a review. [Sorry, ‘The Coming Evil’. There’s a reason I haven’t gotten around to writing up that review. New Age Christian Horror. Who knew that was going to suck on ice for christ’s sake?] So if you see a review you know there must be some worthwhile qualities to any book that I follow through and review.
Thankfully there are many recommendable qualities about the book which this review addresses.
Although the cover isn’t one of them.
I’m sure that the guy or girl that created the cover art is a nice enough person, but it’s just a bad execution of a good idea.
This would have put it at risk of being relegated to the bottom of the review pile
If not for a lay-over in Long Island at the Sayonara Motel that may have been its temporary fate.
Instead I’m stuck in a motel room for the night and I don’t watch TV and I don’t sleep and I’m hungry for something to read and I remembered that book that bought in Chicago and I thanked the fates that I did.
The book took a little getting used to because it’s different than a lot of critical books that I’ve read. And by critical I mean presenting criticism.
For the most part, books of this sort are written by one author, presenting one critical perspective on a variety of films sharing a common thematic quality. Excellent examples are the aforementioned John McCarty Genre readers such as, “Psychos”, Joe Bob Briggs “Profoundly Disturbing”, “Heroes of the Horrors” by Calvin Thomas Beck and “Midnight Movies” J. Hoberman, Jonathan Rosenbaum.
I would’ve included Chas Balun, but I tried to read “More Gore Score” and just lost interest about halfway through. I recognize that his review style has influenced almost every contemporary horror genre reviewer, but I don’t necessarily think that’s a good thing. Chas Balun writes well, and reading his style of reviewing is fun, but there’s a whole lot of sizzle and not a lot of steak. This influence is exhibited where there’s a trend towards reviews with trashy flashy language that don’t end up telling you anything about the film or book or whatever it is that’s supposed to be getting reviewed instead of thoughtful well-written deconstructive criticism that sings the praises or damns the errors of its intended target. It is not the fault of the talented Mr. Balun that he is often imitated but never duplicated but he started it, so although the guilt lies among the hundreds of unimaginative reviewers pumping out uninformative exclamatory reviews, I’m pointing the finger at Balun because even though he invented the crime, at least he did it with style.
On that note…
Anthological critical works are rare.
And since there are less, I’ve read few but the ones I had read were really hit or miss.
The horror reader, titled “The Horror Reader” by Ken Gelder, we were instructed to purchase for the horror genre film class I took in college was excellent and execrable in quick succession.
The essays addressing “wound culture”, the “rise of the repressed” and horror as expressive of subversive sentiment, and the semi-feminist essay addressing the “male gaze” in horror films were well-written and though-provoking if a little flawed.
But the fifteen page dissertation on homoerotic imagery in “Chinese Ghost Story” and the ten page essay on the concept of “vagina dentata” were just unendurable. A vagina with teeth. I get it. I got it in the first half of the first page. I didn’t think the concept deserved a ten page essay.
Thankfully ‘Horror 101’ gracefully avoids the faults of its predecessors.
From the back cover blurb: “320 Pages with 122 photos from 110 films covered in 101 essays by 78 fans from 12 different countries.” And as much as that is a mouthful to say it is an eyeful to read but as inevitably uneven as an anthology collecting from such a diverse and disparate pool of contributors must be, the editor does an excellent job of reigning in reviewers’ latent tendency to go on overlong, having fallen in love with the sound of their own critical voice. Either that or the editor was miraculously fortunate that each contributor provided approximately three pages of content per segment.
As I said, uneven, but much less so than most. The editor was either discriminating or fortunate to have assembled an excellent collection of reviews of and brief discussions of 110 excellent horror genre films.
Of course with any collection of this kind there’s going to be some quibbling about significant omissions.
Of course I thought that Dario Argento’s ‘Opera’ should be on any Hot 100 Horror Hits list and I’m a secret (well, it was a secret) fan of Larry Drake’s performance in ‘Dark Night of the Scarecrow’. But I think that in our heart of hearts such nit-picking is part of the fun of participating as an active reader in this sort of anthology. If we all agreed one-hundred percent on everything then I think things would get a bit stagnant, if not incestuous, after a while.
That being said, I think this is a more solid representative selection than Bravo’s showcase “100 Scariest Moments in Horror” which was definitely spotty at times.
That’s the other use that this book serves and the beauty of anthologies of this type.
For the person first realizing that they’re becoming an enthusiast of horror films this book is an excellent resource. It’s an even more excellent resource for their friend the horror aficionado who, perhaps feeling pestered by the persistent pleas of “Tell me some more good horror movies to watch!” can just hand a copy of ‘Horror 101’ to their caro-syrup-blood-thirsty friend and say, “This is yours, to borrow, go out and find and watch these hundred and ten films and then I’ll make some more personal recommendations that weren’t mentioned in this book.” Because I’d definitely recommend, “Wild Zero”, and “Audition”, and “Ichi The Killer”, and “In My Skin”, and Ginger Snaps” and “The Descent”, and the “August Underground” trilogy… but you get the point.
For the horror film fan that has worked his way through the “Fridays and the Freddys” and the “Saw” and “Texas Chain Saw” movies and the spotty “Halloween” and “Hellraiser” franchises, this gives them a golden opportunity to either expand their horizons or to catch up on the hundred years of horror that has happened before most of us were even born. I envy you the joy of discovery.
And for those of us that thought we’ve seen it all the book is a useful review of the material and a checklist of “Must See Movies”.
Of the hundred and ten films addressed in this anthology there were eighteen that I hadn’t seen and if nothing else it revealed my admittedly snobbish preference for the expressionistic black and white Universal Monster movies over the lurid Technicolor Hammer Horror follow-ups. But I guess it’s time to bite the (silver) bullet and subject myself to twenty hours of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee taking turns chewing up the shoddy reproduction period scenery and blasting it out at the audience, slivers and all. Not that Karloff and Lugosi didn’t lay the melodrama on a bit thick at times.
In closing, perhaps this might make me sound older and more bitter than I actually am, but you’re lucky to have a book like this available to you. When I was a kid, books of this kind were few and far between and almost impossible to find in those days before inter-library loans. Back when the “internet” was just a hard-wired phone line for military installations to talk back and forth after World War III when the bombs had been dropped and the bunkers were locked. I still remember the day I found a copy of John McCarty’s ‘Psychos’ at a dollar store and I begged my mom to buy it for me and I read that book from cover to cover until the glue in the spine cracked and the pages started falling out. And then I just stapled and taped the pages back in and read it some more. To this day I still haven’t watched every movie mentioned in that book, but not for lack of trying. Were it not for that book it may have taken me a couple extra years to come across Polanski’s ‘Repulsion’ or the bizarrely intense horse-fetish psychodrama ‘Equus’ with Richard Burton and Peter Firth taking turns trying to act each other off the screen.
Should you buy this book? Only if you fondly remember the genre anthologies of John McCarty, or if you enjoyed ‘Profoundly Disturbing’ by Joe Bob Briggs, or if you watched Bravo’s ‘Hundred Scariest Moments’ and felt a little cheesed off that some of your favorites had been left off the list, to make room for some films that obviously had no business on the list, or if you kind of think that you might be addicted to horror films and suddenly you’ve become the resident expert of macabre movies in your circle of friends, family and acquaintances.
So, in short, yes, you should buy this book.
I did and I’m glad that I did, although it’s probably going to go into the Josh Gravel genre film reference library where all of my genre film reference books inevitable find their final home.
Although I personally think that the girl that panned George Romero’s ‘Dawn of the Dead’ and ‘Day of the Dead’ ought to have her fucking head examined. Putting forth three paragraphs of Wikipedia facts about the movies, then going on for two pages about how you didn’t like them when you saw them when you were a teenager but now you recognize them as being important but flawed, damning with faint praise. Maybe you’d better go back to the drawing board with this one, sister. “Bad acting: I can’t find one good actor in either movie…”. Yeah? Really? Ever heard of a guy named Richard Liberty?
In the words of George Romero, from the mouth of Joe Pilato, “All you’ve given us is a mouthful of Greek salad!”
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by a variety of in print and online media.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, is available from Schiffer Books. [ www.SchifferBooks.com ]
]]>BOOK REVIEW:
‘Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street’ (2007 Oxford University Press)
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
I received an e-mail from Rob at Icons of Fright asking if I’d be interested in reviewing Sweeney Todd. I couldn’t figure out why anyone was reaching out to have a book reviewed that has been around since the early 1800s. But I’m always game. If you’ve got a book you want reviewed I’ll be pleased to give it some time and if I can think of anything nice to say I’ll be pleased to provide a review. So I replied to the e-mail, telling him to have the book sent over to me.
I received the book about a week later with a nice little letter from the
When I saw the cover of the book, I realized the reason for the renewed interest in Sweeney Todd. There he was. Johnny Depp. In white face with a white streak in his teased out blue-black hair. I had forgotten that Tim Burton had directed a new adaptation of the old tale. I had seen the trailer and quickly decided that I had no interest in watching Johnny Depp overact in Victorian costume while chewing on Victorian scenery. I had seen Burton’s take on Sleepy Hollow, and although I generally enjoy the work of Johnny Depp, Christina Ricci, and Christopher Walken, and thought they delivered appreciable performances, I was less than impressed by Burton’s quirky c. g. i. enhanced take on the tale.
What further didn’t help the book’s first impression is that I hate movie tie-in rereleases of source materials which have pictures of the actors from the film on the cover. Allow me to clarify as to why. When I read a book I enjoy allowing my imagination, assisted by the author’s work, to create the appearance of the characters in my mind. When I read the source material for a film, I have enough difficulty forgetting the filmic experience without being reminded of it every time I inadvertently glance at the cover of the book. This was so distracting with my copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club that I used thick black magic marker to cover up the entire cover of the book except for the pink bar of soap with the title of the book in raised lettering, then sealing the cover with clear packing tape so the marker wouldn’t rub off on my fingertips whenever I read the book.
The reason I did that is after getting to know Fight Club the film, I read the source material and went on to read everything that Chuck Palahniuk had published which was readily available. I’ve gone on to become quite the enthusiast of Palahniuk’s body of work, and I can appreciate Chuck Palahniuk’s book ‘Fight Club’ in a different way than I enjoy David Fincher’s filmic adaptation. So when I want to watch the film, I watch the film. When I wanted to read the book instead, I didn’t want Ed Norton and Brad Pitt leering at me with those smug pseudo-confrontational expressions on their faces. So I blacked them out.
Oddly enough, although I don’t appreciate movie tie-in rereleases of the works that preceded them, I have a cultish appreciation for novelizations. When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was the novelization of ‘Fletch’, which I must have read at least fifty times. When I finally watched the movie, it was a disappointment.
The reason I engaged in that somewhat lengthy digression is to clarify that the rest of this review is based on the content of the book, not the cover, and is in no way meant to be a reflection of the adaptation.
I wasn’t unaware of Sweeney Todd before I received the e-mail from the publisher. We had studied Sweeney Todd in one of my introductory theater classes in college, where we watched a VHS copy of the Angela Lansbury version. I’m not a big fan of musicals, and I despise Angela Lansbury, mostly because my mother insisted on watching ‘Murder She Wrote’ whenever it was on, when there was much better television programming that we were missing. To this day, any mention of Angela Lansbury, Murder She Wrote, or even hearing that stupid theme song is enough to put me in a worse mood. But despite all of this, I liked the underlying story. There’s this barber that slits people’s throats and dumps them into the basement, where this lady grinds them up into filling for her meat pies. Cool. I don’t think my life was worse for the experience, and at the very least I got the joke in Kevin Smith’s execrable ‘Jersey Girl’ where Ben Affleck and his oh so cute daughter select the play for their performance at his daughter’s school’s talent show.
I had a vague awareness that Sweeney Todd was initially released in serialized installments and that it was considered as one of the more contemporarily recognized examples of the “Penny Dreadfuls” or “Shilling Shockers”. The editor’s introduction alone is worth the price of purchase for anyone curious about the history of this historically fascinating variety of horror literature. I had heard of ‘Varney the Vampyre’ and ‘Sweeney Todd’ before reading the editor’s introduction, but knowing of something is entirely different than knowing about something. The author’s introduction is a graceful mix of the chronological and thematic history of Sweeney Todd. And by graceful, I mean that the author’s introduction is deeply informative, but also easily accessible to any reader’s passing interest. Although I must admit I spaced out a few times while reading it.
Speaking of spacing out, having finished with the introduction, let’s address the content. You know that there’s this barber that slits people’s throats and dumps them into the basement, where this lady grinds them up into filling for her meat pies. And essentially that’s all you need to know to know about Sweeney Todd. But for those interested in having a deeper knowledge of the Penny Dreadful phenomenon, Sweeney Todd is essential reading.
Essential reading, but not exciting reading. There is murder and mayhem and bloodshed and a conspiracy that results in cannibalism. But these elements are few and far between. Very far between. Most of the serial addresses the interactions of a vast network of supporting characters and their trials and tribulations. It could be ventured to say that although Sweeney Todd is the title character, he is not the principal character. The work is an involving study of the life and times and the societal influences of the period that the work was created in. Indeed, although considered an inferior derivation of the works of Charles Dickens at the time of their publication, these serials reconsidered with the benefit of historical detachment may even be considered superior to the works of Dickens. The Penny Dreadfuls pandered to the baser instincts of its audience to retain readership. The readers wanted blood and murder and intrigue and mayhem and the creators of these works provided them in doses which were incredibly plentiful considering the relative conservatism of the printed word at the time of their creation. Although decried as a terrible influence and basest examples of literature of their time, I would much rather read of the exploits of Sweeney Todd than the drawing room drama of Charles Dickens.
Available from Oxford University Press: http://www.oup.co.uk/
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by a variety of in print and online media.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, is available from Schiffer Books. [ www.SchifferBooks.com ]
BOOK REVIEW:
‘Ghosts of St. Louis: The Lemp Mansion And Other Eerie Tales’ by Bryan W. Alaspa (2007 Schiffer)
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
I received this book as one of a stack of regional paranormal books I obtained from Schiffer Books when I stopped by the publisher’s home in Atglen, Pennsylvania. And by home I mean their quaint offices next door to a warehouse that looks like the end scene from Raider’s of the Lost Ark inside.
Whenever I read a book, I always read the back cover blurbs, read the jacket flap blurbs, (if there are any) and check out the chapter listing. I noticed that the author included a Guideline for Urban Exploration. I had written one for my book, ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’, so I decided to see how my guidelines weighed up against his guidelines. And by written, I mean I discovered a set of guidelines during my research for the Long Island book and thought it was pretty good, but it could be better, so, using the one I found as its inspiration, I cleaned it up and rewrote it in my own style, which I think made it read a little clearer and gave it a better flow. If I didn’t think I could have improved it, I would have just sent the original creator an e-mail and asked to use their version. But thankfully I haven’t yet found someone who executed something that I set out to do perfectly. There’s always room for improvement.
So I decided to check out this author’s Guidelines and when I got a few sentences in they seemed really familiar. I liked the style the guy used. Then it hit me. I flipped to the end of the Guidelines. There it was. My samurai sword joke. They were my Guidelines. I forgot that I had given the okay for Dinah Roseberry, my editor at Schiffer Books to offer my Guidelines as supplementary material for other authors submitting books to the Schiffer Books ghost line. It was the first time I had seen the Guidelines used in this manner, and it was just really cool to have that experience.
Not that Brian Alaspa’s original material is any less enjoyable. The author presents an engaging account of the Lemp family, complete with success, scandal, suicide and marital strife. The mansion which was a silent witness of the unfolding events supposedly continues to manifest the supernatural record of the rise and fall of the first family of St. Louis. Although the Lemp’s and their family home make up the bulk of the book, it is not the only example of the regional paranormal offerings of the St. Louis area. The author present eight additional chapters, addressing the regional paranormal offerings of the St. Louis area.
One might wonder what the appeal is of reading a regional paranormal book about a region that you’re not from and have no plans to visit in the foreseeable future. The appeal to me is whenever I read a regional paranormal book I like to think about the people I know from that area and imagine that I’m reading about their stomping grounds. Plus, since I’m not from the region and I have no plans to visit it in the foreseeable future, it’s pleasant to read about places and things that I may never get a chance to get around to seeing.
This book is sincerely recommended for not only St. Louis residents, but also any enthusiasts of all things paranormal.
This book can be ordered at Schiffer Books at www.SchifferBooks.com
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by a variety of in print and online media.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, is available from Schiffer Books. [ www.SchifferBooks.com ]
‘Ghosts: Minnesota’s Other Natural Resource’ by Brian Leffler (2007 Schiffer Books)
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
I usually don’t pay much attention to the design of the cover of the books I read. Some are designed better or worse than others, but the difference isn’t usually that significant. The design for the cover of this book is actually exceptional in that it was part of what attracted me to the book. I received this book as one of many regional paranormal books published by Schiffer Books that I picked up for review when I stopped by the publisher’s facility in Atglen, Pennsylvania. The cover, a full-color reproduction of one of the author’s photographs is nicely rendered with the title in white letters across the relative darkness of the photo. So when I was leafing through the stack of regional paranormal books, I selected this one before another possible selection.
I was prepared for an anthology of Minnesota’s regional paranormal stories of haunted houses and urban legends. Instead I was pleased to discover the book refreshingly different than the miscellany of regional paranormal books I have been reading. The author is a member of the Northern Minnesota Paranormal Investigators. So instead of presenting a collection of stories broken down by location, the author’s material reads more like the case-files of the Northern Minnesota Paranormal Investigators. That the author participated in the investigation of the phenomenon adds a personal intimacy to the tales which I found engaging while reading.
More than your usual collection of stories about derelict hospitals and historical buildings with lingering residents, the author provides a refreshing variety of stories including many private residences, although there are three cemeteries covered in the collection.
The author and I seem to have different approaches to our interest in the paranormal. I’m more of a midnight creeper, going out to abandoned buildings under the cover of night with a small group of friends and touring the places by flashlight. The author seems to prefer visiting locations when his paranormal investigation group is called in to perform an investigation. Despite this minor philosophical difference I was able to enjoy this book as an excellent example of its type.
Available from Schiffer Books at www.SchifferBooks.com
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by a variety of in print and online media.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, is available from Schiffer Books. [ www.SchifferBooks.com ]
]]>‘Baltimore’s Harbor Haunts: True Ghost Stories’ by Melissa Rowell & Amy Lynwander (2005 Schiffer)
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
The first feature one notices is the cover illustration. Although it’s not awe-inspiring, it is different than most of the covers of the regional paranormal books I’ve been reading lately. The illustration is different than what readers have come to expect and this makes it striking and inspired me to select it from the stack of new books I received for review.
By way of comparison, usually the covers of these books have a layout featuring a photo taken by the author or a friend or acquaintance of the author, who sometimes serves the photographer role to accompany the role of the author as paranormal researcher. If not that, then there’s a digitally jazzed up image somewhat evocative of the theme of the book.
As attractive as the cover is, the contents of the book are even more interesting. The co-authors are co-owners of “The Original Fell’s Point GhostWalk”, an award winning haunted walking tour of the neighborhood. The authors have used their expertise to put together an enjoyable readable collection of the residual hauntings of Baltimore harbor.
The authors present a variety of paranormal manifestations: “impressions”, “spirits”, “ghosts” & “time warps”. In addition to presenting a variety of different manifestations, the locations encompass almost every conceivable location. Restaurants, bars, taverns, private residences, boarding houses, brothels, graveyards, motels, antique stores and lighthouses are all given equal attention. Also such famous personages as Edgar Allan Poe and Billie Holiday make guest appearances as paranormal manifestations.
The stories are concise, sometimes almost abrupt, but the brevity does nothing to subtract from the quality of the stories. It is with ease and no small amount of pleasure that I recommend this book, not only to residents of the Baltimore harbor area which the book’s chosen topic, but enthusiasts of paranormal books in general.
This book is available from Schiffer Books at www.SchifferBooks.com
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by a variety of in print and online media.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, is available from Schiffer Books. [ www.SchifferBooks.com ]
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(2007 Schiffer Books)
I was heading out to be a part of the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors in Austin, Texas. When I plotted my course, I observed that my route would take me close to the home of Schiffer Books in Atglen, Pennsylvania. I contacted the Schiffer Books offices through my editor, Dinah Roseberry and arranged to pick up a case of my book, ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’ to bring along with me to the show. I had prior authorization from my boss to sell copies of my book over the table of the Fearwerx booth. When I told Pete and Dinah at Schiffer where I was going and what I was doing, they asked me if I was interested in taking any other books along with me. Via e-mail I agreed to try out a case of ‘Keep Austin Weird: A Guide to the Odd Side of Town’ by Red Wassenich.
I got to the home of Schiffer Books later than I had anticipated, but Pete Schiffer Jr. was still in the office and received me most hospitably. During the course of our conversation, I received a tour of the facilities. The warehouse was like the end scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Palette after palette stacked with boxes of books. When it came time to leave, I checked out the ‘Keep Austin Weird’ book and seeing it, I decided that it probably wouldn’t go over that well with the Fangoria audience. Pete offered ‘The Ghosts of Austin’ as a last-minute replacement and I quickly and easily agreed that it was a much better candidate for the convention I was attending.
Twenty-seven hours later and I’m in Austin. I decide to read ‘The Ghosts of Austin’ so I’d know a little bit about the book that I was selling.
The prose is light and engaging, making the book both easy and pleasant to read.
The stories fulfilled my expectations. I expected tales of ghosts from the free-wheeling wild west era of Texas frontier past, and this anthology of ghostly tales provides exactly that.
From the pioneering battles of the state’s first colonists in conflict against the Mexican Army and Native American tribes, through the early years of statehood and the strife of the civil war, the victims of the vicissitudes of fortune, often only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, continue to linger in the locations where the forces of earthly attraction tethered them to the physical plane.
An interesting element of this book is the author’s dual service as an author and a medium who claims the ability to speak with the lingering spirits of the physically deceased. This ability enabled the author to include at the end of many of her chapters her “conversations” with the paranormal presences which haunt Austin’s many historical locations. The spirits are open about the reason for their persistent presence at their selected locations. This is the first time I encountered this literary device, although I have been made aware of the popularity of this device in conversations following my encounter with and discussion of this book.
Of course, the gunslingers and whorehouse madams and Indian spirits are here, not as single spirits, but in battalions. But the author presents a wider range of tales than I had anticipated. The author presents her collection of stories covering the chronological and geographical history of Austin and its surrounding areas. The book is also generously populated with photographs and illustrations to accompany its spine-tingling tales.
I have to begrudgingly admit that although I spent the weekend in Austin, I learned much more about Austin and its environs from ‘The Ghosts of Austin’ than I learned from my infrequent visits to downtown Austin. Austin is a ghost town in more ways than one. For a celebrated party town, it has an early bedtime and I drove its silent streets at 3:00 a.m. at fifteen miles and hour, calmly acquainting myself with the unfamiliar area.
Also begrudgingly I admit that I didn’t sell a whole lot of ‘The Ghosts of Austin’ at the convention. Of the twenty-five copies I brought with me, I returned twenty-three. One of which I retained to read and review, and the other copy, my display copy, was bought by a woman, a self-professed librarian, who said that her library just must have this book for its collection.
I attribute this not as a reflection on the quality of the book, which I enjoyed as much as I have enjoyed any regional paranormal book. Instead I attribute this to a general decline of literary interest in our culture.
If you’d care to prove my pessimism fallacious, then, by all means, please go to the address provided below and acquire a copy of this informative and entertaining book.
You can order this book @ www.SchifferBooks.com
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Collecting Monster Toys by John Marshall (1999 Schiffer Books)
I stopped by the home of Schiffer Publishing on my way from Providence, Rhode Island to Austin, Texas for the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors. Pete Schiffer Jr. and I went down to the warehouse so I could pick up the case of my book ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’ that I had asked to pick up and take along with me to try my luck at selling a few copies over the table at the Fearwerx booth. When we were heading towards the exit, I saw the cover of John Marshall’s ‘Collecting Monster Toys’. I said ‘Cool!’ and picked it up to thumb through it. Pete said I could have it if I wanted it.
The book was on top of a stack of books, which was one of several stacks on a palette which was walled off on three sides and about half full with chest high stacks of books. Pete explained that Schiffer Publishing takes great pains to insure that the books shipped to their customers leave the warehouse in pristine condition. If a book suffers any injury, any scratch, ding, or dent, it gets stacked on the palette that goes to the pulper to re-enter into the commodity stream as recycled paper pulp.
Finding this out and being a bibliophile, I asked if I could rifle through the stacks to save some books from their untimely fate if I promised to review anything I took. I ended up with about a dozen books. Mostly from the regional paranormal or “ghost books” series.
‘Collecting Monster Toys’ does not claim to be complete or comprehensive. I appreciate it all the more for not claiming completeness. Too often a book will claim comprehensiveness, and even amateur enthusiasts of the topic will soon realize significant omissions. Although citing the deficiencies of “comprehensive” guidebooks is a guilty pleasure of most enthusiasts of all things horror it is a welcome respite to encounter a book which does not claim to be a complete guide to the topic it addresses.
A problem that plagues many of the books that do claim comprehensiveness is that they soon become dated due to the static date of the book, and the passage of time after its publication. I was surprised when I looked up the date of publication for the book to realize that it had been first published nine years ago. The book has weathered well in the passage of time.
Part of the durability of this title may lie in the style that the author chose to present his material. Instead of using a chronological format, which would reveal the publication date of the book as the end of the world after which the world would seem suspiciously vacant, the author chose to break the book into sections of pictorial representations of a selection of items. Although there are six chapters in the book, the book is loosely divided into Universal Monsters and Japanese Monsters.
For those that don’t know what a Universal Monster is, a brief explanation. Universal Studios produced a series of monster movies in the 1930s. The first films of each of the franchises were so successful that the studio produced many sequels often using many of the same actors in the films although not always in the roles they originated. The characters most often considered the essential core of the Universal Monsters are Dracula, Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, The Wolf Man, The Mummy, and The Creature from the Black Lagoon. It is permissible to include The Phantom of the Opera, The Invisible Man, and the Metaluna Mutant from ‘This Island Earth’, but omission of the core six characters is considered a significant oversight. This philosophy regarding the primacy of the major characters of the Universal Monster movies is reflected in the packaging and variety of merchandise available for the characters from those films. The author also reinforces the primacy of these characters by grouping the memorabilia by character with several pages devoted to each, smoothly transitioning into the next.
The author avoids the pitfall of presenting a stale and uninspired survey and price listing of the memorabilia which would reasonably be included in his chosen genre by infusing his introductions to each chapter and the brief notes accompanying the hundreds of beautiful color photos with humor and an ironic, but not sarcastic awareness of the oddity of collecting toys when childhood has long been left behind. At the same time, the author avoids reaching too far to infuse humor, and successfully maintains the balance between recognizing the natural humor in toy collecting without seeming to pander to his audience. The introductions are well-written and illustrate the author’s awareness of the histories of the characters without being too dry or exhaustively informational.
Monster enthusiasts needn’t bother reading the infrequent pages of introduction to enjoy this book. The primary attraction for your average enthusiast of monster movie inspired collectables is that this book is a perfect guidebook for a trip down memory lane, or spending an afternoon exploring the dark recesses of nostalgia national park.
A strange change has come over me in the past few years.
I used to be a collector. I enjoyed the satisfaction which accompanies the acquisition of a complete set of any kind of limited set of collectables. As I’ve grown older, this compulsion has metamorphosized into an appreciation of the existence of objects divorced from the previously accompanying desire to own them.
This is why this book was so enjoyable for me personally. I was able to see all of the rare Universal Monster memorabilia that I no longer desire for my personal ownership. All of those rare and highly collectable Aurora models that it’s almost impossible to see together in one place. The author has assembled a high-quality photographic archive of complete sets of these rare collectables. So although I will never own a full set of the Universal Monster Aurora model kits, I can vicariously enjoy their existence any time I want to by leisurely flipping through this book.
But it’s not just the rare collectibles that I will most likely never see in real life that attract me to the contents of this book. There are many toys and collectables that I used to own, but have been lost to the carelessness of youth or the generosity of my nature. Seeing these objects again rekindled long forgotten memories from my youth.
When I was five years old I had the chicken pox. I was quarantined for a week with two other young boys. We spent the week in our bathing suits and there was a child’s wading pool set up in the kitchen that we spent most of the week in when we weren’t taking baths or having calamine lotion liberally dabbed onto the little red bumps dotting our skin. They didn’t want us to scratch and scab and scar, you see. So they fooled us into staying moist by making that week into an indoor pool party. It might have been my birthday, but I can’t remember, it might have been conciliatory gift-time to console us young prisoners. I was given a colorform set as a gift. I thought I imagined that colorform set, because it disappeared from my life when I was still too young to remember where things disappeared to and I never saw it again. There it was. Pages 129 through 131. The ‘Space Warriors Colorforms Adventure Set’. The feeling of nostalgia it awoke was intense. It’s unlikely that I would be able to share that feeling with anyone else, but that was part of the attraction of the emotion.
The only way I’m able to share that feeling is by sharing the book, which I did inadvertently while at the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors. A small group of late night revelers ended up at my hotel room and when they saw the book on the coffee table each person in turn flipped through it. Everyone recognized something special from their childhood. Each person recognized something different, but they all said the same thing, “Holy shit! I used to have that!”. If this review was compressed into one line, that would have to be the one. Because that’s what everyone says when they flip through this beautiful little book.
It was nice to see the Universal Monsters Little Big Heads figurines, because for some reason they are the only full set of collectables I’ve kept. And I admit I felt a twinge of the guilty pleasure I mentioned earlier in this review, when I noticed that the second series of the Little Big Heads, the black & white set, which I own in its entirety, was nowhere to be found in the book. And I also admit that I felt a small surge of the collector’s infatuation when I saw the Remco Mini-Monsters collection, complete and carded and accompanied by the ‘Mini Monster Play Case’. But I know that if I were to go to all the trouble of acquiring the object of my desire it would be exciting for about a day and then end up packed away, neglected, in some sort of storage.
But thankfully John Marshall has saved me the pain of experiencing the buyer’s remorse which inevitably accompanies the acquisition of something long sought after. Instead I can flip through this book anytime I want and vicariously enjoy the satisfaction of ownership.
This book, as well as many other books about toys and collectibles is available from Schiffer Books.
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Hatter M: The Looking Glass Wars Volume 1 Written by Frank Beddor with Liz Cavalier. Art by Ben Templesmith
The Looking Glass Wars is one of the most inventive novels I have read in recent years in regards to an alternate view of the Alice In Wonderland story. It does seem to be somewhat of a target the last few years in both the novel, toy and comic book realm to try and twist Carroll’s original concept, but most of them are a waste of time at best. Hatter M is a story that turns the original subject matter on its head by directly attacking it with the notion that it is real and Carroll is a thief and a liar. Hatter M: The Looking Glass Wars is a comic book adaptation of Frank Beddor and Liz Cavaliers novel that features art by comic superstar Ben Templesmith.
Alyss Heart is the young Princess of Wonderland, and her mother is the White Queen of Wonderland who rules with white Magic and a kind heart, with her husband by her side. The other suit families live prosperous lives in her court, and black Magic is outlawed. The head of the security team is Hatter Madigan and the Generals Doppel and Ganger. The Queen’s archenemy is her sister, Redd, who practices black Magic and once ruled the land before she was overthrown. The Looking Glass Wars erupt when Redd returns to take back her thrown and punish all those who opposed her. She makes her way into the castle when her cat, with the grin, comes into the possession of Alyss and is brought before Queen Genevieve, The cat quickly growls into an assassin and allows Redd’s followers into the castle. In the ensuing battle, the Queen sends Alyss away into the Lake of Tears with Hatter Madigan to protect her. The two become separated and Hatter’s search begins. Hatter M is the story of that search.
I loved the novelization of this story. The story is so well plotted out, and like Lord Of The Rings, there has been a whole new world crafted and created for the reader. The characters from Alice in Wonderland are all accounted for and have their place in this real life Magic version of the classic tale. In some cases, this makes as much senses if not more than the original. The book is hard to put down and I can’t wait to read the second book. The comic book on the other hand falls short. The artwork is good, and Templesmith’s messy although minimal style lends itself to a story focused on imagination and a guy lost in another world with no friends except a lost girl. The problem lies fully in the adaptation. There is so much amazing stuff in the book that is lost, un-addressed, or just not explained well enough, that the reader at times is clueless as to what is going on. For example, the scene with the caterpillars, in the original book, Alice encounters a caterpillar smoking a hookah. In the novel, you find out that they are set among Wonderland lore as Oracles, and the white forces seek their help. It is an extremely important part of the novel, but entirely ignored here. It is one of many plot lines removed from the story. Basically, the comic was cut like a film would be because it is impossible to include everything or a film would be 18 hours long. But with a comic, you can just make it more issues, you have the ability to include it, this was just hastily butchered from the original.
So, this is how it goes. Get the novel “The Looking Glass Wars” it is a stunning and creative novel about a timeless classic that is fun and well conceived. The comic of the same book falls short and is confusing, but has great art. So unless you are Templesmith completionist, I would pass on this.
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BOOK REVIEW:
‘Blood and Spurs: Book One: The Blood Rider’ By Mark Tarrant (2007)
Review by Scott Lefebvre
It began with an e-mail.
Mark Tarrant sent an e-mail to Rob G at Icons of Fright asking about submitting his book for review. Rob redirected the author in my direction as the resident book reviewer at Icons and I appreciate that. It’s nice to know you work with people that respect and appreciate what you’re doing.
I received an e-mail from Mark Tarrant in which he humbly asked if I would be kind enough to review his book. A humility that is unusual in authors, but the author openly admits that this is his first book, his first shot out of the barrel, and he is understandably uncertain about where the strange journey will take him.
I wasn’t unaware of the author and his book. At the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors where I started talking with Joe Sena from Fearwerx about working his booth at conventions, Mark Tarrant had the next booth over and it was difficult not to notice the author, a stocky, genial, pitbull of a man in a black cowboy hat boldly promoting the book which he had created. I remembered the author and his book which seemed like it was a cross-genre experiment combining vampires and cowboys. Not a bad idea, but one that could be executed for good or for awful depending on the skill of the author.
So Mark and I had a quick back and forth where I gave him my mailing address. Then there was the week of waiting till one sunshiny day I received the book a week later in a padded manila envelope. With the book was a letter on “Blood and Spurs” letterhead. I have to admit it was kind of cool. The letter was touching in the way that it waxed apologetic and promotional in turns.
“What’s funny is guys who review, like you, are so much better at English than I am, and they know how to write.” Well, Mark, I don’t know how to say this, but it’s all guesswork at a keyboard. We hunt and peck and figure it out one word at a time just like you do. Your humble approach is touching, but I’m sure that I’m not the first to tell you that you should be goddamned proud of what you’ve accomplished. It’s not everyone that can write a book, much less three. To paraphrase Henry Rollins paraphrasing Ernest Hemingway, most reviewers are like people that watch a battle from a safe distance then come in and finish off the wounded. You’ve fought the good fight, returning from the trenches with stories to tell, and you’ve got a right to enjoy the pride of accomplishment. Especially since you’ve written something worth reading.
“I just hope you like Ezekiel as a character and see what I was trying to do, make a fun horror western adventure like Conan stories or The Spider from the 40s.” I did like Ezekiel as a character. So much so that I want to know who you’ve got in mind to write the prequel to your series, because if you aren’t saving that special opportunity for yourself, I’d love to throw my black leather cowboy hat in the ring. I got what you were trying to do, and your books are a worthy addition to the legacy of pulp adventure novels. A legacy often ignored as dated or exhausted by contemporary authors. By striving to define themselves and seeking their own voice, they forget their heritage and the wealth of creativity and the unlimited possibility offered by the creation and introduction of an iconic character.
But enough about Mark and I. What about the book?
I brought the book along with me when I went to get the head liner of my car re-upholstered. I read the book in its entirety that day. Although I brought the book along with a couple others as a combination of killing time and fulfilling a commitment, I was quickly swept up by the story.
The character of Ezekiel is indeed iconic. Imagine Stephen King’s Roland from The Dark Tower series as a vampire and you get an idea of what the character is like. The kind of confident, capable, rugged, sturdy, manly, archetype like Clint Eastwood in Sergio Leone’s Man with No Name trilogy, or Toshiro Mifune in the Samurai swordsman films which inspired Leone. The same mold that the Marvel Comics characters Wolverine and The Punisher were cast from. And for my money, I’d rather spend my time with The Blood Rider instead of The Ghost Rider. I know that’s a bold statement, but I’ve put it out there and I’m standing by it.
The author begins the first of his three novel series with the origin of Ezekiel. A religious young man in a religious family making their way westward with the earnest intentions of establishing a church to save the sinners populating the wild west. The family is beset upon by a group of mercilessly desperate bandits and left to die in the barren wilderness, but Ezekiel becomes the fast repast of an anonymous vampire whose darkly sardonic outlook inspires the vampire to bestow the immortality of vampirism upon the young pious Ezekiel. This is the crux that defines the character. A man who is fervently faithful becomes ironically, contrastingly, blessed and cursed with the power and burden of vampirism and immortality. It’s so simple, it’s elegant, and where a lesser author may have taken a less interesting direction from this point of departure, Mark Tarrant infuses the character with a sense of conflict and pathos and anger and sadness that I found myself eager to know how Ezekiel would come to terms with the dualism inherent in the origin of his character. But that’s a story for another time.
The story picks up in the third chapter, twenty years later. A man named William Hamilton, a frontier era Ichabod Crane archetype, a school teacher from New York is searching for his brother who went missing in the wasteland of the wild west. To aid him in his search, he is seeking ‘El Diablo Blanco’.
‘El Diablo Blanco’ is what Ezekiel has become. The intervening years have been filled with his coming to terms with his conflicting religious and vampiric characteristics and bringing those who cold-bloodedly murdered his family to justice, although these intervening years are only alluded to in this installment.
Ezekiel has established a comfortable life for himself as the dark angelic protector of a small Mexican town where prostitutes and gambling are close at hand and the bandits have learned that the town is off limits to their predation lest they incur the wrath of ‘the white devil’.
Ezekiel’s comfort is disrupted by the arrival of William Hamilton whose earnest appeals overcome Ezekiel’s resistance. Ezekiel decides to take a vacation from his eternal dissolution to aid the school teacher who would otherwise be easy prey for the rugged residents of the wild west.
I’d love to tell you more. But instead I recommend that you read it for yourself.
It’s not fancy. But neither was Ernest Hemingway. Or Charles Bukowski.
The writing is clean enough that the book is safe for the PG-13 crowd, but interesting enough to capture the attention of adults as well. At the very least I proudly admit the book to be more than just a guilty pleasure and if I had children that were awesome like I was when I was a kid, when I couldn’t read enough Stephen King novels, then I’d give them this first novel and buy the next two so I could have a couple nice surprises for them down the line when they hinted that they wanted them.
Let me put it this way. I’ve read all of J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books, well, up until the Order of the Phoenix, and after the fourth or fifth one, the characters began to wear on me. They seemed priggish and overly self-involved. After reading a couple thousand pages I just didn’t care if Harry and Hermione would ever get together or if the Weasleys would ever stop being so redundantly destitute. Voldemort is the best part of the books and he only gets about a thirtieth of the page count. At least Tarrant gives us the good, the bad, and the ugly all in one book and it’s not just foreplay with the possible promise of fooling around if we buy the next book. Instead The Blood Rider is like a hot first date that leaves you looking forward to the next installment.
The story arc, following the characters as they try to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the school teacher’s brother plays out a bit like a Nancy Drew mystery at times. But the attraction of this novel is not so much the strength of the story as it is the journey of the characters. At its most basic it is the story of two men who are evolving as a result of their interactions. It’s the same kind of energy that made Batman and Robin such a successful duo, but it avoids the latent homosexual subtext that plagued the caped crusaders. The dark knight and the young student. I came to know and like the characters enough that when the book drew to a close, I wish that they would hang around a little longer.
This brings me to the excerpt from the second book, “Blood and Spurs: Book Two: Fort Doom”.
From what I can tell, it seems that the author has chosen to continue to follow Ezekiel and William Hamilton in their adventures across the wild west.
I’m interested. I liked the characters and I would like to read more about them.
Even if the third book is more of the same I would be pleased to read that one too.
In short, I’m a fan.
But more than anything else, I want to know more about the vampire that created Ezekiel and the intervening years which passed between the origin of Ezekiel and where the story of the first book picks up. I want to know about those years of blood and gunsmoke when Ezekiel ran with a pack of vampire bandits, slaking their thirst for human blood on the moonlit frontier. I want to know where and when and how Ezekiel executed the bitter justice against the group of bandits who prematurely ended the lives of his family and his wife. I want to know about the character’s heartache and fury, his sadness and anger when it was burning most intensely. Because it seems that when we rejoin Ezekiel, he has become a creature whose fire has burned down to glowing embers and ash. He has come to terms with the precarious relationship he must maintain with the rest of humanity and it takes the introduction of William Hamilton to break Ezekiel out of the comfortable consistency that he has created for himself.
I want to know about it so badly that I want to write it.
I want to know so badly that I’m already imagining it.
The opportunity to have a hand in the development of such an iconic character only happens once or twice in a lifetime.
So if you’re out there, Mark Tarrant, and you read this, call me.
Because if you don’t finish what you’ve started and tell me the tale that I so badly want to hear I’m going to have to do it myself.
You’ve got a gift.
I’m a fan.
Don’t leave me hanging.
Let’s ride.
More on the internet:
Mark Tarrant: www.thesmilingviking.com or
The Blood Rider: www.thebloodrider.com or http://www.myspace.com/thebloodrider
About the author:
Mark Tarrant is a creative powerhouse who knew he wanted to write from his first encounter with Star Wars. Born in Lansing, Michigan, Tarrant grew up loving books about monsters and the unknown. A big fan of comics − especially those of Robert E. Howard’s Conan character − his reading eventually included the master of horror, Stephen King. His storytelling is also influenced by his passion for Western movies, particularly The Good, The Bad & The Ugly.
His artistic talents have received recognition in The Boston Globe, USA Today, The Valley Advocate, The Republican, The Herald and The Buzz.
With the debut of his Blood & Spurs series, Tarrant introduces us to an intriguing character − the Blood Rider, a vampire in the Wild West. Once a man of God, the Blood Rider now roams the West dispensing his own brand of justice. Lovers of a good story with a fantasy twist will find a compelling new hero from the very first volume, The Blood Rider.
Tarrant’s personal life is a sharp contrast to the fantasy world that captivates his readers. He lives in Western Massachusetts, loves history and pop culture, and gets especially excited during NFL season. Tarrant has recently discovered another creative passion: parenting his daughter Haley. Being a new father has given him another platform for storytelling.
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has had reviews and articles published by a variety of print and online media. All of his horror/paranormal reviews can be found on Icons of Fright. He is the author of ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’ available from Schiffer Books [ www.schifferbooks.com ] and is working on another regional paranormal book about Buffalo, New York for Schiffer Books.
Scott Lefebvre is a program assistant for The Arkham Film Society [ ] and will be touring the country as the 2008 National Convention Manager for Fearwerx [ www.fearwerx.com ] and is eager to use the opportunity to further his goal of world domination.
Scott Lefebvre would be pleased to read your book if you’re interested in sending him a copy. He can be contacted at: Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com
Or you can lurk his MySpace at: myspace.com/scott_gun_flu
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(2007 Conundrum Press) www.conundrumpress.com
Review by Scott Lefebvre
One of the wonderful things about attending the Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, is the hospitality of the Canadians. Possibly the most well-intentioned, polite, and friendly people I've ever met.
While smoking a cigarette on the back deck of The Irish Embassy, I found myself in a conversation with Rupert Bottenberg. Rupert invited me to join him and his friends at their tale and I spent the better part of the night in the company of my new friends.
Rupert Bottenberg works for the Fantasia Film Festival in some capacity that I must admit I forgot the particular details of, but it's got something to do with writing the content for, or designing the program, and something to do with hospitality, as far as I can surmise.
When he asked why I was at the Fantasia Film Festival and I gave him the shortest possible synopsis of all of the ventures I was involved in, I mentioned that I review books. At this point, Rupert produced a book that he had been a contributor to. Monster Island Three.
Flipping through the book at first, I didn't know what to make of it. There was text and pictures, and the style changed every three pages, like flipping channels while flipping through a book.
What I was experiencing was a Canadian anthology of art and writing with a very loosely defined "Monster" theme.
When I was a teenager, my mother sent a letter into Marvel Age stating that I was a raging comic book fan and asking if there was anything cool out there she could get me into. Two awesome things resulted from that letter.
One was a Marvel Universe poster that was the coolest thing ever, but sadly succumbed to nicotine yellowing when I started smoking in college, and the wear and tear of my perpetual change of residence.
The other was that I was invited to join an Amateur Press Association or an A.P.A.
The zine went out under the banner 'Nuff Said and I'll always remember the wonder that I experienced as a member.
There were 25 or so members from all over the world. Each member would produce an 8 X 10 format zine, and mail 25 copies to the Central Mailer, who would collate the disparate zines, bind them with plastic ring-binding and mail a copy of the assembled incredibleness out to the members.
This may seem insane in these days of internet fan groups and MySpace, but remember that this was when the internet was primarily a text only phenomenon, and sites like Timothy Leary's attempt to immortalize himself on the worldwide web were amazing.
Reading Monster Island Three reminded me of the joy I experienced while thumbing through each issue of 'Nuff Said.
The shining star of the anthology, in my opinion, is the essay on Jack Kirby's "Captain Victory and the Galactic Rangers" by Andy Brown. This essay is representative of the type of fan journalism that I aspire to. Fastidiously researched and complete, yet pleasurably readable.
Another essay, "Trans-Atlantic Pulps of the 20s and 30s: Monstrous Images of Africa?" by Patrick R. Burger, was just as well researched, but the presentation of the material was difficult to follow which decreased the enthusiasm I had when approaching the article.
In conclusion, I am very happy to have Monster Island Three. It's an excellent book to leaf through on a lazy sunday and makes a great short-attention span distraction for the living room coffee table or the back of the toilet bathroom book. At $15, the price is not prohibitive, considering the incredible assortment of art and excellent writing contained within.
Online at: www.conundrumpress.com
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‘Last Burn in Hell: Director’s Cut’ (2006) by John Edward Lawson
‘Vacation’ (2007) by Jeremy C. Shipp
Horrorfind 7 in August of 2007.
I managed to get a gig selling t-shirts for Fearwerx. I spent most of the weekend behind the table selling shirts hand over fist. I brought two of my best friends along to help work the table in exchange for a little bit of money and a free trip to the convention. My friends offered to relieve me any time I wanted to walk around the con and see the sights, but since this was my first gig for Fearwerx and I’d been to about a dozen conventions I felt a commitment to giving my best effort for Fearwerx who paid for my presence at the show.
The man behind Fearwerx asked that I take a walk around the vendor room and take some pictures. Pictures of the Fearwerx booth so he could see how we set the booth up with the s.u.v. full of components he sent us out with. Pictures of the other t-shirt booths to see how our booth looked in comparison and to get an idea of the designs that everyone else was selling. And pictures of the traffic in the vendor room, so he could determine whether or not to pay for the privilege of attending the next Horrorfind. The profit to cost ratio is a useful indicator which influences the decision of whether or not to return to a convention, but it doesn’t give a real sense of what attending and working the convention is like.
While I was doing my walk through, the Raw Dog Screaming Press table caught my eye. The books were set up in a rack, displaying the cover designs of the books the table was offering. The covers were well-designed, and since they stopped me in my tracks for a moment, the man behind the table did his duty as a vendor and struck up a conversation with me. The man behind the table was John Edward Lawson, an author and editor and Editor-in-chief of Raw Dog Screaming Press.
At most of the conventions I had attended I made it a point to stop by any tables manned by authors or publishers. I review books for a few media sources and stopping by a booth is a great way to get new books for review. The positive side of this is that it makes authors and publishers aware of the magazines and websites that publish my reviews, and when the reviews are published, it provides free advertisement for, and raises public awareness of, the authors and publishers that provide their books for review. The negative side is that since I get so many complimentary books for review I’m unlikely to pay for a book unless it’s something that I already know and love, so a conversation with me results in an immediate loss to the authors or publishers in exchange for advertisement which will hopefully lead to a long-term gain.
Allow me to state that my intention in conversing with John Edward Lawson was not to acquire books for review. I had come to the convention to sell shirts and have a good time and I had turned the book reviewer switch off. But old habits die hard.
The conversation started innocuously enough. I told John that I was impressed with the cover design of the Raw Dog Screaming Press books. From my side of the conversation I mentioned that I review books for a few media sources. This led us into a conversation about horror genre books and authors and publishing. I said that I wasn’t very impressed with your average black-bound horror paperback which populates the horror section of most of the major bookstores. They read like horror-themed Harlequin novels. The horror genre equivalent of bodice-rippers. So few of them are really scary or horrifying or manage to raise the small hairs on the back of my neck.
The conversation of course diverged into the requisite name-dropping. Stephen King and Clive Barker. Edgar Allan Poe and H. P. Lovecraft. Then with the big names out of the way, I expressed my enthusiasm for Richard Matheson and how I thought that Jack Ketchum was a promising author who rises above the expectations for the black-bound paperback publishers. Finally I was closing by saying that I thought that the two best horror novels I had read were by authors who were primarily non-horror authors. Chuck Plahniuk’s ‘Haunted’ and Bret Easton Ellis’s ‘Lunar Park’. I wasn’t trying to solicit books for review, but the mention of the last two authors kindled a gleam in John’s eyes. He said he had two books that he wanted me to have. ‘Vacation’ by Jeremy C. Shipp and ‘Last Burn in Hell: Director’s Cut’ by John Edward Lawson, which he opened up and signed for me.
This is the end of the story of how I sometimes accidentally get books for review.
Now let’s roll on to the reviews.
I read ‘Vacation’ first because it was the smaller of the two, but I’m going to review ‘Last Burn In Hell’ first, because although I enjoyed both books for different reasons, I found ‘Last Burn in Hell’ the more enjoyable of the two.]
‘Last Burn in Hell’ is an exceptional creature as far as books go. The format seems to have been crafted in the style of a novelization of a film. This device seemed a bit superfluous and did little to add to or detract from the impact of the book. The book’s protagonist is a prison guard. But he’s not a prison guard. He’s more of a whore. He “services” women that are on death row, as a special consideration. Kind of like a last lay to follow-up their last meal. But he’s just doing a service. Except when the execution of a particular woman keeps getting postponed. He gets personally involved and decides to devise a plan so that she can avoid execution and they can live happily ever after. As interesting as the book was setting up the initial scenario, things get a lot more interesting while they’re on the run. Identity and sexuality blur and the inter-group alliances and dynamics become unhinged. Mexican gangs and federal agencies and a Latin Madonna play pivotal roles in this story. One thing that is certain, his mother is not quite right, and the protagonist is one of a pair of triplets who may or may not be the result of an alien abduction. I’d like to say “you get the idea”, but I’m fairly certain you don’t, and reading is believing, so you should. Both of the books I was given mention William Burroughs in the back-cover blurbs. I don’t think Burroughs is quite the right comparison. Rather, I think that Burroughs serves as a common cultural touchstone which serves to give potential readers a sense of the tone of the book within. Lawson reads more like Palahniuk. Some times comparing one author to another is for classification not for accolades. If I read another blurb touting an author as “the next Stephen King” I just don’t know what I’m going to do. Wait. I know what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to read their book. Because all of King’s potential heirs fall short of the high water mark set by the King. Lawson is an exception to the business of comparison in that his voice is a worthwhile addition to the chorus of authors following the trend most prominently presented in Palahniuk’s body of work. An earnest, but wry honesty in writing, exploring the paradoxes of our contemporary American society. In ten years, these books may seem dated, with their pop-cultural references and their reaction to the disillusioned sardonicism of our generation, but I’d rather read something contemporary than another book which safely stays within the prescribed boundaries of the black-bound horror-genre novel.
The other book I was given from Raw Dog Screaming Press was ‘Vacation’ by Jeremy C. Shipp. The plot for vacation is difficult to discuss. It begins as a post-modern tale of a privileged member of the higher echelon of academic society. Inside, he feels that he does not deserve his rank and privilege, and his discontent inspires him to take a ‘Vacation’. This is not a vacation in the traditional sense. In this post-modern world, ‘Vacation’ is a governmentally regulated program that grants every citizen a one-year trip around the world to exotic locales for exciting adventures. This would have been an interesting premise to explore, but the author takes the tale in a surreal direction. This is where the Burroughsian comparison is apt. The protagonist finds himself abducted and entangled in a factional dispute, the guidelines of which are unclear and ever-changing. The setting for this dispute is the tropical area outside of the area prescribed and protected for the ‘vacationers’. The relationships between the characters become a bit to Jungian archetypal for my liking, with the formation and disruption of pseudo-familial relationships. The premise through its many permutations stays fresh and disorienting, crossing back and forth between the permeable boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious thus becomes another discourse on phenomenology. This flexibility and changeability accompanied by the tropical setting may be what conjured the comparisons to the work of William S. Burroughs, but Burroughs might still be the cultural touchstone that reviewers select when reviewing books that explore post-modernity in this style. Perhaps a closer comparison would be to Paul Auster in his book ‘City of Glass’ which is another book that explores the themes of uncertainty and alienation, which are also fundamental concepts for existentialism and existentialists, whose work ‘Vacation’ is a welcome addition to. Readers looking for light horror genre reading may be disappointed at the effort and attention required to explore this brief, yet dense book, but those who accept the challenge will be rewarded with an engrossing ‘vacation’ into the world of post-modern, phenomenological, existential, but nonetheless truly enjoyable fiction.
More Online:
'Haunted' by Chuck Palahniuk (2005 Anchor Books)
'Lunar Park' by Bret Easton Ellis (2005 Knopf)
Review by Scott Lefebvre [Scott_Lefebvre@hotmail.com]
I've said, and written, on more than one occasion that my two favorite horror novels from the past five years are Chuck Palahniuk's 'Haunted' (2005) and Brest Easton Ellis's 'Lunar Park' (2005).
The summer I discovered both novels was an interesting one. I had been diagnosed with a degenerative spinal disk disorder and the inflammation of the disks created pressure on the sciatic nerve causing a cripplingly agonizing pressure which kept me going back and forth, to and from the emergency room. At the emergency room, they'd give me a week's worth of painkillers and muscle-relaxers. Vicodins with Flexeral or, if I was lucky, Percocets with Valium. And in a week I'd be back at the emergency room which was an incredibly expensive revolving door since I was between jobs and didn't have any health care coverage. The pain-killers were doing very little for the pain. They just kept me in a drunk-like state for a month or two and really fucked with my short-term memory.
Thankfully, one of the times I went to the local scale-rate clinic I saw the wrong doctor and he prescribed me Etodolac, a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug which took care of the swelling. I had to take a football-shaped horse-pill four times a day but it beat living in a painkiller haze with a dull ache every waking moment. I tried going off the medications, thinking maybe I was cured, but when the pain returned I was frightened into taking the meds again.
Now I'm doing okay. I can walk and fuck and lift stuff as long as it's not heavier than I am and if my back begins to tighten up and ache I take a pill and take it easy for a couple days and I seem to do alright.
But that month or two I was whacked out on painkillers all I did was take my medications, float around in a bathtub most of the time, and read books.
I explain this because it was a life-changing summer.
I thought I was dying. Maybe not dying, but as good as dead. I thought that I'd have to spend the rest of my life in pain, hunched over a cane, useless to any woman. I couldn't work, and what little money I had saved away was almost gone. I started giving away my things and preparing to die.
I tell you all of this, because I want to impress upon you that I didn't think I had a lot of time to read a lot of books. So I thought the books I read that summer were going to be the last books I read.
'Haunted' and 'Lunar Park' were two of the few, and reading them was rewarding. Their sardonic subtextual commentary on American life was complimentary to my fatalistic perspective about life and death.
After I accidentally recovered, Palahniuk and Ellis were still important to me.
I managed to get a job on the adolescent unit of a mental hospital.
My living situation was intolerable.
Two crazy room-mates, two cats, and two dogs in a third-floor tenement apartment.
There was cat hair on everything and the dogs were not house-broken in any respect. Every morning I'd have to wake up and hobble to the bathroom dodging pools of dog urine and little piles of dog shit. And remember, this was the summer. No amount of air-conditioning and air-spray can banish the lingering smell of dog leavings.
I decided to put all of the stuff I hadn't given away in preparation for killing myself into storage and live out of my car until I had saved up enough money to get my apartment. This was in September. I lived in my car until January. I would park in the parking lot of a shopping plaza that left the lights on all night and read myself to sleep. Palahniuk's 'Fight Club', 'Choke', and 'Haunted' and Ellis's 'Glamorama' were my company on the cold nights.
Thankfully, life has been a little less negatively exciting for the past couple years.
Although it is true that, in my opinion, the two best horror novels of the past five years were written by authors that are not conventionally known as your stereotypical "horror authors", I wish this weren't the case.
I wish that I could say that there was a flood of hair-raising, scare-raising, fear-evoking books that had been published, and I would be unable to make a "Top Ten of the first ten years of the new millennium" list because there were too many good books, but instead it seems that there are too few.
It's not that I haven't read a lot of books. I'm always reading something. It's what I do.
But when walking in the "Horror/Suspense" section of a library or bookstore, nothing catches my eye.
I think it's because I'm jaded and I don't want to be fooled again into wasting my time reading a boring, predictable, and just plain unfrightening horror novel.
I'm not unnecessarily demanding of a novel. I want interesting characters doing interesting things and a plot that doesn't foreshadow itself so much that I know what's going to happen halfway through the book.
I'll gladly read books about the paranormal, and the psychologically aberrant and I'm not above reading books about "monsters" or human cruelty, as long as it's done with style. A little bit of postmodern theory or cultural criticism doesn't hurt, but I don't want to read anything that tries to hard to drive home a moral message.
I'm just not big on "horror/romance" novels that put characters that could have been drafted from a Harlequin romance novel into a "horror-movie" situation, so that they can survive to meet up at the end of the book in the back of an ambulance to nurse their wounds and ride off into the sunset.<O:P>< o:p>
But this is the kind of novel that I find myself subjected to when I forget how much I do not enjoy these black-bound horror-themed bodice-rippers.
I'll read anything once, especially on the recommendation of somebody else.
And I can admit if something is well-written, even if it's something that I didn't enjoy.
Take 'Blood and Chocolate' for example. A girl in the mental hospital recommended that I check it out. Basically it's a girl-oriented coming-of-age story with the additional complication that she and her family are a pack of werewolves. The writing and vocabulary used was the kind of "Young Adolescent" style that I never seemed to mind in the Harry Potter series. Did I enjoy the book? Not really. I thought it was pretty simple and transparent. Did I think it was a good book? Sure! It was well-written and I loved the concept, even though it read kind of like if they made a series of books based on the 'Ginger Snaps' films, which I love, by the way, at least the first one. It's a great book… for someone else.
I put forth this example because I don't want people readings my reviews to think that I'm unnecessarily critical. The type of reviewer that either loves or hates the things they experience and classifies media into the two categories of "Awesome!" and "Crap!".
It's just that so many books published these days just don't have what it takes.
For example, 'Hannibal Rising' by Thomas Harris.
I'd read everything Harris published, except 'Silence of the Lambs' which is peculiarly absent from any of the local libraries I go to. I was given the hardcover of 'Hannibal Rising' for review and I was really looking forward to reading it. But soon I realized that Harris fell prey to the Harlequin romance horror model. It starts off Anne Rice, in Eastern European castle setting, and then holds steady as 'The Last Samurai'. I love Japanese culture, and I've read some of the more widely available books in translation, so I was familiar with and understood and appreciated the Musashi references.
But if I want to read a Japanese love story I'll pick up a copy of The Tale of Genji.
What I wanted out of 'Hannibal Rising' was the character Anthony Hopkins portrayed Jonathan Demme's 'Silence of the Lambs'. Ruthless, unapologetic, cruel and sadistic but at the same time calculating, urbane and sophisticatedly sinister.
Instead Hannibal spends most of the novel mooning over his step-mother and the murders he commits, although elaborately orchestrated and interesting as murder set-pieces, were motivated by righteous revenge. It was as if Harris was attempting to make Hannibal a more sympathetic character, whereas for me the attraction of the character was that he was so very unsympathetic.
Regardless of these detracting points I penned a decent critical review of the book in which I emphasized the strengths of the novel, while mentioning the faults in contrast.
If I can't think of anything nice to say about a book I've read, I won't say anything at all. I know that even bad press is still press, but as an author I realize the time and effort it takes to put a novel together and I never want to be in a position where I find myself needlessly, caustically, reviling or disparaging an author.
But I was really disappointed. If Hannibal Lecter had been neutered by his creator, then where else would the next great iconic horror author be found?
The problem with contemporary horror fiction is that there are too many authors that have been living in the shadow of the King. Stephen King.
From the 70s through the new millennium King's headshot was the face of horror in America. The impact and influence of his work upon the evolution of horror films was unignorable, but horror films and their creators were adaptable enough that they evolved creatively and in addition to exploring the territory claimed by the Kingdom of King. But not so adaptable was the horror literature bloodline.
For decades the blurb, "(Author's name) is the next Stephen King." Or blurbs by the King himself were the horror literature seal of approval. This would have been fine and well, but the times have changed, and the society we live in has changed accordingly. King may have captured the zeitgeist of the decades when he reigned supreme, but King lost his touch on the pulse of the fears which existed in the subconscious of everyday Americans. His books lapsed into the exploration of the interiority of the characters thoughts or became showcases for the stylistic flair that had made him such an outstanding author during his ascendancy to the throne.
His writing became a cliché. A joke that anyone that had read as many of his books as I had already knew the punchline to. I got of the fanwagon after reading 'Nightmares & Dreamscapes'. I really enjoyed reading it, but having read it, I got rid of it. It just wasn't the kind of book that one reads over and over again, discovering new insights each time. The King formula became plain to me. The exploration of the character, the "twist" in the third act, the open-ended resolution that left the main character to tell the tale.
I fell for 'Secret Window' and knew that it would be King's curtain call for me. I read it with the patient acceptance of a hopeful fan. The book was exactly what I expected it to be. Nothing much. I didn't understand the hype, and although I understood why it was being adapted into a major motion picture, I didn't see the point. The main character kills his wife and buries her in the garden. Then he eats the corn that her body fertilizes. An interesting but predictable premise that would have been more suited for a short story or an episode of a television show, but definitely not worth dragging out into a novel. There will always be a corner of my heart which will be reserved for the decades I spent in the thrall of King's golden age, and I've heard some good buzz about King's latest novel 'Cell'. But I'm skeptical. Like a battered spouse, I've been let down and it will take a lot for King to win back my trust.
This is why I'm not bowled over when a black-bound horror-novel touts its author as "the next Stephen King". The authors are, for the most part, pale imitations of King's stylistic flair, plugging different characters and situations into the Stephen King bestseller generator formula and hoping that the same magic will make them into best-selling authors too.
This is where Palahniuk and Ellis depart. Both authors use the same device of exploring the interiority of their characters, but with a realism that escapes most of the eager young horror authors of our time.
An author is a liar. They create a story. The story is a lie, and in order to get lost in the story, you have to believe the lie. Palahniuk and Ellis seem to understand this implicitly. Instead of trying to fabricate a frightening scenario, they explore their personal experiences and share the things which they have found interestingly unsettling about their own existences. This is the unsolicited advice that I have offered to authors who seem to be locked into the rhythm of the march of the Stephen King impersonators.
Don't write about the things which Stephen King found unsettling about existence. Write about the things that you find unsettling about your life. If through writing, you exorcise your own personal demons, readers will relate to your honesty and openness. If you follow the Stephen King formula, your novel will reek of artifice and artificiality. Stephen King didn't set out to be the next Richard Matheson or Robert Bloch. King blazed his own trail and explored his own fears and self-doubt and life experiences and it was this exploration that breathed life into his work and made is both accessible and believable. Don't strive to be the next Stephen King. Strive to be the best whatever your name is.
Chuck Palahniuk represents a midpoint in believability.
His works have an intimacy and life that is absent from any of the black bound horror novels offered by major and minor horror publishers.
In any work of fiction, the characters serve to represent the voice of the author. Even in the most reprehensible fiction, the scenarios reflect the personality of the author. Either exploring a personal psychological drama laid out for public examination in sentences or paragraphs, or the author's impression on events occurring in the environment around them. It is the friction of cognitive dissonance of the individual contemplating their environment that sparks the flame which fuels the author.
But the characters are not the author. Chuck Palahniuk is not Jack or Tyler Durden. Bret Easton Ellis is not Victor or Patrick Bateman. At the same time, there is a part of the author that is these characters. That has those thoughts. Deep inside these authors there is a person that wants to blow up buildings or swing a whirring chainsaw into a woman. This is what lends their works their believability. These authors explore those impulses that any sensible adult knows are not permitted indulgences by our society. By exploring these impulses in their work, they bring into the spotlight of public discourse these ideas. Ideas that so many of us have, but are afraid to admit. If these impulses were alien, the books created by these authors would not have achieved the popularity and success that they have. The truth is that if you buy into reading Fight Club or American Psycho you're allowing yourself to vicariously, cathartically explore that part of you which sympathizes with Tyler Durden or Patrick Bateman. There's a little bit of both of them in you. It's not as if this is some big revelation, although it may be to some of you. You may disagree and think, "I'm nothing like those characters. That's fucked up." But let's be honest. Why did you read 'American Psycho'? Why did you read 'Fight Club'? Or any "horror" novel for that matter? You must have had some idea of what you were getting yourself into. No one forced you to read the books at gunpoint.
The truth of the matter is that you enjoyed it, or you would have stopped reading. If you were truly opposed to the content of the book you would have put it down and moved on with your lives, chalking up the time you spent reading the book to experience.
The truth that so few people are willing to admit is that there is a little bit of them in you, but here's where the boundary between reality and fiction exists. The authors are not the characters they create. Even in the largely autobiographical work of Charles Bukowski, there is Bukowski the author and Chinaski the character. For all of Bukowski's unflinching and beautiful exploration of the despair and bitter humor of everyday life, it is widely known that Bukowski used the author's device of "selective reality". The Chinaski on the page was not the Bukowski in life. A close approximation, but the act of the author filtering his experiences into a written work unavoidably creates a degree of artificiality and separation. Even the most talented authors can manage to bring themselves close enough that only a thin degree of separation exists between their life and their work. But this ability is a rare gift, and many authors are too busy trying to write "great fiction" that they accidentally snuff the life out of their work. Honesty requires bravery and the ability to reveal the inner workings of oneself for public criticism.
Chuck Palahniuk is one of the rare breed of authors that is open enough to share with his readers this close approximation to his experiences.
Being a fan of Palahniuk's work has been an interesting experience.
I've read everything that I could acquire of his through the public library system. Which was, surprisingly, pretty much everything he's had published, including audio books.
I borrowed his collection of non-fiction essays, Stranger Than Fiction from the library in audio book form, and enjoyed it so much that I put it on my computer and created a three-disk mix-down of my favorite stories that I would burn for friends who I thought would appreciate the gesture. I wasn't trying to convert anyone. I was trying to share with people that shared my somewhat elitist opinion on film and literature more of the same.
I've listened to the Chuck Palahniuk / Jim Uhls commentary track on David Fincher's film adaptation at least a dozen times, if not more like more than twenty times.
Palahniuk is attractively earnest about his writing process. In the piece "This is why I write." from Stranger Than Fiction' Palahniuk is almost embarrassingly nakedly open about the life experiences that inspire him to write. The piece reveals to enthusiasts of his work the experiences from his life that were the creative genesis for his works. Few authors would admit to sitting in a bathtub, the water diluted with their own blood, talking on the phone with a friend about the small crystal pinched between their fingers which they had just passed through their urethra, their senses cushioned by a liberal application of painkillers. But for all of its openness, "This is why I write" discloses why he writes, not how he writes.
In a way, Palahniuk is a modern American folklorist. American folklore has changed since the days of Washington Irving's headless Hessian from Sleep Hollow. American folklore has become urban legend. The almost universal popularity of urban legends is a testament to the phenomenological argument. Simply stated, unless you were personally present and witnessed the event, there's no way for anyone to know the truth about any situation. And even firsthand accounts are colored, altered by the personal interpretation of the individual. The inability of the individual to approximate the reality of any given situation outside of the situation requires any intelligent person to maintain a certain degree of skepticism to avoid being completely gullible and open to exploitation by the manipulation of others.
Much could be said about the lack of skepticism of many Americans when relating to the information provide to them by the providers of their media. But this is not that kind of essay. This is a discussion of the writing process of Chuck Palahniuk.
Palahniuk's writing is a fictional framework which deftly interweaves his personal experiences and concepts about contemporary American society.
Being as familiar as I am with the writing process of Palahniuk as I am I began to recognize where themes were coming from in Palahniuk's personal experiences. Victor attending sex addicts support meetings, similarly exploited in his novel 'Fight Club', resonates with Palahniuk's volunteering at a hospice, where as a volunteer without comprehensive medical training one of the things he could do to help was take hospice residents back and forth from support meetings. Donny's substitution of compulsive masturbation with collecting rocks on an increasingly larger scale was foreshadowing that he would use his collection to build a castle, because I had listened to Palahniuk's essay 'The Castle Builders' on 'Stranger Than Fiction'.
Palahniuk startlingly innovative creativity enabled his novel to keep me surprised and entertained even though I knew what the end of the story would probably be. The ending resolved the way that I expected it would, but the manner in which the characters found their way to the logical resolution of their character arcs was continually exhilaratingly surprising and unexpected.
Palahniuk is very self-aware as an author and is also concisely, deftly, aware of literary conventions. He is an author that has studied the process of writing and the dynamic processes which enable authors to create their work. This knowledge allows Palahniuk to transcend literary conventions, intentionally inverting literary clichés. But Palahniuk does not simply invert literary clichés. Instead, knowing the stereotypes of literature he makes a conscious effort to do something different. Something unexpected. This is the pleasure that readers experience when reading the novels of Chuck Palahniuk. Whatever they expect the characters to do is the very thing that they do not do. Palahniuk does not simply present readers with a "twist" in the third act, but instead presents characters that are constantly changing and evolving in reaction to the fictional events occurring around them. But Palahniuk's writing is not exclusive. Palahniuk is not condescending towards his reading audience. Palahniuk avoids alienating his audience with obscure pop cultural or literary references although he would no doubt be readily able to do so.
Instead, Palahniuk presents us with characters that despite their unique traits are easily accessible and sympathetic. Palahniuk's writing seems to say, "It's alright if some of the things that happened in your life were fucked up. You're not alone. Everyone has fucked up things happen in their lives, but it's how a person deals with the unexpected accidents of life that makes them who they are." Palahniuk doesn't present us with monstrous characters. Palahniuk presents us with characters that would have been unexceptional except for the unique characteristics that make them exceptional and which draw his characters to be attracted to situations and other characters which perpetuate the dynamicism of their lives. Palahniuk's characters are never swept along by the irresistible current of fate. Palahniuk's characters take an active role in their existences, but in doing so they project themselves into the course of their lives, eventually creating the resolution that they always secretly knew was waiting for them but they pretended was the thing that they did not want. Palahniuk's main characters are all case-studies of the self-fulfilling prophecy. The practice of rationalizing one's actions through lying to oneself about your intentions when your actions clearly could only bring about the result that one subconsciously desires. The literary equivalent of the Freudian slip. Even the disfigured lead character from 'Invisible Monsters' is entirely sympathetic and exhibits a range thoughts and behavior which resonates at a wavelength in synchronicity with archetypical qualities that we all share as human animals.
All of this is true about Palahniuk's 'Haunted'. The most succinct summarization of the premise of the book is a modern day Canterbury Tales, populated by a laundry list of urban legends. And this is true. But it's so much more than that. Most authors have difficulty wrangling even a handful of characters through a novel from beginning to end. I respect Palahniuk for even attempting to integrate the cavalcade of characters he introduces in this one novel.
Palahniuk's openness about his writing process makes apparent that the premise of the book is simply a device. A framework used to bind together the many stories and characters that Palahniuk combines in 'Haunted'. The premise is that of a writer's retreat which goes horribly wrong. All of the attendees are uniquely dysfunctional variations on the stereotype of the aspiring author who knows in their heart that they have the next great American novel within them if only they could somehow find the time to get away and put it all down on paper. This theme resonates with the feeling of Palahniuk's expositional story about a writer's pitch conference from 'Stranger Than Fiction', in which aspiring authors pay for the privilege of being given five minutes to pitch the idea for their great American novel to potential publishers.
The aspiring authors are finally granted the time they always claimed they needed when they are imprisoned in an abandoned theater by the organizer of the retreat. Faced with the confrontation to the lie that every one of them has been perpetuating so long that it has become part of who they are, the authors do what so many of the aspiring authors that unwittingly perpetuate that stereotype do. They procrastinate, finding faults with their environment and generating friction and conflict amongst the participants. Of course, everything goes all "Lord of the Flies", but Palahniuk avoids directly appropriating the zeitgeist of Golding's book by incorporating a paranormal spin on the ensuing events.
If the story of the conflict between the participants was the only story arc it would have still been a compelling read. It is true that this scenario is the main story. It is the story that carries the characters through the narrative. But much like the journey in Canterbury Tales, this is a narrative device used as a setting into which the highly personal revelations of the individual characters are laid.
Palahniuk uses another device to present the confessional tales of the participants of the retreat. The device used is that of presentational monologues reminiscent of performance art. Each character is portrayed displayed on the stage of the theater while images complimentary to and foreshadowing of the theme of their story are projected over the characters and the screen in front of which they stand.
These vignettes derail the wrap-around story of the devolution of the group with the presentational artificiality of the style in which they are presented. As a reader I was never quite sure if these vignettes were actual occurring real-time within the story or where happening in the characters minds or were a flashback to an evening or nightly event where everyone took their turn telling their most embarrassing, life-changing personal crises. Palahniuk could have instead organically integrated the stories into the through story of the devolution of the group as a process of the natural personal pre-occupation of people and the need to perpetuate themselves as the lead characters in their own personal dramas. Nothing comes more naturally to those who believe themselves to be predisposed to literary prowess. Authors, at heart, are storytellers, and artists necessarily create in reaction to their environments, and the one inescapable constant of the environment is the awareness of oneself. But without a comparison to compare against it is feasible to suggest that this manner of integrating the stories would have seemed equally as impregnated with artifice.
The stories themselves are a brilliantly illuminating collection of the unfortunate origins of urban legends. The same way that Palahniuk provides a laundry list of sexual urban legends to introduce the sex addicts support group in 'Choke', Palahniuk gracefully, gradually, gives his readers an embarrassingly candid collection of stories about the thing that changed the course of the lives of each character in turn.
I refuse to elaborate upon the stories, believing that to do so would deprive the reader of experiencing the discovery of these darkly luminescent gems on their own. Suffice it to say that when Palahniuk went on promotional tour for 'Haunted' and read a sample from the book, the story 'Guts' as related by the character 'Saint Guts-Free', there was an epidemic of individuals at the readings fainting or getting violently sick as he made his was through the tour.
The stories have the impact of a car crash. Not the experience of driving past the rapidly cooling wrecks at an accident site, driving by as a safe spectator behind intact safety glass. The effect is that of being in a car crash where time slows down and everything seems to happen at once and the seeming inevitability of fate and a helpless inability to have any effect on your surroundings. The stories are sad and funny and poignant in turn. Not every one of them is exceptional. But those that are exceptional are incredible.
The stories are there.
You know where to find them.
They are waiting for you to have the courage to relax the clenched fist of your expectations and let the stories happen to you.
Bret Easton Ellis approaches his writing from a different direction.
His writing has a quality that I despise as a personal quality.
The ability to lie convincingly.
This is the difference between the writing of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis.
Palahniuk seems to be saying to his audience, "Gather round. I'm going to tell you a story. Parts of the story are true, but the names have been changed to protect both the innocent and the flagrantly guilty. But in the end it's just a story."
Ellis's process is much more dangerous and subversive. Ellis practices the process used by successful liars. Instead of barefacedly lying in the process used by many authors of fiction, Ellis presents a framework of truth with elements of untruth.
Similar to the experience of listening to a liar, there's a process one goes through. A bad liar says things that conflict violently with the knowledge base of the person being lied to. This is how liars are discovered. They try to sell a story so full of untruths that only the most unskeptically gullible would lend their belief.
There's another process going on simultaneous with the process of the liar trying to influence the mind of the person being lied to. The person being lied to most likely does not want to be lied to. The person being lied to most likely has a vague and general idea about whatever it is that is being discussed and they find themselves somehow depending on information which is being provided to them by someone who is intentionally misrepresenting the truth for their own purpose.
This is similar to what I meant when I said that all authors of fiction are liars. They are using words to attempt to influence the impressions of their audience. Intentionally misrepresenting reality for their own purpose. The problem is that many contemporary authors of fiction are bad liars. They present a framework and characters and events that conflict with the ability of the readers to buy into the story and to go along for the ride. It is this lack of believability that detracts from my enjoyment of these authors.
Allow me to clarify, it's not the elements of the story that any sensible person knows are fictional which cause the cognitive dissonance which cause me to think, "Bullshit!". Things like vampires and werewolves and giant monsters. A talented author is able to make the obviously false believable.
A perfect example of the insidious inter-weaving of the fictional into the factual is exhibited by the second chapter of Bret Easton Ellis's collection of short stories titled 'The Informers' (. At its simplest, it's a vampire story set in then contemporary Los Angeles. But it's so much more than that. It's an exploration of individuals complicit with the irony underlying the worldview which permeates Los Angeles. An irony that everyone is subconsciously aware of, but they choose to consciously ignore, and in doing so become complicit with. It's an exploration of the objectification and dehumanization that functions when people become objects that buy and sell each other and themselves. But it's also about vampires. Ellis's talent lies in his ability to introduce the grossly unbelievable element of the story in a way that the reader is never directly confronted with the disparity of the fictional and the believable. His process is as gradual as a seduction, asking for a subtly increasing amount of credulity from his readers as the story progresses until they find themselves complicit with the characters. Readers find themselves unable to not believe in the story that the author is presenting.
This talent is not unique to Ellis. In fact, I put forth that this was one of the elements that made Stephen King so successful during his golden age of best-selling novels. King similarly established a believable framework into which he infused undertones of evil and menace. Both Ellis and King explore the dark truths about the repressed reality of American society. Children and adults disappear and are never seen again, victims of the irresistible compulsions of other adults. It is possible that a virus could evolve that could sweep across the nation, killing the majority of its population. It is true that there are cities that disappear, abandoned in haste, and nobody is quite sure why, the truth of the matter lost with the people who once resided there. It is true that although Christianity is on the wane, most people are still "spiritual" and many have experienced things that make them unsure of the inflexible qualities of the reality around them. Any of the authors that I have referenced in a favorable light engage in the same exploration of the interiority of the individual psyche and the underlying fears that the individual sometimes secretly harbors about the unfamiliar and the unknown. This is why we tell our children not to talk to strangers, but enjoy telling each other ghost stories. The thrill of existence which is always complimented by the inevitability of death. Eros and Thanatos.
Ellis's 'Lunar Park' is a masterwork. Not that it is his best novel. I have to admit that I enjoy 'Glamorama' more. 'Lunar Park' is a masterwork in that it exists as a part of, but apart from his body of work.
At it's simplest, 'Lunar Park' is a ghost story. A ghost story and a haunted house story with thematic elements reminiscent of Jay Anson's 'The Amityville Horror' and the movie 'Poltergeist'. But if it was just a ghost / haunted house story then it wouldn't be the masterwork that it is. In this novel Ellis writes in a way that seems disarmingly candid about himself. But this is where the tell of the trick is. Remember earlier when I wrote about the process an author engages in when they confessionally, but selectively, relate the "truth" about themselves. There is always a degree of artificiality in the process. Ellis is shockingly candid in his writing about himself as an individual and an author. He writes at length about his life and the organic progression of events that resulted in his literary notoriety. He writes about the life of dissolution that he led succumbing to the influences of celebrity and lavishly details his experiences in the excesses of sex and drugs. A modern day Hollywood Babylon.
If this was the sole foundation of the novel, it would be similar to the body of the author's work wherein he builds his work with sentences name-dropping celebrities and over-priced designer items and exclusive events which are the defining qualities of the cult of celebrity which has evolved into a parasitic industry with media outlets devoted exclusively to the perpetuation of the illusion of a transcendent significance to the whole phenomenon.
Ellis's talent in the novels representative of these qualities is that he puts the phenomenon of celebrity forth for criticism, and the moral ambivalence and shallow superficiality of his characters in their knowing complicity with the illusion stamps them with an integral fault in their character. You are not meant to like Patrick Bateman. But since he is the main character in the novel you become complicit with him when you vicariously experience the things he experiences. Patrick Bateman is morally bankrupt and his moral bankruptcy exposes the hypocrisy of the reader's obsession with wealth and fame. The reader subconsciously envies the freedom and status of the character while simultaneously experiencing aversion to his behavior. It is this discomfort, this cognitive dissonance, that fuels the larger part of the writings of Bret Easton Ellis.
In 'Lunar Park' the author's writing evolves, exploring a broader theme. Instead of establishing an intentionally superficial world of objectification and commoditization as a scapegoat for the ambivalent emotions of the secret lust and incredulous disgust of the reader, the author explores the consequences of the excesses of fame and fortune. Ellis presents the character of himself as a married father determinedly struggling against his conflicting desires. The desire to relapse into the world of drugs and sexual abandon and transcendent celebrity and the desire to try to become less self-centered and commit himself to keeping together the marriage and family that he discovered himself a member of almost accidentally.
It is this conflict that drives the earlier part of the novel, and readers may begin to think that the novel is about the struggle of an over-indulgent former celebrity coming to terms with the responsibility of adulthood.
Having established the character and the framework of the narrative and seeming to have put forth the central conflict which will motivate the character, the novel gradually becomes a different novel. This is the part where the skill of the author becomes apparent. In 'Glamorama', the lead character, Victor, is presented as a superficial, self-centered pseudo-celebrity living an absurd life almost completely devoid of responsibility or accountability where he unthinkingly goes through life doing whatever he wants to do at any given moment. This existence is fuelled by a wealth that is nebulous and ever present. The novel changes into a novel about a story where world-class models are used as assassins because of their superficiality and fame and Victor gradually realizes that by unthinkingly enjoying the benefits of his self-centered irresponsibility he is complicit with those who orchestrated the terrible terroristic events he finds himself participating in and he is helpless to influence the course of events because his wealth and fame have become fatalistic influences which compel him to remain complicit with the events because he is already guilty by association. He is unwittingly complicit with the evil events in the novel and if he were to try to somehow extricate himself from the situation in an attempt to absolve his guilt and avoid further involvement with the nefarious plans intended for his participation, he would have to suffer the consequences of those crimes which he was unaware that he had been committing, and having spent so much of his life in a child-like state of irresponsibility he does not have the integrity or strength of will to act in defiance of the machinations of those around him. It would be easy to vilify Victor. But somehow Ellis manages to evolve Victor into a sympathetic character and Victor's helplessness acquires an air of poignancy and the reader sympathizes with Victor's inability to escape the invisible shackles which bind him to his pseudo-celebrity.
In 'Lunar Park', Ellis uses the same process of introducing a character and establishing his primary conflicts and gradually changing the novel into a completely different novel. It's not the fact that Ellis orchestrated this evolution which makes this book exceptional, but the manner in which he accomplished the transition that makes it exceptional.
In 'American Psycho' Ellis perpetrated the transition much less subtly. The author introduced the morally bankrupt existence of Patrick Bateman and gradually alternated between sets of paragraphs delineating the banality of the characters existence with sets of paragraphs delineating the characters ever quickening descent into madness and disconnection from humanity.
In 'Lunar Park' the author perpetrates the change in an innocuous manner. Ellis buries a sentence of surreality into a paragraph entailing the banality of his coping with his growth into suburban life. He introduces the unusual events which establish the transition from the normal to the paranormal simultaneous with the author as a character's relapse to drug use. The surreality of the drug-distorted consciousness of the character allows the character to chalk the initial encroachment of the paranormal into his struggle to adapt to suburban life up as artifacts of the influence of the drugs. It must have been the cocaine or the alcohol or a due to the effect or side-effect of the miscellany of prescription drugs the character liberally administers to himself to soften the hard edges of everyday life.
This is an example of the quality of Ellis's work that makes him exceptional. It is the inverse of the process of many authors. Many authors attempt to elicit the sense of Déjà vu in their audience. The sense of the unfamiliar becoming familiar. They attempt to orchestrate a chord which resonates with their readers allowing their fiction to transcend artificiality and to imbue their writing with a life of its own.
Ellis contrastingly expertly practices the art of Déjà Jamais. The process wherein the familiar becomes unfamiliar. Ellis's scenarios begin in such a realistic manner that readers buy into the premise from the beginning, and the introduction of the fictional is so gradual that the audience finds itself lulled into complicity. Ellis avoids the jarring contrast of the believable and unbelievable which inspires the disbelief of readers. His ability to do this with artful mastery is, I believe, part of the reason for the controversy which erupted accompanying the publication of 'American Psycho'. Any sensible reader is aware of the process divorcing an author from his work, but the hypnotizing subtlety that Ellis accomplishes this literary magic trick, caused some readers to feel ashamed of their complicity with the outlandish excess of the violence of the events portrayed in the novel. They felt guilt and disgust with themselves at finding themselves experiencing events from the perspective of a truly reprehensible character, and they vented their righteous indignation by vilifying the author instead of admiring his ability to flawlessly execute the fundamental illusion of the author of fiction. Those that protested the content of the novel were unwilling or unable to recognize the novel as a fictional exploration of a collection of the more unappealing compulsions repressed by some members of humanity. Protestors did not realize that by venting their indignation they did little more than exponentially increase the novel's reputation as a controversy inducing phenomenon and help to insure that the novel would retain a value as a focal point for the discussion of controversial literature and literature exploring the inhumanity insidiously interwoven into the banality of contemporary American society.
As a modern author, Ellis's work incorporates the post-modern aesthetic exhibited in our society by the perpetual irony and sarcasm of teenagers. The continual questioning of the truth of any claim to authority over the guidelines of reality and morality. Being familiar with the author's body of work, I expected Ellis to explore the gradual progression from reality to surreality, but in 'Lunar Park' Ellis incorporates another theme in his exploration of the permeable barrier between reality and fiction.
The character of Bret Easton Ellis, who the author introduces as himself, drawing readers in with a disarming revelation of his fame-enabled dissolution, begins to question his sanity when elements of his previous novels begin to manifest themselves in his reinvented existence as a suburbanite. The manifestation of these characters and elements increase in accordance with the increasing intensity of the paranormal events occurring in the author as character's home.
It's not a new device. Wes Craven explored the idea in his return to the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, 'Wes Craven's New Nightmare', and Stephen King explored the theme in his novel 'The Dark Half', but King was not brave enough to write himself into his novel, although I admire his honesty in discussing his history of drug use and the effect it had on his life and work, which is strikingly similar and comparable to the life experiences admitted by Ellis.
In conclusion, despite the fact that I do not think that 'Lunar Park' or 'Haunted' are the best novels by their respective authors, I think that they are the best horror novels I've read that have been published in the last five years. I guess this is what happens when talented authors that have already established themselves as proficient in their craft decide to experiment in the horror genre. This type of cross-genre experimentation is not always a success. Charles Bukowski's 'Pulp', the last of his novels is a wonderfully imaginative and surprisingly post-modern exploration of the pulp detective genre, but despite the fact that Bukowski is probably my favorite author I would never say that 'Pulp' was my favorite novel of the genre. And Stephen King's non-fiction 'Danse Macabre', although thoroughly revealing and informative, was a challenging work to complete. Thankfully Stephen King's later non-fictional work, 'On Writing'' was a much more readable creature.
Consider this review as a rare, unqualified, recommendation.
A recommendation that even if you don't have the money to go out and purchase the books, or know anyone that owns them, at the very least, go to your public library and borrow these two books.
But I warn you. These two novels may change the way that you feel about horror fiction. You will most likely experience nausea and disgust and quite possibly fear. The fear that one experiences when you realize that everything you thought you knew was wrong. The fear that one experiences when you realize something terrible about someone that you thought you knew. The fear that one experiences when you realize that you've swum out far enough that you might not be able to get back to shore.
The characters in these books do not overcome the unlikely situations that they find themselves in and reunite in an ambulance at the end to nurse their wounds while riding off into the sunset.
The characters, if they survive until the end, are irrevocably changed by the experiences that they endure. Characters, both sympathetic and unsympathetic are equally subjected to the vicissitudes of the events which unfold within these darkly insightful books.
No one is safe. Least of all unwitting readers with delicate sensibilities.
There is no safe haven, and I wouldn't enjoy them nearly as much if there were.
More on the internet:
Chuck Palahniuk: http://www.chuckpalahniuk.net/
Bret Easton Ellis: http://www.randomhouse.com/kvpa/eastonellis/
About the reviewer:
Scott Lefebvre has probably read everything you've read.
Mostly because when he was grounded for his outlandish behavior as a hyperactive school child, the only place he was allowed to go was the public library.
His literary tastes were forged by the works of Helen Hoke, Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammell, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft.
His reviews have been published by Scars Magazine, Screams of Terror, and Icons of Fright.
His first book, 'Spooky Creepy Long Island', a collection of paranormal stories about Long Island, New York, will be published in the Spring of 2008 by Schiffer Press.
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