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xterminal's review
4.0
Charlee Jacob, Dread in the Beast (Necro Publications, 1999)
Necro have made a very large name for themselves in a very short span of time. It's pretty easy to see why from this lovely piece of work. As is often the case with high-quality small press releases, the bigs could take lessons from Necro in how to attractively, durably put together a book. (Would have been nice had the photo of Jacob on the rear flyleaf, rumored to be a topless photo, had been somewhat sharper, but only the most depraved of us are likely to quibble about that. And I'm not depraved. Really. Honest.)
But the attractiveness of the book itself is absolutely nothing when compared to what happens when you open the cover. While Jacob has made quite a name for herself with her first two novels, both of which are really, really ugly, her most effective work here is far quieter, working with the creep factor rather than the gross factor. Not, mind you, that the gross factor is absent. Readers picking up a book of Charlee Jacob's and expecting to find something akin to the collected works of Charles L. Grant are still going to be in for a rather rude awakening. Charlee Jacob is an extremely disturbed woman, and I mean that in the best of ways. Stories like "Fire" are going to turn the stomach of even the most cast-iron-gulleted reader, and will amuse and horrify as they do so. Established Jacob fans can rest easy that they're going to get their fair share of blood and guts.
But she quiets down every once in a while, and lets the pieces of her repertoire hinted at in her novels come to the fore. She has a very existential streak about her, and touched on it in some parts of Haunter, but it really comes out in the book's title story (not coincidentally also set abroad for much of its length, this time in Cairo). She has a deft touch for the gloomy, goth-esque macabre, as well, revealed in pieces like "Scalpel Mouth."
Many facets of Charlee Jacob here, every one of them delightfully grotesque. Definitely a collection worth finding (though it may be difficult, as only 352 copies were ever printed). ***1/2
Necro have made a very large name for themselves in a very short span of time. It's pretty easy to see why from this lovely piece of work. As is often the case with high-quality small press releases, the bigs could take lessons from Necro in how to attractively, durably put together a book. (Would have been nice had the photo of Jacob on the rear flyleaf, rumored to be a topless photo, had been somewhat sharper, but only the most depraved of us are likely to quibble about that. And I'm not depraved. Really. Honest.)
But the attractiveness of the book itself is absolutely nothing when compared to what happens when you open the cover. While Jacob has made quite a name for herself with her first two novels, both of which are really, really ugly, her most effective work here is far quieter, working with the creep factor rather than the gross factor. Not, mind you, that the gross factor is absent. Readers picking up a book of Charlee Jacob's and expecting to find something akin to the collected works of Charles L. Grant are still going to be in for a rather rude awakening. Charlee Jacob is an extremely disturbed woman, and I mean that in the best of ways. Stories like "Fire" are going to turn the stomach of even the most cast-iron-gulleted reader, and will amuse and horrify as they do so. Established Jacob fans can rest easy that they're going to get their fair share of blood and guts.
But she quiets down every once in a while, and lets the pieces of her repertoire hinted at in her novels come to the fore. She has a very existential streak about her, and touched on it in some parts of Haunter, but it really comes out in the book's title story (not coincidentally also set abroad for much of its length, this time in Cairo). She has a deft touch for the gloomy, goth-esque macabre, as well, revealed in pieces like "Scalpel Mouth."
Many facets of Charlee Jacob here, every one of them delightfully grotesque. Definitely a collection worth finding (though it may be difficult, as only 352 copies were ever printed). ***1/2
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