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616 reviews
Hunger on the Chisholm Trail by M. Ennenbach
Hunger on the Chisholm Trail is a brutal bloodbath. The bodies do not stop dropping in this novel, it's absolute carnage throughout, it's pure violence, death, hatred and more violence. The monster of this novel is absolutely menacing, a true fright. Ultimately, this is a decent entry into an extremely great series, one that will bring joy to horror fans who are looking to experience a slice of the great American West.
"The West could be beautiful, as long as the untamed was respected."
3.0
"The howling went on long into the night as the night watch kept their rotation around the mindless herd. A fresh mound of dirt, two sticks in a makeshift cross, and an empty pair of boots were the only reminder of a fallen friend."
Hunger on the Chisholm Trail is a viscerally upsetting, violent, brutal and disgusting tale of Western horror. From the very get-go, it's obvious that this is a Wendigo story, rather than fall into the typical however, Hunger on the Chisholm Trail offers a rather fresh and interesting take on the Wendigo, opting instead for more brutal showdowns than something more lore heavy. This isn't a particularly long novel, and it's all over pretty quickly, it is, however, a slice of brutally amazing, blood-drenched, gore-slicked fun.
The sense of time and place in this novel is intensely strong, M. Ennenbach transports us to the dusty plains, flings us down upon the beer soaked flooring of the saloons, and allows us to marvel in wonder at the shock of the monster. It's a strong entry into the Splatter Western series, not the best, but still a contender. The writing is just descriptive enough to immerse us in the world without becoming bogged down, allowing the brutality of the Wendigo to take the spotlight. It's a brilliant, fun and disturbing little novel, one that never takes itself too seriously.
Hunger on the Chisholm Trail is a viscerally upsetting, violent, brutal and disgusting tale of Western horror. From the very get-go, it's obvious that this is a Wendigo story, rather than fall into the typical however, Hunger on the Chisholm Trail offers a rather fresh and interesting take on the Wendigo, opting instead for more brutal showdowns than something more lore heavy. This isn't a particularly long novel, and it's all over pretty quickly, it is, however, a slice of brutally amazing, blood-drenched, gore-slicked fun.
The sense of time and place in this novel is intensely strong, M. Ennenbach transports us to the dusty plains, flings us down upon the beer soaked flooring of the saloons, and allows us to marvel in wonder at the shock of the monster. It's a strong entry into the Splatter Western series, not the best, but still a contender. The writing is just descriptive enough to immerse us in the world without becoming bogged down, allowing the brutality of the Wendigo to take the spotlight. It's a brilliant, fun and disturbing little novel, one that never takes itself too seriously.
"He blinked and looked up through the haze in his head. The thing stood in front of him. The skin stretched over ropy muscle and seemed to be at the verge of splitting. The head cocked as it stared down at him, as if trying to figure out exactly what it looked down upon. Lee knew the answer at that moment. It was looking at its next meal."
Hunger on the Chisholm Trail is a brutal bloodbath. The bodies do not stop dropping in this novel, it's absolute carnage throughout, it's pure violence, death, hatred and more violence. The monster of this novel is absolutely menacing, a true fright. Ultimately, this is a decent entry into an extremely great series, one that will bring joy to horror fans who are looking to experience a slice of the great American West.
"The West could be beautiful, as long as the untamed was respected."
How to be Nowhere by Tim MacGabhann
Plunging back into this terrifying, white-knuckle, drug fueled world was a fucking joy. Violence, gore, viscera and entrails are flung about and woven together into a somehow lovely story. It's difficult to even describe the particular feeling this novel brings about, it's charged by destruction and savagery, but it's all really rather bleak and upsetting, despite the action it's an overwhelmingly sad novel. Instead of being the kind of novel you can switch your brain off to, How to be Nowhere is obliterating to the soul, numbing the pain with it's disgusting barbarity, only to stab you in the gut once more. It may be over the top, it may be insane, but it works so very marvelously. It's absolutely riveting, and not at all for the feint of heart.
"His vibe was different from before, stand-offish, cold, like those white marble statues of Ancient Greece, of Orpheus or Eurydice or someone, I don't know. 'It'll kill you. But gently, you know?' The fizz spritzed my face like drizzle. 'It could all be over if you just let yourself drown, vato' Carlos said. His voice was gentle, his fingers were broken, and his eyes were pinkish with petechial hemorrhaging."
"Missing you is shit, I managed to say, and I think he was about to say something else when the bullet-holes on his chest began to widen, his outline began to waver, and then he was gone, leaving me alone in a night that smelled of burning thorn-bush and mesquite. "
How to be Nowhere takes the foundation that Call him Mine laid down, injects it with steroids, douses it with gasoline and throws a lit match upon it. It's entirely ramped the hell up, to perhaps even overkill levels, yet never for a moment is it unenjoyable. It's a difficult yet beautiful and poetic read, an absolute festival of violence and death. A real horrific offering, a blood-drenched sequel we didn't know we needed, overflowing with explosions, car crashes, torture and brutality. Once again, the writing is paramount, taking center stage above the carnage.
Sometimes, from the very first page of a book, you can tell that it's going to devastate you, that it's going to utterly ruin you. That's the exact feeling you get when beginning to read How to be Nowhere, a feeling that it delivers on with a shocking rapidness. Typically, a sequel is out-shined by its predecessor, here that's entirely not the case. How to be Nowhere is every bit as brilliant, if not more so than Call him Mine. Tim MacGabhann's writing is gorgeous, it's haunting, it's heart-wrenching and makes you feel as if the only option is to fling yourself upon the blacktop and let passing traffic squish you.
How to be Nowhere takes the foundation that Call him Mine laid down, injects it with steroids, douses it with gasoline and throws a lit match upon it. It's entirely ramped the hell up, to perhaps even overkill levels, yet never for a moment is it unenjoyable. It's a difficult yet beautiful and poetic read, an absolute festival of violence and death. A real horrific offering, a blood-drenched sequel we didn't know we needed, overflowing with explosions, car crashes, torture and brutality. Once again, the writing is paramount, taking center stage above the carnage.
Sometimes, from the very first page of a book, you can tell that it's going to devastate you, that it's going to utterly ruin you. That's the exact feeling you get when beginning to read How to be Nowhere, a feeling that it delivers on with a shocking rapidness. Typically, a sequel is out-shined by its predecessor, here that's entirely not the case. How to be Nowhere is every bit as brilliant, if not more so than Call him Mine. Tim MacGabhann's writing is gorgeous, it's haunting, it's heart-wrenching and makes you feel as if the only option is to fling yourself upon the blacktop and let passing traffic squish you.
"I wanted to tell her about him. I wanted to tell her that you can't recover from a thing like the one he'd been through - or like the things I'd been through - because you can't even try, you just shunt yourself onwards, lessened, punctured, quietly a wreck. On the outside, it looks a lot like peace. Really, though, it's just devastation."
Plunging back into this terrifying, white-knuckle, drug fueled world was a fucking joy. Violence, gore, viscera and entrails are flung about and woven together into a somehow lovely story. It's difficult to even describe the particular feeling this novel brings about, it's charged by destruction and savagery, but it's all really rather bleak and upsetting, despite the action it's an overwhelmingly sad novel. Instead of being the kind of novel you can switch your brain off to, How to be Nowhere is obliterating to the soul, numbing the pain with it's disgusting barbarity, only to stab you in the gut once more. It may be over the top, it may be insane, but it works so very marvelously. It's absolutely riveting, and not at all for the feint of heart.
"His vibe was different from before, stand-offish, cold, like those white marble statues of Ancient Greece, of Orpheus or Eurydice or someone, I don't know. 'It'll kill you. But gently, you know?' The fizz spritzed my face like drizzle. 'It could all be over if you just let yourself drown, vato' Carlos said. His voice was gentle, his fingers were broken, and his eyes were pinkish with petechial hemorrhaging."
The Cutting Room by Louise Welsh
For me, this was one of those novels that, for the longest time, never seemed to call to me. I'm ever so glad now that I took the time to pick it up. The mystery of this whole thing is all-consuming, but, it's in the journey that this novel truly shines. This is an utterly exemplary crime novel, an excellent noir-thriller that's just coated in layers upon layers of grime and filth. This is dark, gothic, seedy, perverse noir fiction at it's finest, in all of its sensual, sexy, horrific glory. The Cutting Room is a sharply told story that's entirely impossible to ignore. The entire novel is so damn passive and casual about its brutality and ugliness, and this, somehow, accentuates it all into something horrendously shocking and compelling. It's an entirely grotesque thing, a brilliant, enrapturing, grotesque thing.
"I wondered if any suicides were buried under these crossroads. They'd have trouble enough rising, now, under the weight of tarmac, traffic and crossing pedestrians, I tried to conjure them in my mind's eye. The waltzing host of the dead meeting the afternoon passers-by."
4.5
"Darkness. I wanted to die. My throat was dry and my heart barren. A pulse throbbed a slow heartbeat on my temple, pounding tarry blood through my aching head. I massaged the hard bones around my eyes, feeling the tight skin move, slick against the planes of my skull. Small sparkles of light glittered for an instant in my blind eyes. I opened them again. Darkness. I remembered a time I was afraid of the dark. Some of the fear returned with the memory."
The Cutting Room is an excessively stylish, gritty, moody, almost Brain De Palma-esque sort of noir thriller cast against the seedy and sensual backdrop of Glasgow's underworld. It's one of those violent, pulpy, vibrant kind of thrillers, and stands as perhaps one of the best mystery thriller novels one could encounter. It's all so very hedonistic and self-indulgent, the entire thing is overtly unrestrained. Obsessive and cruel, The Cutting Room is a story that follows many of the typical crime novel conventions, however, in being so enigmatic, it stands out regardless, it reminds us how to enjoy a story relayed in the traditional manner.
A cast of deliciously flawed characters makes up this novel. Each and every one of them are, at their best, questionable, morally bankrupt people, and at their worst, horrendous - bordering on villainous. Here, you won't find yourself in the company of a morally righteous hero, instead you'll be accompanied by someone teetering on the edge of ruin. This is, at its core, a crime novel. But, it's also so much more than that - Rilke is an entire story just by himself - a gay auctioneer, a bachelor, an obsessive, sleazy pulp thriller leading man. There's not one likable character, yet it's impossible not to love them, in my view that's one of the marks of incredible storytelling.
The Cutting Room is an excessively stylish, gritty, moody, almost Brain De Palma-esque sort of noir thriller cast against the seedy and sensual backdrop of Glasgow's underworld. It's one of those violent, pulpy, vibrant kind of thrillers, and stands as perhaps one of the best mystery thriller novels one could encounter. It's all so very hedonistic and self-indulgent, the entire thing is overtly unrestrained. Obsessive and cruel, The Cutting Room is a story that follows many of the typical crime novel conventions, however, in being so enigmatic, it stands out regardless, it reminds us how to enjoy a story relayed in the traditional manner.
A cast of deliciously flawed characters makes up this novel. Each and every one of them are, at their best, questionable, morally bankrupt people, and at their worst, horrendous - bordering on villainous. Here, you won't find yourself in the company of a morally righteous hero, instead you'll be accompanied by someone teetering on the edge of ruin. This is, at its core, a crime novel. But, it's also so much more than that - Rilke is an entire story just by himself - a gay auctioneer, a bachelor, an obsessive, sleazy pulp thriller leading man. There's not one likable character, yet it's impossible not to love them, in my view that's one of the marks of incredible storytelling.
"I was in a tunnel way beneath the city, the smell of ordure in my lungs. The scuttle of rats around me. Fucking a stranger against the rough brick of a wall. The shuffle of footsteps coming closer. My climax was building, balls slapping against his buttocks, spunk swelling. The images scrolled on. It was coming now, getting close, blood-red vision of the orgasm blackout. Here it came, a wound, red and deep and longing, the dark basement, the slash of blood across her throat."
For me, this was one of those novels that, for the longest time, never seemed to call to me. I'm ever so glad now that I took the time to pick it up. The mystery of this whole thing is all-consuming, but, it's in the journey that this novel truly shines. This is an utterly exemplary crime novel, an excellent noir-thriller that's just coated in layers upon layers of grime and filth. This is dark, gothic, seedy, perverse noir fiction at it's finest, in all of its sensual, sexy, horrific glory. The Cutting Room is a sharply told story that's entirely impossible to ignore. The entire novel is so damn passive and casual about its brutality and ugliness, and this, somehow, accentuates it all into something horrendously shocking and compelling. It's an entirely grotesque thing, a brilliant, enrapturing, grotesque thing.
"I wondered if any suicides were buried under these crossroads. They'd have trouble enough rising, now, under the weight of tarmac, traffic and crossing pedestrians, I tried to conjure them in my mind's eye. The waltzing host of the dead meeting the afternoon passers-by."
The Silence Factory by Bridget Collins
It's a really rather sad and dazzling sort of novel, fascinating and horrific. There's an eerie air of disharmony that runs through the story and the eccentric characters are so compulsively readable. Novels such as this one are a rarity to stumble upon, it seems that Collins can never miss, she has created a true masterpiece of gothic wonder. It's all so intense and marvelous, a delight for the soul. What really makes this book, what pushes this far above and beyond so many other gothic historical fiction novels before it, is that everything works together, the dual timelines, the spiders and their silk, the imposing factory, the ambience, the characters, it's all woven together so perfectly. What an astounding novel this is.
It was a spell, or a miracle. The dog, the man, the tickling clock were extinguished as cleanly as a mirage. After a moment he clutched at the cloth, unnerved, in case the whole world had disappeared; but when he was sure that he could still hear, and the cacophony of the city continued regardless, he let it fall again. He felt the silence flood into him like a long, easy breath."
4.0
"There was a silence. Henry had thought that he had become an amateur of silence, in all its timbres and guises; but this had an unfamiliar completeness, an aching quality that was both expectancy and ending. He could not breathe, but he did not need to breathe. He had seen Sir Edward understand. For this eternal instant, it was enough."
The Silence Factory is a dazzling, classical, old-fashioned gothic novel. It's utterly delightful, spinning a macabre web of grandeur with which it captures readers. It is a poetic, beautiful and intricately plotted novel, imposing and fierce yet elegant too. There's something so enthralling about The Silence Factory, it's entirely arresting, the Victorian Era so starkly captured upon the page. It reads as if it could almost be a Victorian Gothic sci-fi/fantasy tale. It's teeming in the fantastical and otherworldly. And, it's all really rather seamless, so many brilliant things are woven together without ever feeling clunky or exaggerated.
Historical fiction, for me, is something so very hit or miss. The plots always so sound captivating, and yes, I appreciate, as a genre, historical fiction is a much slower told category of story, but most of them fail to deliver on their promises. The Silence Factory, however, is told with lashings of gothic gorgeousness and decadence. It's both charming and whimsical yet dangerous and obsessive. Bridget Collins regales us readers with bewitching Victorian ambience without shying away from the tawdry reality of the times. The sickening workplace conditions, the lack of rights thrust upon women, children and the poor, the harsh industrial progress and the corruption funding it, all is detailed with a sobering clarity.
The Silence Factory is a dazzling, classical, old-fashioned gothic novel. It's utterly delightful, spinning a macabre web of grandeur with which it captures readers. It is a poetic, beautiful and intricately plotted novel, imposing and fierce yet elegant too. There's something so enthralling about The Silence Factory, it's entirely arresting, the Victorian Era so starkly captured upon the page. It reads as if it could almost be a Victorian Gothic sci-fi/fantasy tale. It's teeming in the fantastical and otherworldly. And, it's all really rather seamless, so many brilliant things are woven together without ever feeling clunky or exaggerated.
Historical fiction, for me, is something so very hit or miss. The plots always so sound captivating, and yes, I appreciate, as a genre, historical fiction is a much slower told category of story, but most of them fail to deliver on their promises. The Silence Factory, however, is told with lashings of gothic gorgeousness and decadence. It's both charming and whimsical yet dangerous and obsessive. Bridget Collins regales us readers with bewitching Victorian ambience without shying away from the tawdry reality of the times. The sickening workplace conditions, the lack of rights thrust upon women, children and the poor, the harsh industrial progress and the corruption funding it, all is detailed with a sobering clarity.
"He looked down; darkness flickered around his shoes, sparkling, sending black sparks flying up towards his face. For a moment all he felt was wonder. Any moment now the veils around him would tear apart, and the world beyond them would appear; a world of infinite space and stars, and unimaginable depth and dark. The spiders were the gatekeepers, they spun the doorway into it, and in the blazing dark Madeleine beckoned, yes - or love, anyway, redemption, no more death-"
It's a really rather sad and dazzling sort of novel, fascinating and horrific. There's an eerie air of disharmony that runs through the story and the eccentric characters are so compulsively readable. Novels such as this one are a rarity to stumble upon, it seems that Collins can never miss, she has created a true masterpiece of gothic wonder. It's all so intense and marvelous, a delight for the soul. What really makes this book, what pushes this far above and beyond so many other gothic historical fiction novels before it, is that everything works together, the dual timelines, the spiders and their silk, the imposing factory, the ambience, the characters, it's all woven together so perfectly. What an astounding novel this is.
It was a spell, or a miracle. The dog, the man, the tickling clock were extinguished as cleanly as a mirage. After a moment he clutched at the cloth, unnerved, in case the whole world had disappeared; but when he was sure that he could still hear, and the cacophony of the city continued regardless, he let it fall again. He felt the silence flood into him like a long, easy breath."
In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami
The fact that this novel is told entirely in a nonchalant conversational style, and is built up of mostly narrative discussions adds such a sobering and uneasy feel to the story. There's an arresting vividity that's just shooting throughout the novel, it's a depraved and violent thing that folds such complex themes into its horror. Degeneracy, isolation, loneliness and corruption are so marvelously explored here. It's so brazen in its artfulness and intelligence. It really is delightful how fucked up this book is.
Being such a short and break-neck paced little novel, makes it entirely easy to devour in the space of a night. It's not even all in the length of the story, it's so damn enrapturing that putting the book down is a difficult task. There's this neon-noir dread laced through every single word. What begins as a sleazy, filthy and seductive pulp tale descends quickly into a maddening bloodbath of murder and psychopathic musings. It's a brilliant, pleasurable reading experience and also so grim and vile that even the most ardent of horror fans will feel their stomachs churning. It's a novel so absolutely worthy of its cult-like status.
"It's fun trying to build a castle on a moving train, you can like lose yourself or whatever and not have all these weird thoughts, because at the time I kept having this weird thought about poking some little girl's eyes with a pin or a toothpick or a hypodermic needle, something pointy like that, and it scared me to think about what if I really did it."
4.0
"I'd worked for nearly two hundred foreigners by now, most of them Americans, but I'd never seen a face quite like this one. It took me a while to pinpoint exactly what was so odd about it. The skin. It looked almost artificial, as if he'd been horribly burned and the doctors resurfaced his face with this fairly realistic man-made material."
In the Miso Soup is a vibrantly unsettling cult classic novel that delves deep into the seedy underworld of the tourism funded sex industry - it is at once meaningful and deliberate while also being purposefully hollow and detached from itself, it's akin to a sexually charged, quieter, much more intimate version of American Psycho. It's really rather unhinged and wild but, it's not without purpose, the violence hits us in short, shocking waves and yet, we're never full emerged in it, instead, forced to bear witness from afar to the grotesqueness that is this book.
It's so exceedingly perverse and brutal that experiencing it feels like injecting gasoline into your veins, this results in an intensely sensational reading experience. Yes, it's the tale of a serial killer on a rampage but told in a more quiet kind of manner. As a novel it's sickening and soaked through with gore but, it's also thought-provoking and challenging, in its brilliance, this novel manages somehow to cast a sympathetic light upon its killer. Creating such a dichotomy is a difficult thing so easily ruined, Murakami however, knocks it out of the park.
In the Miso Soup is a vibrantly unsettling cult classic novel that delves deep into the seedy underworld of the tourism funded sex industry - it is at once meaningful and deliberate while also being purposefully hollow and detached from itself, it's akin to a sexually charged, quieter, much more intimate version of American Psycho. It's really rather unhinged and wild but, it's not without purpose, the violence hits us in short, shocking waves and yet, we're never full emerged in it, instead, forced to bear witness from afar to the grotesqueness that is this book.
It's so exceedingly perverse and brutal that experiencing it feels like injecting gasoline into your veins, this results in an intensely sensational reading experience. Yes, it's the tale of a serial killer on a rampage but told in a more quiet kind of manner. As a novel it's sickening and soaked through with gore but, it's also thought-provoking and challenging, in its brilliance, this novel manages somehow to cast a sympathetic light upon its killer. Creating such a dichotomy is a difficult thing so easily ruined, Murakami however, knocks it out of the park.
"The images flicked through my mind like drug flashbacks, but unaccompanied by any real sense of revulsion or outrage. I remembered the sound of the guy's neck bones cracking, but all I could think was: So that's what it's like when you break somebody in two. Maybe my nerves still hadn't thawed out. I tried to feel sorry for the people who'd been killed but found to my horror, that I couldn't. I couldn't feel any sympathy for them at all."
The fact that this novel is told entirely in a nonchalant conversational style, and is built up of mostly narrative discussions adds such a sobering and uneasy feel to the story. There's an arresting vividity that's just shooting throughout the novel, it's a depraved and violent thing that folds such complex themes into its horror. Degeneracy, isolation, loneliness and corruption are so marvelously explored here. It's so brazen in its artfulness and intelligence. It really is delightful how fucked up this book is.
Being such a short and break-neck paced little novel, makes it entirely easy to devour in the space of a night. It's not even all in the length of the story, it's so damn enrapturing that putting the book down is a difficult task. There's this neon-noir dread laced through every single word. What begins as a sleazy, filthy and seductive pulp tale descends quickly into a maddening bloodbath of murder and psychopathic musings. It's a brilliant, pleasurable reading experience and also so grim and vile that even the most ardent of horror fans will feel their stomachs churning. It's a novel so absolutely worthy of its cult-like status.
"It's fun trying to build a castle on a moving train, you can like lose yourself or whatever and not have all these weird thoughts, because at the time I kept having this weird thought about poking some little girl's eyes with a pin or a toothpick or a hypodermic needle, something pointy like that, and it scared me to think about what if I really did it."
Murder Road by Simone St. James
Cold Lake Falls has all the makings of a perfect strange little town, countless disappearances, residents submerged in gossip, barbed rumors, an enrapturing and beautiful location carved up by a road that brings about hauntings, it's all really very immersive and engrossing. This is small town horror done right, bone-chilling and hyper-captivating. So often, books like this, tease their supernatural stories, only to drop them for a bland and reasonable explanation, Murder Road however, decides to let the supernatural shine. This is a sensational paranormal mystery, a twisty, well-developed, nostalgia drenched page-turner. It's not one to be missed.
"If there was one thing I knew, it was the feeling of carrying someone's death on your hands. The knowledge that if you could rewind time, you could do something differently and that person would still be alive. Sometimes, you regret it, and sometimes you don't. But you carry it either way."
4.0
"I'd seen a lot of bad things in my life - maybe more than my share. But I had never seen anything as terrible as that girl, as her face, as her undead hands. She was a dark, cold hole in the fabric of reality, punched through with a naked fist. The word that came to mind was unholy, though I had never been religious a day in my life. I had never imagined anything could be as vibrantly, furiously dead as she was."
Murder Road is a fantastic genre-bending blend of 90s nostalgia and supernatural horror. There's plenty of ghostly elements mixed together with a good bit of slasher/serial killer fun, a touch of gothic flare, and theatrical levels of small town drama, all packaged in a thriller format. At the heart of this story, there's a delicious little mystery to uncover too. This novel is so brilliantly unsettling, it delivers so wonderfully, on this campfire story like atmosphere, this is the kind of tale you tell your friends when all the light is sucked from the universe.
This is only my second read by Simone St. James, but what is abundantly clear, is that she knows how to create atmosphere, how to spin a tale so wildly unnerving and discomforting. The whole book, from start to finish, is rather eerie, a heavy sense of dread hangs over every page. Even in the slower sections of this novel, it's a fast-paced thrill-ride, entertaining without ever lagging, there's always something dramatic lingering around the corner, waiting to pull you under. Small town mysteries will always be something I gravitate towards, especially when, like this one, they are entwined in the supernatural.
Murder Road is a fantastic genre-bending blend of 90s nostalgia and supernatural horror. There's plenty of ghostly elements mixed together with a good bit of slasher/serial killer fun, a touch of gothic flare, and theatrical levels of small town drama, all packaged in a thriller format. At the heart of this story, there's a delicious little mystery to uncover too. This novel is so brilliantly unsettling, it delivers so wonderfully, on this campfire story like atmosphere, this is the kind of tale you tell your friends when all the light is sucked from the universe.
This is only my second read by Simone St. James, but what is abundantly clear, is that she knows how to create atmosphere, how to spin a tale so wildly unnerving and discomforting. The whole book, from start to finish, is rather eerie, a heavy sense of dread hangs over every page. Even in the slower sections of this novel, it's a fast-paced thrill-ride, entertaining without ever lagging, there's always something dramatic lingering around the corner, waiting to pull you under. Small town mysteries will always be something I gravitate towards, especially when, like this one, they are entwined in the supernatural.
"I had expected this, possibly even wanted it, but still, when I saw her pale face and long, brown hair, my chest seized with fear. My breath stopped and we locked eyes in the mirror. She was a girl, but she wasn't. She was a person, but she was also an empty hole where a person should be, sucking all the air through it and spreading darkness. I could see how thin her arms were, and I thought I could hear her breathe. But she wasn't breathing, was she? She'd been dead a long time, and this close I caught the faint scent of rot, earthy and sweet."
Cold Lake Falls has all the makings of a perfect strange little town, countless disappearances, residents submerged in gossip, barbed rumors, an enrapturing and beautiful location carved up by a road that brings about hauntings, it's all really very immersive and engrossing. This is small town horror done right, bone-chilling and hyper-captivating. So often, books like this, tease their supernatural stories, only to drop them for a bland and reasonable explanation, Murder Road however, decides to let the supernatural shine. This is a sensational paranormal mystery, a twisty, well-developed, nostalgia drenched page-turner. It's not one to be missed.
"If there was one thing I knew, it was the feeling of carrying someone's death on your hands. The knowledge that if you could rewind time, you could do something differently and that person would still be alive. Sometimes, you regret it, and sometimes you don't. But you carry it either way."
All These Subtle Deceits by C.S. Humble
The body horror of this novel is top tier and the excitement never lets up. For such a short novel, it truly delivers a shockingly huge punch. C.S. Humble is one of those authors with a talent for making horror sound utterly breathtaking and gorgeous. It's a delightful thing, when an author can extract beauty from even the horrific. Blending stunning writing with an adrenaline fueled plot, some truly brutal scenes and sickening body horror, All These Subtle Deceits is a novel not to miss.
"Their hands snapped down to their sides again, the sobbing ceased immediately. Slowly, their heads turned towards Lauren. Their vertebrae crunched like brittle autumn leaves deep within their cold, swollen skin. Their gazes fell on Lauren, each of them peering with rheumy eyes, swollen white. "
3.0
"Lauren tried to bite the stalks, but her teeth were not sharp enough. The flowers crawled down her esophagus, so deep that she could feel them slither into her digestive tract, expanding her diaphragm and writhing in her stomach like worms. And slowly, maddeningly slowly, the marigolds swallowed her into the earth."
All These Subtle Deceits feels much like a classic horror novel, only, retold, at once both fresh, exciting and strangely comforting. At the heart of this novel lies a town so well crafted, with many stories to tell - it grabs ahold of readers and suckers them in, refusing to let them go. It's a quick read, all in all, one of those blisteringly paced horror novels that can be flown through in an entire sitting. It is, however, a book that consumes your time, that commands attention, that implores you to set everything aside. It's brilliant, quirky, and a ton of fun, it may even be a series. But, even as a standalone, singular thing, this book rocks.
It feels much like a love-letter to the horror genre and the scary story in general. Everything that makes horror so fantastic is packed into this tiny little novel. It's got a real bite to it, and there's so much love poured into this book. Really, it's a hybrid mishmash of a possession story, a haunting, of demons and priests and otherworldly horrors that plague a small town - it's full of every popular horror trope, but here, they're exciting and refreshing.
All These Subtle Deceits feels much like a classic horror novel, only, retold, at once both fresh, exciting and strangely comforting. At the heart of this novel lies a town so well crafted, with many stories to tell - it grabs ahold of readers and suckers them in, refusing to let them go. It's a quick read, all in all, one of those blisteringly paced horror novels that can be flown through in an entire sitting. It is, however, a book that consumes your time, that commands attention, that implores you to set everything aside. It's brilliant, quirky, and a ton of fun, it may even be a series. But, even as a standalone, singular thing, this book rocks.
It feels much like a love-letter to the horror genre and the scary story in general. Everything that makes horror so fantastic is packed into this tiny little novel. It's got a real bite to it, and there's so much love poured into this book. Really, it's a hybrid mishmash of a possession story, a haunting, of demons and priests and otherworldly horrors that plague a small town - it's full of every popular horror trope, but here, they're exciting and refreshing.
"Those who are born and raised in the city are swift to stay, though many of them do not know why. The city compels them to remain. Not because of its grandeur or the promised fortune found in the mineral-rich earth, but something else. Something deeper. Something enrapturing to its natives and seductive to its immigrants. Black Wells captures you. Its allurements conjure a strong chain that wraps around the heart like ivy swallows a trellis. It is a quick and beautiful kind of bondage. A subtle kind of deceit. "
The body horror of this novel is top tier and the excitement never lets up. For such a short novel, it truly delivers a shockingly huge punch. C.S. Humble is one of those authors with a talent for making horror sound utterly breathtaking and gorgeous. It's a delightful thing, when an author can extract beauty from even the horrific. Blending stunning writing with an adrenaline fueled plot, some truly brutal scenes and sickening body horror, All These Subtle Deceits is a novel not to miss.
"Their hands snapped down to their sides again, the sobbing ceased immediately. Slowly, their heads turned towards Lauren. Their vertebrae crunched like brittle autumn leaves deep within their cold, swollen skin. Their gazes fell on Lauren, each of them peering with rheumy eyes, swollen white. "
Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella
Novels with characters this ignorant, this detached from reality are a rather niche enjoyment of mine. Most of us have probably worked with, or at the very least, interacted with some form of dude-bro, tech-lover, hustle-culture, instagram-esque motivational speaker at one point in our lives, which, I think, heightens this novel's magic. By no means, is this an earth-shattering book, but, it's a good, entertaining, blisteringly fun read. It knows what it is, it knows what it set out to do. Bored Gay Werewolf is a palate cleanser in a world full of heavy tomes we must scour for information. Sometimes, all you need is an easy read, something to break up the drab world around you. Bored Gay Werewolf is the novel that achieves just that.
The end of the novel hints at some kind of sequel, or some potential other book set in this world. Now, I'm not entirely sure if I'd continue on with a second book. I feel that, as a standalone, as a one-shot story, this book is perfectly fine as it is.
"As the bathroom fogs up, he slows his breath, taking in the steam and humidity in deep, cleansing inhales. Everything is fine. After finally gathering his composure, he asks the age-old question: after committing homicide, do you do your entire skin care routine? The answer, of course, being yes."
3.0
"Brian sits at the end of the bar, waiting for his final customers to leave and trying not to go so heavy on himself for last night's homicide. Is it even murder, he thinks to himself, if he's technically not a human when he commits it?"
Bored Gay Werewolf is the exact definition of writing and reading for pleasure. It is pure, unbridled, unadulterated, unrestrained fun. It's goofy as hell, entertaining, hilarious, just absolutely brilliant. Packed to the brim with snarky wit, and told with some real heart, Bored Gay Werewolf is a joy of a novel to experience, one that's so easily consumable in one sitting. It's one of those novels that, despite being rammed full of difficult to navigate topics, never seems to take itself too seriously, even when delving into the darker, much heavier of themes, it still manages to keep its light, airy and jolly tone.
Picture, if you will, a queer werewolf hustle-culture fight club for the modern ages with a splash of American Psycho inspiration. It's a little weird to imagine at first, but, that is, entirely, this book. For all of the strangeness in this novel, it's really rather charming, opting for a quiet and calming kind of plot that simmers along, rather than something that explodes in your face. It's all very dude-bro, and not at all what you'd expect from a werewolf novel, but, that makes it surprisingly enjoyable. Bored Gay Werewolf is a very weird novel, but, whenever has weirdness been a bad thing? In fact here, this book's eccentricity is its most fantastic feature.
Bored Gay Werewolf is the exact definition of writing and reading for pleasure. It is pure, unbridled, unadulterated, unrestrained fun. It's goofy as hell, entertaining, hilarious, just absolutely brilliant. Packed to the brim with snarky wit, and told with some real heart, Bored Gay Werewolf is a joy of a novel to experience, one that's so easily consumable in one sitting. It's one of those novels that, despite being rammed full of difficult to navigate topics, never seems to take itself too seriously, even when delving into the darker, much heavier of themes, it still manages to keep its light, airy and jolly tone.
Picture, if you will, a queer werewolf hustle-culture fight club for the modern ages with a splash of American Psycho inspiration. It's a little weird to imagine at first, but, that is, entirely, this book. For all of the strangeness in this novel, it's really rather charming, opting for a quiet and calming kind of plot that simmers along, rather than something that explodes in your face. It's all very dude-bro, and not at all what you'd expect from a werewolf novel, but, that makes it surprisingly enjoyable. Bored Gay Werewolf is a very weird novel, but, whenever has weirdness been a bad thing? In fact here, this book's eccentricity is its most fantastic feature.
"Brain is thankful for the silence. He has noticed the slow encroachment of his signature nihilism. It has taken considerably more effort to keep his sarcasm at bay, especially when Tyler and Mark are such easy targets, like the time Mark thought if we all just opened our doors, we could solve global warming with eight billion air conditioners. It's wild how they think that whatever shit comes out their mouths has intrinsic value, as if their focus on being mean inoculates them against any kind of introspection."
Novels with characters this ignorant, this detached from reality are a rather niche enjoyment of mine. Most of us have probably worked with, or at the very least, interacted with some form of dude-bro, tech-lover, hustle-culture, instagram-esque motivational speaker at one point in our lives, which, I think, heightens this novel's magic. By no means, is this an earth-shattering book, but, it's a good, entertaining, blisteringly fun read. It knows what it is, it knows what it set out to do. Bored Gay Werewolf is a palate cleanser in a world full of heavy tomes we must scour for information. Sometimes, all you need is an easy read, something to break up the drab world around you. Bored Gay Werewolf is the novel that achieves just that.
The end of the novel hints at some kind of sequel, or some potential other book set in this world. Now, I'm not entirely sure if I'd continue on with a second book. I feel that, as a standalone, as a one-shot story, this book is perfectly fine as it is.
"As the bathroom fogs up, he slows his breath, taking in the steam and humidity in deep, cleansing inhales. Everything is fine. After finally gathering his composure, he asks the age-old question: after committing homicide, do you do your entire skin care routine? The answer, of course, being yes."
Notice by Heather Lewis, Alan Garganus
This book is pure art. It's a book that demands attention and care while reading in order to be fully appreciated. One has to fully immerse themselves into the pitch-black world of Notice in order to not miss its subtlety. There's a lot this book has to say, a lot that the author has to say, and this makes it an important yet difficult read. Across the 200 or so pages that Notice spans there exists an excruciatingly detailed account of the horror that is humanity. It's a book of many things, a horrific noir, a dark romance like novel of submission, a dive into the minds of powerful men that abuse women, a slow paced psychological thriller, the list truly is endless.
It's also fantastic. It's timeless and ageless and without a doubt one of the most quietly disturbing novels to exist. Background detail is nonexistent in this novel, instead, we're thrust into the heartbreaking abuse from the start. There's an enormous amount of pain etched between each and every word of this obscure little novel. It really is a book that deserves much more love and attention.
"She'd gone out of her head, but I was still in mine and registering everything going on - in my head and my body and the place in between them. That place being nearest my chest, where I wanted to feel deadness or at least hatred but instead could only feel loved."
4.0
"While it's true I needed the money that's not all I needed from it. I don't care what anybody says. I understand the reason for telling people that, people outside it. But the thing is, I could never really see anyone as outside it. What the extra need is, the thing besides money? I've never pinned it down. I know it's there, though."
Heather Lewis' Notice has had me thinking for a while, mostly about its agonizing content, but, also about how we use and understand the word disturbing. A lot of the time, disturbing is used in place of disgusting, scary, perhaps even shocking. And, yes, at times, it would be fair to call Notice all of these things - but it's not an extreme splatterpunk body horror gore-fest, it's not a horror novel at all, yet, it does horrify. It's disturbing in its quietness, however, in how real and raw it all is, in how it reads as if it's a non-fiction account of an incredibly distressing life. It's disturbing in how the heart of the author seems to seep out of the words on the pages. Notice is an exorcism of the soul.
This is without a doubt one of the bleakest, most horrifying works of fiction out there. At every turn it's just an obliterating experience, and, in its sheer artistry and audacity, it's rather brave. Notice reads much like a very long suicide note, it's an extremely painful reading experience. Upon starting this novel, it takes a while to even realize it's fiction, what is clear from the get-go however, is that Heather Lewis understands, with a burning clarity, what she's writing about. This book is a void, an exploration of exploitation and abuse, and the desperate desire to be needed. What a superbly written, gruesome, harrowing, erotically artful and yet horrible experience this was. Notice achieves what every good piece of fiction should - it leaves us with plenty to ponder.
Heather Lewis' Notice has had me thinking for a while, mostly about its agonizing content, but, also about how we use and understand the word disturbing. A lot of the time, disturbing is used in place of disgusting, scary, perhaps even shocking. And, yes, at times, it would be fair to call Notice all of these things - but it's not an extreme splatterpunk body horror gore-fest, it's not a horror novel at all, yet, it does horrify. It's disturbing in its quietness, however, in how real and raw it all is, in how it reads as if it's a non-fiction account of an incredibly distressing life. It's disturbing in how the heart of the author seems to seep out of the words on the pages. Notice is an exorcism of the soul.
This is without a doubt one of the bleakest, most horrifying works of fiction out there. At every turn it's just an obliterating experience, and, in its sheer artistry and audacity, it's rather brave. Notice reads much like a very long suicide note, it's an extremely painful reading experience. Upon starting this novel, it takes a while to even realize it's fiction, what is clear from the get-go however, is that Heather Lewis understands, with a burning clarity, what she's writing about. This book is a void, an exploration of exploitation and abuse, and the desperate desire to be needed. What a superbly written, gruesome, harrowing, erotically artful and yet horrible experience this was. Notice achieves what every good piece of fiction should - it leaves us with plenty to ponder.
"I carried that deadness to bed with me. And I carried with it a knowledge I'd had all along. That I should've died that night - it'd been the best chance I'd had so far. And that I hadn't? Hadn't taken it? It wasn't the relief or comfort I believed it ought to be. It was only a postponement of some kind. A cruel kind of cheat, pressing me to decide it myself."
This book is pure art. It's a book that demands attention and care while reading in order to be fully appreciated. One has to fully immerse themselves into the pitch-black world of Notice in order to not miss its subtlety. There's a lot this book has to say, a lot that the author has to say, and this makes it an important yet difficult read. Across the 200 or so pages that Notice spans there exists an excruciatingly detailed account of the horror that is humanity. It's a book of many things, a horrific noir, a dark romance like novel of submission, a dive into the minds of powerful men that abuse women, a slow paced psychological thriller, the list truly is endless.
It's also fantastic. It's timeless and ageless and without a doubt one of the most quietly disturbing novels to exist. Background detail is nonexistent in this novel, instead, we're thrust into the heartbreaking abuse from the start. There's an enormous amount of pain etched between each and every word of this obscure little novel. It really is a book that deserves much more love and attention.
"She'd gone out of her head, but I was still in mine and registering everything going on - in my head and my body and the place in between them. That place being nearest my chest, where I wanted to feel deadness or at least hatred but instead could only feel loved."
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
Never once is the violence of this story glorified, nor does it ever feel gratuitous. In a way, it all feels kind of vital to the story, which, actually isn't really about violence at all. The intense ultra-violence is simply a vessel in which we must examine the morality of choice and free-will. Of course, it's heaped full of vile and incredulous characters. And, as a villain, Alex is a brutally brilliant one, charming yet vicious, ungodly but casts a sympathetic shadow, he does the unthinkable, he's horrible. Yet, through the brilliance of Burgess, when atrocities happen to our dear villain, sympathy crashes upon us in waves.
Despite being a classic, this is a novel that has so much modern appeal, and never really reads like something that was first published in the 60s. It's a book of real rebellion, angry in every sense of the word, and one to delight and ignite the punk spirit that lives within us.
"And like it was Fate there was another like malenky booklet which had an open window on the cover, and it said, 'Open the window to fresh air, fresh ideas, a new way of living.' And so I knew that was like telling me to finish it all off by jumping out. One moment of pain, perhaps, and then sleep for ever and ever and ever."
4.0
"I know I shall have many sleepless nights about this. What does God want? Does God want goodness or the choice of goodness? Is a man who chooses to be bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has the good imposed upon him?"
The ultra-violent masterpiece. The cult classic. The original postmodern hellscape in novel form, A Clockwork Orange is so very well-known, and so widely adored that reviewing it becomes a daunting, intimidating thing. How can any one person possibly say anything new or interesting about a book so universally revered, and so deeply dissected?
With its highly experimental 'Nadsat' slag being its most distinctive feature, A Clockwork Orange is at first, a little difficult to grasp. However, it's so ingeniously crafted, that the wild and zany slang becomes quickly enjoyable. It makes for a brilliant storytelling device, and the result is a wonderfully unique and highly chaotic dystopian tale of terror. It's often said that, A Clockwork Orange is the most ultra-violent of stories, and while it's true that there's page upon page of sickening, heinous crimes described with a shocking vividity, and characters who delight in the misery of others, to call it simply a 'violent novel' lessens what it actually is.
The ultra-violent masterpiece. The cult classic. The original postmodern hellscape in novel form, A Clockwork Orange is so very well-known, and so widely adored that reviewing it becomes a daunting, intimidating thing. How can any one person possibly say anything new or interesting about a book so universally revered, and so deeply dissected?
With its highly experimental 'Nadsat' slag being its most distinctive feature, A Clockwork Orange is at first, a little difficult to grasp. However, it's so ingeniously crafted, that the wild and zany slang becomes quickly enjoyable. It makes for a brilliant storytelling device, and the result is a wonderfully unique and highly chaotic dystopian tale of terror. It's often said that, A Clockwork Orange is the most ultra-violent of stories, and while it's true that there's page upon page of sickening, heinous crimes described with a shocking vividity, and characters who delight in the misery of others, to call it simply a 'violent novel' lessens what it actually is.
"So we cracked into him lovely, grinning all over our listos, but he still went on singing. Then we tripped him so he laid down flat and heavy and a bucketload of beer-vomit came whooshing out. That was disgusting so we gave him the boot, one go each, and then it was blood, not song nor vomit, that came out of his filthy old rot. Then we went on our way. "
Never once is the violence of this story glorified, nor does it ever feel gratuitous. In a way, it all feels kind of vital to the story, which, actually isn't really about violence at all. The intense ultra-violence is simply a vessel in which we must examine the morality of choice and free-will. Of course, it's heaped full of vile and incredulous characters. And, as a villain, Alex is a brutally brilliant one, charming yet vicious, ungodly but casts a sympathetic shadow, he does the unthinkable, he's horrible. Yet, through the brilliance of Burgess, when atrocities happen to our dear villain, sympathy crashes upon us in waves.
Despite being a classic, this is a novel that has so much modern appeal, and never really reads like something that was first published in the 60s. It's a book of real rebellion, angry in every sense of the word, and one to delight and ignite the punk spirit that lives within us.
"And like it was Fate there was another like malenky booklet which had an open window on the cover, and it said, 'Open the window to fresh air, fresh ideas, a new way of living.' And so I knew that was like telling me to finish it all off by jumping out. One moment of pain, perhaps, and then sleep for ever and ever and ever."