2007, Shaye Areheart Books

Filed Under Literary, Horror

Eleven year-old George Davies might be an insane schizophrenic, or he might be able to commune (involuntarily) with actual Satanic demons. That’s pretty much the crux of this book. It’s not an original premise by any step, and the general plot plays out pretty much exactly as you’d expect it to. It sounds like a recipe for a bland, recycled story, but it turns out to be anything but. A Good and Happy Child gripped me like the classic demonic scary movies of the 70s—”The Amityville Horror,” for example—did when I was young.

When it comes to movies, I’m a horror fan through and through. I like them silly and campy, and I especially like the good-versus-evil, misinterpretation-of-Christianity variety. However, when it comes to books, that same campiness tends to turn to schlock, and religious stuff in books too often reads as pretentious. So I don’t read much horror, but when I do, I gravitate towards the more atmospheric and brooding (Poe, Lovecraft, The Turn of The Screw). Justin Evans utilizes a little bit from both sides of the fence, striking a nice balance between tropes and mood, and because of that his book succeeds.

The story is told through notebooks grown-up George is writing at his therapist request.  He’s a new father, but can’t bring himself to even look at the child. His once loving wife has filed for divorce, and his life is crumbling around him. Through the journals, George recounts the “Friend” he first saw in the shower not long after his father’s death, and who used to deliver messages to him during half-wakeful bouts of insomnia.

George’s father was a professor of theology and a mystic. He died of a fever upon returning from South America. As George recounts it, he was soon brought in by his father’s former colleagues, told of his dad’s spiritual journey through Hell, brought along on exorcisms, and taught about the reality of biblical forces. The messages George receives from his “Friend” begin telling him do things. People around George get hurt, one after another. As the very real threat of being committed to an asylum weighs over George (both the child and the grown-up), it is never entirely clear whether George is to be believed or not.

An unreliable narrator can be a very difficult thing to pull off. I thought George’s questionable sanity was portrayed quite deftly here. The reader is pretty much asked to take a stance (demons or crazy) and read the book how he/she sees fit. Think Donnie Darko but replace the time travel stuff with Belial.

Narrative restraint aside, Evans’s prose is quite readable. He never turns an amazing phrase, but the language keeps at a level just above what I’d associcate with “genre” fiction and just dips into a “literary” delivery. Being rooted in horror, the characters are all a little cookie cutter, but they are 3-dimensional enough and allowed enough idiosyncrasy to be satisfying to read.

This is a carefully balanced book with some, but not too much, action; some, but not too much, camp; some, but not too much, psychological tension. Fans of horror should give it a shot, and anyone looking for a quick and creepy thriller will probably find enough to like here to make it worth the read.

Similar Reads: The House of Leaves (Danielewski), Fight Club (Palahniuk). Also, the movies “The Amityville Horror” and “Donnie Darko.”

Author:

2007, Mira

Filed Under: Horror, Romance, Chick Lit, Thrillers, Young Adult

I’m not sure I can say that I liked Stray. I wouldn’t read it again and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone else (unless they were a werecat enthusiast, in which case I’m sure it would come to mind, and I would bring it up, and I would say, check this shit out). But I did read it in one week. Which says something.

First, a few fun facts about werecats:

1. Werecats have this amazing sense of smell. Lines including descriptions such as: “my citrus-scented pants” and “wholesome femininity layered with Herbal Essences and cherry Bubble Yum” really clue the reader in.  Over and over and over again
2. Werecats do not have nine lives. As the protagonist puts it, “that would be cool, though.” Maybe her werebabies will have that gene?
3. Good werecats don’t eat human flesh. Bad “strays” do.

Did I mention that I trash-picked this book from the trash? Yep. Found this gem on the side of the road. Look at the cover: You would have picked it up, too. There’s a sex kitten right on the cover and you wonder, is that a tattoo on her lower back, or a scratch mark?

I’m not always a fast reader. Sometimes I forget my book at home and end up spending the day with the Metro. Or I switch around, hopping from story to story.

One week says something. It says that I opted to read about werecat love triangles when I could have been out at the bar or catching up on my new favorite British teen drama, “Skins” or, you know, going to the library for a better book. It says that I remembered to bring it with me to work everyday so that I could read it on the train and on the elliptical machine at the gym. It says that I maybe hunted around my room for it late one night when it was hiding under my blankets and I really wanted to know whether or not the protagonist was going to be raped by the bad guy.

Was there a lot of character development? Not really.

There’s the main girl – you know the one. You want to be her when you grow up because she’s super tough, and clever, and all the mistakes she makes are adorable. Her name is Faith, but spelled, awkwardly, as “Faythe”. While the book is written from Faythe’s perspective, the reader never really knows what she’s going to do next. All this insight into her mind and still you’re surprised when she suddenly goes from hating her home life to leading the pack.

She also dresses like an uber-slut, but this is not exactly because she’s a whore. It’s because werecats are so used to seeing other werecats naked that halter tops are actually sexier to their kind than straight up nudity.

Faythe’s intelligence is illustrated in several scenes, but her depth is best summed up in the following passage:

Time was the great constant, eternally measuring my life in the ticks of a hundred second hands, the tocks of a thousand pendulums. It portioned my life into good times and bad times, the former too short, and the latter too long.

Other than the main girl, there are several guys she fucks/wants to fuck:  her college boyfriend, her high school sweetheart, this sexy guy named Jace. Plus the bad foreign guys (who are mostly “strays,” or cats that are not born into the weredom). Along with the were-boys, there are about a dozen family members and an even more extended werecat network (in wereworld, they refer to these extended pods as “Prides”). I got a little lost trying to keep track of who belonged to what family, but I did scan the pages trying to figure out who Faythe would finally choose to love.

Even with Faythe’s indecision regarding her next boyfriend, Stray is predictable. I mean, it’s a book about a mythological creature living among us and trying to save her people from the evil plans of similar creatures who are not as pure bred or morally strident. Guess what happens? Despite the predictability, it’s an entertaining, light read. It’s also a great for people who are interested in reading about things like disembowelment, intestines, and throat-ripping.

And there are moments in the book where some of the lines make no sense. For instance, someone, anyone, please explain the following excerpt to me:

Our eyes met. I have no idea what mine looked like, but his would have comfortably seated several little green men apiece.

I’m sure this book has spawned a series. The author left the ending nice and open for a sequel, or a prequel, or an entire series of similar ejaculations if she should chooses. However, unlike the Harry Potter books or the Twilight series, I don’t feel compelled to immediately go out and buy the next book. Because I don’t care what happens to Faythe next. Even worse, I bet a second book would follow the same plot lines and love choices. Yawn.

But then again, if I see it in another recycling bin outside, I’ll grab that shit right up.

Similar (But Better) Reads: The Twilight Saga (Meyer) & the Sookie Stackhouse series (Harris). For worse: http://paranormalromanceblog.com (“a harelquin romance blog devoted to paranormal love”).

2005, Razorbill (Penguin)

Filed Under: Young Adult, Horror

I know, I know. Young adult vampire novels swirl around in a genre flooded with quick-to-press garbage. To be honest, I have no idea how this book wound up on my shelves. But when I found it while looking for a book to take on the subway, I figured I’d give it a shot. And I’m actually pretty glad that I did.

Bloodline is not the typical teen vampire novel the cover design might suggest it is (assuming the typical teen vampire novel these days is a Twilight doppelganger). In fact, this book borrows a lot more from Bram Stoker’s classic novel than it does from glamour-chic undead romance of contemporary vampire fiction. This is a book with plot, structure, and language that leans more toward classic horror than toward YA.

The book is cast with the progeny of Stoker’s characters. Quincy Harker is the son of Mina Harker from Dracula. He is a handsome and rich British officer commanding soldiers in French trenches during the first World War. He is also a vampire who feeds violently on German soldiers.

Upon returning to England, Quincey becomes entwined with the lives of John and Lily Shaw, and Mary Seward, a nurse who helps John rehabilitate from war/vampire injuries and who happens to be the daughter of another of Stoker’s characters, John Seward–the psychiatrist who cares for Renfield and a suitor of Lucy Westenra. When Quincey beguiles a lovestruck Lily, and absconds with her for Transylvania, John and Mary give chase.

Like Stoker’s, this is an epistolary novel: it is told through diary entries and letters of several characters, namely Lily, John, and Mary. I know the plot and structure don’t sound like the most original, and they’re not. But Kate Cary exerts enough originality that this doesn’t feel like an “Adventures of Dracula Jr.” kind of affair.

The plotting does eventually reach a pretty satisfactory degree of complexity–I don’t want to spoil too much but it has to do with Count Dracula’s bloodline. There is enough mystery and narrative tension to sustain momentum throughout the book, and I certainly enjoyed coming across characters and references to events that had some relation to a classic book I know and love. I enjoyed this book enough that I will consider reading on in the series.

Yes, as is to be expected of most young adult books nowadays, Bloodline has a jump-off ending that tosses up a softball for a serial. This is one of my least favorite trends in YA. Even if the intention is to launch a series (and clearly the money is there), a good first entry should always work as a standalone book.

However, though Bloodline clearly sets the table for a second entry, it doesn’t end with annoying cliffhanger. In fact, its ending is a strong one, one that went in a different direction than I was anticipating. The story closes up neatly enough that the book could stand alone without sequels. Bloodline is a good YA choice for fans of classic horror–if not so much for Twihards, which is probably for the better.

Similar Reads: Dracula (Stoker), Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Graham-Smith), The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein (Ackroyd), Rowan of the Wood (Rose)

Author: Peter Ackroyd

2009, Nan A. Talese

Filed under Sci-fi, Historical, Horror

I bought this book on a dorky impulse (it’s the sort of thing that occurs often), mostly because Frankenstein is one of my favorite novels, and because I had recently read John Kessel’s awesome short story, “Pride and Prometheus.” Peter Ackroyd does Shelley’s book justice, deftly weaving historical fiction into the classic’s universe. The book offers a retelling of the famous monster story. In this version, Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory is in a London warehouse (he’s from Switzerland), and he is best friends with the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, who of course was Mary Shelley’s husband. The mixing in of the biographical fiction is a welcome change for the familiar plot, and Ackroyd’s experience with historical fiction lends a feeling of freshness.

The atmosphere and writing are the book’s greatest strengths. The setting is wonderfully gothic, with the mood and atmosphere transferred from Mary Shelley’s book with reverence. The writing, while not of the variety that will wow you and make you want to revisit and savor lines, captures this atmosphere nicely. Ackroyd doesn’t emulate Shelley’s voice (wisely), but does a remarkable job of representing the time period.

I’m not going to bother explaining the plot, as everyone knows the basics of the monster story, and you can read a Bysshe biography on Wikipedia. This book could have easily fallen into a disjointed pile, and struggled to meld biography with the retelling of a classic, and indeed it was a fear I held upon first opening the book. Luckily that isn’t the case. The historical characters fit nicely, and Ackroyd presents the tale as a convincing history (it’s told through Dr. Frankenstein’s perspective) that feels quite organic. There is no Igor, (Igor is a Hollywood creation not Shelley’s) and I’m glad he didn’t simply repackage a lot of stock monster movie stuff many people probably think of when imagining a Frankenstein narrative.

While the historical fiction angle is a charming asset for the book, it also presents difficulty for the author (and the reader). We know that Bysshe died a young man. And a book purporting to take place in a real time period—with real science and medicine described, I’m presuming, with a degree of historical accuracy—has a hard sell before it if it wants the reanimation of a corpse by a mad scientist to feel credible. These problems don’t rear their heads until the very end of the book, but when they did, I was supremely disappointed.

This didn’t feel problematic ahead of time mostly because, knowing it was fiction, I assumed Ackroyd would sidestep reality for the sake of telling a good story. Ideally he’d have found a way to tie Bysshe’s death to the larger horror plot, thus validating the fictional science by evidencing it against known history. He didn’t. Instead, he more or less allowed Bysshe to drop out of the book once Mary Shelley appeared as a character, giving the impression that the poet wasn’t much needed for the story after all. In fact we only hear of Bysshe’s death through a letter from Mary to Victor.

To make things worse, Ackroyd then pulled a lazy, hack job, blame-it-on-insanity ending that almost ruined the book for me completely (that’s not really a spoiler, because a man trying to reanimate corpses is undeniably insane). In fact, until the last 10-15 pages, I had planned on nominating this book as a Great Read. After the final chapter, I quickly changed my mind on that.

Still, it was an enjoyable book, and fans of Frankenstein, sci-fi, 19th century poets, and historical fiction will certainly have fun reading it; just be warned it ends abruptly and may–if you’re like me–leave you a tad unsatisfied.

Similar reads: Frankenstein (Shelley), Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Graham-Smith), Drood (Simmons), The Baum Plan for Financial Independence (Kessel)

Author: Iniko

2009, iUniverse, Inc.

Filed under: Historical, Horror, Young Adult

This book is a hard one to categorize, as it’s not really horror until the very end, and it’s less young adult than it is sophomoric. What it is is a somewhat valiant attempt at a novel by a clearly untrained author. A small-run indie book riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, Dark Innocence struggles to pace itself or properly establish narrative tension. It does however, have a fair amount of heart, and I must admit I found myself engaged and compelled to finish it as I was reading.

Cisco is a young Oakland delinquent. He prides himself on his skill as a graffiti writer (he designates a “writer” as an artist, while a “tagger” merely vandalizes), but the art he creates while running with his crew is mostly relegated to drunken tagging of dilapidated buildings and vehicles. A short stint in juvenile hall awakens in him, he proclaims, a wish to be good and to live a life which his single immigrant mother can be proud of. He also claims his eyes opened to his true love, Erika, his abstinent and bookish girlfriend.

Of course, just moments out of juvie, Cisco breaks about 10 laws, and beds a random girl in a stolen truck, then his sleeping mother’s house. Most interesting about this is the attitude the character, and indeed–it can can be inferred easily–the author takes on this: that it is okay, and that Cisco is still good at heart. There is a rebellious teenage naïveté that oozes though the narration, and I found myself both chuckling at and admonishing it.

After about three quarters of the short book, we are still wandering to hood parties and meeting new characters. Finally, Cisco convinces some of his friends to join him on his holy grail graffiti mission: a giant abandoned mall visible from the highway. They break in and get high and drunk, then they wander the ruins tagging walls and narrowly escaping falling through holes in the floor to their deaths.

At this point, the narrator has already told us that not all the teens will survive the trip to the mall, but be warned I’m going to come close to spoiling the ending–if that bothers you, skip to the next paragraph. I was pretty sure this was going to result in an easily avoidable accident, from which the book would kick into evangelical overdrive and decry the wanna-be-gangster lifestyle for a wholesome life of goodness and Christ. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and though what did was absolutely silly and unfitting, it pretty much saved the book for me. I won’t give it all away, but it takes an 80′s slasher twist that is so laughable it is enjoyable.

All in all Dark Innocence is a pretty broken and unpolished work, a thinly-veiled memoir with some obvious fictional points added. However it does do a nice job of capturing the mentality of early-90s SoCal Nor Cal teens, and has a charming pathos. The ending was a hoot, even if it was hard to take seriously. So while I usually prefer my books literary and professionally edited, I’m glad I read this, even if only because it brought me back to the days of comically poor workshop novels, for which you can’t fault the author for the effort.

Similar Reads: A Young Girl’s Crimes (Rehak)

Authors: Jane Austen & Seth Grahame-Smith

2009, Quirk

Best ebook deal: Sony eBook Store

Filed under Literary, Horror, Humor

From the discussion guide appended to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies:

Some scholars believe that the zombies were a last-minute addition to the novel, requested by the publisher in a shameless attempt to boost sales. Others argue that the hordes of living dead are integral to Jane Austen’s plot and social commentary. What do you think? Can you imagine what this novel might be like without the violent zombie mayhem?

If you’re at all familiar with Austen’s classic Pride and Prejudice, you will immediately upon beginning Pride and Prejudice and Zombies notice that this is really that same book just…modified. It’s not a rewrite, just a reworking. What is really astounding about the Zombies edition is how well Grahame-Smith manages to implement the gory horror aspects, and indeed and entirely new setting, atmosphere, and fictional historical context while remaining true to the source material.

For the most part, the additions presented in this edition actually feel organic to the original story. At times the Shaolin and ninja references can feel a tad silly, but Grahame-Smith tweaks the world enough to keep the modified material from seeming as if it was merely stapled to a public domain text and reinforced with duct tape. (For instance, the Bennett sisters’ training in zombie defense at a Chinese Shaolin temple is seen as a cheap, bourgeoisie substitute for the more refined choice of a Japanese sensei’s martial arts tutelage.)

Not every sentence or paragraph is modified in this edition; much of Austen’s original text remains untouched. Wholly new sentences and paragraphs do now appear amidst familiar scenes. But most of the changes are implemented slight tweaks to the pre-existing text. Take the introduction to Mr. Darcy (who is, by the way, more a dreamy badass now than ever before):

His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mein–and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having slaughtered more than a thousand unmentionables since the fall of Cambridge.

There are, of course, some more substantial plot alterations which add to the cohesiveness of this novel as a standalone work. For example, in Zombies when Charlotte marries Mr. Collins she is already half transformed by the mysterious zombie plague, though he doesn’t realize. Later in the book, Mr. Darcy takes “particular pleasure in beating Mr. Wickham lame.”

The book is splattered with cool etch-like sketches like this.

However–back to the study question at hand–these plot alterations, rather than non-sequitur or aberrant to the original work, are a boost to the biting social commentary that so defines the original work. Zombie fiction tends to have a deeper sociological or satirical slant than many other similar genres do. Perhaps it is by its very nature that it weds so well with Austen’s masterpiece. It is, undeniably, a gimmick slapped onto a literary classic, yet rather than mock the original itself, it mocks the same things as its source material.

And let’s not forget the all new, gore-splattered scenes that punctuate every fifty pages or so. They are awesome, especially to be appreciated by any readers with a penchant for zombies. Each time I came upon one I reveled in dorky, gory fun.

Other books: Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters (Austen & Winters), Grendel (Gardner), A Night at the Movies, or You Must Remember This (Coover)

Author: Mario Acevedo

2009, Eos

Best ebook deal: Diesel eBooks

Filed under Horror, Mystery

I honestly can’t remember why, or when, I bought this book. I think it must have been on a whim while killing time in a bookstore one day, although I’m not sure what it says about me that I go for something called Jailbait Zombie on a whim.

The premise is silly to say the least: a vampire private eye teams up with an underage psychic harlot to put an end to a rash of zombie attacks in a remote Colorado town. There are mobsters and even machinated zombie chimera cyborgs too. It’s written with a satisfyingly noir-ish, hardboiled flavor, and the book, it turns out, is surprisingly entertaining.

Acevedo paces his novel nicely, with chapters rolling into each other like a swelling tide. The narrative tension rarely slackens, with characters and twists constantly added to keep things moving. He also does a nice job of establishing his own rules of the  supernatural (apparently this is the fourth in a series, though knowledge of prior events wasn’t necessary for my enjoyment), and this adds a nice feeling of uniqueness to a book in a subgenre that is quickly becoming crowded.

Jailbait Zombie retains a sense of humor about its characters and subject matter, and this ultimately keeps it out of the realm of schlock. Acevedo plays with cliches nicely, keeping the supernatural elements tongue-in-cheek. That the book doesn’t take itself seriously definitely works in its favor.

At its heart, this novel is more of a hardboiled detective mystery than it is a work of horror or science fiction. Fans of crime fiction and detective stories who aren’t turned off by the supernatural twist will find Jailbait Zombie to be a fun romp. And readers looking for a new vampire/zombie novel to slake their undead thirst will find plenty to like about this book as well.

Other books to read: Nobody Move (Johnson), Frisco Pigeon Mambo (Payne), A Dirty Job (Moore)

Author: Scott Sigler

Three Rivers Press, 2008

Best ebook deal: Fictionwise

This is one of two mass-market books I picked up for a recent bus trip. Unlike Kronos, Infected turned out to be exactly what I expected when purchasing it: a graphic and bloody thriller.

Basically there’s this weird infection people are getting that makes them really itchy, then these weird triangle marks appear all over their bodies. Then they go mental and murder everyone they can before offing themselves. The government is going crazy trying to A.) stop what they perceive to be a terrorist bio-attack and B.) keep it under wraps.

The triangle marks, we learn, are alien seedlings, spawning in human bodies and controlling their minds a la Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The main plot line of the book focuses on former college football star Perry Dawsey as he battles for control of his body and mind against the creatures growing within him. Perry is a big guy with deep-seated anger issues, and he is able to withstand much more pain than the other victims we hear of. Most of this pain is self inflicted, as he tries to wrest them from his body.

I should mention that the book is extremely violent and quite gruesome at times, so if that’s not your thing you should probably stay away. The writing is not particularly good, yet it has a very cheesy, action movie charm. A few lines to illustrate what I mean:

This guy made him want to toss his hippocratic oath and pick up a glock instead.

and when an alien spawn, freshly torn from a human body, is flung across a room it sails

like a LeBron James jumper swishing through the hoop.

So while this book is as far from literary as you can get, it correlates nicely to campy horror movies. Pacing is a bit of an issue though, especially when the book switches to the less-developed secondary plot. This features the government scientists and agents trying to track down and stop the mysterious epidemic. At times it provides a welcome break from the manic Dawsey chapters, but as the book approaches the climax, Sigler explodes the relatively contained action into an opening-and-final act of an alien invasion involving a dimensional gate being opened near Ann Arbor. It tries to do too much too quickly and ultimately feels tacked-on, or forced. It all happens so quickly it might as well been ommitted. The strength of the book lies in the will-power battle waged by Dawsey in his apartment, so when the book shifts gear it becomes more than a little run-of-the-mill.

If you like campy violence (including brutal murders, mutilations, and a graphic depiction of self-castration) and cheesy narration, and you aren’t up for anything remotely literary or intelligent, you might enjoy this book.

Other books: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (Finney), The Tommyknockers (King), Starship Troopers (Heinlein)

Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Public Domain

Best ebook deal: Free (try manybooks for a good version)

Everyone knows of Frankenstein (or Frankenstein’s monster to be more precise). The grotesque creature is practically part of our cultural consciousness. The image that probably comes to mind for most is that of the square headed, green skinned monster made famous by Boris Karloff. There are bolts protruding from its neck and it ambles, moaning and grunting, arms outstretched like a zombie. The original monster, conceived by Shelley in that famous summer writing contest between friends, was much the opposite of Frankenstein’s monster as we think of him today; brilliant, tortured, and lonely, the Creature’s pathos is one of the finest explorations of humanity in literature.

Though the Creature’s character is the defining strength of the story, Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus (as it was originally subtitled) is one of the very best examples of good old fashioned story telling in the Gothic tradition. Shelley spins a brilliant yarn, and you’ll be unable to avoid the feeling when reading the book that someone is telling you this story to wile the hours in a power outage–and it’s one of those stories that’ll will make you want to have the power stay out until it’s finished.

Shelley’s creature is articulate and learned, and the profound depth of emotion it shows will be shocking to readers expecting a creature more like Karloff’s. The story is told from 3 points of view, each offering a unique angle on the monstrous events unfolding. The Creature’s sections are especially gripping, and it’s near impossible not to be taken in by the compassion and sadness it displays as it yearns for the acceptance it is doomed to lack. When it asks its “father” to give him a companion:

I am alone and miserable; man will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects. This being you must create.

Victor Frankenstein, horrified of his actions and of what he has already created, refuses. The novel is an aberration of the Genesis story, and a profound commentary on the human condition. 

If you’ve never read Frankenstein, I very much recommend you do so. Virtually anyone who likes to read fiction will enjoy this book. If you haven’t read it in a while, consider this a reminder to go back and revisit this wonderful book. Although, if you want to wait until the summer’s over and the autumn winds are rattling the windows, I won’t begrudge you that. (Also, for the record: the best Frankestein movie–and more faithful than you might think–is Mel Brook’s Young Frankenstein. Sorry Karloff fans.)

Other reads: Dracula (Stoker), The Mysteries of Udolpho (Radcliffe), The Monk (Lewis)