by Shock Totem
If you show up late to the video store and nothing else is available, give it a shot. Like many modern Hollywood films, it’s not that bad, but that certainly doesn’t mean it’s good.
–Nick Contor
Shadows Over Florida, by David and Scott T. Goudsward; BearManor Media, 2010; 193 pgs.
This book is a work of love. No, it’s not that kind of a book, but it is dripping with affection and nostalgic love that is certain to connect to the kid in you—the kid that used to watch Chiller Theatre on Saturday nights. Having researched just about every movie production that was ever made in Florida, the Goudsward Brothers have compiled an extensive alphabetical tour guide to certain locations, real and fictional, and detail their relevance to their respective movies and the Sunshine State. And they’ve done an incredible job!
There is a lot of information to be pulled from this book, like the fact that Jacksonville could have become the capital of the film industry instead of Hollywood, if the local populace had not fought so vehemently against it. There are more than a few wonderfully obscure tidbits: there is a Christian anti-drug film about a mutant biker-vampire were-turkey...and another that features a giant walking mutant catfish. They frequently discuss the grandfather of the splatter film, Herschell Gordon Lewis (who also contributes a foreword), and even manage a few ties to H.P. Lovecraft.
It’s not storybook. It’s a sort of encyclopedia of factoids regarding the state’s role in the horror genre, be it film or print media. Florida has a long and rich history in the horror business...and sadly not a lot of folks know about it.
Shadows Over Florida is a good place to begin to remedy that.
–John Boden
Thought Forms, by Jeffrey Thomas; Dark Regions Press, 2009; 267 pgs.
Thought Forms is the story of two cousins, Paul and Ray; both in their mid-twenties and still struggling to make the transition into adulthood. There are quite a few parallels between them: both are artistic, and both are waiting for someone to come along and discover their genius as they work in menial manufacturing jobs. Their artistic temperaments and sense of frustration lead both into active fantasy lives as a substitute for reality.
The story takes place in 1984, which is also the time period in which the book was written. As a child of the eighties myself, I enjoyed the references to the then-current music and technology. Paul and Ray play Atari instead of Xbox, watch movies on VCRs, and listen to The Police and Billy Idol. There are just enough of these anachronisms sprinkled around to give the book a retro feel without becoming burdensome.
The title comes from the Tibetan concept of tulpas, or thought forms, creations of the mind that are given physical form by an act of the will. It’s a unique and interesting idea, and one that could have been given more space in the book. The main concept is dumped on the reader in lecture form in a few pages and hardly ever referred to again.
Characterization is the main thrust of the first half of the book. Very little of import happens beyond following the brothers around, which leads to a certain amount of frustration on the part of the reader as we wait for something to occur.
The second half is given over to action as Ray and Paul battle their own thought forms, which have broken free of their control. It’s more exciting but a bit confusing as well, particularly toward the end as we are bounced back and forth between the climaxes of both stories with almost every paragraph and with no breaks to indicate a shift in the scene. I understand the effect that the author was trying to achieve, but I was more bewildered than anything by the disjointed narrative.
The writing style added to my confusion, as there were numerous errors in grammar, composition and formatting that distracted from the narrative. The suspension of disbelief is tougher to achieve when such distractions are allowed to remain in the final product. While Thought Forms has an interesting premise, I felt the execution was lacking. A good editing was in order here.
–Nick Contor
Supernatural: The Complete Fourth Season, by Eric Kripke (creator); starring Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles; 2009; Not Rated; 6 discs, 22 episodes; 945 min.
Supernatural is a series about two brothers, the Winchester boys, following a family tradition of hunting and slaying unnatural creatures of all sorts. Vampires, ghosts, and demons are just some of the beasties stalked by the pair. The show is a road trip across Americana filled with myths, legends, great classic rock music, some decent frights, a pair of dreamy guys for the ladies to look at, and best of all, comedy. Yes, this is a spooky show that has as its greatest strength a wicked sense of humor. That, and its developing story and characters. Like what developments? you may ask. Well, at the end of season three, one of the brothers died and went to hell. How’s that for a cliffhanger?
Season four, now out on DVD, picks up with a disoriented Dean Winchester mysteriously returning to the land of the living several months after his brutal death. The reunited brothers don’t have much time to celebrate before they find themselves in the fast lane hurtling toward the apocalypse. This marks a distinct change in the tone of the series. Whereas before the Winchester brothers usually ferreted out a new evil every week, season four has them entwined in an over-arching plot that dogs the duo from the start and continues to haunt them until the last episode, where the unthinkable happens. Along the way there are encounters with angels and demons, ghosts, metamorphing monsters, a town where wishes come true, murderous magicians, and countless other odd encounters, including a possible showdown with the Devil himself.
The DVDs come with commentaries for three episodes, several extended and unaired scenes, a gag reel, and a three-part featurette on heaven, purgatory, and hell. While that is a decent selection of extras, it isn’t an overly impressive list. But what is impressive is the show itself. Season four changes the tempo of Supernatural, ratchets up the threats, introduces new and recurring characters, expands the series mythology, and generally brings the goods as well as the show ever did.
If you’ve never seen Supernatural then I highly recommend you do so, and you should start at the beginning. If you’re already a fan of the continuing adventurers of the Winchester boys, then getting the new season on disc should be an easy decision. It is as good as the show ever was, and in some instances it’s even better. All TV shows should be that lucky.
–Brian M. Sammons
The Road, by Cormac McCarthy; Vintage Books, 2006; 287 pgs.
Cormac McCarthy is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author. A name now synonymous with big Hollywood adaptations (No Country For Old Men) and broad market success. And I am certain there are lots of folks who would argue about my decision to review this book for a horror publication, and that is fine. But you know what, this is a horror novel, on par with Stephen King’s The Stand or John Brunner’s The Sheep Look Up, and any other end-times scenario novel you can think of. The Road has the earmarks of a classic...a timeless and harrowing work of beauty that will read just as fresh and frightening in twenty years as when I read it a few weeks ago.
This novel begins with “The End” already come and gone, and exactly what it was is never spelled out. It is hinted at through endless descriptions of a scorched landscape and the incessant blowing of ash through the tainted air. There are very few survivors and a huge portion of this book is populated by two characters, known only as father and son, man and boy. The duo are attempting to make their way to Florida and warmer weather...wandering an endless cracked ribbon of asphalt...pushing their cart full of plundered and scavenged supplies through ghost towns and derelict cities. Their main struggles seeming to be finding food and shelter, and dodging any other survivors.
The writing style is lean and tight, and in a rare treat, clean. This is a PG book: No swearing, very little violence, and sex free...even the horrific events, while enough to haunt you, are never over the top. It is a horror tale—horror in isolation and starvation; horror in love and death; horror in total uncertainty. A gorgeous and haunting work and one that, I think, should be requir
ed reading.
–John Boden
Drag Me to Hell by Sam Raimi (director, cowriter); starring Alison Lohman, Justin Long, Lorna Raver, Dileep Rao; 2009; PG-13; 99 min.
After a seventeen year hiatus and a blockbuster mainstream career, Evil Dead director Sam Raimi has returned to his horror movie roots, and the result is spectacular. There are more special effects, a more fleshed-out storyline, complex characters, and an obviously larger budget. But Drag Me to Hell is otherwise a worthy successor to the films which are rightly acclaimed as horror classics.
The story revolves around Christine Brown, a small town farm girl turned big-city loan officer who is in line for promotion to assistant bank manager. Unfortunately, she is being flanked by a scheming underling who is conspiring to make her look bad and steal the position. Add to that a fiancé with an eye on making a more socially advantageous match for her son, and we have the makings of a romantic comedy.
Until the wizened gypsy shows up.
Being forced into a situation where throwing the woman out of her home feels inevitable in order to show her boss that she can make tough decisions and earn that promotion, Christine instead finds herself on the butt end of a Gypsy curse in the form of a Lamia, a child-devouring demon from Greek mythology which will literally drag Christine’s soul into hell within three days. Unsuccessful efforts are made to reverse the curse, but finally, Christine is forced into giving the curse away. This leads to an inner conflict. Given the power to damn someone’s soul, who will she deem worthy of such a fate?
I’ll not give away any more, for the sake of the three people reading this who may not have seen the movie, but it is good writing like this that—dare I say it?—makes Drag Me to Hell the best horror film on Raimi’s résumé. While Christine Brown is wonderfully played by Alison Lohman, is she really a better protagonist than Brice Campbell’s Ash Williams? Perhaps not, but that’s the only comparison to the Evil Dead movies where Drag Me to Hell might come up short. In every other way, Sam Raimi shows that he has not forgotten how to make audiences squirm, and he does it with a PG-13 rating. Put that in yer pipe and smoke it. The parking-garage fight scene between Brown and the gypsy sorceress (Lorna Raver) is brilliantly filmed, and more intense than the ho-hum buckets of blood splashed around by far too many horror directors who can’t seem to think of anything else to do.
That’s not to say that Raimi is shy about using the gross-out scenes or “pop-up” movie scares—there are plenty of those here, but each scene is used for maximum effect without overstaying its welcome. Bugs, blood, bile and even a popped eye that squirts into Brown’s mouth, all make an appearance, and while CGI is used, it’s not overused. Plenty of effects are done the old fashioned way, and it shows.
And of course there is the classic horror humor. It’s always a fine line to tread, as the humor can easily become distasteful, or you could end up making people laugh while you are trying to scare them, but again, Raimi provides a good balance. I especially liked the nods to modern trendiness, such as the lactose intolerant Brown reacting to the Lamia’s curse by saying, “Screw it, I’m eating ice cream.”
I was a bit worried that Hollywood success might have made Sam Raimi lose his edge, but Drag Me to Hell proved me wrong. If you’re the one person who has been holding off seeing it, run to the video store, or the computer, and put it in your queue now.
–Nick Contor
People Are Strange, by James Newman; Croatoan Publishing, 2008; 122 pgs.
With his first collected book of short fiction, James Newman explores the vast and strange worlds that lurk under the normal places, faces and smiles we see every day. The mundane and typical slants into bizarre and darkly strange avenues, with little or no notice at all. And in a rare turn for a collection of horror stories, not a single one contains any supernatural elements—no werewolves, vampires or zombies...no fetus-devouring demonoids, false angels or ghosts in the traditional sense. The horror Newman presents here is fresh and...well, strange...like people.
Opening the festivities is the long-titled “The Honest-To-God True Story of Earl P. and a Bug Called Abraham Lincoln” in which a talking fly proceeds to try to persuade a mild mannered fellow to help him track down and exact revenge upon that low life John Wilkes Booth...and I can say no more without spoiling the crazy fun.
There are a number of flash pieces and one story that is so lowbrow brilliant, that I read it aloud to my then 10-year-old son and had him nearly peeing himself with laughter. “The Tell-Tale Fart” is a flatulence and butt-based rendition of the Poe classic...and I agree with James’s comment in the story intro; hard to believe no one beat him to it.
“Suffer the Children” delivers a dark take on Help the Children-type organizations. “Bless This Meal, O Lord” touches on the extremes of child rearing and discipline. And the collection concludes with an almost hatefully surreal exercise dubbed “A Town Called Hatred,” which really must be read to be appreciated.
Newman is a great guy and great writer. His style is easy to read and flows seamlessly. I devoured this collection in an evening—which should tell you I liked it. I have been a fan since his debut novel, Midnight Rain, and guarantee I’ll be along for whatever this man puts out…and so should you.
–John Boden
Horns, by Joe Hill; William Morrow, 2010; 384 pgs.
Joe Hill’s second novel, Horns, is a strange book to describe. Like Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, the story begins with an unexpected, unlikely, and unfortunately never fully explained transformation. Not into a bug this time, but into a—or perhaps the—Devil. This unforeseen change happens to a young layabout loser named Ignatius Perrish who’s already had a pretty bad year up to that point. A year ago to the day of his metamorphosis, Ignatius was madly, deeply in love with a woman named Merrin. Then out of the blue the woman was brutally raped and murdered. Ignatius was innocent of the crime but also the prime suspect, and even though he was never charged with the murder, he was found guilty in the court of public opinion. So after a year of the blackest depression and a relentless quiet persecution, Ig, as he’s known by his few remaining friends, goes out on a drunken bender, rails against God, and even defiles a Catholic icon in his rage. Could that sacrilege be the reason for him waking up the next morning with two honest-to-God horns sticking out of his head?
Along with the new bony growths crowning his head comes strange powers that, at first, are baffling and upsetting, but could they also be useful? First, no one notices Ig’s horns at all. Odder still, everyone Ig now meets feels compelled to confess to him their deepest, darkest sins. From the rather clichéd priest indulging in some sexual no-noes, to his own mother who tells him that she was once a call girl and has resented Ig since the day he was born. Could the confessing of these dark secrets be because the devil knows all of man’s sins, and if so, what does that say about Ig? Whatever the reason, Ignatius comes to the conclusion that he might be able to use this power to solve the mystery of his girlfriend’s murder and to bring the killer to bloody, merciless justice.
Around this point in the book begins my only problem with Horns, and that is the amount and length of flashback scenes Joe Hill uses to show the reader the love and relationship Ig has lost. While on one hand they do illustrate the pain of the protagonist’s loss and why he’s so bitter and broken now, they occur just too frequently and last far too long. They interrupt the flow of the narrative and on more than one occasion after reading a flashback and returning to the novel’s present setting I had to take a moment to remind myself what was going on before I was forced to take an unwanted detour down memory lane. Far fewer, and shorter, remembrances would have been a welcome change to this otherwise top rate story.
Aside from that one minor misstep, Horns is a fun, funny, and often touching read. It’s never really scary, although it has several disturbing scenes, but it is an interesting supernatural mystery with characters you’ll love—or hate, but find hard to forget. For his second novel Joe Hill does a great job.
While not quite as good as his wonderful Heart-Shaped Box, Joe definitely doesn’t fall victim to the dreaded sophomore curse with this novel. I enjoyed the story a lot and look forward to his next book. Or next comic book (as Hill has an excellent ongoing comic book series called Locke & Key). Or whatever he does next. It still may be a bit early for me to call myself a Joe Hill fan, but he has yet to disappoint me with anything I’ve read by him, and that’s no mean feat. Really, that’s all I ask of any storyteller, so good job, Mr. Hill. Keep these odd, compelling, and well-written stories coming.
–Brian M. Sammons
ABOMINATIONS
HIDE THE SICKNESS
by Mercedes M. Yardley
“You can’t keep looking at them as children,” my coworker told me. “That would be…very unsafe.”
It’s my first day working at a sex offender home for juvenile males. The boys in this home were between the ages of 13 and 21. I had just turned 21, myself.
“We could be dating on the outs,” one of the boys said to me. He received isolation for inappropriate comments toward the staff.
“I’m not looking at them as children,” I said. A small boy with blonde hair ambled past me. He looked like he was about eight years old. I hadn’t read his file yet, which was good because it was horrifying.
“Sure you are.” My coworker shrugged. “We all do. It’s just part of being new. You’ll learn.”
The boys were holding pickaxes and shovels. They were digging a canal on the property.
