Mar 24 - Apr 29, 2013 

  The Gyre Mission: Journey to the *sshole of the World
  Edgar Swamp
  Horror
  Published 2012
  573 pages

  9/10

  In the frighteningly near future, man's excess and lack of respect for the planet have resulted in a massive garbage heap off the coast of California.  Concerned at the gyre's swift growth, the government sends a crack team to investigate.  Unfortunately, they lost contact and disappeared without a trace.  So a not-so-shit-hot team is assembled (because you can't lose TOO MANY great employees in THIS economy) to unfold not only the mystery of the trash, but to find the missing team members from the previous unsuccessful foray.  But what they discover is even more horrifying than an island made of garbage three times the size of Texas, and they have no way of knowing just how bad Garbage Island can get...

  Adventure.  Gore.  Kinky sex.  These are the things that give me the warm and tinglies.  In the good way, I mean.  Not the flies-that-lay-eggs-in-your-head kind of  tinglies.

  Although, because I'm sick, this also gives me the tinglies.
  God, I'm a mess.
  Anyways, when I got this book in the mail, I was pumped.  Not only because the subject matter tickled me just so (again, not unlike those sweet little bot flies) but because the book was freakin' MASSIVE and I was totally in the mood (heh heh) for a good, long, epic adventure (double heh heh).  And the thing is, a book has to be GOOD if it wants to be an epic epic, and not just a snooze-a-thon like the dictionary - though the dirty words were always good for some giggles in my younger years.  And lucky for me, The Gyre Mission did not disappoint (yes, I'm giving you the shifty side-eye, dictionary).
  Edgar Swamp has a rare talent for combining the best of both literary worlds: on the one hand he's got a crazy cast of over-the-top characters, sex, violence, and gore, and a redonkulous situation.  Well, I'm hoping it's redonkulous.  You never know, though, with these government types and their secrets and conspiracies and the assassinations GLAVEN.  But basically, he's got all the hallmarks of classic pulp horror in place.  However, Swamp also takes the time to introduce his characters, giving us a chance to get to know them and even *gasp* care about what might happen to them.  At the very least, a chance to recognise them by name.  Actually, the majority of the characters were introduced with their own chapters in the beginning, which was a mighty handy cheat sheet for someone like me who has difficulty recalling where I leave my keys every morning.  The other thing Swamp does for us is attempt to offer an explanation for his zany situation, instead of "It's beyond our comprehension" or " 'The secret is...' and then he was carried off by mermen TO BE CONTINUED, LOSER" or "Aliens":

  Did I mention his vocabulary is pleasantly surprising? 
  I loved the characters (and loved hating the assholes) couldn't get enough of the monsters, and the pacing was delightful - a slow rumbling that built up and just got more and more awesome until shit went totally cray-cray (in a good way-way).  I was actually just telling one of my buddies about a particularly rad moment involving a massive carpenter ant/centipede/nightmare and its delightful accompanying birth scene.  My friend was suitably impressed.  And grossed out.  I can't say enough how much I enjoyed this book, and the looks on my friends' faces when I read them bits of it.
  Basically, Edgar Swamp isn't treating us like some stupid bimbo he doesn't care about satisfying that he plans to punp-and-dump out of a Bang Bros. bus on the side of a highway.  No no NO.  Instead, he wants to wine us and dine us, slip a little LSD in our drink, take us on a magical fantasy ride and make us quiver with excitement until the very Gods themselves stand up and applaud.  Or at least Jenna Jameson.  Old Jenna, though.  Not new Jenna.  She frightens me.
  To put it more simply (and PG) The Gyre Mission has the style of pulp and the substance of fiction.  I was most definitely pleased.
  All those points alone would have made The Gyre Mission a 10/10.  The reason I've given it a 9/10 is because there was a major ass-load of editing atrocities.  Pretty much all of them involved the abuse of the apostrophe and the dash with the issue being the distinction between "its" and "it's", and not putting a space on either side of the dash when interjecting a thought into an already existing sentence, and instead making really strange compound words.  Seriously, editing errors piss me off to no end and are ridiculously distracting to someone as neurotic as I am.  I read with a pencil on hand at all times so I could circle them all; losing the pencil regularly and then hunting for it became a companion sport to keep me nimble in the face of all the perusing.   So I'm just putting this out there: Edgar Swamp, if you're going to write another book as rad as The Gyre Mission, I will be happy to offer you my proof-reading services, free of charge.  Because if I get my hands on another one of your books and I have to find that many errors again, it won't be pretty.    

  All in all, my neurosis aside, I had a blast reading this.  Go get The Gyre Mission, guys.  And then prepare yourself for some sleepless nights and an even greater desire to recycle.
  PS:  Did I mention his book is dedicated to a dog named Lily Swamp?  So now not only is Edgar Swamp a dude with an extremely dirty mind filled with some disgusting ideas (my favorite - swoon!) but he likes animals, too.  Double swoon. 

  Mar 4 - Mar 23, 2013

  Infernal Machines
  Will Millar
  Horror
  Published 2012
  402 pages

  In the seemingly benign town of Chapel Harbor, an ancient evil broods - waiting for the right moment to initiate a destruction so complete that the entire town is in danger of obliteration, and the only ones who can stop it have no clue as to the parts they'll play in the final battle...

  Infernal Machines was a really REALLY well-written book; there were numerous notable elements, and I couldn't help but greedily devour it every damn time I picked it up. 
  Unfortunately, my kobo was pulling a Lindsay:

  (As in, it quit working and starting acting like an complete asshole) which meant that I was getting a whole half hour of perusing before I had to plug it in for a 12-hour charge.  So it took me AGES to finish this book.  It got to the point where I wasn't sure if I was more pissed off at my e-reader when it went moron on me, or more excited to read when it worked.  I'd like to go with excited, because Infernal Machines was that badass.
  There were two things about this book that really caught my eye.  The first was that the protagonists were youth (yet it most definitely wasn't a YA read) and it was still written in an intelligent, adult manner - no pandering here!  And Millar certainly didn't shy away from adult situations, even though his characters were kids.  Basically, he treated them like people, instead of like delicate flowers.  It actually really reminded me of The Thief of Always by Clive Barker (which I love so much I'd write mash notes to it) because it also had a young person at the forefront, but didn't shy away from all the horrors of the world by hiding behind childish writing and "safe" or "appropriate" situations.  By treating the characters like halfway cognizant creatures, the author does us the same service.  I totally dig it. 
  The other thing that really grabbed me was the atmosphere.  Christ on a bike, was I EVER creeped out.  From the moment I picked it up to the moment I put it down, Infernal Machines gave me a terminal case of the heebie jeebies.  Almost as if by magic (possibly Cardiff's brand) Millar would turn an everyday, normal situation:    

  Into the stuff that nightmares are made of.  Magic tricks in a bar?  Awful.  A grad party?  Tragic.  How about a train ride?   You might as well just kill yourself now, or at least gouge your damn eyes out.  So for a horror junkie like me, this was absolutely delightful.  You know, when I wasn't shivering in terror under my sheets like a frightened child with a boogeyman under the bed.  Ugh.
  The characters were spot on and terrifically done.  Really human (well, most of them were human...) and relatable.  Hell, some were even lovable.  Dammit, I cared.  And to drive my previous point home, Stoner (and can I just mention how much I love the fact that there's a character named Stoner?!) Paulie, and Dee were teenagers, but they were also allowed to act like real goddamn people, not an approximation of what an author THINKS a teenager should be.  A book with youth protagonists but written for intelligent adults.  Brilliant, and as rare as celebrities covering their vaginas from 2006 - 2010 (God, those were some good times, though).  And don't even get me started on the adults.  The bad guy was so intriguing that he was hardly detestable, and the good guys all had some skeleton or other in their closet.  No one in real life is at the is at the opposite ends of the spectrum of good and evil; instead they fall somewhere in between.  An author who can reflect that will inspire all kinds of complicated and intense feelings in their reader (not unlike puberty).  And I can't help but love a book that gives me complicated and intense feelings.  Not people, though.  I can't just break their spines and hide them under a bed when they agitate me.  One of the many reasons I prefer books.
  Infernal Machines was so SO well done.  And although I found myself confused at times, I'm chalking that up to my sporadic reading *cough shitty kobo cough* rather than attributing it to the writing.
  Bravo.  Definitely worth a read.  And a reread, no doubt.  And all the subsequent night terrors.  Those too.
  Best of all, y'all now get a chance to enjoy those night terrors with me!  Just click
                                                                    HERE
  for a chance to win your very own autographed copy of Infernal Machines, written by the ridiculously talented (and hunky!) Will Millar. 
 

Jan 3 - Jan 5, '13

The Woods Are Dark
Richard Laymon
Horror
Originally published 1981 - This edition published July 2008
215 pages

7.5/10

  Deep in the woods in a back country town, a tribe of monstrous creatures dwell - all the more horrifying because these savages were once what they hunger for most: human.  And woe to those that stumble into their trap, for they face a fate worse than death...
 
  Oh delightful novel, how do I judge thee?  Let me count the ways:
  1)  As a regular piece of literature?
  Or
  2)  As pulp horror?
  Now, since I KNEW this was pulp horror when I picked it up, I didn't think it would be fair to hold it to my average standards.  Because if I did that, then the fact that it was ridiculous and disgusting and awful would become a detriment.  So pulp horror it is.
  Laymon is a decent enough writer, and you can tell he's educated, book wise, by his character Landers, who spouts literature references left, right, and at the center of some pretty macabre situations.  Sure, Laymon's style is a little WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU CANNIBAL with no lingering or dilly-dallying with purple prose, but that also makes for a real quick and dirty read.  And THAT always makes me feel like a genius.  "Oh, this?  Yeah, picked it up yesterday, pretty much done.  Guess I'm just into the arts like that."  Pretentiousness at it's finest, but I feel like a boss nonetheless.  

  The story was one of those dime a dozen attacted-by-cannibals-in-the-woods-and-must-survive-the-murder-and-the-rapes-and-the-flesh-eating-and-the-GLAVIN kind of deals.  Nothing too spectacular in this day and age... or even for this genre, or this author, even.  But I bet it was a real humdinger back in the day, when nickels had bees on them and you wore an onion on your belt. 

  So yeah, probably stirred shit up back then with the subject matter, and the same goes for the gore.  Nasty to be sure, but not Family Guy ipecac scene nasty.

  No, the real treasure here was all in the characters.  They were so over the top ridiculous that my sour disbelief in them quickly turned to awe as I watched them go from average Joes to people that murdered, raped, fell for their captors, and professed their dirty, shameful, unrequited lesbian love for their best friend that they only hung out with for a chance to see them naked coming out of the shower; all in the span of one day (or about 75 pages)!  Literally, they got kidnapped in the evening, and by the next evening they were doing all that shit I just detailed.  One day.  A 24-hour time span.  I think some people are just looking for an excuse...
  Seriously, it was so ridiculous that I couldn't help but enjoy it.  I can only hope that it takes the average person more than a day before they're rolling in the entrails of the woman they just raped and mutilated.  I HOPE.
  So it was a decent read, made most enjoyable by the fact that it was totally ridiculous.
  The Woods Are Dark also contained an excerpt from "Beware" and I'll say that Laymon's writing has definitely matured and the premise is intriguing. 
  Well played, publishers.  Well played.
  Actually, since it's Leisure Horror Fiction, I can't really say that.  Appearantly they ripped off a bunch of their authors and raped kittens while preforming hate crimes or something.  They were pretty heinous at the very least.  Check out this interview HERE for a pretty friendly view of what happened...
And click HERE for a view of what happened from the awesomesauce Brian Keene, one of the authors Leisure dicked around. 
   

  Dec 30, '12 - Jan 2, '13

Severance Package
Duane Swierczynski
Crime Fiction
Published June 2008
264 pages

9.5/10

  Nobody is happy to get called into work on a weekend; but when the employees at Murphy, Knox head in for a Saturday morning meeting, they discover there are things far worse than a boring presentation in store for them...

  You know, I saw an ad for Severance Package in the back of a horror book or an affiliated site or possibly carved into the chest of a dying murder massacre victim, because danged if I didn't think this was a horror novel.  And I totally coveted it for that very reason. 
  Then !BAM! Cara put it into my hot little hands and as soon as I get a good look at it, I realize - this is no horror novel.  This is a crime novel.  Possibly even hard-boiled (whatever that means).  But the premise was intriguing enough that I dove in anyways.  Plus, you know... Cara touched it.  Score.
  Even for someone who isn't drawn to the genre, this turned out to be pretty gripping stuff.  Normally there either has to be a lot going on (not too much going on though, Mr Chatty McExcessiveCharacters) or the writing has to be fuckin' DIALED to keep my attention for long.  And this book provides both those attributes in spades.
  It took me a bit to get all the characters straight and the buildup was a lot of blah blah blah and operative misdirection, but in this instance it was done well enough that it just got better and better.  Like a giant cheesecake or 2 Girls 1 Cup.  I mean, I read the majority of this in a day, so that goes to show that the readability factor was cranked all the way up to 11.

  Plus, there wasn't a lot to do at the old jobstead that day, so that helped, too.
  The characters were all pretty lifelike and well-done, though I have a sneaking suspicion that the antagonist was some sort of future cyborg.  Hell, maybe the author didn't know if that was the case or not, because while this character seemed pretty normal, they did things and recovered from stuff that most people just don't handle well.  Come to think of it, the antagonist also had a pretty liberal sprinkling of cheese (unlike the other characters) but that makes sense.  It is a HARD-BOILED novel, after all!  YUK YUK YUK.  I slay myself. 
  I mean, really, I was just straight up interested to read about these guys and their secrets, spies, guns, and titties (of which there was plenty to go around).  Perfect action-filled fun.  Topped off with a killer (ho ho!) ending, I really REALLY enjoyed this. 
  Also?  Never go in on a weekend.

  Aug 6 - Aug 23, 2012

  Crash
  J G Ballard
  General Fiction
  Published 1973
  192 pages

  3/10

  Already a bit on the strange side, our protagonist finds himself rushing headlong into the strange world of car crash eroticism after his own automobile accident.  Upon meeting others like himself, our protagonist becomes involved in a series of dangerously escalating encounters, until he meets his final deadly confrontation...

  I like weird.
  I like sex.
  But I did NOT like Crash.
  Which is strange, because I even liked the movie (maybe a little TOO much... there's a funny anecdote regarding myself, my boyfriend's dad, and this movie, but I'm not quite drunk enough to tell you THAT one) and there were so many components to this story that I could have really gotten on board with... in theory, anyways, but this read just plain sucked.
  First, the beginning of the book started off with the end.  What the fuck.  Now I've got nothing to look forward to.  I can usually handle that writing device, as long as the journey is entertaining, but Crash was just one long, dull, auto-erotic (if I can use that term here) fantasy.
  See, I have no real interest in cars.  For me, they are nothing more than a method to get from point A to point B, and occasionally a vessel for injured dogs I find wandering in the road.  So when the author continuously natters on and on about steering wheels and instrument panels and whatnot, I'm yawning my tits off.

  Plus, passages like this:

  "In an evident burst of anger he had slashed at the instrument panel, bludgeoning several of the dials and the upper lip of the binnacle.  Torn plastic housings and chrome strips hung over the light toggles..."

  Kind of make me feel like Peter Griffin in that episode of Family Guy where he gets a ham radio:

  Crash reminded me of Life of Pi, but with cars instead of boats.  And also much more awful.
  Now, I can forgive excess terminology and raging boredom with it if there's lots of sexy sex.  But the sex was not sexy:

  "He stroked the nipple gently, brushing the supernumerary nipples, no larger than delicious warts, with the ball of his thumb."

  How the hell am I supposed to masturbate to this?!
  And on top of that, the writing was just straight up unpleasant.  The author just threw words and situations together that made no sense:
 
  "The houses of our friends, the wine store where I bought  our liquor, the small art-cinema where Catherine and I saw American avant-garde films and German sex-instruction movies, together realigned themselves around the palisades of the motorway.  I realized that the human inhabitants of this technological landscape no longer provided its sharpest pointers, its key to the borderzones of identity.  The amiable saunter of Frances Waring, bored wife of my partner, through the turnstiles of the local supermarket, the domestic wrangles of our well-to-do neighbors in our apartment house, all the hopes and fancies of this placid suburban enclave, drenched in a thousand infidelities, faltered before the solid reality of the motorway embankments, with their constant unswerving geometry, and before the finite areas of the car-park aprons."

  I feel like I could open then book at any random page and get the same goddamn shit in the most confusing way possible every fuckin' time: Your fucked up body and mangled car make my dick hard.  Plus, Ballard is repetitive as fuck.  He commits the mortal sin of using the same word over the course of a couple sentences over and over again.  I detest that shit.
  Sure, I liked the acid trip in the car, and the general perversion of the book, but that was about it.  Christ.  I'm glad I'm finally done with this.

  July 30 - Aug 4, 2012

  The Cabin in the Woods
  Tim Lebbon
  Horror/Movie Tie-In
  Published April 2012
  297 pages

  10/10

  It's the classic horror movie set up - a group of sexy young adults take a trip to a spooky remote locale for some unsupervised debauchery.  We all know what happens next.  But in this case, what actually occurs is so far outside anyone's imagining, that NO ONE could have seen it coming...

  Can I just tell you?  I was riveted.  RIVETED.  I started reading, was lulled into a false sense of detached skepticism ("THIS is supposed to be the horror experience to turn all the ones before it on their ears?  This is just like any other horror setup!  Mysterious plot lines, incredibly sexy but otherwise average Joes going somewhere totally inappropriate, casual sex...  Oooh, sex.")  But then I got hit by the runaway Weird Train at the What The Fuck Is Happening crossing in the center of Jesus Christ This Is Bizarreville.  Not only was I enchanted, but I was also STOKED.  I was weird!  I want strange!  I want different!  I want this:
 
  "A unicorn gored a scientist against a well, its horn probing through his stomach and chest, grinding, tearing, and his spurting blood painted its gorgeous flowing mane red." 

  I tell you, I don't see this in your average horror novel.  Though I will say that I can definitely see similarities between this plot and The Midnight Meat Train by Clive Barker (read my review HERE) and dashes of Bentley Little in the writing style - strange, dry humor, and viscous gore.  If Barker and Little got together and made sweet sweet love at a fetish club in an abattoir during comedy hour, Tim Lebbon would be their freaky fuck trophy.

  The writing was fast paced and kept similar time to a horror movie plot.  Which makes sense, because the book is based on a horror movie.  It was all laid out quite well, and I found it utterly delightful to find telling signs of the author's UK heritage.  I can peg one of those Limey bastards from just a handful of pages.
  Now, I can't really heap credit on the author for how unique this book is (seeing as how it's a movie novelization and all) but I can applaud him for taking what he was given and doing it a great service.  It's not terrifically often that I find a book where the characters are likable and believable. 
  And you know who I loved most?  Besides all the awesome monsters?  Marty.  That's right, the stoner.  Are you surprised, though?  I mean, the things that guy could do with a bong made me weak in the knees.  And while he was definitely a stereotype, he was definitely given a treat treatment.  Now THAT'S  a fictional character I'd marry!  Or screw.  Whatever. 
  And finally, I just have to say that the ending was FANTASTIC.  Seriously great.
  Anyone who likes horror should read this, unless they've ruined it for themselves by watching the film first.  To those people I say, Fuck you, cinephiles!  Bibliophiles is where it's at!

  July 7, 2012
  Fuckin' Lie Down Already
  Tom Piccirilli
  Crime
  Published 2010
  70 pages

  10/10

  Clay's had a rough go of it - his family is dead, he's leaking integral bodily fluids, and his car stinks.  But with all that against him, he's still a man on a mission, and won't stop until his job is done...

  You know when you happen to glance at the first page of a book and you just can't stop reading because it's too fucking epic?
  Yeah, that happened with Fuckin' Lie Down Already.
  I honestly haven't read anything so gory in ages - and good gory, too.  Not the shitty thrown-in-for-an-extra-$200-on-the-cheque gory.  You know what I mean.  MEANINGFUL gory.  This read was a rare and glorious treasure: a beautifully written Gore-O-Rama.  Non-stop action, great storyline, and a protagonist you could really truly love, even though he's fucking mental.  Hell, I love him because he's mental.  Clay should Fuckin' Lie Down Already... in my pants!
  Sorry.  Inappropriate.
  Truth?  I actually just watched Magic Mike before I read and reviewed this, so the mixture of sexual man-cake and disgustingly awesome horror is making me confused in the pants.

  Summation?  Read Fuckin' Lie Down Already.  Then change your panties.

  Mar 26 - Mar 28, 2012

The Birthing House
Christopher Ransom
Horror
Published Aug 2009
308 pages

9/10

  The Harrisons were supposed to be starting fresh - a spur-of-the-moment move to a historical house in an unfamiliar area to help them get over their problems and make things work.  But things are just as bad as ever, the neighbors are strange, and the house is full of secrets...

  How do you not love a good ghost story?  Creeping horror, mysterious shadows and sounds, and dried-up old fetus corpses appearing out of thin air.  Yeah, ghost stories are the shit.  And this one in particular was pretty outstanding.
  While the premise was fairly basic (ghosts haunt shit) and therefore familiar, it was kept from being dull by one extremely important feature: the writing was EPIC.  Seriously, this author has got the skills to pay the bills:

  The writing itself kept the story incredibly past-paced and I found it easy to stay up until 2:30AM on work night perusing like a gold digger sucks the lifeblood out of an octogenarian's wallet and soul - that is, voraciously and without shame.  And let me clarify for the record, I love gold diggers: they get material wealth and justification, and the gold diggees get a hot young piece to hump on.  A perfect;y symbiotic relationship and a win-win situation all around.  Much like my relationship with books: I get to lustily read them, and they get a nice home with no broken spines.  How many gold diggers have that luxury? 
  And somehow, my review has degenerated into me calling my books my hos.  I'm not even that surprised, really.
  But back to The Birthing House.
  As I said, the writing was impeccable, and although Ransom occasionally did that thing I hate where he was purposely vague and confusing (hence the 9/10 as opposed to a 10/10) the style of writing was kept the same throughout so it wasn't jarring, and it generally worked.
  I had a real fondness for the characters.  All of them were unpredictable - no stereotypes breaking up my concentration.  Conrad especially was someone I liked; while he definitely evolved (boy, did he ever) right off the bat you knew he wasn't quite... stable.  And I like an unstable character.  Really, all the characters were surprising in some way, which makes for a way more exciting read.
  Not only was the spooky stuff definitely skin-crawlingly eerie, but I actually found the relationships and resulting situations even more disturbing.  There were actually moments when I had squirming anxiety and wanted to jump out of my skin.  Yes, it was that tense.
  A good book will pass the time - a GREAT book will also wig you out.
  After reading The Birthing House, consider me wigged.