“Blanky” will have you throwing away your kid’s favourite blanket for good!
 
“Blanky” is a tremendously effective novella you’ll devour in and around two to three hours. Maybe even one sitting, that’s a Ginger Nuts of Horror guarantee. After reading a couple of excellent reviews on other sites I had high hopes that this introduction to the work of Kealan Patrick Burke who has published many novels and novellas since 2005 would be worthwhile. Those other reviews were bang on the money and I will most definitely be dipping into his back-catalogue again soon. Do post some tips if you’re a fan of this author.
 
“You say you can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child. Let me
make it easy for you. It’s the beginning of the end of your world.”
 
The novella opens with a brutal few pages, charged with emotion including the fantastic sentence quoted directly above. This opening sequence will totally suck you in and keep you totally enthralled until the equally brutal and very clever ending. Narrated by Stephen, he reveals that he and his wife are recovering from the cot-death of their baby girl Robin. In the aftermath of their loss Lexi has since left him and returned to live with her parents, no longer able to live in a house full of memories of where she lost her nine-month-old child.
 
First up I’m going to give minimal details on the plot, as I don’t want to spoil what is a real beauty. The death of the child is handled so powerfully, Stephen’s pain soaks into your psyche as he constantly reflects upon his daughter’s brief nine-month life. Picking up the plot several months after the death Stephen is struggling to return to his job as a teacher, drowns himself nightly in the bottle, reliving happier moments with his family, and hopes his estranged wife will return to him.  Although he narrates the story it is clear he is in a very bad way.
 
After another night of drowning his sorrows he goes into Robin’s room, most of the baby’s stuff is gone, boxed up and stored away and it is a room he rarely visits. The couple emptying the room is another powerful flashback scene.  However, after hearing a weird thumping noise coming from her upstairs bedroom, he finds himself in her room and sees a blanket lying on the ground near the window. Not knowing how it got there, he initially thinks squirrels must have dragged it out of storage or it has been blown out of a cupboard or overlooked in some other way. Realising it was Robin’s blanket, her favourite blanket, in his drunken stupor it gives him an excuse to phone his wife. He tells her he has found “blanky” which she thought was lost. She recognises the blanket straight away and comes to his house to pick it up and a lost connection to her daughter. And that’s all I’m going to say about the plot.
 
I’ve read so many fantastic horror novellas in the last couple of years, and “Blanky” is right up there with the best of them. Stephen is such a brilliant and convincing narrator he’ll quickly suck you into his family tragedy which escalates beautifully as he collapses. There are some terrific scenes of dread, some of which are particularly cinematic and recalled great J-Horror films “Ring” and in particular “Dark Water” and that’s a major compliment. Once “Blanky” has set the scene, it really picks up pace and starts to rock and roll quickly, with terrific tension, set pieces, developing into a powerful character driven story motivated by grief. Be prepared for an emotional rollercoaster and don’t forget that ending. Fabulous.
 
Tony Jones
 

Single-author small-press horror collections are often rooted in consistency more so than variety. Sure, any good horror writer will switch things up in terms of setting, character, theme, and monster, but more often than not there is one unifying tone throughout, an obvious and distinct flavor that could usually be summed up as simply “elegant,” or “trashy,” or “ultraviolent,” or “bleak,” or some other handy one-word descriptor.

However, if pressed to succinctly summarize the overarching style of Lee Widener’s collection, Under the Shanghai Tunnels and Other Weird Tales (out now from Strangehouse Books), one could hardly think of an adjective more apt than “chaotic.”

Of course, as any good anarchist will tell you, chaos can be a wonderful thing.

The collection opens with the title story, a 60-page novelette originally published as a limited-edition chapbook from Dunhams Manor Press. A straight-faced Lovecraftian horror yarn, “Under the Shanghai Tunnels” sees an antiquarian book-collector and his jazz-musician BFF delving into The Old Portland Underground while searching for clues as to whatever became of mysteriously vanished ancestor. The fate they discover turns out to involve a tragic descent into madness, a slow and agonizing death, and the discovery of an ancient race of sinister subterranean creatures with apocalyptic ambitions.

Reading this story, one might assume Widener’s subsequent tales will offer more of the same: namely, deathly serious pulp-horror with a heavy focus on freaky-deaky beasties. Instead, Widener follows up “Under the Shanghai Tunnels” with “At the Shoe Shop of Madness,” which any reader could be forgiven for assuming was written by someone else entirely. In it, a poor, talentless shoemaker makes a deal with a magic elf to help him turn his failing business around. Though it starts out as a classic Rumpelstiltskin-esque children’s fable, it soon mutates into something far more twisted, obscene, and altogether hilarious.

Before story’s end, our kindly shoemaker has become a greedy opportunist with zero qualms about taking his fellow villagers’ lives, so long as he can also take their coin. The magic elf reveals himself to be a foul-mouthed, alcoholic occultist. And, best of all, there is an invasion of “repellent crawling shoe-things,” which might well be the best line in the book. At the very least, it’s neck-and-neck with the drunken elf’s unholy chant of “That is not bread which can eternal fry, and with strange onions even cooks may cry.” Suffice to say, this vulgar, cartoonish, Bizarro fairy tale is about as far from “serious” and “straight-faced” as one could get.

And yet Widener is not done throwing readers for a loop. The story which immediately follows “At the Shoe Shop of Madness” once again feels like it could have been written by a whole different writer. “Eternal Beauty” is, as its title implies, beautiful. Here, a man finds himself becoming obsessed with an unbelievably perfect pale rose, but the flower turns out to be the property of an old man who lives alone in an empty house and who claims he literally pulled it out of his dreams. Haunting and hypnotic, “Eternal Beauty” reads like a story by the so-called “Polish Poe,” Stefan Grabinski. In other words, not at all the kind of thing one would expect to follow in the wake of “repellent crawling shoe-things.”

Sandwiched between the elegiac “Eternal Beauty” and the outrageous “KONG-Tiki” (we’ll get to that one in a minute) “The Thing That Came to Haunt Adamski” unfortunately feels somewhat forgettable, though it does serve as another showcase for Widener’s impressive range. A short, fast-paced skit of a tale, full of quirky characters (including a gullible Houdini collector, a paranoid conspiracy-theorist in monster make-up, pair of twins who can smell and taste psychic disturbances, and a telepathic space-locust from Venus), this one has plenty of absurd humor and charm, but it ends so quickly that nothing much gets a chance to leave a mark.

Then again, the fact that it’s followed by the aforementioned “KONG-Tiki” does “Adamski” no favors. “Memorable” doesn’t do this one justice. Relating the strange circumstances surrounding the titular tiki-lounge’s grand opening as it is beset by spectral gangsters, “KONG-Tiki” could almost pass for a traditional ghost story, albeit with a swingin’ 1950s club setting. Almost, that is, if it weren’t for the show-stopping throwdown between a giant lime-green gorilla and a lumbering, ambulatory tiki statue. “KONG-Tiki” is like a Golden Age poverty-row monster-mash, but with the go-for-broke attitude of an 80s b-movie.

Finally, in a surprising bit of universe-building, the collection’s closing story, “Sleeper Under the Sea,” turns out to be a quasi-sequel to “KONG-Tiki,” featuring the same lead character and a similar tropical setting: this time a Hawaiian resort which is situated a bit too close to the same waters in which the U.S. military is conducting off-shore bomb tests. When one of those tests awakens some ageless, gargantuan consciousness dwelling deep beneath the sea, it unleashes a torrential storm that threaten to rip the island apart. Good thing one of the resort’s top acts is a psychic medium who may well be able to make contact (and hopefully make peace) with the entity responsible. More restrained than “KONG-Tiki,” but with a more ominous ending, “Sleeper Under the Sea” sees Widener return to the pulpy Lovecraftian horror which kicked off the collection.

Though each of Widener’s tales could hardly be more different from the one preceding it, observant readers will nevertheless find some commonalities throughout, both good and bad. On the good side of the scale, Widener imbues even his most grim tales with a sense of genuine enthusiasm and energy, and his apparent fascination with ‘50s west-coast American pop culture and history gives the stories wherein he gives this aspect carte blanche a very definite, very unique character. Though not everything he writes could be described as “Lovecraftian horror,” Widener certainly takes plenty of influence from ol’ H.P.L. as well, which he filters through a Bizarro sensibility that is most evident in the way he lingers on gross, graphic details.

Which brings us to the bad side of the scale. The images Widener lingers on are not gory ones, but slimy ones: acidic growing slugs and tentacle-headed men with crab-claw hands, gigantic ectoplasmic jellyfish and soul-sucking extradimensional leeches. The imagery and imagination he displays in these sequences is often exciting, but Widener sometimes lingers too much, to the point where he’ll stop story’s pace dead in its tracks so he can point out every last icky, nitty-gritty detail. At times, this results in densely-packed, too-long paragraphs that practically beg a reader to skim them instead of really read. That said, the issue seems to become less prominent as the collection goes on.
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Aside from that, and the occasional awkward phrasing or bit of unnecessary padding, there isn’t much to not like about Under the Shanghai Tunnels and Other Weird Tales. This collection is, in the end, a colorful, kaleidoscopic portrait of a writer experimenting with a wide range of styles and stories, and it proves just as fun to read as one suspects it was to write. Unwilling to restrain itself to a single approach to horror or Bizarro, what Widener whips up can certainly be called chaos. But it is chaos in the best way possible.

Chad A. Clark's Winter Holiday is the latest entry in the excellent Dark Minds novella series.  Since the debut publication of Benedict Jones' Slaughter Beach, it has never failed to provide an entertaining and at times thought-provoking reading experience from such luminaries as Rich Hawkins, Gary Fry, Laura Mauro, the Ben above Jones and now Dark Minds Press goes international with their latest release from Iowa's very own master of horror Chad A. Clark.  

Winter Holiday has a simple premise; world-famous author has an annual tradition of taking time away from it all in a holiday home deep in the winter wilderness.  Cut off from all forms of distraction Peter goes there to detox, but this year something is waiting for him, something that wants to rend him limb from limb.  

Winter Holiday is an explosive novella that wastes no time in getting to the heart of the action.  This rip-roaring man versus monster tale strips away almost all characterisation and backstory to allow the action and sense of adventure to take centre stage.  Chad doesn't waste time creating screeds of backstory or subtle character nuances, which in a novella length story can get in the way of the story developing. Instead Chad presents us with Peter, with just enough flesh to hang the tale onto and a couple of incidental characters from which to give the story some sense of reality, to focus on the struggle between author and beast.  

When a writer strips so much away from a story there is a risk that the story doesn't ring true, but Chad's handling of the action and his ability to pile on the tension more than compensates for this.  Winter Holiday is a deeply satisfying adventure horror tale filled with exciting set pieces, heart-stopping pearls and enough blood and offal covered snow to make this another winner from Dark Minds Press.

My only issue with the book is the rather abrupt ending; the story would have benefited from an extension of why and how the monster came to be, and just who the mysterious next-door neighbour was.  I can see where Chad was trying to go with these points, and forgive the vagueness of this part of the review as it is best if you discover these things for yourself, and they almost work perfectly, but they did feel a little bit underdeveloped.  However, as a whole Winter Holiday delivers everything it sets out to do, and who knows maybe we will fortunate to have further adventures of Peter if we do this reviewer will most certainly be picking up a copy based on the strength of this chilling novella.  

 
This book is a collection of the first sixteen issues of Titan comics Twelfth Doctor run, and all feature Clara Oswald as his companion.
 
 And I guess I need to start by acknowledging that it’s an odd time to be reading this series. As I write this, both the Capaldi and Moffat eras have come to a close a mere two weeks ago, and the forthcoming Jodie Whittaker/Chris Chibnall series I know almost nothing about, beyond that there will be ten episodes in Autumn.
 
As such, returning to Capaldi’s first year was in some ways a bit jarring - especially the dynamic with Clara, which in the first televised season was necessarily fluid and evolving, as the newly regenerated Doctor figured out who he was, whereas equally necessary, in the comic it’s far more of a fixed dynamic, with playful banter very much the order of the day. Indeed, towards the end of the run, it becomes clear that these adventures are post Season 8, judging by some of the lines Clara says regarding Danny Pink, which makes more sense of the more settled central dynamic.
 
That said, Capaldi’s Doctor fares much better than Clara does in this run. Throughout, the writers felt to me to have captured the voice of Capaldi’s Doctor better than the show itself managed in that first season, sometimes, even if there is for my money a slight over-reliance on stock 12th Doctor terms like ‘pudding head’. I found I was reading the 12th Doctor words in Capaldi's voice, and I honestly couldn't find a single line that didn’t ring true, which I found pretty impressive.
 
Clara is for the most part also captured well, but I felt some of the writers slipped a little into ‘generic companion’ voice for her, and while she was mostly handled well (and given enough to do), there were moments here and there where her dialogue felt like an afterthought - or a device to ask the Doctor the relevant question of the moment. While that is one of the jobs of the companion, the stronger writers found ways to do this that fit well with Clara’s self assured, confident character.
 
Overall, I really enjoyed the stories, finding a good mix of shorter stand alone tales and longer continuity. The collection starts with Terror Former (2 parts - written by Robbie Morrison art by Dave Taylor), which introduces The Hyperions, a race of sentient suns (though without the power to possess humans that a similar creature had in the TV episode 42). I enjoyed the lengthy ‘pre-credits’ sequence that set the scene, and the story action unfolded well, especially in the second part. The art style was a little basic for my taste, with a lack of detail on both the 12th Doctor and especially Clara, at times, but the big set piece scenes were well realised and impressive.
 
The Swords of Okti (3 parts -  written by Robbie Morrison, art by Dave Taylor) features a dual narrative, set in India in 1825 and the year 2314. I really enjoyed this one - the unfolding of the duel timeline narrative was well judged, and the supporting cast were well drawn and impressive characters. The villains were suitably creepy also, and the action in the final part had some real twists and turns. I prefered the art style here also - though it’s the same artist as the previous story, the colour palet is both darker and richer, and the lines cleaner, and while Clara is still drawn a bit ‘generic-beautiful-woman’, The Doctor’s face is much improved here.
 
Fractures (3 parts - written by Robbie Morrison, art by Brian Williamson) featured villains that felt like a retread of the idea behind Father’s Day, albeit crossed with the Family Of Blood’s malevolence. It was a fun, action packed runaround with a solid emotional core, but if (like me) you’re any kind of Who continuity nerd, you might have had some nagging questions about how come these creatures haven’t turned up before in the history of the mythos, given, well, the history of the mythos - especially when 12 breaks out 10’s 3D glasses as a plot point. If you can/will put that aside, it’s a good romp with a nice cameo from Kate Lethbridge-Stewart and the best art of the collection so far, with superb depictions of both Clara and the Doctor.
 
Gangland (2 parts - written by Robbie Morrison art by Brian Williamson) - Dropping an alien invasion into 60’s Vegas mob drama (Casino meets Who meets Mars Attacks?), Gangland was a bit of a mixed bag for me. It felt like a bit of an uneven fit stylistically, in that I can’t imagine the Doctor ever having anything but contempt for gangsters, and the stand-in ‘Rat Pack’ characters seemed both superfluous and incongruous - why not just do the real thing, if you’re going to do it at all? That said, the aliens were enjoyable, and their murderous scheme and motivation worked well for me. The art is superb in this story, with a wonderful double page splash in the second part that evokes the classic 50’s and ‘60’s B-movie sci-fi tradition. Overall I enjoyed this despite the misgivings and caveats.
 
Unearthly Things (1 part - written by George Mann, art by  Mariano Laclaustra, Nelson Pereira) is a quieter historical piece. I enjoyed the atmospheric art, but felt it was a bit derivative (especially of Unicorn and the Wasp). Again, enjoyed the colour palate and art style of this one.
 
The Hyperion Empire (4 parts -written by Robbie Morrison, art by Daniel Indro) - the grand finale of the first year series sees the return of the Hyperion. The story has a suitably epic scale, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance as the Hyperion attempt to absorb the power of Earth’s sun. I found a lot to enjoy here, from the ash zombies, to Kate Stewart organising the resistance from the Underground Stations turned shelters, to Sam the fireman (!), a new character who takes on a pivotal role as the story progresses.
 
The Doctor has some superbs moment in this story, including some defiant one-liners and a real battle of wits with the Hyperions,and the story overall is very pacy and action packed. I enjoyed the art here, but it is more stylised than the last few stories, which makes some of the face work  inconsistent. Overall, a suitably explosive finale to the first year arc.
 
Relative Dimensions (1 part - written by George Mann, Cavan Scott, art by Mariano Laclaustra) is a curious coda. On the plus side, the art style and framing is beautiful and imaginative, playing with the form in a pleasingly, whimsical way that is in perfect service to the story that’s being told. On the downside, the reveal of the villain felt like a severe anticlimax to me, and I’d question the wisdom of resurrecting such an obscure part of Who lore, especially given the amount of emotional weight that it’s meant to carry in the climax. In some ways this is the most classic Who story of the lot, in that the promise of the first three or four pages is never going to last to the end of the story - but there’s much fun to be had on the way.
 
Overall, I enjoyed the collection. For me, the bottom line is I’ve enjoyed Capaldi’s run on the series, and it was a huge pleasure, as that run came to an end on TV , to revisit his Doctor in some additional adventures. The key to that enjoyment was just how well the writers captured the voice of 12, which really sold me on the collection as a whole. The art was variable, but never less than passable, and often far better than that, and the stories are for the most part action packed and fast moving.
 
If you feel like a bit more Twelve in your life, while you await the coming of Thirteen’s debut season, there’s a lot here to enjoy.
 
KP 7/1/18

Bracken MacLeod is one of the fastest rising stars of the genre. He might not admit that but it's very true. I've been reading him a long time and it's been my pleasure to watch this happen. 

Come To Dust is the story of a man named Mitch. Accidental guardian to his little niece, Sophie. Her mother abandoning her to his care was the best thing to happen to the man. The anchor he needed to get and keep his act together.  He's even started to work on that withered love life of his.  Then tragedy strikes and Sophie dies tragically.

Soon after, dead children the world over begin to raise from the dead, with no real reason. Sophie comes back as well. After Mitch and his new girlfriend free her from the morgue and strive for a normal life they find it an impossibility. And things spiral and grow weirder and wilder.

I know, you saw "Dead rising" and went all "Ugh, another zombie book!?"  Stop it!  I mean it. Bracken really nails this thing and while, yes, at its core it is about the Z- things, it also is not. This is a novel drenched in loss and grief. Forged in hurt and hate, both outward and inward. It is every parent's nightmare and it's a gut-puncher.   The prose is poetic and horrific. There is one particular description of rising children that still haunts me and I read this a few months ago. Made me shiver!  A fantastic read and one that demands your attention.
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Come To Dust is available from Trepidato Publishing.

by Stewart Horn 

Six year old orphan Evan’s life is turned upside down when a mysterious stranger who calls himself Rook abducts him, killing his foster parents in the process. But Rook is more than he seems and, as we discover, Evan is no ordinary child.
 
The novel follows their adventures as the strange pair evade their enemies, both worldly and supernatural, and Evan gradually discovers the truth about Rook’s nature, and his own. It’s a novel that explores responsibility, betrayal, friendship, sacrifice, redemption and the impossibility of making truly moral decisions.
 
The supernaturally gifted child has been a trope in horror fiction and movies for decades now and , post Stephen King, has become annoyingly ubiquitous. The half human killer tortured by conscience is another overused trope, and a mismatched couple finding commonality and becoming friends through adversity is the stuff of a thousand tedious buddy movies. Having angels as bad guys is becoming a tired cliché too. So there were lots of reasons for me to dislike this book.
 
But even if there isn’t much terribly original here, Michell’s writing, characterisation and pacing are strong enough to make the book an enjoyable read. The central relationship is engaging, the action relentless, the carnage gleeful.  We care enough about Evan and Rook that the inevitable confrontation with their enemies is genuinely tense, and the final scene surprisingly moving. The incidental characters are drawn with a lot of care, especially considering their average life expectancy.
 
This is an accomplished debut, and I think Stephen Michell is a name to watch.

BY TONY JONES 

 
“David Moody returns to the world of “Haters” after a six year hiatus“
 
I’m a huge fan of David Moody and have read the majority of his fiction, however, I was surprised to hear he was returning to the world of his “Hater Trilogy” as it all seemed done and dusted when book three concluded in 2011. “Haters” was as fine a piece of brutality as you’re ever going to read, but it was also laced with humour, terrific apocalyptic destruction and a range of characters battling it out as humanity crumbled. Why return to it? Authors picking over the bones of their finest works does not often work out for the best and I am not a fan of series which outstay their welcome.
 
Ultimately only David Moody can answer that “why” question and maybe he really believed there was life in this story still. But I’m not so sure. If you’re read “Haters” the weakness of “One Of Us Will Be Dead By Morning” hits you in the face after only a few pages, it’s a parallel story to “Haters” with the events taking place in a different location, but pretty much at the same time. So straight away there is a lack of suspense, no matter how strong the action sequences are, you generally know where the story is heading. Perhaps this new work will be a stronger read for those who haven’t tackled “Haters” previously?
 
Nobody likes a predictable novel, but that is exactly what this is, a re-tread of something I felt I’ve come across before, and was much better the first time around.  There are no characters in “One Of Us Will Be Dead By Morning” to rival Danny McCoyne from the original novel and after a while I wasn’t too bothered with who was going to get killed off, or survive, all involved were pretty bland.
 
The plot of “Haters” is a deceptively simple one, but is brutally effective, a certain percentage of the population go through some sort of mental or chemical switch and the result is a never-ending urge to kill those who haven’t changed. The novel calls them ‘Haters’ and ‘Unchanged’ and the Haters wage a high-octane battle to exterminate the others. It’s a vicious trilogy, this new story is similar except for the fact it is set on a remote island in the North Sea used by a company for business and company teambuilding exercises. The first killing on the island is deemed an accident, but before long the bodies begin to mount up. Meanwhile, if you’ve read “Haters” you’ll know what is going on elsewhere and why the rescue boat fails to materialise, even if the poor suckers on the island do not. Of course, this new novel is seen from the ‘Unchanged’ point of view, whilst much of ‘Haters’ was seen from the ‘Haters’ point of view. Maybe this will alter in book two.
 
One of the strengths of “Haters” was the setting, a city where the sudden unexplained epidemic of murders worked beautifully as everything else disintegrated, this doesn’t happen in this novel as the remote island setting just does not have that many plot options and if anything stifled the action you would usually see in a Moody novel.
 
Moody says on his website the reception to this new book has been “polarising” and I’m not surprised. There’s just not enough on offer for old time fans unless they’re content with more of the same, and if they are they will probably be happy. It is all somewhat jaded and lacks the killer edge of “Haters”. Moody also says on his website book two in this new trilogy, due later in 2018, “All Roads End Here” will tie into events of the original book two “Dog Blood” so it will be interesting to see whether we cross paths with Danny McCoyne or his vicious little daughter again.
 
The novel does have some brutal sequences, opening with a beauty when a Hater teenager murders several other children with a chain on a boat, many choosing to jump to a watery death than face her wrath. Moody does this sort of thing well, and there are plenty to hang the novel together. His violence is very realistic, but he never glorifies in it, something I’m not a fan of. I’m sure David Moody will find many of his loyal fanbase do enjoy this novel, most of which will disagree with this review, but I would rather have seen him come up with something fresher.
 
Tony Jones

by Matthew Price 

Outside is a collection of bizarre, macabre, and unsettling horror comics. Like most anthologies, the offering is hit or miss. I loved some of the stories, and hated others.

But that can be chalked up to personal taste. The overall quality of the both the writing and art is very high. The stories that resonated with me may not resonate with you, but if you’re a fan of horror comics, you’ll definitely find something in here that’s to your taste.

So, with that caveat, here’s a few of the contributions I particularly enjoyed:

The Boy Who Became Invisible (written by Joe R. Landsale and illustrated by Daniele Serra) isn’t a traditional horror comic. There are no monsters or masked serial killers. Instead, it’s a very realistic story about how abuse and neglect can create a monster in the real world.

Shiv (written by Chesya Burke, illustrated by Jennifer Y Cruté) is a supernatural story that explores how even the most sympathetic character can become terrifying. Though set in the Jim Crow era, it has a lot to say about modern race relations.

Colours is a great story by Maura McHugh, combining psychology with the paranormal. But what really stands out is John Riordan’s art. The coloring is on point (as you’d assume by the title), and he creates real dread from minimal line work.

There’s much more to enjoy in this collection of 10 stories: art by Gabriel S Moses; collage by Winston Chmielinski; and a creepy anti-story from Lavie Tidhar

With Outside, editors Amir Naaman and Doron Hamburger sought to collect horror stories of the kind that they had never read. I think they largely succeeded. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for something different than your standard superhero comic book.

Here I am once more in the world of horror comedy.  It's a place I hadn't expected to be in so soon after the travesty that was Joe Pasquale's collection of short stories, which were about as funny as catching the clap, or as scary as a cotton wool ball unless you're like my mate who has an irrational fear of cotton wool.  Either way, that book was so bad I had sworn off reading anything else that tried to be remotely funny.  

And yet here I am having just finished reading Demon Thingy by Jonathan Butcher and Matthew Cash writing a review for another book that tries to mix horror and comedy.  I'll be honest it's not a sub-genre of horror that is easy to get right, there are far too many potholes that the authors can fall into, not everyone finds the same things funny, hence why shows like Friends are mysteriously hugely popular, and if you don't get the horror right then the book just feels wrong.  

In Demon Thingy, there are power struggles galore, between Mrs Roberts and the secret coven of black magic practitioners that she is a member of, between her and her husband, her husband and an arse shared demon.  Then there is the power struggle between her and a mysterious group of Russian soldiers of God, the struggle between Seamus and the demon that did something very nasty to him a few years, and the struggle that Mrs Roberts faces for getting her knickers off and her rocks on, while trapped in the middle of all this is a pair of hapless conmen/drug dealers.  Who wants nothing more than never being spunked on again.  Sounds like highbrow stuff doesn't it?  Quite why these two authors decided to even attempt this beyond me.  

But I am sure as hell glad they did, for Demon Thingy is a riotously funny book.  I know it is a cliche, but this book will have you laughing out loud on numerous occasions. From the brilliant magical system where pseudo-latin phrases interspersed with random English phrases such as Expellio flange-Kopf, disabled parking zone. May sound at first to be utterly stupid, but with the universe of this book they make perfect sense and more importantly as the joke is played out they become increasingly funny and have you looking forward to next Potter Piss take.  

Terry Pratchett had Granny Weatherwax, Butcher and cash have Mrs Roberts, a filthy horny old woman who will shag anything and anybody.  And I mean anything, just thinking about her right now sends a shiver down my spine, and not in a good way.  I don't think I will ever get the image of her granny bits out of my head.  

Mrs Roberts is one of my favourite characters in recent times.  She is dirty, dangerous and driven, and devilishly funny.  On her own she is hilarious, but when she interacts with her husband who is so creepy he makes Albert Steptoe seem like a first class gent, she becomes one of the funniest characters I have ever had the pleasure of reading.  

Propping up the small cast of characters are a motley crew of coven members, while they don't have much to do with this story their little incursions into the ploy are fantastic.  My favourite one is when they have a meeting outside of their usual place and how one of them explains why wearing his robes their still constitutes being incognito.  It's a simple joke, but it has perfect comedic timing.  

Then we have Seamus an ageing wizard with a rather peculiar set of problems, which won't be elaborated on here, it's better if you find out that for yourselves.  Suffice to say you will never look at roast potatoes in quite the same way ever again.  

I don't think you could find a more hopeless and worthless pair of conmen if you held an open submission call than Jackoby and Clark.  Imagine Wile Coyote with mange and a limp, or Pinky and the Brain where the Brain was replaced with an even thicker Pinky.  That's just how pathetic they are, and yet despite all this, you can't help but feel sorry the hapless pair.  

Finally, we have Alexander Edward and Gustav, the "heroes" of the book.  Oddly they are the least likeable characters.  Whether or not that was a deliberate move on the authors part or if they just felt a little bit out of place in this comedy novel I don't know.  They are the source of my complaint with the book; their backstory is a little bit jarring with the tone of the rest of the book.

Of course, let's not forget the demons of the book, let's just say I would rather have to face demons from almost any other book at the ones in here. From the Horny Old bastard to the arse demon Butcher and cash have created a memorable set of demonic entities to haunt your nightmares for days to come. 

As their paths and naughty bits all intercross, the reader is subjected to gloriously over the top smut filled comic romp of the highest order.  Imagine if Julian Clary had broken into Robert Rankins house rewrote one of Robert's novels for him.  

If you are looking for intelligent discourse on the dangers of dabbling with demons dangly bits then you have come to the wrong book, and you should back away very slowly, but if you are looking for a book that will make you wish you hadn't eaten just before reading it. Or a book that will make wish you had never google granny porn then this is the book for you, yes it will make you feel somewhat dirty at times, but you will have a hell of a time reading it.  

Being a big fan of the output of Dim Shores, I was quite ecstatic when I heard the call that they were assembling an anthology. I was then even more so excited when I received a review copy of said anthology.  I want to also make note that the cover artwork by Yves Tourigny is fantastic. With that said, here we go:

The proceedings kick off with "The Convexity Of Our Youth" by Kurt Fawver, Wherein  the slyly satirical menace rolls into unsuspecting towns, quite literally and changes their futures via changing the children. "In Canada" by Michael Wehunt is a bittersweet tale of a strange young man in an apartment building and the unique relationship he builds with a new tenant. Betty Rocksteady delivers "Dusk Urchin," A story of a woman ravaged by tragedy and loss who finds herself not nearly as alone as she thought. "Heirloom" by Brook Warra is a fantastic piece about twins and the less said the better--This one is my favorite of the volume.

"The Small Deaths Of Skin And Plastic" is a surreal nightmare of birth and rage, while "Mirror Bias" by Craig Laurance Gidney is oh so much more than a haunted mirror story.  "When The Sky Breaks" shows Scott Nicolay spelling out a wonderfully weird invasion of sorts. Anya Martin's "Boisea Trivittata" is a creepy story that scuttles in the dark while Christopher Slatsky's "Spargmos" is a delirious dark meditation on dementia or is it? "The Sound of Black Dissects the Sun" is a dirge of a story about a man who receives a mysterious piece of music in the mail.  
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I only called upon a half dozen or so of the stories in this book, that's not at all because I didn't like them all I did. These were the ones I found myself dwelling on or replaying in my mind. There is an unplanned theme at work in many of these stories, a melancholy sadness that creeps and crawls in the shadows cast. A sense of loss that is palpable and human to be felt in nearly all of them.  It's truly a wonderful gathering of the freshest voices in weird fiction. It's would make an amazing starter kit for those looking to dip their toes in the pool of this type of story. But dip quick, there are things in these waters that bite.
 
Looming Low Volume I is available from Dim Shores