Wednesday, April 16, 2014
"The Wood on the Hill" is a simplistic fairy tale. A snotty aristocratic woman is warned that bad things will happen if she goes through with her plan to hold a ball in some ancient woods. She ignores the warnings and bad things happen. That's it. And the bad things that happen really aren't that interesting.
The Candle in the Cloud is pretty much just a condensed and watered-down cross between The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and The Lord of the Rings. Three kids are transported to a fantasy world and soon learn that they are the only ones who can save the world by transporting a magical artifact to a deep dark pit.
I expected to be disappointed by these stories. I read them to see if I could find a spark of Barker's genius in his early works, and I was able see some of that, just a glimpse near the end of The Candle in the Cloud. And, truthfully, few writers wrote anything half as good at seventeen.
No, the thing that really disappoints me about Clive Barker's First Tales was a bit more unexpected; the fact that the publisher didn't bother to clean the manuscript up prior to publication. This book was poorly proofed. If they'd printed a disclaimer at the beginning of the book stating that they wanted to show these early works untouched and raw, so as not to tamper with the curiosities presented therein, I might have given them a pass. But they posted no such disclaimer, and they put out a fairly shoddy product.
In addition, the product description for this work is misleading. Crossroad Press claims that The Candle in the Cloud is "a novella of dark fantasy" when clearly it is fucking not. Dark fantasy and children's fantasy are two very different things. It's a matter of public record that Barker wrote this book for children. To try to peddle this as dark fantasy is pretty shitty.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
I think it's possible that one day a psychiatrist will give a name to the peculiar disease of the mind that makes one predisposed to truly enjoy Wol-vriey's books. Until then, I'll just have to live knowing that I'm afflicted with an as-yet-to-be-named mental disorder that, if I had to guess, impacts about 0.001 percent of the human population. But I don't mind, really.
Really, I don't.
And it's not like I'm looking for a cure.
Here's a little test to see if maybe you're a sufferer of this rare mental illness.
Would you like to read a book that features:
-strange, and yet quite useful, genital mutations?
-taboo sexual practices which have magical healing properties?
-impaling, decapitation, and dismemberment (all played for laughs)?
-cringe-worthy dialog written in the most insulting dialect imaginable?
-sex scenes that raise interesting philosophical questions on the subject of bestiality in fantastic literature?
If you answered 'yes' to ALL of the above, then you and I likely suffer from the same mental disorder, and you should read this book.
To those who answered 'no' to ANY of the above: you've been warned.
Note: I received a sticky electronic copy of this filthy book from this smutty author in exchange for an honest (non-reciprocal) review.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
But I want to be clear about this. You see, at about the halfway mark, I found out that supernatural entities that I personally don't enjoy reading about are major players, and I was pretty let down. You might like stories involving this particular type of supernatural entity, many people do. If so, you might really go for what Mr. Christopher has delivered here.
But my supernatural entity bias isn't really the only problem I had with this book. There were two more major things that detracted from my overall enjoyment:
1) The magic rules in this world weren't clearly defined, and it came off as characters could just 'magic' themselves out of tough situations.
2) All of the characters but one seemed to have zero agency Intentional? Sure. Just look at the cover. But, still. And the one character who did have control over his own fate adopted a surfer dude persona that I didn't find cute, ironic, or funny.
I wanted to like this book more than I did (and to be clear, I didn't hate it by any stretch). It does contain a lot of things that I do like in a story: a circus/carnival, entertaining villains, interesting imagery, cool set pieces, and, best of all, solid writing.
After reading Hang Wire, I think Adam Christopher is more than capable of producing a book that I'll really enjoy. Unfortunately, this was probably just not the right entry point into his writing--for me.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Today is Roger Corman's 88th birthday! For those who don't know, Corman is the mastermind director/producer behind such cult film classics as Suburbia, Deathrace 2000, Piranha, Attack of the Crab Monsters, Women in Cages, among literally hundreds of others (35 directed, 385 produced).
To honor this giant of B-movie madness, I've decided to offer my short story "IT CAME FROM HELL AND SMASHED THE ANGELS" starting today as a free download. This story originally appeared last year in the anthology TWO: The 2nd Annual Stupefying Stories Horror Special and was inspired by the films of Roger Corman.
Thanks to his big ugly mug, Ben Coburn always played the heavy in Hollywood. Yeah, his name was in the credits of a bunch of low-budget B-movie horror shows, but at least he could say he was in the movies.
That was a long time ago.
Now Ben sits alone in a trailer park listening to an old married couple across the way argue about money, just nursing a beer, waiting for something to happen.
But nothing ever happens. That pisses him off.
No, Big Ben Coburn isn't going to wait around anymore. He jumps on his motorcycle and tears off into the night.
Intent on escaping into a new life, he races past a field of scarecrows, barreling headlong down the highway toward a blazing inferno and a bottomless pit.
Available in Mobi (Kindle) & ePub (Nook) formats.
No account required to download. You will be asked to enter an e-mail address in order to proceed to the download page, but it doesn't necessarily have to be a valid e-mail address.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
That's a quote from this article by screenwriter Josh Olson. (The spirit of that article has nothing to do with this review, by the way.) Upon starting Taking Jezebel it was readily apparent that Patrick Kelly can write, and very well. But the deeper I got into the book, the more I noticed that Kelly is a writer who also needs to learn how to kill his darlings. There were many pet phrases--while sometimes lovely--that really needed to be exterminated with extreme prejudice. For example:
The [batwing] doors swung--violently, at first--then slowly sank back into place, losing their momentum, and settling against one another like quarreling lovers who were finally ready to admit their unremitting interdependence.
Lavishing this much attention on a minor detail imbues the action of doors swinging shut with undue significance. This sort of thing happens fairly often throughout Taking Jezebel, and there are action scenes that get muddied with this type of overblown description.
The above passage also illustrates another thing I, at times, found distracting about Kelly's writing. Sometimes--sometimes--his word choices are a bit iffy. The word 'sank' has no place in the sentence above. Nothing is sinking here. Nothing is doing anything like sinking here.
Overall, I liked Kelly's writing and I liked this book. There are three or four really cool narrative twists that honestly took me by surprise. He's not afraid to play with reader expectations. And I like that a lot. This had some great things going for it story-wise. Yes, there were a few things I didn't quite buy. One character escapes too easily from a situation. A major event is never adequately revisited or explained. Everything stops so that the villain can give the obligatory villain-speech at the end. However, the good far outweighs the not-so-good here.
This book has a variety of satisfying horror goodies crammed into it, and I look forward to reading whatever Mr. Kelly unleashes next.
Note: I received an electronic copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest (non-reciprocal) review.