The Disappeared by David B Silva

This was my fist foray into the fiction of David B Silva, an author now somewhat of a veteran in horror circles. Without hearing even a sliver of the story, I chose The Disappeared purely for its enigmatic cover. If there is one thing we know the small press does well, it’s cover design vastly more aesthetic to the dark fiction enthusiast than their large publishing counterparts. On offer here is a thriller stepped in the sinister world of medical mysteries and shadowy government corporations hell-bent on secrecy.

Ten years ago, Teri Knight and her husband went through the crippling effects of losing their only son Gabriel after he ventured to the local park one day and never returned. With no eye-witnesses and no clues pertaining to his mysterious vanishing, this lack of closure results in divorce, Teri sentenced to a life of estrangement and despair. On one rain-swept evening many years later, Gabe suddenly returns home in the company of an unknown woman. But this Gabe cannot be her son … for the boy at the door hasn’t aged a day. This one is eternal, frozen in time – and now Teri must suspend her disbelief if she is solve why. Enlisting the help of an old ally (Walter) who also collaborated in the search effort for Gabriel previously, Teri begins to unravel an intricate web with a family physician at the center of the nightmare. She'll also discover Gabe isn’t the only child who fell victim to a conspiracy where science tackled the dark heart of mortality: death itself. 

Written during the nineties, this is the kind of formula pertinent to that era. Running like an undercurrent through the syntax is an undeniable Dean Koontz flavor … reminiscent of one of the many tomes penned under the pseudonym Leigh Nichols. (Think The Key to Midnight or The House of Thunder). Taking off my professional voice briefly, I will admit I enjoyed those novels immensely. They don’t pretend to be anything than what's on the page: maps of intent where the good guys are good, and the bad ones are simply nasty. The method is pure entertainment … and the narrative at the heart of The Disappeared has a safe and homely feel like a good recipe.

There are weaknesses – mainly the perplexing reaction of a family doctor when confronted with the presence of Gabriel for the first time in years: his inability to notice anything different about the child is something never fully addressed. Another plot strand involving an individual Walter is tracking never quite come to fruition and leaves a lingering question mark. (Although I have a feeling these are narrative puzzles a second reading could possibly cure).

Here, David B Silva has concocted a workable thriller harkening back to the suspense of a more innocent time in history. My first title from Dark Regions Press, they have created a slick and worthy edition to hold.

The Ward

Psychiatric wards. Mental Asylums. Institutions. Call them what you will – they have been an ideal vehicle for countless mediums over the years; a perfect playground for the horror genre to stretch its wings. With outings such as Gothika, Session 9 (and major studio releases like The Butterfly Effect) setting a benchmark, the trick now is to try and dig something new out of the sand. What seems currently in vogue: using the human mind as a stunning chess board or Russian Doll piece (Shutter Island, Identity), where metaphor's can be stripped away and revelations granted with each successive piece removed. Here, legendary director John Carpenter has tasked himself with adding something new to the sub-genre.

Oregon, 1966: After setting fire to an abandoned farmhouse, Kristen (Amber Heard) is committed to the North Bend Psychiatric Ward. Kristen has a tenuous grasp on anything except her name … although remains confident in her unwavering sanity. At first the lack of details here can be frustrating, but we are invested because of the sheer uncertainty of it all. Slowly, Kristen is introduced to her fellow inmates: an all female clique of misfits and mavericks, each of them giving off subtle clues pertaining to Kristen’s predecessor and the ward’s haunting history. Throw in an ominous, unlikable nurse with a penchant for needles (and a cryptic yet likable Doctor), and swiftly everything’s on the plate for a workable thriller.

The drawbacks? There are many ... most notably The Ward's clunky, unrealistic dialogue and script shortcomings. No matter how much energy is vested in trying to create something epic here, at its core the narrative is no more ambitious than a stand-alone episode of Supernatural. While this is an attempt at old school horror (as testified by Carpenter himself), snaring the attention of the collective tribe requires a lot more than paying homage to the thrillers of old. That said, this is still a grand step up from a film like Vampires; Mark Kilian's musical score is a beautiful, child-like drone reminiscent of The Amityville Horror. The hospital itself is beautifully mined like a character, with slick camera rigging speeding through corridors and dowdy colors being used to reflect the chrome world of an asylum.

After a lengthy delay of over a decade, John Carpenter returns to the genre he helped fashion and create. With a hit and miss ratio in latter years yielding ambiguous results (milestones like In the Mouth of Madness but fatally flawed outings like Ghosts of Mars), this is a bittersweet homecoming and one eagerly awaited by those who have traversed his career since the very beginning. If one goes into this with expectations Carpenter still has something groundbreaking to say, you might come away disappointed. But overall The Ward, for all its shortcomings, can still act as a worthy piece of Saturday-matinee entertainment.

Samhane by Daniel I Russell

Originally from the United Kingdom, Daniel I Russell moved to Australia in late 2008, setting up shop and carving his own niche in the community. This, his debut effort, is the accumulation of a lifetime spent studying the terrain and mapping the territories. The resultant outcome, Samhane, is like a cross pollination of the best the genre can offer infused with Daniel’s every-man tone and occasional comic aim. 

We begin our journey with Donald Patterson, middle-aged horror writer saddled with a day job who dreams of the big-time. Initially, this opening was a mild turn off ... for at once our protagonist’s head-space mirrors the authors. Many writing instructors – some more than others - will be vociferous you must distance yourself from your work. Though it goes without saying that if every published writer heeded this counsel, a huge chunk of them would not have graced us with their best. Although not outwardly transparent upon publication, it eventually became evident Jack Torrance embodied the personality of Stephen King. The same could be said of his central characters in Misery, The Dark Half, and countless others. Here, Daniel is writing about what he knows … and that’s the ineffable truth reader's across the globe like to see the inner workings of a creative mind dissected on the page. 

After purchasing a new laptop on eBay from an ominous merchant (Roger), Donald comes across something on its hard-drive that could potentially be a snuff film; tainted evidence plunging him into a world where the vendor will do anything to secure its return … including kidnapping wife Beverley and spiriting her away in to the far-flung English town of Samhane. There follows an odyssey of torture, sex, and clout at the hands of a cult who uses the streets of Samhane as its playground to attract the benedictions of a long-forgotten deity.

There are two-plot strands, the second revolving around a father and son team (Brian and Sam) in the lucrative business of dispatching supernatural baddies. Holing up in Samhane to work at the behest of the Mayor, they have their work cut out for them when the town is abruptly inundated with ghouls, morphing human worms, and female water-wraiths. Eventually the strands collide in an epic showdown of grindhouse horror with Lovecraftian overtones.

What I loved here, from beginning to end, is the delicious cavalcade feel. Samhane is a cauldron on the cusp of Hell, and this is a formula with its roots firmly entrenched in the genre. Needful Things by Stephen King displayed a similar mechanism: the streets and people being reigned in by a mysterious force that sits nonchalantly in the shadows. Popcorn horror, but a gentle reminder of why I got into reading in the first place.

There are slight drawbacks (I would have liked to see the cast expanded further, and the third act finale can feel somewhat ponderous), but as a working whole Samhane is a lofty splatter debut that could teach veterans in the field a thing or two about entertainment. Hopefully (with works like this one), Australia will see a renaissance of cinematic horror fiction ushering in similar works into the mainstream.

Torment by Greg Chapman

Greg Chapman is one of the breed to have made good use of services provided to emerging Australian horror writers. After joining the local association in 2009, he was selected quickly into the mentoring program under the auspices of author Brett McBean. (Anyone familiar with my reviews will know this to be a coup). What is apparent to blossom from such a relationship is Greg’s genuine fondness for the genre: the act of writing (and finding an audience) not something recently acquired or taken lightly. Something publishers (no doubt) also saw on display.   

One thing I feel important to mention here: reading Torment was one of my first experiences with the Kindle device. After a lifetime of dipping my nose into paper for that unique aroma, such quirks were no longer available. However, this is not the place for an active discussion on the disparity between the mediums ... merely an acknowledgment I was initially apprehensive about a potentially great book being let down by a new experience. Thankfully, this wasn't the case: the Kindle device proved more than adequate for the task (and there was nothing about Torment I felt lacking).

Torment as a novella is a tried and true formula: after a childhood incident sees her mother perish at the hands of a clergyman during a ritual exorcism, Jessica McKinnon returns home to rural Scotland years later as an adult with husband and son in tow, there to exorcise some demons of her own: namely, to find out the real reason her father committed suicide and bequeathed the house to her. For me, ‘tried and true’ is a recipe that works – and we’ve seen many writers at the top (a good model would be John Saul) attempt a similar thing dozens of times: After being witness to an act of atrocity as a child, our protagonist returns to the house on haunted hill, there to confront ghosts of the past. Readers will have something to identify with, and for a debut author, this is a definite hook.

There are minor problems, but nearly all these run the gamut of what the premise means on a personal level. The age of ‘biblical baddies’ (as I’ve previously referred to them), traversing the earth and wreaking havoc can sometimes feel as medieval in fiction as they do in real life. We also have syntax that can be straightforward (not entirely unexpected in a debut), and having characters exclaim dialogue is another negligible pet-peeve. But don’t let any of these things sway you. Simply, enjoy Torment for what it is: a more than solid yarn from an Australian author with grand potential and many more tales to come.

Concrete Jungle by Brett McBean

In this, the first of a trilogy, Mother Nature has decided to recycle the earth and spade it under with a fresh Eden. Caught in the tumult are a small cabal of luckless survivors trapped in a Melbourne shopping centre car park late one night near closing time. Paul is a dead-beat Dad on the fringe, making a last minute pit-stop to buy a present for a birthday he almost forgot. Beth and emo daughter Candice have stocked up on movies so Candice doesn’t get bored grounded at home. Harold is a survivor of World War 2 … a man who will soon endure jungle horrors far worse than he ever had to face on a battlefield. And Bruce is just a desperate loner who sees the cataclysm as the perfect excuse for a man to return to a more primitive existence where morals and the rule of law simply do not exist.

Upon Concrete Jungle first being released, I will admit my enthusiasm wasn’t overly high. The cover illustration from a distance seemed to suggest this was mid-range Brett or something of filler in between longer projects. But it’s a judgment I now regret … and goes to show there is talent here consistently producing quality. Moreover, I highly doubt Brett lends his voice to anything half-heartedly or churns something out at the behest of an editor. Concrete Jungle might well be The Day of the Triffids told from the unique scaffold of the author's imagination, but it’s still a narrative with biting simplicity and more than enough lure to hook a reader.

Standing at a short and sweet 160 pages, this is a species of horror without conscience. On more than one occasion I’ve mentioned the similarities Brett has with an author like Richard Laymon - and it’s still evident here, but imbued with refreshing Australian verisimilitude and syntax. A few errors jumped out. In one particular stanza the author describes the smell of meat cooking ‘glorious’ but goes on to say paragraphs later the smell of cooked rat was ‘mildly appetizing’. Viewed as a whole, however, the writing and editing is crisp with short, choppy chapters denied being weighted with numbered sections. Characterization is right on the money: you will care whether these people live or die. And in the modern horror novel, that will be something ultimately on the menu. Welcome to the jungle.

Scary Kisses

Already garnering a lot of high praise in the community, Scary Kisses is a dark fantasy anthology released in early 2010. It features a huge chunk of authors from the entire Australian speculative league, and the impact of its success has guaranteed a sequel of sorts with the upcoming More Scary Kisses. Beginning with the title of each tale, let’s have a look at all the stories individually:

The Anstruther Woman by Nicole R. Murphy

Set among wilds of the Australian outback, this is the story of a small community who bands together under the threat of an unknown assailant attacking livestock. Rumours abound of the elusive big-cats haunting the rough country. Ally, local wise woman and head of the Anstruther farm, works together with local legend Tynan to solve the mystery. What I liked here was the almost gothic flavour Nicole imbues into the story - although set in Australia it has a decidedly New England feel.

Fade Away by Ian Nichols   

After a sea change to an island off the mainland, Emily is haunted by something like a transparent lover. We are then greeted with revelations pertaining to a convicts past. A small ghost story with an unsettling ending of immortality.

Bread and Circuses by Felicity Grey

Probably the most notorious story to come out of Scary Kisses, Bread and Circuses is a brutal and unrelenting excursion. To be honest, after all the hype, this reader’s first reaction was: It’s only a simple Zombie tale? But simple stops after the first page. This is the narrative of Susan, a star-crossed lover living amid the hell of a bored and jaded community of cemetery survivors. It unfolds at a rapid clip with the duel themes of love and death parked behind the gates of a Zombie horde. The prose is a bit like the authors nature: wicked, unflinching and with a subtle hint of dry humour underneath. The title here is Scary Kisses … and there is a literal kiss at the end of this one seldom brought about in horror fiction.

Black Widow by Shona Husk

This wouldn’t be a Paranormal Romance compilation without a subset of vampire stories. Black Widow tells the story of an incarnate vampire who is made flesh as a prostitute in Las Vegas and begins the hunt afresh. Simple but fun.

The February Dragon by Angela Slatter and L.L Hannett

This writing duo has been behind many stories in the past – and it’s easy to see why the collaboration continues. Set entirely in the world of Sepphoris, you have to hand it to the writer's for condensing and world-building in such a short space. In this realm, Casco is a startling hybrid of human and Dragon living in the confines of a feudal House. Her talents as an artist see her as prize possession, and soon an unwanted marriage ensues. Primarily a love fable, this is the story of a young woman willing to cross the borders of the human to be with the creature she truly desires.

Growing Silence by Matt Tighe 

One that left a confusing imprint. On the second read-through I ascertained the story is perhaps the poetry of a serial killer … one whose local environs and their silence are like a metaphor for the white noise of his mind.

The Hidden One by Astrid Cooper

It’s always a good thing when a tale resonates on a personal level. Tez is a midnight cleaner in a museum of Egyptian artifacts in Adelaide. (I have actually worked in a Museum – and, of course, I reside in Adelaide). With a fellow employee acting as a kind of guide and mentor, aspiring writer Tez sees her world flip upside down when the wizard Ammon awakes from his slumber. Regrettably it slides somewhat into a furor of Hollywood clichés and weak special effects – but ultimately a small piece of entertainment and worthy of its inclusion.

A Darker Shade of Pale by David Bofinger

Much like the previous story Black Widow, this is another vampire tale – this time with an adventurous female model in the middle. Not exactly revelatory or filled with anything new, but it delivers what it intends to be.

The Valley by Martin Livings

Another confusing one that is oftentimes bleak; I will admit to not knowing exactly what was transpiring here. It’s a kind of sojourn featuring a man caught in a netherworld on the cusp of Heaven and Earth. He seeks redemption. The narrative seems to be a modern take on an old fable, but one I cannot put my finger on. I imagine it has a different meaning for different readers.

Cursebreaker: The Welsh Widow and the Wandering Wooer by Kyla Ward

With a word count running into novella territory, readers will be split in two minds with this one. On one hand it is a completely original gothic parable of a Doctor and a Cursebreaker sent to the estate of a blighted family whose wedding celebrations take a macabre turn. At times whimsical and hair-raising; at other times simply impenetrable and hard to nail down, a reader can’t help but be swept away by it all. One thing I do know for sure: author Kyla Ward has lived previous lives.

Heat by Donna Maree Hanson

Probably my least favourite of the collection, Heat is mainly for the romantics out there … but it also has a smattering of high-toned sex. Once again we deal with the paranormal of Vampires.

Phaedra by Bruce Golden

After the often intense previous stories, Phaedra was the perfect balm to take a break from it all. Simply a story of a voluptuous cartoon that breaks out of her realm and into the real world of our protagonist to fulfill his sexual desires. Light on substance but very easy on the eyes.

Date With a Vampire by Annette Backshawl

One of the better vampire stories here, Annette has constructed a homely tale filled with pop culture and internet references that almost makes it meta vampire fiction. An entertaining girl meets vampire allegory.

Pride and Tentacles by D.C White

Symmetry is served with this perfect little ditty as the creatures from Lovecraft’s mythos get together as a bookclub to talk about some of the more popular romantic genre fiction. With this, we go out with a grin.

Long-time readers of HorrorScope might be somewhat surprised to know I found a lot to like here in this gargantuan sub-genre that is often maligned. One thing that probably doesn’t get mentioned enough in the reading experience: typesetting and font. Scary Kisses is my first Ticonderoga publication and has both these boxes ticked to make for a dark but nimble read.  

Both Scary Kisses and More Scary Kisses can be ordered from Ticonderogo Publications.  

An Eclectic Slice of Life

In the previous review, Gillian Pollack kindly illustrated for the reader where the genesis for this collection sprang from. From 2007 onward, editor Craig Bezant sorted through his kaleidoscopic tree of stories to bring us the best Eclecticism E-Zine has to offer in a broad and wide ranging print edition - the first from his newly hatched small press Dark Prints Press.  Featuring a cover illustration of finely stacked antique books, this nostalgic approach reflects the new metamorphosis from computer to paper. A kind of reverse de-evolution that will please an all-new readership of Craig’s dark little e-zine.

The collection is composed of three parts: Dark Little Oddities, Fantastical Twists, and Obligatory Dramas.       

We kick off with Iron Efficient by Simon James - a worthy opener and one of the standouts in the collection. At its centre a small domestic revenge tale, the author uses a familiar setting and objects to highlight the need for change in an abused woman’s life: one of those guilty pleasures where the antagonist gets his just desserts. Simon also has another highlight here with Pieces – an absolutely confusing mishmash of story but it can be read for the highbrow prose alone. In what is one of the only forays into science fiction territory author Joseph D’Lacy contributes Drone … a beautifully rendered post-apocalyptic landscape of primitive human transmutation but in a magical and revolutionary setting.

Fantastical Twists present some of the first stories I’ve read by South Australian Jason Fischer. Both Houndkin and The Ward of Hours take on mythological creatures set against eccentric backdrops: one in a hospital ward that lies at the nexus of time. The prose is mature and effortless … and it’s easy to see the argument for his success. The segment also presents one of the more bizarre but attention-grabbing stories: Prodigal Son by Mark McAuliffe. This is the tale of Tony Andrews, who returns home to his mother after a life of crime seeking forgiveness and shelter. But what she has in store for him is something rarely encountered in fiction.

I was somewhat apprehensive about approaching the last section – Obligatory Dramas - and for the most part my concern was well-founded. Having not read many dramas (short fiction or otherwise), at all over the past few years I didn’t see the need for any to be included in an anthology primarily speculative. Or why, exactly, they were obligatory. That’s not to say all the stories were poor. But I kept waiting for a punch-line that simply didn’t happen. For example, the story Audrey’s Fall could merely be described thus: A woman who might have a brain tumor goes to the hospital. And that’s it – there is no other redeeming merit to it. The Shopkeeper by Eril Riley is a painful slog about a Ukraine immigrant living in Melbourne. His dog perishes and he buries it. As an honest reader giving my reaction, I would have to describe some of these as ‘A bunch of stuff that happens’ with no literary payoff. That said, there were some gems nestled among it – namely Lost in the City by Julia Bannigan and The Workman’s Pandora’s Box by Myra King.  

In the aftermath of putting this debut book down I can candidly state An Eclectic Slice of Life as a whole is a worthy publication. Perhaps not as dark as some of you may expect, but I have the feeling visceral horror is not what our editor was aiming for. With this and the e-zine (of which small amounts of poetry are included), the stories aim to shift the reader into another foggy realm … perhaps not a terrifying one, but certainly lopsided and jilted at the edges. This is only the beginning for Dark Prints Press, and it will be interesting to see where Craig takes us with his forthcoming publications Surviving the Dead (March 2012), and The One That Got Away (February 2012).

The Devil's of D-Day by Graham Masterton

The kind of review deserving of the title ‘from the vault.’ Somewhat tacky, but useful in the dismantling of an older work. After previously appraising numerous new releases, I found a brief window to embark upon something smaller. Oftentimes a reader, much like any writer, might feel the need to take a step back in between longer projects. (In King’s world think The Body and Apt Pupil flanked by works like The Dead Zone and The Dark Half). For my own part, exploring the vast catalogue of the Graham Masterton factory has always been something on the agenda.

Over thirty years after the infamous D-Day landings, Dan McCook returns to Normandy as nothing more than a cartographer for a book about World War Two. In his travels, he encounters two men who whisper of battlefield ghosts and point the way to an abandoned Allied tank. Deciding a picture might be good for the book, he locates the rusted hulk and bumps into a farmer’s daughter (Madeleine) who illuminates rumors of hauntings affecting the area … with the derelict tank a central-crux for the malign anecdotes. After consulting a local priest on the tank and its history, Dan McCook then decides it’s high time to solve the conundrum and open it up. Abruptly he is swept up into an satanic world where thirteen demons who inhabited the realm as flesh desire to walk again …

Graham’s first person narration is clear and home-spun. This is a prolific author who was born to write (I can’t put it more succintly). There’s an everyman quality to the syntax, layers of prose reminiscent of James Herbert without English nuances. At the time of publication, I doubt it was meant to feel nostalgic, but traversing through Normandy under bleak skies and snowy environs with the Devil of Swords, Daggers, and Razors as a companion the reader will feel just that. One of the hazards with this kind of book lies with the supernatural material; one might find that during this modern era, the threat of Satan and Demons (biblical baddies) parading around in fiction just isn’t scary. But we remember the story was conceived at the time of The Omen and The Exorcist. Knowing this, a reader can suspend disbelief and happily get lost in the tale.   

At times, the climax is somewhat ill-fitting; Graham describes wonderful, hellish creatures almost Lovecraftian in their finery, but has them espouse language like uneducated humans. All that aside, the images are harrowing and graphic; the dues ex machina involving a certain character ultimately one that pays off.

Highly recommended for those wanting to take a trip down the genre's more humbling past.

The Haunting of James Hastings by Christopher Ransom

Following up an astonishing debut is never an easy thing. Whether under the guise of music or the auspices of horror literature, proving to the masses lightning can strike more than once can fill the creative heart with dread. It was two years ago now that Christopher Ransom delivered The Birthing House … a kind of wandering homage to the ghost story’s of old – but bristling with new enthusiasm. Though riddled with some of the pitfalls of a first appearance, it still conspired to be a beautiful nativity-fabled gothic deserving of its place on any bookshelf. 

Authors like to wear many hats, but it’s apparent that with his sophomore effort, Ransom is setting up shop with the modern ghost story. After a quick perusal, I knew what we have here is more of the same … but this was fine by me. Occasionally writers (like musicians), will stick to a formula. Thereafter it becomes a kind of territory where the imagination can frolic.

James Hastings is a body double for the widely successful hip hop artist Ghost, an obvious literary reverence or echo to the real life Eminem. After the death of his wife Stacey in a small and mysterious accident, James – like his alter ego Ghost – goes on sabbatical to deal with his grief. Soon, his neighbors come into the fray, and after purchasing a telescope, a spying game then ensues. After the death of his immediate neighbor, a new resident moves in. She is young, alone, and bears a striking resemblance to Stacey. A relationship is then forged, and James goes on an odyssey of pain and learning – tempered by the haunting reality of Stacey’s ever too real presence. Not only in his house … but in the eyes of his new neighbor Annette.

As avid readers of dark and speculative fiction (I assume you all are), most of us know the correlation between music and fiction: they feed each other – giving rise as influences so the other exists. And that’s what we have with The Haunting of James Hastings: a striking hybrid of gothic romance novel and a CD boxset choc full of lyrical extras. Like his previous book, it takes the cue from novels like Rebecca and Bag of Bones, but I found at its heart a beautiful illustration of domestic married life and how emotions can be woven into the brick and mortar of houses. As a fan of first person narration only second, Christopher’s voice is so accessible you won’t even know that it is. A decidedly male voice … but one that resonates with this reviewer.  

While The Birthing House had a climax seeming to raise more questions than answers, you’ll find the revelations ladled on here to be just as hair-raising and surprising than anything an early M. Night Shyamalan committed to the screen. 

Tales of Sin and Madness BY Brett McBean

A successful short story collection in the horror genre – when all the elements come together properly – is a rare and powerful thing. They are strange beasts, and unless a name is synonymous with a proven track record, very hard to get off the ground and into the collective hands of a reading public. Fortunately, an established history is something Brett McBean has been working on for the past decade, so I was more than eager to put up my hand for Tales of Sin and Madness – a vast, Aladdin’s cave of stories spanning many years.

One of things I usually do when reviewing such a collection is give an appraisal of each story … but you will understand (when reading) such a tact will not work in this particular scenario. Like a feast of King stories, Brett has taken the time to provide lengthy notes at the end of each one. The resultant outcome of this is something like a delicious banquet that’s more on par with a classic album, each story finely dissected and put under a microscope so we can see the genesis behind each tale. Any detailed breakdown will only spoil what Brett has in store for you ... and what he has in the offing here is one of the most entertaining pieces of Australian dark fiction to come along in years.

We start off with Brett taking a jaunt into Brian Keene’s zombie world of The Rising and reporting what he sees there. When then go into the twisted maze and minds of serial killers and find, more often than not, that it’s possible for our sympathies to lie with them. Personal standouts included Hearing the Ocean In A Sea Shell … a nicely executed fable of a rising elevator that’s like a macabre metaphor for past (sins) and a lifetime of transgressions. Also Christmas Lights – a short and melancholy funeral song that first appeared in the Festive Fear anthology.   

Throughout it all, you can feel the inspiration and personal homage’s to an author like Richard Laymon, but a reader will also hear a pertinent new Australian voice, one that isn’t bogged down in the past or feels dated in any way. On the surface - and taking off my professional voice for the briefest of moments – it’s no wonder these stories spoke to me: the author and I both live in the same country, are products of the same culture, and grew up on a steady diet of the same literature. Brett McBean is the contemporary Australian voice for a new millennium. 

With all the interesting discussions about eBooks lately, one cannot help but think their future is still down the track a little ways. For every now and again an edition will come along that is perfect to hold in the hands and cherish. LegumeMan Books new release of Tales of Sin and Madness contains six more stories than the previous North American edition, and is a definitive must-have for any horror disciple.