Panic Button by Frazer Lee

Based on a recent British horror film of the same name, Panic Button is the kind of excursion that taps into every nuance and trope of modern horror cinema. Thankfully this novelization can be just as harrowing – taking the theme of contemporary social media and hammering home our fears and insecurities concerning the medium until the reader feels frantic with it.

As a reviewer, I’m always looking for something different: uncharted waters to critique; a novel based on a semi-successful film seemed to fit the bill. After the reading experience, I could visit the screen version ... and see how well the author lifted its contents. Much like an excavator will slowly brush away the dirt to reveal a fossil.

Our story is simple: four young people win the trip of a lifetime to New York, courtesy of the world famous social networking site All2gethr.com. On board their private jet, they are invited to participate in some in-flight entertainment – a new online gaming experience. A unique gaming experience. Trapped at 30,000 feet, they are forced to play for their lives (and the lives of their loved ones) by a mysterious captor who bears the social network insignia. And they are about to learn that having an online profile can have deadly consequences...

Here we go back to my first stanza: this is definitely reminiscent of many horror outings. There's the Saw franchise; we also have films like Cube and the tacit terrors produced by Final Destination, Red Eye, and the original Twilight Zone. But what we also have on offer is the potential for a beautiful character study ... one mined to great effect in films like The Hole (2001), and Hard Candy. The most appealing thing here is the subject matter itself: at its beating heart, Panic Button is a novel about a theme barely touched in cinema: social networking.

Our team is herded. There’s Jo Scott the recovering alcoholic. She’s left her daughter at home in the care of her mother to experience this chance at freedom. Max Nichols - a man as mysterious as his online persona would suggest. Gwen has a ‘hippy chick’ aura but more than a few of her own demons. And rounding out the small cabal is Dave ... a sly and obnoxious joker the others will have to watch like a dormant snake. Then we are lifted into the air with the four toasting their lucky success. But for the next few hours their only companion will be the grinning alligator facade of the All2gethr mascot  ... and it isn’t long before the games begin: a harrowing series of brutal psychological questionnaires that will pit each contestant against the other in a series of dares where the losing price is death. Not only for them, but for those on the ground who mourn their departure.   

While this is not exactly a ground breaking book, Frazer Lee does an excellent job pulling out all the stops when needed. The games preformed by Alligator are subtle yet equally horrific: you’ll keep reading with morbid fascination as each contestant's lives are exposed with brutal honesty. You’ll also see yourself in these characters: seemingly ordinary but each with a plethora of secrets just waiting to be brought to the surface. The real horror, when it arrives, more than competes with anything the original creators of Saw envisioned. And underlying it all, of course, are the social and ethical questions we as a society have come to ask ourselves on a daily basis: what will be the eventual price of social networking? Presently, we live in an age that would have been unthinkable merely decades ago. There are always dues. And the price of this one (when it arrives) could be almost too much to bear.

Carnage Road by Gregory Lamberson

Carnage Road is labeled as Gregory Lamberson’s personal ode to Westerns, Biker pictures, and the cinema of the living dead.

And no other description is more apt for the story that unfolds.

Clocking in at a rapid (but precise) 82 pages, Gregory somehow manages to fill this brief stanza with enough gore and action to rival a similar book twice its length. By way of effortless prose, the tale moves with an ease and traction much like the cool aptitude of its protagonists. It’s the voice of an author who has the confidence and wherewithal of a seasoned pro working in the zombie sub-genre.

This is the story of Boone and Walker – the last surviving members of The Floating Dragons motorcycle gang. After being orphaned in the aftermath of a dazzling raid on their compound by rogue cops, the brothers in arms then hightail it back out onto the open road with no particular destination in mind. Now the entire country is a gargantuan canvas for carnage, and the dead slowly outnumber the living with every mile traveled. On the horizon Hollywood looms, a proverbial carrot that dangles like a rotted limb. But before they can reach it, both Boone and Walker will have to face the ire and decrepitude of the flyover States … territories that have sunk even deeper into rogue division.

Underlying this brutal road-trip is sharp dialogue and likable main players – with Gregory using their predicament for biting social commentary and sometimes scathing attacks on the current global zeitgeist. Above all, it’s balls to the wall horror and just plain good fun for all of those who enjoy the current crop of epic Zombie literature.

PRINT IS DEAD will be releasing Carnage Road in all formats early in April.

Letterbox by Cameron Trost

There exists a broad spectrum of dark fiction writers here in Australia who have been around for a lengthy time. Where others have dropped away after few short years of surveying the landscape, there remains a loyal contingent of others here to stay – no matter what the publishing backdrop may look like at any given time. Trost is one such person – a writer who has spent years diligently chipping away at the shorter form. In 2011, Naked Snake Press took notice of his emerging prowess, deciding to publish the debut novel Letterbox.

Beginning with a prologue that gives subtle clues and sketches out a monster in the making, we witness the genesis of evil in the form a child – one who, after a lifetime of bullying, uses his lofty intelligence to experiment on insects and how they cope with stress when pitted against external barriers. When the child’s own external world continues to crumble, it isn’t long before he begins to daydream of what it might be like to place a human being in lieu of his original subjects …

Cut to present day and the moors of Cornwell. Adjacent to these ancient lands sits the town of Mirebury – a minuscule English community where school teacher Ian Carew has decided to establish himself after leaving London. His elderly neighbor, Mrs. Mary Hopkins, acts as kind of surrogate mother ... while his best friend is the local butcher. Mirebury seems to fit the small town rural profile to a tea, and the only thing missing from Ian’s life is a life-partner to share the adventure with.

Our set up is reminiscent of numerous outings, and after introducing us to many of the town’s inhabitants, Trost begins to dollop on the dark happenings. At first it’s a macabre keepsake placed in the letterbox of Mrs. Mary Hopkins – then a series of elusive break-ins. Soon other people are targeted, and before long Mirebury begins to realize it is under the watchful gaze of a dark entity who is using them like puppets on a chessboard to pit neighbor against neighbor. Aptly nicknamed The Postman by the townsfolk, they soon become fragmented as lines are drawn in the sand and no one is immune from suspicion.

As a huge fan of Needful Things by Stephen King, the premise for Letterbox was always going to appeal to me. That particular foray was the ultimate Our Town dark testament, setting off a chain of interlocking horrors through the redemption of trial, suffering, and forgiveness. Here, Trost treads a similar path – but imbues it all with an English verisimilitude. Does he succeed? For the most part, yes. At first, the prose is narrow, but quickly evolves - Trost becoming a more confident storyteller as the tale progresses. If there was one criticism I could level at Letterbox, it is the often sugary flavor of the town itself – Mirebury seems far too conservative and fictitious than any real life counterpart. And on occasion it’s as though the author is drawing from other classic works to flesh out his municipality. That said, for a debut effort, this is still highly accomplished – an impressive thriller and a satisfying parable of good versus evil.    

Scarecrow & The Madness by Craig Saunders and Robert Essig

Blood Bound Books presents a double helping of sideshow fun with Scarecrow by Craig Saunders and The Madness by Robert Essig, both appearing together in the same volume. Two solid novellas that complement each other while showcasing monsters firmly established in the human realm. Although the stories have the subtle cavalcade feel of a Creepshow comic, a reader will find no supernatural trimmings when the blood begins to flow. Laid bare like this, the horror reaches that primal level seldom found in fiction.

With Scarecrow, Saunders uses traveling gypsies as the ignition for mayhem. It’s the holiday weekend in the English Fens, and local farmers Madge and her husband Bernie aren't particularly perturbed by the thought of gypsies being so close in their neck of the woods. When a bar fight breaks out involving Bernie and the leader of one of the gypsy families, they soon take a form of extreme revenge far outweighing their original crimes …

Although the horror in Scarecrow is ironic and perverse (and I mean that in the best possible way), the greatest strength of Craig’s story is the subtle humor and domestic setting. Both Bernie and Madge are an old-school couple set in old-school ways. When that fragile union is split down the middle by human monsters, the results are unpredictable and fun.

A much longer novella, The Madness by Robert Essig encapsulates another domestic setting – this time a family of three who embrace drifter Tony, who decides to take sanctuary when a gargantuan snow storm renders the roads impassable. At first Tony regrets his decision, as something malign lurks within the man of the house, Dan. When the entire household bunks down for the night, morning greets the family with something far worse than Dan's psychosis …

If parts of Scarecrow were perverse, this is even more so. Just when you think you have your hand on the narrative pulse it quickly dovetails into realms more befitting a splatter film. There are surprising twists and scenes filled with carnage laid bare of conscience. Like the previous tale, the prose is more than adequate. Humor is again a staple brand complementing the action.

What the authors and Blood Bound Books have delivered is a double slice of horror reminiscent of grindhouse exploitation or a hybrid graphic novel. With a cover illustration worthy of devotion, the stories themselves deliver. The only (small) thing lacking in this edition is perhaps a detailed blurb. 

Critique by Daniel I Russell

Now a permanent fixture in the Australian dark fiction scene, the last few years have seen Western Australian author Daniel I Russell build an impressive bibliography to put him at the very forefront of the community. With the publication of Critique from Dark Continents as part of their Tales of Darkness and Dismay series, he has not only cemented his innovative reputation but moved even further ahead of the rest of the field.

We start our tale with ex-con Carlos making a pit-stop to escape the desolation of the desert and hours spent submerged behind the wheel. Carlos is on his way to make a very special delivery – but his decision to stop at an eccentric out-of-the-way Church catering food will see him holed up longer than he anticipated. It is here a reader will find the early snapshots of what could be projected as the blue-print for slasher-film fodder - but what the author has in mind as Carlos pulls up his seat is a lot darker than mere splatter film semantics. Here, a new tale is about to unfold … one low on body count but high in the themes of morality and secret subtext.  

A restaurant critic of the highest order, Sandy Devanche makes quite a comfortable living appraising (and more often than not tearing apart), the cities finest food establishments. On one particular rainy and wind-swept night he enters The House of Jacob … a small restaurant offering a revolutionary dining experience its patrons won’t easily forget – especially Sandy Devanche – who has been chosen by the mysterious proprietor Jacob Enfer as an unwitting subject in a serving of ethics and belief.

Besides the pertinent themes here, Critique offers us a beautiful insight into the myriad world of food and those who partake of it seriously as a craft. Slowly, Sandy Devanche is led on an odyssey of torture and redemption where he will partake of ingredients not befitted in the menus of even non-Western cosmologies. There is unconventional sex, addiction, secrets – and even a smattering of mythology … all the ingredients befitting a healthy horror tale.

Above all, the story on show is just plain fun. All too often as an avid reader of dark fiction I’ve found myself dealing with stories that are entertaining but ultimately sub-par. But Critique, like a good song or memorable meal, has just the right hook to keep you glued from beginning to end. The only minor quibble I have is perhaps a prolonged word count with the climax that could have been shaved subtly.

Here, Russell has stepped out of his comfort zone and written a tale where he surpasses all his previous work. One can only hope the future holds such serious promise for this burgeoning writer ...  

  

DARK CONTINENTS AND SLANDER HALL

Of course, in much belated news Dark Continents have decided to publish my novella SLANDER HALL as part of their TALES OF DARKNESS AND DISMAY series. I'm very proud to share space with some of these writers (I've already read some of the stories and they really are high caliber outings). This is the new cover.

The Noctuary by Greg Chapman

After the publication of his first novella Torment in 2009, Australian author Greg Chapman shifts gears in a largely new direction and creates, via The Noctuary, a dark and wandering homage to the tales of old to have inspired him on his journey to publication. Dedicated to both E.A Poe and Clive Barker, respectively, a reader will find snapshots of both those muses layered throughout the writing style but interspersed with a brand new voice slowly gaining louder momentum and pitch with each new story to come along.

Simon Ryan is a strung out writer looking to escape the mundane world of writing cheesy biographies for pittance. He dreams of finding an audience for his darker work that would validate his talent as a scribe for fiction. A human audience. What he soon discovers is there is another audience of a different being entirely … one that lives just beyond the curtain of night and waits patiently for the right voice to come along. His name is Meknok, and he resides in Hell.

A demon muse appearing to would-be scribes in physical form, the creature offers Simon a chance to not only pen tales of horror, but to rewrite history itself for the entertainment of Hell’s legions. Soon Simon is battling a force of wills that will not only see him travel back in time to right childhoods wrongs – but he will walk the halls of purgatory itself and come to understand those who reside there are even more devious in true form than the most sophisticated imaginings of our greatest horror writers.

Like his previous debut, The Noctuary is a short excursion – but it will certainly appeal to all the fledgling dark fiction writers out there. Whether it’s Stephen King composing about the creative process or someone like Greg Chapman, there is something oddly comforting about taking a journey encapsulating the inventive pain some of us know all too well. Simon Ryan is the everyman in every writer – and a character resembling the author’s profile enough that at times The Noctuary leans more toward metafiction. Here, Greg has created the infant seeds of a new mythology, one rich enough for an encore performance.

There are a number of up and coming writers in the Australian echelon deserving of serious attention, and Greg Chapman is at the top of my list to break through sooner rather than later. His stories are compulsory mainstream – yet have just enough unorthodox slippage in the narration to appeal to an alternative audience. Taking off my professional voice I will state that I know Greg Chapman somewhat, and he is a person that cares about his audience and work. A more authentic writer is hard to come by. 

The Noctuary is available now in both print and digital formats. 

SLANDER HALL

Talented author and artist Greg Chapman was commissioned to do a cover of my forthcoming novella SLANDER HALL. I adore it - this embodies a vintage feel and above all encapsulates the verisimilitude.

Feather By David Rix

Feather is an intricate latticework of nine separate novellas introducing the reader to an original form of storytelling. Set against the backdrop of ocean and sea, David Rix introduces us to his dark and often complicated muse: Feather the wandering girl – an orphaned eccentric who embodies the nomadic spirit. Someone who flits into people’s lives, touches them with magic, and ultimately flits away again … often leaving battered souls in her wake. 

With the opening novella, Yellow Eyes, Rix gives us perfect overture for this atypical protagonist: the story of a childhood spent living on the outskirts of a haunted wasteland (her only company that of a domineering Father), one who has escaped the modern world and deprived Feather a normal life in the process. After escaping this bleak environment, Feather returns to the only world she knows intimately: sand and sea. Here she meets Jimmy Ward, and a close attachment ensues. (The prose here is often littered with bullet-pointed snippets of signs and revelations that give insight into both character's – an unusual form of pacing).

Touch Wood sees the character of Feather shifting into lives in the modern world. Always told from another central character, Touch Wood a small narrative of love espoused in a bar. Although it features a highly unlikable protagonist, it’s blended with both the spiritual and philosophical: the study of particle physics and their relation to the world of being human. 

A central and larger novella, The Magpies introduces us to another character on Feather’s periphery … one who lives in isolation in the Southern European Mountains – a locale where she hopes to find a musical muse. After discovering a dead Magpie on the front stoop, it sends off a chain reaction of feathered ghosts and macabre scenery, ushering her into a confrontation with the muse.

In Book Of Tides Feather again returns to the sea and meets another unlikely male companion: a ghost writer who sees every tale in the next tide. With Feather’s arrival, it brings in a story of death – one forcing her to ultimately leave again with a dawning knowledge stories themselves are the enemy.

Another long novella, To call the Sea opens the curtain to Feather attending College. Another rag-tag cast is assembled, a hundred different artistic outlooks – each one like a moon to Feather’s Jupiter. Abruptly normal college life bursts into an alternate dimension … one like a portal into that strange sea-world Feather inhabits. It's a confusing climax – you never know whether to feel palpably perplexed or just enchanted. As a collective whole, the tales seem like an epic vehicle for the author’s syntax.

It’s the final stories, however, that are crowing jewels.  Displaying a less cerebral style which still showcases a sharp sting, we follow Tallis through the streets of LjubLjana. These are bleak and functional spaces ... one that may remind a reader of Clive Barker's early stylings traversing the streets of Liverpool.

Overall Feather is like one of the more slipstream stories one might encounter in high-school, yet bristling at the seams with unconventional horror. It's a book that potentially serves as a strange metaphor for the author's personal character ... at turns both mythic and seductive.

Arena Of The Wolf By Jim Gavin

Now becoming somewhat accustomed to the type of book Dark Regions Press likes to unleash, I had only a vague idea of what to expect when Arena of the Wolf landed on my desk. After a decade heavily immersed in the landscape of Australia’s dark fiction maestros, many new writers from across the pond have now come into view. Some of these have the bibliographies of seasoned veterans … while others are introducing us into a whole new world of mayhem. Jim Gavin falls into the latter category. With Arena of the Wolf, he takes a well worn creature mythos and tries to breathe new life into it with something innovative and fun.   

An over the road ex-trucker, Jerry wakes up one day to find himself cursed: not only is he now a bona-fide werewolf, he is also forced to participate in a corrupt rodeo fixture where werewolves are the main attraction. Reveling in a blood sport for the entertainment of thousands, he slowly learns to adapt to the climate of being an unwitting celebrity and killer. For the bosses do provide the odd perks – and as long as there is enough beer and whiskey to placate a werewolves dreams of freedom, then perhaps the life of a bestial show-pony isn’t such a bad life after all …

Beginning with first person narration, Jim Gavin takes the reader through a very confusing and oddball story. Here he displays a different kind of writing – a kind of stream-of consciousness twang that takes some getting used to. I will admit that for the most part the prose did not feel comfortable. First and foremost I want to be swept away, but the first part of Jerry’s adventures had me shifting uncomfortably. Although trying to suspend my belief for the sake of the story (this is, after all, supernatural fiction), the oftentimes crude handling of style made me acutely aware I was at all times reading a book.

Things pick up in the second half as Jim switches to omniscient narrator. After barely escaping from his circus prison, our werewolf goes on a hallucinogenic journey that transcends into a revenge mission. This is probably where the strengths of the novella lay … in Jim’s ability to pierce the werewolves curse with flight-of-fancy humor and a gargantuan body count to rival any in horror fiction. The gore element is right on the money, as is the author’s ability to have us sympathizing (and rooting), for our wounded protagonist.

There is definitely an audience for this book, but it falls into a category that is hard to define. A novella should not be a chore, yet there were certainly times Arena of the Wolf felt more like a clinical assignment. Overall, however, these are personal predilections. Jim Gavin is only just beginning to carve a niche for himself, and there is little doubt he will eventually find a dedicated readership.