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.  

What the Night Knows by Dean Koontz

The signs were good, and early word of mouth suggested a return to form. With the inevitable hit and miss ratio of a prolific author, it appeared What the Night Knows was not only a homecoming to the magic of the past, but a transcendent step up the ladder; perhaps a piece of dark fiction that would be regulated to the status of classic and the author – while achieving greatness many books ago – would be held in even higher regard.

This optimism continued as I began my journey, and although difficult I managed steer away from an influx of reviews pouring in daily. Our opening monologue is pure Koontz, setting the stage for a power-play of epic scope where the author’s cerebral prose could be fully explored. Already, I had garnered the formula for What the Night Knows was going to be a similar one applied to Life Expectancy, where a domestic lifestyle is shattered by a series of malevolent dates over a certain time period. This worked for that particular book, and the ‘countdown’ or ‘ticking-clock’ effect is a tried and true prescription for suspense.

John Calvino is a homicide detective recently alerted to an entire family’s slaughter committed by a young member of it, one Billy Ryan, whose confession and lack of remorse highlights startling similarities between these murders and one's committed twenty years previous. Although not the Detective assigned to the case, John goes out of his way to initiate a meeting with Billy, and what he finds when coming face to face with him not only confirms this correlation to past events, but will open up whole new possibilities in regard to the perpetrator. For it was John’s family who were the victims all those years ago: his father, mother and siblings all the violent work of one Alton Turner Blackwood. Although dead, it seems Alton’s curse might just live on in the form of Ryan … until Ryan dies. Then all hell breaks loose.

At its core, What the Night Knows can be construed as a simple macabre tale – that of the invading spirit. One who is able to leap frog through time and space (and individual to individual), to finish off what he started. Thankfully, one of the strengths of the book is that Koontz can make believers out of us, and a serious mythology is constructed. Quiet easily, this aspect of spirit possession could have fallen into campy realms resembling something like Friday the 13th: Jason Goes to Hell, or perhaps a rampaging liquid-metal cyborg. The upsurge of dread and malice we feel from Alton Blackwood is real and pervading. The snippets of his journal interspersed throughout give an intimate glimpse into a worthy evil.

Progressing, the first oddments of doubt begin to creep in ... which slowly turn into outright disappointment. Koontz, over the course of years, seems to have lost touch with his fellow man. John Calvino is attached to a family almost perfect in its worldview. (They also have hired staff). His wife, Nicolette, is an acclaimed and successful artist; his children Zach, Naomi, and Minnie are faultless, often displaying little characteristics reflective of normal children. What we have instead are character motivations filled with nothing but 'Koontz-talk', where the author goes on rambling dirges advocating his Republican politics and conservative philosophies. In a brutal flip-side, everyone surrounding them are positively evil: thief's, sexual deviants, and even child murderers. And each are ripe for spirit possession. On a narrative level, I understand antagonists must be created for the purpose of fiction, but when they are heaped on with such loving abandon, it becomes unrealistic. Here, Koontz has attempted to step out of his comfort zone and create a story steeped in the supernatural, a narrative brimming with scenes almost Laymon-esque in their ferocity. But he doesn’t succeed. Horror (at a core level) is supposed to be fun … yet the depressing nature of this novel had me audibly sighing. When the final act came about, the un-thinkable occurred: I didn’t care whether I finished the final pages. As a reader, I was merely re-treading ancient ground from dozens of the author's previous stories.

Sadly, the return to form never came about. And (though I have unfailing respect for the author) a wide gulf opened in this particular experience. 

The Force Unleashed by Sean Williams

In all, there must be hundreds (if not thousands), of reviews for The Force Unleashed permeating the ether since it was first (unleashed). As a precaution, I have read none of them. HorrorScope has always taken its roots in literature – and that is how I approached The Force Unleashed ... a novel written by a local Australian, one given the opportunity to delve into an elaborate mythology almost unparalleled in its appeal to the world.

That said, there can be no denying what we are dealing with here: although my knowledge of the video-game itself was haphazard at best (I'm a rare gamer), the story-line of Star Wars Episode 3.5 had, of course, trickled into my awareness over time. How could it not? For there is an intrinsic Star Wars fanboy lurking within the psyche of any person who holds speculative fiction close to their heart. And for those of us who ignore the first two prequels as though they did not occur, another invitation to step into the window of the Dark Times. For this is apocalyptic Star Wars; a Star Wars where most childhood fancies have been discarded. Here, a more serious tone has engulfed the galaxy far, far away.

And through that window lies the story of Darth Vader’s secret Sith apprentice Starkiller and his whistle stop tours - a mission to find and squash the last rudimentary fragments of the Jedi, those scattered remnants pocketed throughout the galaxy. Accompanying him on his journey are his droid PROXY and adept female pilot Juno Eclipse. Both have tender and amnesiac pasts full of betrayal, and both are mentally warring within their awareness in relation to duties they perform in the service of the Empire. For gaming fans, I’m sure there is a veritable trove of information pertaining to a character like Juno … but this adaptation itself is complete with enough arc where our protagonist is concerned.  

Ensconced in the Rouge Shadow, the unlikely pair world skip from the festering droid wastelands of Raxus Prime to the lush forests of Felucia, encountering hostile natives and inhospitable terrain. Of course, what we have on show is a narrative unmistakably linked to a video-game … but I found myself warming to it. The Force Unleashed is non-stop battle and unrelenting action; descriptive graphics spewing from the page in the author's deft voice, giving rise to an utterly immersive world that will make you blink twice when lifting your head from the page. This is no Disney-esque outing; the Dark Side invades everything, lifting the curtain of a Sith mind denied to us in the prequels.

If the book reinforces anything, it is that Sean Williams is a chameleon writer. As a columnist currently living without deadlines, I cannot imagine the insurmountable pressure involved bringing another's vision to life, making it coherent, and pleasing a population of people without equal in its passion for the images. The Force Unleashed is a even a novel that manages to resonate on an emotional level (with a belter of a finale), so I was somewhat dubious when hearing a sequel is in the works. 

However ... knowing that once again its coming from the pen of Sean, reader's shouldn’t be discouraged taking yet another step back into the world of the Dark Times.

The Last Deep Breath by Tom Piccirilli

Another prolific writer whose talents have managed to slip under the radar, Tom Piccirilli is a four time Bram Stoker winner with over twenty novels to his credit and a slew of shorter tales ranging the gamut of mystery, thriller, horror, erotica and science fiction. A heavy-hitter in the horror clique, his name has clout – so I was excited to finally delve into his take on the novella form with Tasmaniac Publications The Last Deep Breath.

Even from the illustration and from Tom’s reputation, I pieced together this is a kind film-noir frolic and that’s exactly what's offer. The story follows Grey, a washed out drifter with no clear idea or centralized compass on where he wants to be - he only knows he must find his foster sister before the excesses of the world kill her. After both of them escaped the tortuous embrace of abusive foster parents, their crimes have seen them go in different directions … and his sister only desires reconciliation when death is just around the corner. After another vanishing act he follows her again – this time into the bustling heart of Hollywood. Soon he is seduced into a dirty world of scummy agents, fading movie stars, and half-baked leads.

The first thing that jumped out was the prose: Tom’s style is immediately accessible and I’ve always been partial to writers who are not afraid to lay on heavy doses of metaphor. Though somewhat grating at the beginning: to be sucked into a hard-boiled world set in the present day (let’s face it, most of us are conditioned to see this world through black and white sepia mirroring the styles of a bygone era). But this knee-jerk reaction is probably caused by not reading far or wide enough in the genre. Having never tackled a tome by Elmore Leonard, unfortunately my familiarity with the genus extends no further than films like Get Shorty with the locale setting of Mulholland Drive

Like other Tasmaniac titles, this one is short, sliping by with the speed of our protagonist Grey experiencing a chemical high. There are cool vintage cars, porn actors and pimps; there are movie stars and murders. And underlying all of it is the mystique and allure of what it is to come to Hollywood for the first time. Also, it wouldn’t be a Tasmaniac edition if it didn’t have a lengthy and very entertaining foreword - this time by Patrick Lussier.

To top it off there is a bonus short Between the Dark and Daylight, a completely original and funny romp whose idea might have been spawned by the real life ‘balloon boy’ saga that dominated headlines some time back. Although comical, it’s still skewed with a penchant for violence.

Quake by Richard Laymon

Richard Laymon was an author whose prolific sensibilities and writing work ethic guaranteed himself a legacy that keeps on giving: even if you’ve managed to slough through the majority of his tomes, chances are a few more lurk in the wings just waiting to be tapped. It was many novels ago during my reading life that I picked up a battered paperback copy of The Stake, and over the years I’ve kept returning to Laymon's work, sampling each novel in turn like a much beloved dish, never rushing the process and spacing them out so I can go on living with the sure knowledge there will always be another on the horizon. In 2001, the world of dark fiction lost a unique and glowing talent that comes along all too seldom.  

With a title like Quake and the accompanying illustration, Laymon enthusiasts will have no trouble envisioning what’s on offer: a gargantuan earthquake has devastated most of down-town Los Angeles. If this isn’t the big one, it’s certainly close to it – and the subsequent havoc wrought might just give Stanley Banks the opportunity he’s been waiting for with neighbor Shelia Banner. Every morning she jogs past his living room window, and every morning he ogles her. With his domineering mother now out of the equation and the streets in ruins, normal suburbia is suddenly transformed into a macabre playground for the depraved.

Racing to get home is Shelia’s daughter Barbara and her friends from school. Her husband Clint is also stranded and pairs with unlikely allies as the city abruptly becomes rife with roving gangs and looters. As the body count rises, Clint and Barbara try to make it home before Stanley catches Shelia, now trapped within her bathtub among the debris.   

One of Laymon’s more ambitious efforts standing at nearly 600 pages, the author never loses stride. Though sometimes small on action, he writes with the uncanny dexterity of making hundreds of pages fly by as though dozens of scenes are transpiring. A lot of this can be attributed to his study of character: rarely have I come across a novelist who can articulate people’s dialogue so accurately. Those familiar with his formula will know it often reads like a drama: narrative simplicity handled so craftily the tale becomes intricate. And it’s never more evidenced than in Quake. Probably the only pitfall is Quake's outdated nature – at the time of publication in 95, hand-held devices were still some time away. Hopefully this doesn’t deter a new generation from embracing Laymon’s oeuvre.  

As a horror writer, Laymon was authentic - someone who wore the genre like a badge of honor and never apologized for it. Years later he would pave the way for others like Brian Keene and Bentley Little to fill a void after his departure. One day, let's hope the world of cinema will pay homage by adapting one of his many visions.

Dread

There is no delight the equal of dread.

So begins the opening paragraph of a pivotal short story from the myriad of tales presented in Clive Barker's ground-breaking collection Books of Blood. Dread, a harrowing excursion into the nature of fear, stood out from others in the pantheon.  

Many years later we finally have a film adaptation from the funhouse that yielded semi-successful outings including Rawhead Rex, Candyman, Lord of Illusions, Book of Blood and The Midnight Meat Train. And it could not come at a more pertinent time. With the expansion of the splatter-porn field now firmly entrenched in the scaffold of the genre, I feel the original architects of such tales deserve their voice to be heard before we become swamped in a mire of imitation and unsympathetic translations lacking metaphor. Although shocking in tone, Clive Barker’s tiny tale of Quaid and his philosophical relationship with the ‘Beast’ of fear is somewhat loftier than the usual horrors.    

Jackson Rathbone plays Stephen Grace, a University cinema student who becomes acquainted with Quaid - a similar individual with a potent story from a past detailing horrific events: Stephen does not drive a vehicle after his sibling died at the wheel, and Quaid is still reeling from being a child witness to his parent’s dismemberment. Already, we are seeing elements deviate from the original story – subtle changes at fist but still keeping with the overall milieu. Quaid then proposes research into people’s fears for their first thesis, and soon they are joined by fellow-student Cheryl, there to document everything on camera. What follows is a character-driven descent into psychological terror with some gut-wrenching scenes.

Initially, I thought the restrained changes (and in particular the casting of Shaun Evans as Quaid) would hinder the build-up. This Quaid feels far too innocent and simple: gone is the dark charisma that made this expert manipulator so enticing. But as the narrative unfolds, Evans begins to exhibit all the distinctive traits needed to flesh out the character. Then, we face the conundrums associated with role-playing our fears … does staring into the eyes of the Beast for long enough finally grant revelation?

Writer/Director Anthony DiBlasi has worked recently on other Barker projects, and the final product of this small-budget outing is ultimately as slick and unnerving as anything released by a major studio. The tone has been honored; the material given a kind of dark reverence showcasing both an understanding of Dread tempered with the need for a clever rearrangement. While not containing the dark grandiosity of previous endeavors such as Lord
of Illusions or Candyman, Dread still manages to find its own shadowy niche in the legendary resume of Clive Barker.