THE INFERNAL
Kim Wilkins
1996 Random
House 478
Pages $14.95 PB
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Australian horror novels written with intelligence and devotion are
rare. The Infernal, a paperback original from Random House, is one
of those beasts. Penned by a talented young Brisbane writer, this debut
novel makes the last five year's worth of domestic horror titles look like
someone's idea of a practical joke. At least there is comfort in knowing
that the industry responsible for publishing dreck by G. M. Hague and J.
Radford Kier can also recognise and support quality genre fiction.
The Infernal is a modest witchcraft story told
with an emphasis on plot and character. In fact these elements are so well
handled that for me the pages never stopped turning, a sentiment many Australian
horror enthusiasts have expressed over the grapevine. Yet the The Infernal
is not just an effective dark fantasy tale, targeted at aficionados and
genre reviewers. It also works by telling an interesting story about realistic
characters - the skin and bones of any typical page-turner, making it accessible
to anyone who enjoys the proverbial 'good read'.
Echoes of a past life intrude into Lisa Sheehan's current
existence as a rock musician, both from within and without. As she vividly
relives this alter-ego's history, a series of grisly executions leaves
Lisa and her grunge outfit 747 mor-tified when the hacked-up victims are
identified as former fans. The disappearance of a friend of Lisa's only
intensifies the mystery, propelling the reader through ever more twisted
and grotesque situations, not to mention lighter moments of romance and
the inevitable police investigation.
Despite the dual first-person narrative, which gallops
along like a catchy Nirvana riff, the prose lacks a mild degree of flavour
and richness. With her energies focused on the plot, the author seems to
have foregone the polish that would have made The Infernal comparable to,
say, Venero Armano's excellent 1996 novel Strange Rain, which not
only shares The Infernal's savage pace, but also boasts a luxurious
prose line.
One additional shortcoming concerns the vague origins
of Gilbert's powers, which is described in terms of "demons", the "universe",
and absorbing "life essences". The story doesn't suffer, but the depiction
of authentic demonology is not
The Infernal's strong point.
Nevertheless, the novel delivers where it counts, hence
its (informally registered) critical success in a tough market place. The
Infernal is a landmark release which augurs well for the career of
Kim Wilkins, and Australian supernatural horror fiction in general. Her
second novel, tentatively titled Grimoire, has been optioned by
Random House.
EXQUISITE CORPSE
Poppy Z Brite
1996 Orion 244
Pages $34.95 HC
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Reviewed by KIRSTYN McDERMOTT
"Exquisite Corpse is a necrophilic, cannibalistic serial killer
love story." - PZB
Exquisite Corpse was to be the final novel of a three book contract
which Poppy Z Brite signed with Dell Books in 1991. However, by the time
the manuscript was completed, Brite's editor and founder of the Dell Abyss
horror imprint, Jeanne Cavelos, had left the publishing house. The new
editor assigned to work with Brite on Exquisite Corpse was reportedly
disgusted by its extreme subject matter and nihilistic worldview, and Dell
soon announced that the book was to be unceremoniously dumped.
Fortunately, Simon & Schuster eagerly snapped up the
controversial manuscript for mainstream hardcover publication. The new
editor was Robert Asahina, who originally purchased Brett Easton Ellis'
American
Psycho for Simon & Schuster - only to be forced to surrender the
book and watch as it went on to become a bestseller for Knopf. Tsk, tsk...I
guess some lessons still have to be learned the hard way! The British rights
to Exquisite Corpse were eventually purchased by Orion, following
a heated bidding war with Hodder & Stoughton.
With those kinds of pre-natal complications, it was no
small wonder then that PZB-freaks and gorehounds alike were anxiously salivating
as they awaited the long overdue delivery of Exquisite Corpse.
Unlike
American Psycho, Brite's novel attracted
very little attention in the mainstream press - and was certainly never
in danger of being "wrapped in plastic" and marked for adult consumption
only, the fate met by Ellis's much-hated offspring upon its arrival here
in Australia. This is not to say that the violence and perversities in
Exquisite
Corpse are not graphic and brutal in the extreme, or that the killers
are not viciously sadistic creatures who take enormous sexual delight in
the suffering and protracted deaths of their victims. Rather, it may have
more to do with the fact that no women are tortured or killed in Exquisite
Corpse, that all of the players here are male, killer and victim alike.
After all, the attack on
American Psycho came largely from the feminist
quarter, and it is indeed curious to observe that these self-styled defenders
of human equality only seem moved to condemn explicit sexual violence when
it is directed towards tits or cunts.
Can anyone spell hypocrisy, boys and girls?
Politics aside, I was actually a little disappointed in
Exquisite
Corpse. Extreme violence and gore are certainly rendered with copious,
loving attention to detail, and Brite's prose style is as eloquent and
breathtaking as ever, but in terms of plot and originality the novels comes
up short. The two primary characters, Andrew Compton and Jay Byrne, are
based very closely on serial killers Dennis Nielsen and Jeffery Dahmer;
so close, in fact, that major plot elements are lifted straight from their
case files and transposed with minimal change into the novel. Not only
is this lazy writing, but it means that suspense is often lost at vital
moments, particularly in one episode near the end of the novel where any
reader even slightly familiar with the well publicised Dahmer case would
find themselves treading all too familar ground.
Unfortunately, "familiar ground" seems to be more and
more the perfect phrase for describing Brite's work. We are once again
drifting through the seedy French Quarter of New Orleans, once again shaking
nervous hands with the same types of characters. By the third novel, this
has become a little wearisome and I for one would like to see Brite explore
new locales and address different kinds of people. Her strengths as a writer
lie in her superb mastery of prose, in her unflinching resolve to delve
as deep as need be into the darker regions of human psychology and experience;
to employ such abilities within so a narrow landscape as she has thus far
seems rather a waste. Perhaps her new biography, Courtney Love: The
Real Story, could signal the beginning of a much needed expansion of
scope. At the very least, it should get her out of New Orleans!
STORYMAN
Victor Kelleher
1996 Random
House 300
Pages $16.95 TPB
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This esteemed Australian author of adolescent fiction may now find
himself christened "Vicious Vic" or "Killer Kelleher". His first adult
thriller novel, the unassumingly titled Storyman, is veined with
carnal savagery and sexual brutality. Jaded gore fanatics will find in
Storyman
a serial killer who does not merely have a mean streak - he is painted
head to toe with the stuff.
For example. In the first scene Storyman goes to
task with a scalpel on a naked toddler suspended from a ceiling. Storyman
is also naked as he mutil-ates the kid, removing its heart and innards.
Kelleher's amply demonstrated aptitude for writing shock-horror
does not, however, mask the book's many problems. As suggested by his moniker,
Storyman's
psychosis compels him to model his murders on scenes from fairytales. At
times he also adopts disguises based on fairytale characters, such as Grandma
from Red Ridinghood. All of which is standard, off-the-rack SK fiction
fare. Furthermore, I spotted the killer almost immediately (the red herrings
practically glowed like neon); the woman protagonist ignored police advice
and constantly threw herself into dangerous territory, and a last-chapter
confron-tation between killer and protagonist was never in doubt, nor was
its outcome.
These clichés, or the pedestrian handling of them,
lost Storyman the 1996 Aurealis award for best Australian horror
novel. Personally speaking I relished the book's cruelty - it certainly
succeeds on this level and comes recommended for this reason alone. Overall
though, Storyman fails to tell a convincing story. In Kelleher's
sure hands the end result endures as a tantalising glimpse of what could
have been, or what might be if he continues down this path. When he gets
it right, as I'm sure he will, expect something utterly devastating.
DEADLY THRILLS
Jaye Slade Fletcher
1995 Onyx
/ Penguin $12.95 PB
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Reviewed by BEN FRAYLE
This serial killer tale is interesting for a number of reasons.
Dealing with sadistic electrician Robin Gecht and his
misfit assistants in murder, the book glosses over the fact that Gecht
was a former workmate of building contractor and part-time kiddy's clown
John Wayne Gacy. Maybe Gacy really was innocent and his claims that someone
else had been using his house were true after all (not!).
Gecht was really something in the annals of sad-istic
crime and even a seasoned reader of 'lurid crime novels' (as I like to
call them) such as myself had to take a few deep breaths when reading about
the atrocities perpetrated on the unfortun-ate female victims of the band.
Gecht had a profound attraction to big female mammary glands, not unusual
in
itself, but he like to slice them off women, living or dead, and have sex
with both the severed breast and the wound, sometimes while the bound victim
was still conscious! Disappointingly the photographs only show mugshots
of the victims and the accused. Gecht apparently exhibited a large degree
of control over his assistants, the author drawing parallels with Charles
Manson.
Overall this book is a fascinating study of serial killer
group dynamics.
THE MINES OF BEHEMOTH
Michael Shea
1997 Baen 242
Pages $5.99
US PB
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I have personally recommended Michael Shea's 1982 fantasy novel Nifft
the Lean to more horror fans than any other book. Unsuspecting visitors
to my abode are subjected to the same ritual without fail: "There's some
good meat in here," I say, waving my 1990 Grafton edition under their noses.
"You'll like it, I swear! This writer makes Lovecraft look like a girlscout."
A shrug is all the acknow-legement Michael and I get.
Now, with the publication of the follow-up The Mines
of Behemoth, I find that I cannot be bothered harassing people into
reading Shea - save for what I am about to say here, of course.
The Mines of Behemoth is a distant sequel to Nifft
the Lean's third novella 'The Fishing of the Demon Sea'. In that adventure,
Nifft
the Lean and his companion Barnar Hammer-hand were contracted to rescue
a boy from the guardianship of a hideous bonshad, quartered in the depths
of a subworld ocean. Nifft and Barnar's trek across this demon-infested
hellscape was hugely entertaining. The Mines of Behemoth employs
the same quest formula, as the thieves once again find themselves descending
to the suburbs of the damned.
The early chapters in Mines struck me as over-written,
symptomatic perhaps of a ten-year incubation period. Take for example this
passage:
The Northerlies polished the sky like glass, and its blue was
an infinite flame. South of us the other Angal-heims rode formationed on
the blazing sea, their surf-collared crests like a great docking fleet,
cruis-ing in to moor in the mothering underbelly of the Kairnish continent.
The prose settles into a less saccharine groove as the adventure proper
begins, yet Shea's athletic writing style is more of an asset than a liability
given his chosen fantasy milieu, especially when he turns his talent to
describing scenes of monstrosity and horror. This is what Nifft and Barnar
see as they enter the subworld:
Look there! What Thing looks down on us?
For this part of the subworld sky was gigantically inhabited
by a monstrous crimson Eye, socketed in the Earth-bone and staring immensly
down. Its pupil was a ragged fissure of utter blackness faintly measled
with stars, while within the scarlet hemisphere of its half translucent
ball, pearly shapes of cloudy tissue writhed, or languidly convulsed. But
most hair-raisingly it attended, turned torpidly to focus here or there.
It was framed in a gasketting of ophidian scales that merged with the stone.
And unceasingly it bled tears that ran in branching, impossible rivers
across the hell-ceiling, and down the hell-walls near and distant, to weave
in red rivers through the plain's rolling denudation.
Shea is clearly enjoying himself, and while the ghosts of H. P. Lovecraft,
Jack Vance, and other influences hover close by, I think they'd be more
inclined to applaud Shea's enthusiasm for these poetic grotesqueries than
to dismiss him as a mimic. More is going on here than a rabble of Stygian-speak
or Adjectives By Number. The narrative moves, and everything that surges
into view has significance, including that vast and terrible Eye.
Though Michael Shea's plots are usually exceptional, there
is one false note in the closing chapters of Mines. Due to a character
flaw, Nifft suffers a lapse in judgement that places him and Barnar in
an incredible situation, despite earlier justifications for it in the narrative.
The ending as written makes amends, spectacular as it is. But the sense
of being duped still lingers.
At 150 pages 'The Finishing of the Demon Sea' was the
longest novella in Nifft the Lean. The Mines of Behemoth
at 244 pages is one contiguous story. (Actually, it is more correctly a
novel than Nifft, which was really a collection of novellas.) Given
such a wide canvas, Nifft and Barnar's characters needed more than good
humour and comradeship to sustain them. In this tale the promise of acquiring
immense riches from their exploits generates conflict, each man determined
to finance his own Ultimate Feat with the booty. While this drama is somewhat
overdrawn, thanks to the stubborn nature of the characters, it adequately
spices up an already well-developed friendship. As other players are introduced,
our hero's quarrel falls easily into the background when it's not relevant.
The Mines of Behemoth has all the qualities that
made Nifft the Lean a horror-fantasy masterpiece: rich language, thorough
characterisation, a story that charges forth and a flow of invention to
match, a nest full of ecologically consistent nightmare creatures, and
enough allusions to unexplored (and possibly unexplorable) vistas to keep
the sense of wonder baying for more. For a dose of horror utterly beyond
the modern experience, step into The Mines of Behemoth, and be awed.
BLACK LEATHER REQUIRED
David J. Schow
1994 Mark
V. Zeising 244
Pages $37.95 HC
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Like Michael Shea, David Schow is also guilty of gilding his prose.
Set in modern times, the majority of stories in Black Leather Required
suffer rather than benefit from the extraneous labour. Only earlier efforts
such as 'Jerry's Kids Meet Wormboy' and 'Pitt Night at the Lewistone Boneyard'
match the brilliance of Seeing Red and Lost Angels. Black
Leather Required could be one of those bits-and-pieces collections;
Schow's more recent Look Out He's Got a Knife may in fact be the
formal follow up to Seeing Red. But the inclusion here of the aforementioned
vintage Schow stories, as well as 'The Shaft', tends to suggest otherwise.
'Scoop Makes a Swirly', a fun but shallow story original
to this collection, groans under the weight of its hip-heavy prose. 'Sand
Sculpture', 'Last Call for the Sons of Shock', 'Beggard's Banquet, with
Summer Sausage' (a play), 'Sedalia', 'Where the Heart Was', and 'Kamakazi
Butterflies' also rely too much on razzle-dazzle writing, muddy characterisation,
and cringe-inducing colloquialisms. Making matters worse, Schow mawkishly
dedicates some of this lollipop fiction to Ray Bradbury ('Kamikazi Butterflies')
and Richard Matheson, senior and junior ('Sand Sculpture').
'Life Partner', 'A Week in the Unlife', and the outrageous 'Bad Guy
Hats' are the best of the new-er entries. Together with John Farris's introduction
and Schow's entertaining afterword, they prevent the collection from unzipping
itself completely. The Mark Zeising hardcover edition is also hand-somely
appointed, with little footnotes by Schow appended to many of the stories.
Schow fanatics will want to grab this gorgeous hardcover on site.
Approach
Black Leather Required with the jovial
mood David Schow seemingly enjoyed as he crafted these tales, and you may
avoid the dis-appointment I felt upon finally reading them through. Now,
does Look Out He's Got a Knife make amends, I wonder?
THE CEREMONIES
T. E. D. Klein
1984 Pan 441
Pages $12.95 PB
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Even though I read this novel before 'The Events at Poroth Farm', reprinted
in DAW's The Year's Best Horror #3, I still thought the book's middle
third dragged. Klein's prose and knack for pushing the story forward minimised
the frustration.
The ending was a little hokey - something I'd expect from
Graham Masterton; once again in Klein's hands it worked, staving off incredulity
just long enough. I was actually barracking for the Ancient Evil, but I
was fond of slothful Jonathan and his librarian spunk, so I remained satisfied.
The novel also managed to terrify me in one scene
- it felt so good to be had! I was afraid my jaded sensibilities were immune
to a good old fashioned scare. Take a bow, Mr Klein. The Ceremonies
is vintage supernatural horror.
SHADOWS OVER INNSMOUTH
Edited by Stephen Jones
Art by Jim Pitts, Dave Carson, Martin
McKenna
1994 Fedogan
& Bremmer 399
Pp $34.95 HC
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VIOLENCE: Eh?
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Reviewed by BRYCE STEVENS
I went without beer to afford this book!
During a recent trip to Melbourne's Slow Glass Books,
the present writer and Skintomb's editor bumped into each other.
Flipping through Shadows Over Innsmouth, we were both awed by the
stipple and line inkwork sprinkled liberally throughout the 339 pages of
text. Sure, Carson's work is good, and Pitts knows how to visually portray
a crumbling seaport, but it is McKenna who most effectively flies the Mythos
flag, flapping in a foul breeze from the Atlantic. The filler illos (if
they can be called merely fillers) fronting each of the 17 stories and
bordering the contents pages are very good. But the three-quarter-page
illustrations featuring Father Dagon, Cthulhu and Mother Hydra really give
the viewer a solid belly kick. The three artists each have a section of
the page to fill, a system that works damned well. If you think that the
modern Innsmouth Mythos is all tentacles, then you've some catching up
to do.
The featured writers include, among others, David Sutton,
Basil Copper, Jack Yeovil, Brian Stableford, Kim Newman, Brian Lumley,
Neil Gaiman, Peter Tremayne and Michael Marshall Smith. For you politically
correct sticklers, no, there are no women contributors. It seems that Howard's
Mythos has mainly inspired and attracted male writers; perhaps this has
something to do with long, wet...never mind.
David Langford gives us a short piece titled 'Deepnet'.
Nice title, but it is actually about a computer network with a difference.
David Sutton's 'Innsmouth Gold' takes us back along the disused Rowley
line spanning the wetlands towards the old town. The protagonist is out
to win a bet that he can bag the last American wolverine. Nice one and
very atmospheric. Adrian Cole's 'The Crossing' and Peter Tremayne's 'Daoine
Domhain' are surreal pieces that baffle at first, but on a second reading
prove to be sinister with suggestion.
Basil Copper's 'Beyond the Reef' is a novella deliberately
written in the old pulp style. It's re-freshing, like a sea breeze, moody
and well paced with much running about down tunnels and through trapdoors.
Classic material. Jack Yeovil's 'The Big Fish' furthers the events concerning
the 1928 Federal authority's raid on Innsmouth. He sets his story in San
Francisco more than 10 years later. The Japanese have just attacked Pearl
Harbor, but the Feds are on the trail of a more insidious enemy: one they
have been battling for decades. Get the point? This piece is well written
and there are nice touches of humour throughout.
Michael Marshall Smith's 'To See the Sea' and Neil Gaiman's
'Only the End of the World Again' are powerful tales that set scenes of
menace and claustrophobia. The novella 'Dragon's Bell' by Brian Lumley
(a reprint from his collection
Other Exhalations) shows the man
in fine form with a moody tale set in his native Britain. Kim Newman shows
us a grotesque situation in an all-night convenience store in Innsmouth.
A lady is waiting for her husband to show up (both have that look). The
pun ending is a killer.
Nicholas Royal's 'The Homecoming' has to be the most unusual
story in the collection. Set in Belgrade during and after the cleansing
years and involving displaced Serb-Croats, 'Homecoming' presents a modern
post-war zone setting that is quite unnerving. You have to dig real deep
to see why this story is actually in the collection, but the moment of
comprehension is worth the added synaptic effort.
Shadows Over Innsmouth surely ranks Stephen Jones
among the finest contemporary horror/ fantasy anthologists. At $38.00 for
the hardcover (no paperback release as yet) I'm sure a few people will
baulk at purchasing it, but the artwork finally sold me on the buy. Highly
recommended.
A HISTORY OF TORTURE
George Riley Scott
1940 Senate 327
Pages $6.95 TPB
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First published by T. Warner Laurie in 1940 and Torchstream Books in
1949 as The History of Torture Throughout the Ages, this latest
incarnation from Senate was on sale at my local Target for seven dollars.
The same publisher has also reprinted Riley Scott's 1968 book The History
of Corporal Punishment in trade paperback. Both volumes are worth reading
for their quaint, antiquarian accounts of the cruelty and punishment metered
out since the dawn of human sentience. A History of Torture is a
particularly harrowing catalogue of torments, being informed and perhaps
inspired by The Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs,
which I yahoo-ed in issue three of Skintomb.
Considerably broader in scope, Riley Scott's book consists
of four main sections: The Psychological Aspects of Torture, describing
how persecution and hate inevitably lead to a climate of state-sanctioned
torture; A History of Torture, detailing the acts of brutality practiced
by civilisations ancient, medieval, and modern; The Technique of Torture,
an overview listing every documented form of torture, including the ghastly
Death of a Thousand Cuts from China and the atrocities perpetrated by the
American Indians on whites and natives alike; and The Case Against Torture:
a short testimony condemning torture as a wholly ineffectual deterrent
and punishment. It also pleads for the vanquishment of cruelty and violence
in modern society.
The erstwhile Mr Scott is a fine historian who is both
drawn to and appalled by his chosen subject matter, exhibiting a duty-bound
zeal that is neither gloatingly sadistic nor insufferably prudish. The
depth of his essays on the psychological and sociopolitical aspects of
torture also proves he is not merely concerned with the "good bits". Many
of the issues he discusses - vengeance, S/M, mob mentality, semantics -
are not only perceptive but also coloured with a measure of personal involvment
that is essential for communicating the inherent outrage this topic carries
with it. Pages of dry exposition would not do the job as eloquently.
Ever since reading about this long out-of-print item in
Sheer
Filth #8 I've been searching everywhere for it. Thanks to Senate Books
a new generation can read and own a copy of this relentlessly brutal true
crime text.
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