The Ravine.

Friday nights as a kid always meant one thing - The Virginian on telly. Although I was probably too young to fully appreciate the storylines, it must have sparked something within me, generating a love of westerns that continues to this day. My love of horror developed a bit later but it too has grown and developed over the years in parallel. What could be better then than a horror/western fusion, a combination of my two favourite genres? Well, not a lot actually.
The Ravine is William Meikle's latest novel published in a variety of formats by Dark Regions Press, following on from their last collaboration, the immensely entertaining (and wonderfully produced - the hardback edition truly is a thing of beauty) Sherlock Holmes: The Quality of Mercy. 
Part of the joy of genre fiction is the familiarity of its conventions, there's some comfort to be derived from reading a story where we immediately know what the characters are going to be like. Using stereotypes, archetypes even can be lazy writing though, and it takes real skill to use them in such a way that they bring a knowing smile to the reader but still endow them with enough depth for the reader to care about them and what happens to them. William Meikle does this and that's what makes his books such a joy to read.
Mysterious gunslinger? Yes. Noble cavalry officer? Yup. Rancher down on his luck? Oh yes. The Ravine has them all. What it also has are angels, demons and zombies, oh, and some very weird fish. Chuck all those elements together and you end up with a cracking tale of adventure and horror with some brilliantly effective set-pieces. What you also get is a tale of honour and redemption - the story could have been set in any time period or location but the western setting is perfect for it, a harsh environment where men, and women, very often had to do what men, and women had to do.
I loved The Ravine, and heartily recommend it.

Fear The Reaper.

There are two things in life - or so we're told - that are unavoidable; death and taxes. Whilst Starbucks, Google and Amazon may beg to differ on the latter, there's no denying the inevitability of the former. And it's death that provides the theme of the latest anthology from Joe Mynhardt's Crystal Lake Publishing (showing commendable skill at choosing the best of the two options) with Fear the Reaper - a great title for a book, showing contemptuous disregard of the advice offered by The Blue Oyster Cult and bearing a tremendous cover from Ben Baldwin.
The book opens with Hecate, a poem by Adam Lowe which nicely sets the tone for the rest of the collection, one which - on the whole - sticks closely to the theme, a definite plus in my opinion.
The Life of Death by Mark Sheldon is the first story, somewhat fittingly as it tells of the birth of Death (note the capital letter) in a piece that reads like a fable, or a grim fairy tale but which for me could have been trimmed somewhat (with or without a scythe), the novelty aspect running out long before the words actually did.
There are twenty one stories in the book and all are of a high quality making this a substantial - but fulfilling - read and also excellent value for money. The authors all bring their own slant to the mythology of The Grim Reaper and the subject of death as a whole, some more successfully than others. My Dark Minds partner in crime provides a cleverly constructed story in A Life in Five Objects that provides a neat twist in the tail whilst Stumps by Jeff Strand proves that cheating death isn't actually such a good idea after all. It's a gruesome story but its dark, black humour makes it work, something I felt wasn't really the case with Dean M. Drinkel's Der Engel der Liebe which strayed a little too close to gratuitousness for my liking.
Stephen Bacon's Rapid Eye Movement is more a story of love than death but is a beautifully written, highly emotional piece and Gary Fry's The Final Peace focuses on those left behind coping with bereavement, a heartfelt, moving piece of writing.
The highlight of the collection for me was John Kenny's The Final Room in which Sam, a petty criminal on the run from the police stumbles into a shack in a swamp wherein he discovers his destiny... It's a great story with an ending that perfectly encapsulates the theme of the collection.
Fear the Reaper is a very, very good collection of stories with plenty of variation and originality in the different interpretations of the theme. It's the strongest of all of Crystal Lake's releases thus far and one I highly recommend.

Monsters in the Heart.

Stephen Volk's versatility as a writer has perhaps never been better demonstrated than by two of his stories published this year. This is the writer behind the elegiac, moving tribute to Peter Cushing that was Whitstable and also the masterclass in gross-out, the outrageous Arse Licker. Both were - for very different reasons - brilliant pieces of writing so it was with much anticipation that I looked forward to the release of his latest collection of stories, Monsters in the Heart from Gray Friar Press. There are fifteen stories in the collection, two of which are brand new and not previously published.
The first story is After the Ape which I'd already encountered in the Never Again anthology. I was blown away by it then, by its originality and imagination and was similarly affected on this second reading. Centering around events after the fall of King Kong from the Empire State Building it merges real life horror (and political comment) with iconic fictional characters to produce a - frankly - stunning piece of writing.
The death of another fictional icon is the starting point for Hounded another highly imaginative piece using the character of Dr Watson, here attending a seance after the death of Holmes and inadvertently releasing something terrible in the process (the title of the story providing a clue as to what that might be...)
There is much variety within the fifteen stories, in style and content. Some read like fables (Swell Head, Fear) whilst others touch on the surreal (Easter, Air Baby). There are "real" monsters, Monster Boy is an affectionate tribute to those created by the movies whilst Appeal For Witnesses updates an ancient mythology into a police procedural that put me in mind of some of Joel Lane's stories. In White Butterflies and Notre Dame the monsters are all too human, whether through violence and aggression or religious intolerance.
Who Dies Best provides a satirical look at the movie making business with a novel approach to filming death scenes whilst the immensely disturbing In The Colosseum uses inner city violence and voyeurism to deliver a blistering attack on the current state of TV broadcasting.
Pied a Terre is a ghost story but ironically is the one I enjoyed the least. In his notes, Stephen acknowledges the risks he took in writing the story, that offence could be taken. I wasn't offended but did feel slightly uncomfortable reading it. Good horror should make the reader uneasy, just not like this...
The Hair is a good old fashioned horror yarn, a tale of voodoo rituals leading to a conclusion that's truly horrible. And which, when you think about it a wee bit more, becomes even more horrible.
A Paper Tissue is possibly the least overtly horrific story in the book but which for me was the highlight of the collection. There's nothing supernatural in this tale of a couple holidaying in Italy but the writing is superb, a perfect description of a relationship that's failing until a chance encounter changes everything. The conclusion of the story is truly unsettling - subtle but deeply disturbing.
Monsters in the Heart is a marvellous collection. Imaginative, intelligent writing from a master craftsman. Highly recommended.

Fry's Lurkish Delight.

Lurker is the latest novella from Gary Fry and is published by DarkFuse. It tells the story of Meg, recently moved to the coast in order to rebuild her life following a miscarriage, seeking rehabilitation in the splendour of the countryside which is now her home. The story begins with the line "He was leaving her again" - specifically referencing the fact that her husband is leaving for work, meaning a two day absence because of the distances now involved, but also cleverly and succinctly  providing insight into the state of their relationship. Harry's insensitivity, selfishness and lack of awareness are established in these opening scenes, somehow he sees himself as the victim, that it's him who's made all the sacrifices.
Instead of support and love, Meg feels only isolation - those feelings exacerbated by the surroundings she now finds herself in. Only a few pages in and already the tone is set, disaster must surely be lurking just around the corner...
There's beauty too of course in those surroundings and a vivid picture is painted of that environment. An incorrect classification of a centipede as an insect aside, Gary does a great job in describing the wildlife and scenery of the landscape around Whitby, creating - for a while at least - an image of rural idyll.
It's when Meg stumbles upon some ancient mine workings that the so far understated feelings of isolation and paranoia come to the fore. Ruins are creepy places, dripping with atmosphere, and that atmosphere is brilliantly captured in the sequence where Meg becomes aware of something lurking in the shadows...
Lurker is a monster story but there's still some doubt as to its actual nature, what - or who - it is, even after the final page has been turned. This is a Gary Fry story so its the psychology that's as important as the narrative thrust and it's this that gives the story its edge. How much of what Meg sees and experiences is real and how much is a figment of her own imagination, her damaged psyche? The tale is very cleverly constructed with images encountered in the "real" world - including TV documentaries and kids playing outside the house, (arthropods in the garden) - taking on a darker significance in Meg's eyes. Many authors would have chosen to write this story in first person, creating an unreliable narrator so it's to Gary's credit that he tells the story in third person but still manages to create an extremely effective air of ambiguity.
I'd recommend, if at all possible, that you read Lurker in one sitting and thereby immerse yourself fully in the experience, allow the repeating - though subtly changing - imagery to get inside your own head.
The denoument of Lurker is open to interpretation - but then all the best ones are. It's a subtly crafted tale that packs a lot into its relatively short length. In much the same way that a certain American author has created an outstanding canon of work set in his own North Eastern coast, so Gary Fry is slowly doing the same thing here in the UK.
I loved Lurker and thoroughly recommend it.

Falling Over.

Falling Over is a collection of short stories written by James Everington and is the first time I’ve encountered his work. It won’t be the last. It’s a special moment when you read a new author and immediately get the feeling that you’re onto something special and such was the case here. The stories in this collection are evidence of great talent at work, both emotionally and intellectually stimulating.

The first story gives the collection its title and is one of the best stories I’ve ever read about paranoia. (And I don’t just say that because they will probably read this). Written in first person – as it had to have been – it’s a marvellously ambiguous tale that slowly builds an - ultimately almost unbearable - atmosphere of confusion and mistrust. There’s a hint of Bodysnatchers about it but the premise is presented in wonderfully written prose that allows the reader to tap into, and experience for themselves, the paranoia of the narrator. An unreliable narrator? Probably. Maybe. Possibly not… An uncertainty that adds another layer of enjoyment to the story. It’s an intelligent, thought-provoking piece of writing and a strong start to the collection.

The theme of paranoia is also evident in Sick Leave (which riffs on ring-a-roses, another reference to falling over) but which also throws fears of sickness and death into the mix along with a hint of alienation, the latter something it shares with New Boy which incorporates an extra measure of guilt for good measure. (And which also features a fall…)

Fate, Destiny and a Fat Man from Arkansas explores themes of – well, fate and destiny as it happens, the eponymous American a manifestation of the unavoidable karma meted out on two burglars who choose to break into the wrong house.

Light relief comes in the hundred words of Haunted which delivers everything you could possibly want from a piece of flash fiction with great aplomb.

The Time of Their Lives presents another view of mortality and is cleverly written from the perspective of a young boy, unable to grasp the reality of what is happening in the hotel he is begrudgingly staying in with his grandparents. The central theme will call to mind a couple of films which I won’t name for fear of spoilers but I will mention that the atmospheric writing conjured up images of sequences in Kubrick’s The Shining for me.

I personally believe that one of the circles of Hell (one quite near the centre actually) is made up entirely of thousands of suburban neighbourhoods, each with their own residents committee setting the standards of what’s required in order to "fit in" with the community. If you’re of a similar mindset then you’ll probably end up rooting for The Man Dogs Hated – an individual who falls way outside expectations in this tale which exposes the petty mindedness and hypocrisy of those who cast judgement on others, those who fail to conform to their own version of what’s right and proper.

The last two stories in the collection are perhaps the darkest. Drones is another first person narrative (and all the more effective because of it) from a soldier whose job is to carry out remote attacks by UAV, witnessing the death and destruction via computer monitor. This distancing effect has a profound effect on him, desensitising him to the terrible acts he is committing, rendering the act of killing automatic and emotionless. It’s a descent into madness tale which – if I was being overly-analytical – could have something to say about video gaming but, whether this was the intention or not, the ending is very dark, and very effective indeed.

The final story has the ironic title Public Interest Story – just how ironic it is becomes apparent as you read. It’s basically a (well deserved) diatribe against the British Press and the monumental hypocrisy of that institution. It’s not press intrusion that’s the theme here, rather manipulation and the horrifying ease with which public opinion can be influenced by untruths and prejudices presented as facts. There’s another theme running through the story too, that of mob mentality - the two feeding off each other to bring about a conclusion horrifying as much for its inevitability as what actually happens.

Falling Over is a fine collection of intelligent, thought-provoking horror which I thoroughly recommend that you buy. You can do that here.

The Hole.

The Hole is the latest novel from William Meikle and is published in a variety of formats by Dark Fuse.. It tells of the bizarre happenings in and around a small town in America where a strange humming noise brings about headaches and nosebleeds in the local population. It brings about much more besides however, namely huge holes in the landscape into which large parts of the town – and its inhabitants – topple.

As if this weren’t bad enough, creatures begin to emerge from the hole, to terrorise the survivors…

Oh, and the Government have set up barricades manned by military personnel around the town with orders to let no one leave…

So the scene is set for another tour de force of pulp fiction from the imagination of the best purveyor of out and out genre fiction currently plying their trade.

The Hole cracks along at a fair old pace (and is relatively short for a novel) and I devoured it in three sittings. Even though the narrative hurtles along, there’s still room for character development which makes you care about what happens to the protagonists despite their genre cliché origins – no mean feat in itself and testament to William’s skill as a writer.

The story’s influences are many and varied, strongest I guess is Invasion of the Body-Snatchers but I also felt the resonance of Stephen King’s Under The Dome and The Mist with their themes of isolated groups of people under the threat of something beyond their comprehension. The Hole is very much its own beast though, using – and acknowledging - these themes and influences but adding a hefty dose of originality to produce an end product which is a heady mix of science fiction and horror with some genuinely creepy set-pieces. There are contemporary cultural references too, HAARP, CDC and FEMA get a look-in and, as a resident of the “desolate” North East of England, I was pleased to see fracking getting a mention too.

On his website, William explains that he writes as an attempt to escape and that’s exactly what I did when reading The Hole. It’s a thoroughly entertaining book, one that took me back to the novels and films that first captured my interest in the genre. You pretty much know what you’re going to get with a William Meikle book which I say not as a criticism but as something positive as, without fail, they always meet – if not surpass - those expectations. I like to think that he has a whale of a time writing his books, I know I do when I’m reading them.

Differently There.

Differently There is a new novella from John Llewellyn Probert and is published by Gray Friar Press. It tells the story of Paul Webster, admitted to hospital on the night prior to his operation to remove a cancerous tumour. The nature and location of the lesion mean that the operation is a risky one, the outcome uncertain and it's this enforced confrontation with his own mortality that provides the context for the story which unfolds.
Anyone familiar with John will know that he has faced a similar situation himself recently and this experience obviously informs the writing which, as expected, is a joy to read. The subject matter means that this is indeed something different from John, a more contemplative, melancholic piece but in so being, proves just how good a writer he is, whatever the style or theme of the story. There is a touch of whimsy at the beginning of the tale, with descriptions of the mundanity of the room in which Paul finds himself and the furniture therein. It's actually a very effective device and it was nice to see it reprised at the story's conclusion.
The novella is written in the present tense which works beautifully and is entirely appropriate given the storyline. As Paul drifts in and out of consciousness, he dreams of past experiences, gradually realising as the night progresses that there is a significance attached to them and also that there is something more to them than merely reminiscence. The memories he has are subtly altered, at first it seems by his love of fantasy and horror somehow merging into them but in reality by something a lot more sinister.
To describe more would be to give away too much but the truth of what is really happening is slowly revealed and leads to a moment of decision that is the most important of Paul's life.
Differently There is an exploration of how the decisions we make, the memories we collect influence our lives and make us who we are. It's about the mistakes we make and how we respond to them. It's about optimism and, dare I say it, the human spirit. It's a love story - or, if I may be so bold - a love letter. John's own love of horror and science fiction shines through and it's significant that special mention is given to Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man.
It's a fabulous piece of writing - I use the word in its most literal sense as well as its more colloquial. There's a moral for sure but it's written with so much style that it's nowhere near preachy. It's ironic that a story whose subject matter is death and mortality is actually such a life-affirming piece of writing. I had goosebumps when I finished reading Differently There - and yes, I had to wipe away a little moisture from my eye. (I think the bloke sitting next to me on the train believed me when I said I had some grit in it). It pretty much goes without saying that I recommend it most highly.