Bad Vision

Bad Vision is the latest in the Hersham Horror Primal range of novellas. The series is into its third year now and has produced some high quality books thus far. The first in this year’s additions to the series comes from one of the good guys of the horror community Dave Jeffery.

The story begins intriguingly with an interview in a police station, pitching the reader straight into the narrative and introducing the novella’s protagonist Ray Tonks who is admitting to the murder of his wife…

A dramatic opening then, and one which leads into the events prior to Ray’s arrest via a series of extended flashbacks. These introduce the story’s other protagonists, Ray’s wife Denise and his work colleagues Eloise and Mike. Also introduced is the central conceit of the book, that Ray has an ability to predict future events, a “gift” he obtained following a schoolyard injury to his head.

Similarities then with The Dead Zone and, as becomes more apparent as the story progresses, The Medusa Touch. The author acknowledges the influence of the latter in his notes at the end of the book but it’s credit to Dave that he’s taken a familiar, and well-used, trope and created something new with it, something uniquely his own.

It’s the descriptions of Ray’s visions which provide some of the most effective sequences in the book as he experiences ordeals such as earthquakes and plane crashes as if he were there himself. If the horrors of vicariously witnessing these scenes of death and destruction were not horrific enough, things do get worse for Ray as the frequency and intensity of the visions increase – occurring randomly and often inconveniently – and change from what turn out to be real events to something more intangible, presenting images of torture and horror in some unknown, hellish landscape.

Ray’s day job, as a Clinical Risk Manager in an NHS Trust bears much resemblance to Dave’s own and his knowledge and expertise in the field of mental health allows him to create a thoroughly authentic work environment for his characters as well as fully realised back stories and histories for them. His knowledge of mental health issues allows for a sensitive exploration of them not just in the case of Ray – whose condition can surely classified as such – but for the other characters too. The multifactorial nature of these issues is presented here, nature and nurture both playing their part.

Not content with one storyline for the novella, Dave manages to cram a couple of others in too. Ray’s wife is having an affair (the description of a marriage in slow decline is very good indeed) and there’s also the small matter of a serial killer – nicknamed the Frankenstein killer because of their propensity to remove body parts from their victims – on the loose to contend with too.

This storyline takes up much of the running time and, if I have one criticism of the book, it’s that it possibly takes up too much. It is very cleverly done, with plenty of twists and turns along the way but – even though there are links to the main narrative – it perhaps distracts a little too much from what for me was the stronger of the storylines. This sub-plot is cleverly handled though, playing with the reader’s expectations and assumptions and has a resolution that (ironically, given the theme of the book) you won’t see coming.

The conclusion to Bad Vision is excellent, the Ray Tonks who sits in the police interview room is a man changed massively by his experiences. It’s a sequence which is extremely powerful, presenting a whole raft of ideas and philosophical musings and it’s something I wanted more of, and which I think could actually have benefitted from being longer in order to give those ideas room to breathe.

Which all sounds a little critical. Which I guess it is – but in a good way. I really enjoyed Bad Vision, felt it brought something new and interesting to a well-worn trope. These distractions aside, the writing here is assured and confident, with convincingly drawn characters behaving realistically in a fast-paced plot. The fragmented nature of the narrative is handled excellently by Dave and adds to the reading experience, the twists and turns along the way playing with notions of what’s real and what isn’t.

Bad Vision is a fine addition to what is proving to be a fine series. A potent mix of psychological and visceral horror, it’s a book I recommend highly.

Hersham Horror Novellas; The Stories Continue.

Accompanying Richard Farren Barber’s Perfect Silence, Perfect Darkness which I reviewed here, Hersham Horror are also launching two other novellas in their Primal Range at this year’s Fantasycon.

The first if these is Monstrous by Charlotte Bond. It tells of Jenny who – pretty much against her will – is relocating with her mother Pamela, following the breakdown of a relationship, to Haven - a woodland commune in the depths of Northumberland. As they settle into their new life, so they encounter the community’s other residents – and the secrets they carry with them.

Add a mysterious presence stalking the woods around them and the scene is set for Jenny’s journey of revelation, uncovering – in both literal and metaphorical terms – the nature of the beast in and of her new home.

Although the focus of the book is Jenny, the narrative is third person and presents events from various characters points of view, making much use of italicised inner thoughts for context and exposition.

Actually, probably a little too much. It’s a technique I don’t mind, (and am guilty of myself frequently), but there’s an awful lot of it in here – often running to paragraphs’ worth – so much that it often distracts from the narrative, taking you out of the book as if the characters are taking you to one side and whispering explanations to you.

The “monstrous” of the title refers to the thing in the woods (nicely hinted at until finally revealed) but it’s also the word used by some of the less tolerant members of the commune to describe others whose lifestyles fail to meet their high moral standards. Of course, the reality is that that’s how they themselves should be described. It’s a point which could perhaps have been made a little more subtly in the novella but a nice touch nonetheless.

Events finally reach a conclusion with a confrontation in the woods with the creature which has been stalking the commune – and the uncovering of connections and dark secrets. There are surprising revelations here, along with some deadly violence and it’s the latter which provides my biggest stumbling block in the book. Jenny is presented as rational and sensible, a counterpoint to the weirdness in the commune and I find it hard to accept that she would witness what happens and not even consider informing the police. Perhaps a more isolated setting for the book would have helped here, an island perhaps – truly cut off from society. Maybe it’s because I live not far from the location of the fictional commune; I love the wildness and emptiness of Northumberland but it’s not that remote…

Despite these criticisms, Monstrous makes for an enjoyable read, with lots of ideas and themes going on within it. It’s a good book, and one I recommend – I just feel with some things done a little differently it could have been a very good book.

Bury Them Deep is a dictum I remember well from my Murder for Beginners course and is also the title of the third novella in the Primal range written by Marie O’Regan.

It’s a supernatural thriller, told from the viewpoints of two characters – Maddie and Frank. The story begins impressively, not to say enigmatically, with Maddie’s uncovering of a skeleton – that of her mother who, it turns out, has been murdered. Things get even weirder when Maddie starts a conversation with her mother, in the process revealing her quest to find the remains and the itinerant life that has been forced on her to avoid the killer herself.

The second narrative thread details Frank’s story – describing his exploits as a serial killer of women via his own thought processes and innermost thoughts and as the novella progresses, it jumps between the two threads, slowly revealing the connection between the two storylines.

The two plotlines circle around each other until finally they collide in a confrontation in which the natural and supernatural combine to devastating effect.

I liked Bury Them Deep a lot, not least for the structure of the book, the clever way in which the two storylines weave together. There are twists to enjoy along the way, and it’s a nice touch to have Maddie almost as “weird” as Frank (though without the homicidal tendencies of course…) The final confrontation may have a touch of Deus ex Machina about it, and may stray towards sentimentality but the denouement is suitably dark.

Bury Them Deep is a short read – I have to admit I was surprised when I reached the end of it as there were still a lot of pages left in the ARC I was provided with – but there’s the bonus of two short stories included alongside the novella.

I’m firmly of the belief that the novella is the best medium for horror and Hersham Horror are doing a great job in solidifying that idea. I look forward to what the Primal Range will deliver next.

Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence

Given the current political climate, there’s a very strong possibility that the whole sub-genre of Post-Apocalyptic fiction could be lost to use, re-packaged as contemporary drama so it’s probably a good idea to make the most of it while it’s still here.

Such an opportunity is provided with a new novella in the Hersham Horror line (which launched very successfully last year with these titles) from Richard Farren Barber – Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence (a title which may, or may not, reference a James Lovegrove story – but which I kinda hope does because of the context).

The apocalypse in this book is not the result of handing the nuclear codes to a man with the reasoning capacity and awareness of a spoilt toddler - this is a work of fiction - but of an infection, a plague, which wipes out the majority of the world’s population, leaving only scattered communities of survivors. A familiar trope for sure, but those anticipating the arrival of hordes of zombies will be disappointed for in this scenario the “infected” are still very much alive, a threat simply because of the risk of infection they (literally) carry. Once dead, they remain dead – a situation which brings with it many practical implications for the survivors…

It’s the disposal of the corpses which is the job of Hannah, the protagonist – and narrator – of Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence. Along with her team, she retrieves the fallen bodies of those who have made it as far as the outskirts of the village in which she and the other survivors now reside, in order to remove them and with them the risk of further contamination.

It’s the epitome of “it’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it” and there’s much grimness to be had in the descriptions of what the team have to do. There’s much opportunity for character development too, with the personalities of the team emerging from the ways in which they approach their grim task.

The community is led by the charismatic Dr Andrew Hickman who has shaped the rules and policies by which the village is kept safe behind its walls and quarantine zones and it’s these which provide the subtext to the novella. The political allegory of Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence is writ large, the paranoia and exclusion of the survivors towards the infected (and – crucially – the “possibly” infected) holds a mirror up to the current political climate here in the UK and other countries which, frankly, should know better.

In this context, Perfect darkness, Perfect Silence is incredibly powerful. The last act (the final solution) performed by Hannah and her crew is to tip the dead into huge funeral pyres – scenes which cannot fail to evoke images of much darker times, and a salutary reminder of the real cost of extreme ideologies.

I was mightily impressed by this novella and regard it as the best that Richard has written thus far. Despite the “heavy” politics it still works as an exciting read with fully drawn characters and a great deal of imagination on display. It’s a cleverly constructed world Richard has created here and his use of Hannah as a protagonist gradually discovering – or uncovering – exactly what is happening is something he handles expertly.

I highly recommend Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence. It will be launched, alongside the other new novellas in the series, at FantasyCon in September.

Hersham Horror Novellas.

A new line of novellas from Hersham Horror Books will be launched at FCon at the end of the month, featuring the talents of Stephen Bacon, James Everington, Mark West and Phil Sloman. I do like me a good novella, and still contend it’s the perfect medium for horror so it was with much pleasure I accepted a kind offer from Peter Mark May to review the books prior to publication.

I began my novellathon with Stephen Bacon’s Laudanum Nights, a Victorian-era mystery revolving around missing children and homunculi. It’s a pastiche, but a lovingly created one – with Stephen’s enthusiasm for the time period shining through in the attention to detail and the verisimilitude which results. Atmosphere drips from every page and you can almost smell as well as picture the fictional city of Blackfold and its inhabitants. (Mind you, I can’t remember Dickens or Collins dropping the C-bomb but there’s a couple in here).

It would have been easy to fall into the trap of stringing a series of clichés together – a case of style over substance – but that’s not the case here as there’s plenty of plot to be getting on with and a skilfully drawn protagonist struggling with his own personal issues. The setting is really just context for the narrative, but such a good job has been done in creating it that it enhances the plot rather than distracting from it.

The story itself is a procedural, an investigation into the disappearances of children from Blackfold, a story which reaches its conclusion in a suitably gothic house located in the marshes outside of the city. The denoument is satisfyingly horrific, the explanation for why the children have been taken nasty and creepy. This explanation is provided in an extended expositional dump by the villain of the piece, something I often have problems with but in this case handled very well; the speech is couched in regret almost, rather than braggadocio and as a result works extremely well.

Stephen has hinted that he may return to Blackfold for future stories. Having enjoyed Laudanum Nights as much as I did, I sincerely hope that he does.

Next up was Paupers’ Graves from James Everington. Unlike Stephen’s story, this one’s set in a real place in the present day. The place is Nottingham although James is at pains to point out in a brief introduction to the piece that it’s the Nottingham he sees when he closes his eyes, not the one he sees looking out of his window.

Specifically, the story is set in a cemetery where a restoration is being undertaken of the area containing the titular graves, a place where those too poor to afford a decent burial were interred.

As part of the project, ream members are given the names of one of the deceased and asked to discover their history in order that they can be put on display – an act of remembrance for those forgotten by society.

The problem, of course, with digging up the past – especially in a cemetery – is that sometimes the metaphorical can become literal. Sometimes the past really can come back to haunt you…

As might be expected from the author of the amazing Quarantined City, this is a story which operates on multiple levels. It’s a story about stories; it’s about society. It’s about truth and the power of words and memories. It’s also about ghosts and hauntings and is very effective in dealing out the thrills and chills. It’s a corker – scary and profound.

Past the hallway point now, and onto Mark West’s The Factory. This is the longest of the books, right at the top end of the novella word count and tells the story of a group of urban explorers, reunited by the funeral of a former member.

Their friend has died whilst exploring the abandoned factory of the title – described in a lovely, spooky set-piece which acts as a kind of prologue for the book – and, by way of paying respect to him, the group decide to make their own exploration of the premises.

It is a long novella, and many of those words are taken up introducing the characters to us. I felt that maybe this took too much of the book’s running time – there is an excellent scene in a restaurant in which the pasts of all the characters are revealed, and tensions surface which really could have sufficed but before we get there we’ve been through the individual phone-calls to one another and a meeting in a train station. I’m perhaps being overly-critical here, the writing is splendid throughout – Mark has a real ear for dialogue and the characters are all expertly drawn – I just felt the scene-setting took a wee bit too long.

That said, once the group – and the reader alongside them – finally get into the factory, so begins a cracking, thrilling journey through the darkness. Abandoned buildings are creepy – hence their appeal, all shifting shadows, uncovered memories and strange unexplained noises. Mark pulls out all the stops here, and has the added bonus of ghostly children whispering in the group’s ears.

Fate creeps up on the group, biting them firmly in the arse and any problems I had with the first half of the book are well and truly forgotten in the thrills and horror which conclude it.

And so, finally, to Becoming David by Phil Sloman. By way of confession, I have to say this is my first encounter with Phil’s writing but – on the basis of this novella – it certainly won’t be my last.

It’s an everyday tale of serial killers and cannibalism – well-worn tropes but given a fresh spin by clever structuring and wonderful prose. The story shifts viewpoints a few times which, as the story unfolds, is shown to be a very clever technique indeed. It’s central character however, is Richard, who picks up men in pubs so as to bring them home to…

Well, what he gets up to is pretty unpleasant but these scenes are described in a matter of fact way, without any real fuss thereby making them all the more effective. There’s gore here of course, but this isn’t the main source of the horror in the novella – the book is much more subtle than that, psychological rather than visceral in its terrors.

It’s a haunting tale – quite literally – and one of possession. The David is the title is one of Richard’s victims, unfortunately he won’t simply lay down and die.

I felt Becoming David was a book of two halves, there’s a distinct change in tone in the second part of the book as Richard goes on the run, a lighter feel with a lot more humour. This wasn’t a problem though, as I enjoyed both sections. The writing, just like Richard’s planning, is precise –and a joy to read. From (restrained) slasher horror to a psychological descent into Hell, I loved every word of it and its conclusion is very satisfying indeed.

Peter mark may has picked a fine set of books to launch his novella line and I highly recommend that you buy every one of them. I wish him well with his new project and look forward to future publications.

Demons and Devilry.

Demons and Devilry is the latest in the Pentanth series from Hersham Horror and contains five stories edited by Stuart Young on the subject of, well... demons and stuff. Does the spirit of Dennis Wheatley live on?  - (quite possibly, inside the body of Iain Duncan Smith it could be argued) - the stories in this anthology may go some way to answering that.  It's the fourth in the series and I can't help thinking the publishers missed a trick here by not waiting for another mini anthology to hit the presses before this one so it could be the fifth in the series thereby opening up the possibilities of much fun and games around the whole Pentagram/Pentanth thing. I digress, however.
The anthology begins with Peter Mark May's The Abhorrent Man. The story begins in the Carthage of 146BC during the sacking of the city by the Romans. Amidst the mayhem, a demon is released in an underground temple. The narrative then jumps forward to the 1920s whereupon an archaeological dig unearths the temple with drastic consequences.
There's a lot going on in this story - quite possibly too much for it's relatively short running length. Cramming so much in results in a lot of telling rather than showing and because of this, many of the scenes lack a sense of atmosphere. The author has obviously done his research, and it shows, but much of it seemed shoe-horned in and it's unfortunate that one of the characters quotes a temperature in degrees Celsius some twenty years or so before the scale was introduced. The Abhorrent Man isn't a bad story, it's actually a very good one - unfortunately it's been crammed into too few words and has suffered accordingly.
There's plenty of atmosphere in the second story however, Thana Niveau's Little Devils. It cleverly uses children as the protagonists, allowing their innocence and naivete to take them deep into some very dark places that adults would naturally avoid. Exploring a building site, they discover dead rats and bones scattered around the remains of a fire. Then things get a lot worse... The imagery associated with devil worship is well known, perhaps even cliched, but it's put to very good use in the story's conclusion, providing some genuine shudders and making this the strongest of the five tales.
Next up is The Devil in the Details - a nice pun of a title as might be expected from its author John Llewellyn Probert. And a very proberty tale it is too, exhibiting all the hallmarks of the author's distinctive style. Beginning with an almost cinematic description of a house on the Welsh coast (you can imagine the long helicopter tracking shot with a sinister voice-over as you read it) it's a darkly humorous piece about the less than successful attempts of Maxwell Chantry to summon Lucifer himself, aided and abetted by a sinister surgeon with a penchant for torture. I liked it a lot, laughing out loud on a few occasions and enjoyed the twist in the tail.
David Williamson's The Scryer takes some old horror tropes (or cliches if you're being cynical) and does... well... not much with them really other than to place them in a fairly mundane story. There aren't too many surprises in this tale of Dan, who, upon inheriting a big old house in the country, discovers a book made from human skin and a mirror. You can probably guess what's going to happen, and unfortunately you'll probably be right.
Rounding off the collection is Guardian Devil by Stuart Young, a novella no less which transports the reader from an S&M club to the Kabbalah's Tree of Life and back again, gaining enlightenment on the way. It was an experience for me as I've never been to either of those places and hopefully this vicarious experience of them will be the closest I come. Much like the opening story of the collection, there's a lot going on here and I echo my criticisms of The Abhorrent Man here, suggesting that there may be too much going on. Stuart has obviously done his research as well but I can only assume that he was somehow possessed by the malevolent spirit of Dan Simmons who forced him to Write All Of It Down. There are vast tracts of kabbalistic theory here and unfortunately they sometimes take you out of the story, interrupting the flow. It's all fascinating stuff, and makes for some startling imagery and set-pieces but it's a lot to take on board when all you really want is a scary story about demons. (Somewhat contrarily, I would have preferred that the connections to Cable St and its history mentioned in the story were actually developed a bit more so I guess there's no pleasing some people...)
Guardian Devil is pretty strong stuff - definitely not for the delicate flowers out there - and a lot of it is quite shocking. It's a hard hitting, disturbing story which - despite the reservations I've already mentioned - provides a strong conclusion to the collection.
The devil may have the best songs but he doesn't always have the best stories. There's enough in Demons and Devilry however to prove that there's life in the old dog yet.

Sleazy does it...

Anatomy of Death is the third in the line of Pentanths (collections of five themed stories) produced by Hersham Horror. It’s edited this time round by Mark West, someone whose work as an author I’ve enjoyed very much in the past. His writing has always struck me as subtle and understated with a strong emotional core – quiet horror if you like, so it was a bit of a surprise to see that the theme for this collection was the sleazy, pulpy fiction that was so prevalent in the seventies when horror was going through its equivalent of the punk movement. Indeed, the subtitle for this collection is Five Sleazy Pieces (which, if made into a film would probably also star Jack Nicholson).

Given the subject matter of the book it was another surprise to see that the first offering was from Stephen Bacon, another writer whose work I admire for its subtlety and emotional impact. Pseudonym is a first person account of a journalist’s interview with Gilbert Hudson, an author whose heyday was in the seventies writing the sort of lurid pulp novels that provided the inspiration for this collection. It’s a clever way to start the anthology, providing as it does a brief history of the horror genre and how writing styles – and readers’ tastes – have changed, including a nice little dig at the Twilight saga and it’s hideous (if sparkly), teenager-friendly offspring.

It’s a slow build of a story that uncovers the secrets Gilbert Hudson has been living with for most of his life (and which led to his adoption of a pseudonym), secrets involving an incident that’s bizarre enough to earn its place in any respectable pulp fiction… The denoument is suitably gross and creepy too and Pseudonym is a cracking start to the collection.

Don’t let the title of Jonny Mains’ story fool you. The Cannibal Whores of Effingham is in fact a searing socio-political satire, a scathing indictment of the ravages of capitalism and an allegory for the global economic collapse.

Actually, it’s not…

The title kind of gives it away really, and you pretty much get what you might expect. The plot, such as it is, revolves around the eponymous characters biting off more than they can chew when their next victim turns out to be even more deranged and psychopathic than they are. It’s basically just an excuse to throw in as many “shocking” scenes as possible although the impact is lessened by repetition and the fact that none of the characters involved are in the least bit likeable. It’s an exercise in exploitation, and succeeds admirably in this, just don’t expect intense characterisation and thought-provoking plotting.

John Llewellyn Probert’s Out of Fashion is the shortest story in the collection and calms things down a bit after the excesses of the previous tale. It’s another first person narrative and is set in Victorian London. There’s not so much sleaze but plenty of anatomy with John cleverly merging his medical knowledge into the unfolding narrative. The use of first person is interesting given the conclusion of the story but it’s an entertaining short that gives a whole new meaning to the phrases “Clothes maketh the man” and “fashion victim”.

Arse-Licker is by Stephen Volk and is a story that not so much pushes the envelope as tears it open and tips its contents out. Much like Jonny Mains’ offering, the title pretty much encapsulates what the story is all about but it’s to Stephen’s absolute credit, and skill as a writer that the gloriously gross content is transformed into an amazing piece of fiction.

The key scene, in which metaphorical becomes literal, is absolutely horrible. In a good way. It’s a long scene and will have you wanting it to come to an end long before it actually does, but it’s written with such brilliant dark humour that when a moment of epiphany (or should that be epi-fanny?) is reached it will have you laughing out loud. It’s a hard trick to pull off but Stephen does it brilliantly, there isn’t a bum note in there.

Darkly comic, this is certainly the most memorable story in the collection. Lurid? Yes. Sleazy? Yes. Tongue-in-cheek? Most definitely.

Mark’s own story The Glamour Girl Murders completes the collection and is probably comes closest to capturing the spirit of the original stories. It’s set amongst the world of “glamour” photography and porn and takes place in a seventies London which Mark captures perfectly with some lovely period detail.

It’s a murder mystery as the title suggests and fulfils nicely all the pulp traditions with a suitably monstrous killer and a climax (yes, I chose that word specifically) set in a thunderstorm. Oh, and a shady character called McMahon…

Anatomy of Death is fine addition to the Hersham back catalogue. Horror is indeed a broad church as Mark says in his introduction. Tastes may change, the genre will evolve (as it has to) but at the end of the day you can’t beat a bit of pulp.
You can buy the book here.

Alt-Zombie.

Alt-Zombie is the latest publication from Hersham Horror and is a collection of 21 stories (or 22 if you buy the print version) about the titular monsters. I have to say that I'm not the greatest fan of zombies (especially since one of them ate my dog) but I had high hopes for this book after enjoying Hersham's first collection Alt-Dead and seeing the names of some of the authors contributing stories. Given that the Alt is short for alternative I was also hoping for some new takes on the zombie trope, willing to have my views changed. I'm pleased to say that, on the whole, the collection achieves that and, with one or two exceptions, this is a really strong, enjoyable anthology.
There is some "standard" zombie fare in here but it was good to see that a lot of the stories really did try to do something different. Most notable in this regard was Alison Littlewood's Soul Food - quite possibly my favourite story in the collection which has the most tenuous link to zombie mythology but which provides a thought-provoking, and moving tale that puts a whole new slant on the phrase "you are what you eat". 
The collection opens with Gary McMahon's Thus Spoke Lazarus which is a revisionist take on the bible story of the raising of Lazarus. It's cleverly written and, as a lapsed catholic, I enjoyed it immensely. There's a moment in the story when the risen Lazarus realises why he's been raised from the dead and I experienced a frisson of pleasure as I realised too. A great ending to the story and a great opener for the book.
The "religious" theme is also used in Adrian Chamberlin's The Third Day, though in a less humorous (I'm sure Gary's tongue was firmly in his cheek when he was writing his story) - and more post-apocalyptic - way than Lazarus.
Humour is a feature of a few of the stories. It works well in Stuart Hughes' Ded End Jobz, a story whose subject matter would generate some cracking headlines in the Daily Mail but which ends rather abruptly, less well in Blind Date by David Williamson. The latter requires a suspension of disbelief far beyond the norm and strays to close to offensive to be really funny. It also contains, at one point, a "breaking the fourth wall" moment. This is either an example of clever, post-modern meta-fiction or just bad writing.
Mark West provides a lovely little vignette of a story in In Cars which crams a lot into its short length and beautifully captures the feel of extreme horror colliding with mundane reality.
Other highlights are Stephen Bacon's Scarlet Yawns (the best title of all the stories) which channels the spirit of The Thing with its paranoia and body horror set in an isolated Scottish theme park and Stuart Young's White Light, Black Fire in which the zombies aren't the worst monsters and which also contains some metaphysical ruminations about the nature of the soul.
It was a brave decision to include a story which uses The Holocaust as its backdrop but I'm afraid Shaun Hamilton's Acceptable Genocide fell into the trap of being exploitative, a little too lurid in its descriptions of the horrors meted out to the inmates of Auschwitz. The reality of what happened in the concentration camps is horrific enough. To use them in a story about zombies seems somehow disrespectful.
Dave Jeffery's Ascension? is probably my favourite story in the whole collection. It's a beautifully written slow-burner of a story that has your perceptions changing the further on you read. In a less overt way than Stuart Young's story it presents the human survivors of "zombie apocalypse" as the real monsters and raises questions as to what "humanity" really is. It's classy stuff.
So has Alt-Zombie changed my views on zombie fiction? Not entirely - I fear the bandwagon will roll on for a while yet - but it has proved that talented writers can discover something new and different from within the tropes and mythology of the living dead. Alt-Zombie is a strong collection in which the highlights far outweigh the occasional stumbles. There's gore and gross-out yes, (though not as much as you might expect), but there are also cleverly written, thought-provoking stories. Hersham Horror have produced another fine quality product and it's one I heartily recommend.

Alt Dead.

Alt Dead is a horror anthology, the first publication from Hersham Horror Books and contains sixteen stories.
Shape Without Form, Shade Without Colour opens the collection and is by Stephen Bacon. It's great to see one of Stephen's stories opening an anthology because - as I've mentioned in an earlier post - he's rapidly becoming one of my favourite authors and this story reinforces that opinion.  Stephen writes in an understated style, there are no frills, bells or whistles (which is in no way a criticism!) and that style ably serves this tale of loss and grief.  It's a slow burner which gradually introduces its supernatural elements, done in such a way as to complememt the air of melancholy the subject matter, and the skillful writing creates.
Till Death Us Do Part by Stuart Young carries through the themes of guilt and loss in a story about Janet who is suffering from Cotard's Syndrome, believing she is dead.  It's an excellent piece of writing that brilliantly captures the frustrations of those having to deal with mental illness. It's a story about loss and grief for sure, but it's also about guilt. The ending is horrifying and heart-breaking.
Everybody Floats is by Gary McMahon and explores that same theme of guilt from another perspective. The imagery in this story is superb - and genuinely unsettling. It's another great story from a brilliant writer (and one I particularly enjoyed as I read it on holiday, on the Northumberland coast, by the sea...)
Last Supper is by Dave Jeffrey and marks the arrival in the anthology of the dreaded Z's. Anyone who's read any of my earlier posts will know zombies aren't my particular cup if tea but I have to say I liked this story a lot - told from the perspective of a helpless victim, the attack of the creatures is genuinely terrifying.
Mr Huxton Goes Camping is by Mark West and tells the story of workaholic Phil Huxton whose life is deteriorating around him because of his dedication to his job. It's a cleverly written story - and one that I immediately re-read on completion just to confirm what I thought had happened. It's sad and poignant and I loved it. Mark's another writer I've "discovered" fairly recently and everything I've read of his has been of a consistently high standard. His story in the Where The Heart Is anthology was probably my favourite of that collection.
Running With The Dead is by Zach Black and continues the impressive start to this anthology.  Like Mark's story that precedes it, it's a moving piece which examines the transition between life and death. The ending is touching and uplifting.
In Bits by R.J. Gaulding changes the tone set by the last two stories in the most extreme way. A private eye story, subtle it ain't. It probably tries too hard to conform to noir conventions in the way it's written and ends up being a wee bit over-written. Probably tries too hard to shock too. There's a twist which works okay but which doesn't significantly improve the story and it ends on a massive clunker of a cliche.
The Clinic by Jan Edwards is a game of two halves.  It starts off really well with an interesting, sinister premise. All goes well till the end where it's revealed that... I won't spoil it for you but my reaction on reading it was nononononono!!!
The Shufflers is a collaboration between Steven Savile and Steve Lockley. Another story with strong, unsettling imagery with the eponymous creatures making their relentless way across snow-covered fields to a remote farm. Creepy stuff and a nice variation on the zombie trope.
The Z Cruise by Katherine Tomlinson is a black-comedic tale of a "Disaster Cruise" which goes horribly wrong when the passengers go ashore to an island inhabited by - well, the Z in the title probably gives that one away and probably explains why I wasn't too impressed by the story either.
Fisher Of Men by Adrian Chamberlin is another story heavy with imagery - this one's literally dripping in it. A carnival float turns out to be a vessel of revenge from beyond the watery grave in a tale that was just too much for my own fairly tolerant suspension of disbelief.
The Men In High Castles by Ian Woodhead has the feel of being an extract from a much longer piece, seemingly set in a post-zombie-apocalyptic world where society is divided between the haves and have-nots. It's an entertaining enough break-in caper but has possibly the most abrupt ending of any story I've ever read.
Unfinished Business by Stuart Hughes is an interesting mix of dreams and reality and tells of ghostly revenge and retribution. It's a nicely constructed story but the last few lines of the story seemed a little rushed - I think they could have been expanded into a longer scene to increase the impact of the final revelation.
A Real Buried Treasure is by Stuart Neild and represented - for me - the low point in the collection. Stuart's bio tells us his previous work includes Giant Killer Eels, a Killer Granny series and a novel about violent, swearing killer gnomes. Which gives a pretty fair indication of where he's coming from with regards to writing serious horror. I finished A Real Buried Treasure and my immediate reaction was WTF! The premise of the story is flimsy at best then becomes more ludicrous, leading to a denoument that's just ridiculous. There's a massive info-dump at one point that sits there like a brick in custard. Not my favourite then, and I'm still not sure how it fits into the theme of the anthology.
Talk Show is by Richard Farren Barber and is a return to form for the anthology. It tells of a late-night talk show DJ, about to broadcast what will be his last show. The reasons why it's his last show become clear as the story progresses - the themes involved are common to a couple of the stories earlier in the collection but this is the best of them, written with a nice sense of irony and creating a believable atmosphere of isolation.
The Jacket by Johnny Mains is the last story in the collection and had me in two minds. The first of those minds really liked the beginning of the story, a period piece that seemed to be developing into an MR James-ish ghost story. The second mind was ultimately disappointed by the conclusion, the story having taken a very different direction indeed, with events becoming just a wee bit too outlandish for my tastes.

On the whole, Alt Dead is a strong collection and one that I'd recommend. Peter Mark May, the editor, dedicates the book to independent authors and I'd heartily agree with that choice.  It's great to see yet another small press coming into existence, providing another outlet for horror writing and I wish him every success with future publications.
The next book is already planned - Alt Zombie.
Bugger.