Busy Blood.

Busy Blood is a collection of stories by D.F. Lewis and Stuart Hughes and is published by The Exaggerated Press. I love reading Des Lewis' real-time reviews but have to say that a lot of the time I have absolutely no idea what he means (a failure in my understanding rather than in his ability to communicate I hasten to add) so it was with a degree of trepidation that I started reading this book, with a mind to reviewing it, my concerns being that the writing would be so far over my head that I would have nothing insightful to say about it. (That said, it could be the case that I never have anything insightful to say about anything I review...)
Still, life is nothing without a challenge and, having now finished the book, I can say that to some degree my fears were confirmed, there were many occasions when reading one of the stories, or even after having completed it, that my reaction was "what the **** was that all about?" but this is in no way a criticism of the book. Many of Des' reviews communicate the emotions and feelings he experiences when reading rather than straightforward critiques of the stories themselves. Which, after all, is the most important thing. The function of art - in whatever form - is surely to create some kind of emotional response. My emotional response to Busy Blood, and the stories therein, definitely was one of confusion - which was in turn unsettling, which, when you think about it, is exactly what you would want from well written horror.
And this is definitely well written horror. I've banged on about Des Lewis a lot so far in this review but this book is a collaborative effort, the other author Stuart Hughes has written stories I've enjoyed in other publications (most recently in Hersham Horror's Alt-Zombie) and it's a compliment to both him and Des that you can't tell where the joins are. I'm not sure if the two authors wrote individual stories or collaborated within the stories themselves but either way I found it impossible to tell who wrote what, the tone and style of the writing is maintained throughout.
And it's the tone that's the key here. For whatever reason, this is an unsettling (there - I've used the word again so it must be true) collection of stories, disturbing even. It would be easy and superficial to describe them as "descent into madness" tales but they all share a theme of reality shifting and changing around the protagonists, (and not in a good way), of having the most unreliable of unreliable narrators. Many of the stories touch on surrealism - not my favourite style of writing usually - but manage to avoid the pitfalls that many Surrealists fall into of simply writing self-indulgent in-jokes (or bollocks as I like to call them) that are meaningless to anyone but themselves.
Busy Blood is a tricky read, but it's definitely worth the effort. Good writing should engage the brain and that's exactly what this collection does. You may well have to work out your own theories on what the stories are about, it may well be that many of them aren't actually "about" anything anyway. This is a good thing.
Can genre fiction be literary? Yes it can, and Busy Blood is the proof.

The Burning Soul.

The Burning Soul is the tenth book in the consistently brilliant Charlie Parker series by John Connolly.  It's another convoluted, multi-layered thriller by one of the best writers around at the moment. I've been reading this series since the first novel Every Dead Thing and am in complete admiration at how the quality is not only maintained but seems to improve with every new book.

What I've always liked about the books is the combination of the standard PI thriller with supernatural elements. Those supernatural elements came to the fore in my favourite book in the series The Lovers in which Parker's true nature was revealed.  The next book, The Whisperers somewhat surprisingly drew back from this (although the plot involved a decidedly supernatural object) and The Burning Soul is the same, making me wonder whether John Connolly is worried about becoming too "genre."

That's not to say there isn't a supernatural element to The Burning Soul, it may be half way through the book before it happens but it's definitely worth the wait.

The plot - as in all the other books - twists and turns and there are plenty of surprises along the way. The storyline is convoluted but never confusing.  The dialogue fizzes as normal and Parker's first person narration throws up the usual crop of pithy one-liners. Of one character Parker remarks "Now here was Walsh, looking like a man who has just been roused from a deep sleep in order to rescue an unloved cat from a tree..." Brilliant.

As well as having a great plot, beautifully drawn (and entirely believable) characters - regulars will be pleased to see Angel and Louis making an appearance - the writing itself is of an incredibly high standard. I think this book has the best opening chapter I've ever read. It's clever writing too, at one point I congratulated myself on spotting a mistake, a kind of continuity error - only to discover later in the book that it wasn't a mistake at all and was actually an important plot development. (At which point I congratulated myself again for noting it in the first place).

To recommend The Burning Soul is an entirely academic thing to do given that - like it's predecessors - it's  a firmly established fixture in the best seller lists but, if there is someone out there who hasn't discovered the series yet then I firmly urge them to do so.  Don't start here though, begin with the first book and you'll get enormous pleasure from watching the characters change and develop.

Dead Bad Things.

Dead Bad Things is the second Thomas Usher book by Gary McMahon, a sequel to Pretty Little Dead Things. This is a Thomas Usher book - it even says so on the front cover, but the novel actually features three main characters, each following their own plot lines - all of which eventually converge - and, of the three, it's Usher who appears the least.
He does enjoy two of the best set-pieces in the book however, a brilliantly written encounter in a cafe in which a connection is made between the parallel realities that make up Usher's world, and a surreal and terrifying trip through an abandoned warehouse.
The other two characters sharing the pages of Dead Bad Things both appeared in the first book, PC Sarah Doherty, embittered after a childhood of abuse from her recently deceased father and Trevor Pumpkiss - the stage psychic discredited by Usher in Pretty Little Dead Things.
The plot centres around the hunt for a child-killer.  This, combined with Pumpkiss's sexual predelictions make this another very dark piece from Gary and it is, at times, a difficult read - it will take you places you really don't want to go.  It's a credit to the author, however, and his skills at writing, that the story never feels gratuitous or exploitative, the horror of what's happening comes across loud and clear - there's no titillation here.
All the McMahon trademarks are here and images and ideas from some of his earlier works coalesce to stunning effect. This isn't meant as a criticism, seeing ideas evolve and form through a writer's work is fascinating.  It's those ideas that draw us to particular authors in the first place, in the same way that we like bands because of their sound - a sound that's distinctive and recognisable because they use the same chord progressions, instrumentation. Anyone who's read Gary's work before will have an expectation of anything new he writes.  Dead Bad Things delivers on those expectations in spadefulls.
My only real criticism of the book is that the conclusion is a wee bit exposition-heavy. Not in the usual way that I dislike exposition i.e. it's handled badly and comes across as clunky - Gary actually does it very well - but that there's too much, too much is given away about Usher's true nature.
There are similarities between the Usher books and John Connolly's excellent Charlie Parker thrillers, both in terms of the subject matter and the way the two series are written - first person perspective from the "heroes" mixed in with third person narrative. It was eight books into Connolly's series before Parker's true nature was revealed, following seven books of tantalising hints. Maybe it's a case of too much too soon with regards to Thomas Usher but we'll see... It's  a minor criticism and certainly won't stop me looking forward to the next book in the series.  There's resolution aplenty in Dead Bad Things but new threads are introduced too.  It's going to be interesting to see where Gary takes the character of Traci with an eye not a why.
It's a tough read, but there's loads of dead good things in Dead Bad Things.

The Eighth Black Book of Horror.

The Eighth Black Book of Horror is published by Mortbury Press and contains thirteen stories selected by Charles Black. Below is my review of the stories making up the collection which DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS.

Quieta non Movere by Reggie Oliver opens the collection and is yet another classy piece of writing from a writer who (to my shame) is new to me but who has produced some of the best short stories I've read in some time. (See my reviews for Bite Sized Horror and The Ha of Ha). This story bears some similarities to The Brighton Redemption which appears in Bite Sized Horror concerning as it does a cleric investigating supernatural goings-on written in the style of a period piece.  This is a good old fashioned scary story, the type to tell around a roaring fire ona dark winter's night.  there's no post-modern irony here, it's a traditional tale told in a traditional manner. I love horror that's grounded in reality, that holds a mirror up to society, but every now and then it's a pleasure to wallow in the classic traditions of horror literature.  I loved it. I've been so inpressed with Reggie Oliver's writing that I've ordered his new collection, Mrs Midnight and Other Stories.

The Last Coach Trip is by David A. Riley. Another author who's new to me, David's story, also in Bite Sized Horror, was so well written that it convinced me that there is still potential for good quality zombie stories.  This is another entertaining story about a day trip taken by a group of pensioners from a social club. One of them turns up late and appers out of sorts.  You'll probably guess why but the final twist in the story throws new light on everything that's gone before. It's a clever story and one I enjoyed very much.

Home By The Sea is by Stephen Bacon who is rapidly becoming one of my favourite authors. From mundane beginnings firmly rooted in reality - an ex-con heads north to Scarborough in an attempt at rehabilitation - the story moves into what first appears to be a standard "Creepy Old House" trope before reaching a climax that is genuinely unsettling. There's an image Stephen presents that's lodged in my subconscious which is truly disturbing - you'll know it when you read it. There's a nice touch of ambiguity too, which is always a good thing. Top notch stuff.

Boys Will Be Boys by David Williamson is up next. Have to say I have a few problems with this one.  If stories involving children genitally mutilating and then killing their parents is your cup of tea then this is the story for you. Gore and violence have always been part of horror and can be effective when handled properly. I feel this story was so extreme because it was trying to shock - trying too hard perhaps. The style in which it's written is emotionless, matter of fact, faux-naive and this somehow made it worse.  It's written that way to (I guess) represent the thinking of the kid in the story (who has to check the internet to find out what emotions are) and the title makes up the last line of the story, employed with heavy irony. It didn't work for me - maybe I dislike it so much because this review makes me sound like a bloody Daily Mail reader.

Behind The Screen is by Gary Fry. I liked the concept behind the conclusion of the story, the subject of the story watching helplessly from afar via webcam as terrible things happen to his family but felt that having the villain of the piece a real monster instead of just a deranged human being lessened the impact somewhat.  Also, having the main character such a sleaze-ball made empathy/sympathy difficult - his situation at the end of the story might have been even more effective if he'd been a happily married man.

I liked The Other Tenant  by Mark Samuels and felt it shared similarities with The Hack - a story by James Cooper in his collection The Beautiful Red.

Tok is by Paul Finch and a story I enjoyed a lot more than his contribution to the Death Rattles book.  I have a suspicion it's a story that may originally have been planned for his One Monster Is Never Enough collection as it's a story written around a real (!) creature of myth and folklore. Aside from some doubts over some of the logic in the story - following the murders of women on three consecutive nights, in order to protect his mother a man leaves his wife with her? - it's an entertaining read with a killer ending.  Being sad, I looked up the creature at the centre of the story in Wikipedia.  If only the residents of the housing estate under threat had done the same they'd have discovered they'd have been perfectly safe with just a few bricks...

Little Pig is by Anna Taborska and tells a Sophie's Choice-esque tale of the Russian occupation of Poland. The story is book-ended by two sections set in the present day which I feel would have worked better as just a single prologue.  You know when someone tells you a joke and finishes by saying "do you get it?" - I kinda feel that's what the epilogue does in this story.

Casualties of the System by Tina and Tony Rath is an odd little story which has me wondering how it qualified for a place in a collection of horrror stories.  It's told in a slightly tongue-in-cheek style and involves a radical new way of dealing with young offenders. Entertaining enough but a little too whimsical for my taste.

How The Other Half Dies is by John Llewellyn Probert and features a couple of characters whose smugness makes them instantly dislikeable.  The exposition fairy waves her magic wand fairly early on in the piece and pretty much gives away what's going to happen when the couple discover an intruder in their house.

Music In The Bone by Marion Pitman tells of an enigmatic musician with some interestingly manufactured instruments.  The title aside, there are enough clues all the way through this story to let you know what it's all about so the ending will come as no surprise.

The Coal Man is by Thana Niveau and tells of the present day repercussions of childhood rivalry turned tragedy.  It's an effective Bogeyman story, nicely told.

Mea Culpa by Kate Farrell provides a latin title for the last story to mirror that of the first.  I liked this a lot, a well written first person narrative which provides a fascinating character study.  There are a couple of twists at the end which work well, though even without them this would have been a strong finish to - in my opinion - a mixed bag of stories.