Savage Amusement.

The name Daryl has two possible derivations - from Middle English, meaning a place of wild animals, or Old French meaning "little darling" thereby pretty much covering both extremes of human behaviour. The 1985 science fiction film D.A.R.Y.L. featured as its eponymous hero a boy whose brain is a computer housed in a human body. Little wonder then that Gary Fry has chosen the name for the main character in his new novella Savage from DarkFuse which provides another blend of psychology and horror which is fast becoming the author's trademark.
(Of course, it may be that he's just a fan of Hall & Oates but as a theory I have to say that I can't go for that).
Savage finds the aforementioned Daryl - a cognitive scientist - in an isolated part of the Yorkshire countryside, seeking petrol for his car which is running low on his journey home from a conference in Durham. He stumbles into an area where the landscape seems too clean and precise, too ordered to be entirely natural and, within it, a village whose inhabitants reflect that unnaturalness, staid and formal - a group who make Presbyterians hedonistic by comparison. An encounter with a young woman provides some enlightenment when she asks whether he is one of the undisciplined...
Savage explores similar themes to Gary's novel Severed - the conflict between the extremes of human nature and behaviour. Are we animals kept in check by a sophisticated computer or is the programming of that computer flawed thus leading to indiscipline? There's much imagery employed here to reinforce the arguments, the disciplined world all hard angles and precision whilst the "savage" components are - well, I won't spoil it here but suffice to say the embodiment of the darker side of human nature is not something you would want to bump into on a dark night. There's even a self-referential sacrificial squirrel - which is possibly the most surreal sentence I've ever written.
There's a lot going on here, issues of perception are also raised and how context and environment play a significant role in how "others" are perceived but this actually leads to my only criticism of Savage - that it's really too short to do justice to the themes being explored. The reduced word count has given it a feel of being crammed in, magnifying the contrived feel to the narrative. A higher word count would have given the ideas more room for manoeuvre, space to breathe and allowed more subtlety.
A minor criticism however, as with all of Gary's other works Savage will stimulate the intellect whilst at the same time providing an entertaining read. It's available from DarkFuse in June. Not buying it would be a significant error of judgement...

The Elvis Room.

The resurgence in the horror chapbook seems to be going from strength to strength with the well deserved success of the Spectral Press imprint as well as others, including This is Horror. One of the latter's publications, Conrad Williams' The Fox was indeed one of my picks of the best of 2013. I was very much looking forward therefore to their latest release, The Elvis Room by an author I must shamefully admit was new to me, Stephen Graham Jones.
My shame deepened after reading The Elvis Room, along with a growing sense of annoyance that I hadn't read any of Stephen's previous work as this is already a contender for my favourites of 2014 and is the best thing I've read so far this year.
It's a marvellous concept behind the story, a disgraced experimental psychologist investigating the urban mythology behind the so-called "Elvis Rooms" - a term made up by the psychologist to describe the room in every hotel that is kept empty just in case someone famous and/or important turns up unexpectedly needing a room. The myth is expanded to incorporate the death of a resident or residents when the "Elvis Room" is occupied.
It's a first person narrative from the perspective of the psychologist and so skilfully done as to create a brilliant character study. Driven would be a polite way to describe him, obsessive probably more accurate as his personal life and relationships wither and die, the price paid for his compulsive quest for knowledge. Obsessive? Yes. Unreliable? Maybe...
That obsessiveness is first displayed in the events that lead to his dismissal and disgrace (as well as that of a colleague) - a wonderfully atmospheric passage in which high-tech equipment provides evidence that ghosts do exist and that atmosphere intensifies as the story progresses and the (now maverick) investigations relocate to hotels, institutions that are quite possibly the spookiest places on the earth.
It's all high-concept stuff - something that often fails in horror writing as the original idea, intriguing and original as it may be, doesn't always resolve into a satisfactory conclusion. This is absolutely not the case here, the denoument and the explanation which is uncovered makes absolute sense, tying in perfectly with all that has preceded it and providing an eminently satisfying conclusion to the story.
Oh, and it's really scary too with some genuinely creepy moments that will make your hairs stand on end. (The reason for using that particular cliche will become apparent when you read the story...)
The Elvis Room is an outstanding piece of writing; intriguing, clever and downright scary and I thoroughly recommend it.

The Horror Fields.

The Horror Fields is a collection of ten "rural" horror stories published by Morpheus Tales. I ordered the paperback version which was a chapbook design, something I guess that managed to keep the production costs down but which has had the unfortunate effect of forcing the text into such a tiny font size that it's quite difficult to read. (Especially when you're as old as I am).

The back cover proclaims Morpheus Tales to be "the UK's darkest and most controversial fiction magazine" so it was a bit of a surprise to find that the first story in the book, Untouchable by Rosalie Parker was so - well, gentle I guess. It's a tale of the past resonating into the present when a ranger, James, finds a torn red dress whilst working on a wall repair. There's a story within a story within a story here with hints of witchcraft and a subtly created sense of unease to provide an atmospheric start to the collection.

Figures in a Landscape by John Coulthart takes ley-lines and standing stones as its starting point in a wonderfully atmospheric tale which contains some lovely imagery and which hints at nature taking revenge for its desecration, here evidenced by lines of pylons extending across the countryside, reclaiming its powers in the most terrifying of ways.

Bluehill Gang by Don Webb seems a strange story to include in this collection. Actually, it's a strange story full stop, telling of an initiation ceremony for a group of kids made to spend the night in a remote hut. Enlightenment ensues, with glimpses into the nature of evil but - to be pedantic - the "rural" aspect of the story is slight to non-existent so it's odd that it's found a home in a themed anthology.

Where the Marshes Meet the Sea by Edward Pearce, on the other hand, perfectly encapsulates the theme of the anthology with a tale in which the landscape itself provides the horror, telling of the eponymous location, a place that doesn't feel right, evil even - sensations that turn out to be entirely justified.

It's odd to find that Live Bait Works Best has two authors, being as short as it is, but so it does - Murphy Edwards and Brian Rosenberger. Quite how the labour was divided I'm not sure, there's certainly no changes in flow or tone in the story to indicate where responsibilities for the narrative changed. This is a good thing and this is a good story. The title will probably provide enough hints as to what's to come but this story of an angling break for a businessman still manages to provide some extremely well drawn characters and a shocking conclusion.

There's political allegory overflowing in James Everington's Across the Water (even in the story's title) which tells of Griffin (and yes, that's a very specific and pertinent choice of character name right there) taking a summer job maintaining and operating a lock on a canal, a job that does indeed involve opening floodgates. It's a cleverly written tale of karmic revenge with Griffin's prejudices coming back to bite him literally (or not - as the case may be) by a bunch of parasites. Lovely stuff.

Bus Routes Through the Sticks is by Richard Farren Barber and it wasn't until I'd finished reading it that I spotted the lovely pun in the title. It's a familiar set-up - hiker gets onto a bus in a remote location and begins to wonder where it's taking him - but it's a fine variation on the theme with a well crafted sense of slowly building paranoia.

The Rocking Stone by Ian Hunter didn't quite work for me given the suspension of disbelief it required was just a wee bit too much. Not in the overall concept - which is a very good one (though similar to that of the Coulthart story) - but in the narrative framework that it hangs on. A shame, as the conclusion is very well done and very effective.

There's a fine line between literary writing and purple prose and, unfortunately, I feel A Remembrance of the Strange by Justin Aryiku falls into the latter category. I found it overwritten and overblown, the indulgent prose having to be clambered through to find the slight story hidden within it.

Whether you regard surrealism as a way to "resolve the previously contradictory conditions of dream and reality" or simply as a load of self-indulgent bollocks, that opinion will inform your appreciation of the final story of the collection Stale Air by Rhys Hughes. I know little of absurdism, it's a genre I rarely encounter, I can't tell my Auster from my Albee and, given that it mostly revolves around characters discovering there is no inherent purpose in life, there seems little purpose in trying to offer an opinion of this story (other than it put me in mind of a pickled cabbage suspended over a sea of pink typewriters through which swim sharks singing Happy Birthday, backwards, in Portugese. Harsh, I know -but hey...)

As with any collection, The Horror Fields is a curate's egg. The good outweigh the bad though and I do recommend that you buy it - which you can do here.

Reaping the Dark.

Long before Nicolas Winding Refn made his modern masterpiece Drive, Walter Hill – at the peak of his form and not long before making one of the best westerns ever The Long Riders - directed The Driver, both films having as their protagonist, getaway drivers. In both, the character was unnamed, referred to only as “Driver” and “The Driver” respectively and it’s a similar scenario with the protagonist in Gary McMahon’s latest novella courtesy of DarkFuse, Reaping the Dark which tells of Driver Z, given an opportunity to escape his life of crime when the proceeds of a heist gone wrong fall into his possession.

We do find out Driver Z’s name – it’s Clarke – and also that he lives his life by a strict code of rules, with precise instructions given to the people he works with which, along with maintaining a distance between parties courtesy of a go-between and his anonymity, ensure his safety.

Here is a man in full control of his life, taking charge of his own destiny.

The ethos he lives by is “never buy anything you can’t leave behind” which echoes that of Neil McCauley, played by Robert De Niro in Michael Mann’s brilliant crime epic Heat. In that film, De Niro had Al Pacino’s Vincent Hanna chasing him down whilst The Driver’s Ryan O’Neal was pursued by Bruce Dern. What’s after Clarke, however, is a lot worse – a demonic entity called a Reaper, the summoning of which makes up the story’s prologue; the heist which presents the opportunity of escape to Clarke and his pregnant girlfriend Martha has gone down at a building owned by the Order of the Dark Veil, a cult of devil worshippers…

What follows is a highly effective blend of crime/siege/horror story written, much to my delight, in present tense thereby adding a sense of urgency and immediacy to proceedings.

It’s a taut story which creates a palpable sense of tension as Clarke, Martha and the psychotic McKenzie (the other survivor of the heist) evading and taking refuge from the Reaper in a warehouse. It’s the supernatural elements that take precedence at the story’s conclusion though, in which the true nature of the Reaper is revealed.

There’s plenty horror here, visceral – as displayed in the showdown with the Reaper but also, and more profoundly, an existential horror as the author repeatedly pulls the rug from under your feet with a series of revelations that turn Clarke’s world upside down.

Reaping the Dark is a short but tense read that effortlessly blends the more esoteric elements into a skilfully created and authentic reality. It’s available from DarkFuse in May and I recommend it highly.

In the Valley, Where Belladonna Grows.

I have to confess that when I read the novella Still Life from Spectral Press, it was my first encounter with the work of Tim Lebbon. On the strength of that book, and given my enjoyment of it, I sought out more of Tim’s writing and as a result find myself currently nearing the conclusion of Coldbrook – a hefty tome but one which I’m flying through, faster than the spread of a zombie plague. Listed within the book are all of Tim’s other publications – an extensive back catalogue that, whilst whetting my appetite greatly with the prospect of some wonderful reading ahead also made me wonder how I’d managed to miss so many books for so long.

Working through that back catalogue is something I’m very much looking forward to and so it was with great pleasure that I discovered that Tim has set up his own enterprise in the form of Dreaming in Fire through which he will be publishing electronic versions of some of his short stories and novellas.

Figuring that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I did, I took a break from the breakneck pace of Coldbrook to sample one of these newly resurrected stories, In the Valley Where Belladonna Grows.

The story focuses on Mary, living a life of isolation in a remote valley. What at first seems an almost idyllic existence turns into something more sinister as information is slowly drip-fed to the reader – it seems Mary’s isolation has been enforced, she has been exiled from “the city” by none other than her husband, Sherlock, a man who has achieved status and power through less than reputable means.

It seems that the years of exile are over however, as a series of emissaries from the city are sent to persuade Mary to return…

In the Valley… is a story of changing perceptions, playing with expectations, presenting a scenario which raises questions in the reader’s mind and then slowly reveals information that offer clues and suggestions as to why Mary is where she is.

Or does it?

Certain aspects of Mary’s situation don’t seem to ring true – in particular, it’s stated that she hasn’t seen another human being for sixteen years which begs the question of how far removed from society can she actually be? It’s a clever device, planting the seeds of suspicion in the reader’s mind that all is not what it may seem. Much is made of the presence of Belladonna growing in profusion around Mary’s homestead, a plant well known for its hallucinogenic, as well as poisonous properties. Dreams and visions (of a generally post-apocalyptic nature) are woven into the narrative and add to the feeling of uncertainty - are her visitors real or imagined, and what of the wild dogs that terrorise the surrounding countryside? Are all of her experiences actually happening or simply the products of her own imagination – brought on by loneliness and isolation or the insidious influence of the Belladonna?

To say more would be to potentially spoil what is an extremely cleverly written story. Its conclusion is eminently satisfying and will cast a whole new light on all that has gone before. It will probably make you want to read it again so you can see just how clever it actually is. I did. (And it is very clever).

The idea to re-release a back catalogue in this way is one I heartily applaud and I look forward to more from Dreaming in Fire, especially if they are of the same high standard as In the Valley…

Skewered and other London Cruelties.

 I first encountered Ben Jones on a now defunct horror writers forum. As is the case with many forums, despite the membership being in triple figures, there were only a few members who actually spent any time posting stuff up there. I was one and Ben was another and through the board we developed a virtual friendship as we both seemed to be singing from the same hymn-sheet as far as most of the discussions were concerned. That friendship moved from virtual to real when work would occasionally take me down to London – Ben’s home town - where we finally met up in person and spent many an evening talking about our shared enthusiasm for writing (and reading) as well as generally putting the world to rights. Alcohol may have been involved at some point.

The forum had a board where stories could be posted up for comment so I’d read a lot of Ben’s work before I’d met him and had been impressed by what I’d seen. It was clear he was destined for success and over the years he’s achieved that with publications in the small presses. It was only a matter of time before a collection was released and now that’s happened with Skewered and other London Cruelties from Crime Wave Press.

To celebrate the release of the collection, I thought I’d abuse the relationship we have by asking Ben a few questions about it and his thoughts on writing in general:

AW: The collection opens with Skewered , a novella which has plenty twists and turns. Did you have the ending sorted before you started writing and then work backwards from it or did the story develop as you were writing it?

BJ: Well, I had some of it sorted. In the early drafts a large portion of the end of “Skewered” was actually at the start as Charlie Bars explains how he’s ended up in a certain situation. I had a general idea of where I wanted the story to go but nothing was set in stone. That’s probably how I write a lot of the time; I’ll have a blurry idea for an ending and hope it becomes clearer as I work towards it. 

AW: Real Estate also features your character Charlie Bars – and I know you have plans to feature him again. Did you ever consider writing a crime story from the perspective of the police?

BJ: I’ve written things from a police perspective before, but none of them have seen print. Although they’re usually not your ‘straight arrow’ type of copper. On the whole though I prefer to try and write from a different angle. I’m a big fan of certain crime novels that come from the view of the police; Chester Himes’ “Harlem Cycle”, Ken Bruen’s “R n B” novels but I feel that it is too easy to fall into clichés which we see time and time again. I don’t think I’d rule out writing from any perspective but I think if I was to be from the police angle then I would have to be struck by something that I considered ‘different’. Although, that said, I am about to re-draft a horror piece about a group of corrupt London police officers being pursued by creatures summoned by West African witchcraft – does that count?

AW: I think it probably does, it could even be the start of a new sub-genre. You once pointed out to me the spot where a taxi driver had been beheaded… How important is location to you – do you regard London as a character in your stories?

BJ: I remember, suicide by beheading – not sure that’s the best way to go! Odd little macabre stories seem to crop up all over the city, and in other towns, cities and places I am sure. Sense of place and location is massively important to me. I’d like to think I manage to catch the city as a character but I’m not sure I always do. For me London is an ancient, living entity that has its own habits, strange rites and most importantly stories to tell. So many of my stories have been given to me by the city, in things I’ve heard, seen and read that it would be rude not to try and pay homage in some fashion. I really that capturing the city’s character is something I will be able to do more in the future.

AW: I know you’re a big fan of historical settings for your stories and I’m guessing that’s part of the appeal of writing your westerns. Do you enjoy the research that’s required to make them authentic?

BJ: Even when I was younger it irked me watching a western set during the American Civil War and everyone was carrying 1873 Colt Peacemakers or other firearms from two decades after the Civil War was over! So in terms of that I do try and make sure things are ‘correct’. A lot of the research books I read are things I read for pleasure anyway so I like to think it’s all just knowledge and enjoyment and if it gets used in a story then so be it but if it doesn’t then I’ll have enjoyed learning it. The other thing with reading, what some might term, ‘research’ books are the amount of story germs and ideas that you stumble across.

AW: Hungry is the Dark has supernatural overtones to it and I know you also write horror fiction. What’s your take on the current state of the horror genre?

BJ: It seems people have been saying this for years but I believe it’s going through a real revival. Horror novels are once again pushing into the mainstream with people like Adam Nevill and Alison Littlewood’s books being easily available and in the public eye. The quality and variance of styles across the genre is also at a peak. Plus with new small presses like Crystal Lake Publishing really pushing forward it seems like a great time to be a horror fan.

AW: You also write westerns. Do you go through phases, moving between genres, or is it a case finding the best vehicle for a particular story?

BJ: Normally the genre and story come to me at the same time or I’ll start thinking about wanting to write, say, a western today. But I do seem to run in phases knocking out a couple of stories in each genre at a time. With the fact that I do mix genres in can get a bit blurred… for example most of my westerns do have elements of horror in them so it isn’t a massive leap to move to a straight horror piece and then because a lot of my non-western fiction is London based stepping from a ghost tale into a dark crime story isn’t, again, a huge jump. 

AW: What’s your writing process? Do you just spill all the words out onto the page and then edit and refine or do you edit as you go?

BJ: Well I think it has changed over the years. These days I like to draw up a little plan and then plough through a first draft, sometimes long hand but mainly straight onto computer now. Then I’ll print it, have a read adding edits by hand and then redraft. After that it will either get drafted again or I’ll send it to a few people to read over and see what they think. Now and then, of course, I’ll deviate from this process perhaps because an idea strikes me and I want to see where it will take me or I’m trying to go with a ‘train of thought’ style piece.

AW: Have you any plans to write a novel? I think the shorter formats work best with horror but could definitely see the potential for a Charlie Bars – or even a Tomahawk Val western – novel from your good self…

BJ: I agree in terms of horror – a truly terrifying horror novel is a rare beast indeed. I am working on something longer in the horror genre but that is more a collection of shorts dealing with overarching themes and ideas. There is a Charlie Bars novel in the embryonic stage at present – I’m hoping to really get going on it in the next few months. I’ve just finished a horror western novella which I enjoyed writing immensely and have an idea for a ‘straight’ western that might be a novella or might be something a little bit bigger… Tomahawk Val is rather strange as he’s a character that came into being in a story that hasn’t even been picked up yet! So I have two long shorts, another half-finished and a shorter piece about him. The idea is that once more of this stuff has been published and I’ve written a lot more I’d like to try and put together ‘The Ballad of Tomahawk Val’, but as always we’ll see what happens.

*

My thanks to Ben for taking the time to answer all my questions.

Skewered and other London Cruelties is a brilliant collection of hard-hitting crime stories with a lovingly created sense of noir and the odd supernatural flourish. It’s a great showcase for a talented writer who is destined for bigger things to come. You can, and should, buy it here.

Cartesian Hell.

A zombie novel? By Gary Fry? Surely not... For an author renowned for quiet, philosophical horror, that particular sub-genre would seem, on the face of it, a strange choice for his latest publication from DarkFuse. Why, it's like Dylan going electric or Robert De Niro pissing over his legacy by moving into shit comedies... Whilst the latter is, and will always remain, unforgivable, I actually preferred Bob Dylan when he picked up his Fender and I'm pleased to say that my feelings at Gary's move into more traditional horror tropes are equally as positive.
That's because Severed is absolutely trademark Fry, thus time using the well established zombie mythology to provide another contemplation of philosophical theory. Yes, there's plenty blood and gore on display here after a mysterious package in a London store releases a zombie plague but no sooner have you said "cogito ergo sum" than we're knee deep in not only guts but theories of dualism and Cartesianism.
I'm guessing there are few horror novels where the hero is a social scientist but that's the case here. Actually, hero is probably the wrong word, protagonist would be better as the former suggests a nobility that is most assuredly lacking in the character of Stephen Hobbs (and anyone who's seen Quatermass and the Pit will raise a smile at that particular surname) who, as well as having a doctorate in Behavioural Sciences seems to have a sub-speciality of arrogant twattery. Hobbs is not a sympathetic creation and full credit to Gary for using such an awful main character to anchor the book. There are reasons for his defects of course, which are hinted at throughout the story and finally revealed at the end. Those reasons provide context which means you'll understand why Hobbs is the way he is. You still won't like him though.
It's Hobbs who is brought in by the Government as an adviser once the outbreak has been brought under control by quarantining those affected within the city. The transformative process from human to zombie has been identified as a "severance" - a splitting of the body and the mind, the former becoming the zombies which roam the streets, driven by base instincts, the latter ascending to the sky in the form of ghost-like spirits that encircle the city - a marvellously creative image which graces the book's cover.
And it works. The philosophical theory really does provide a believable explanation of what is happening - it's such a good fit that I'm surprised no-one's done it before.
As a thesis then, the theoretical framework is robust. I have to say however, there are a few flaws in the methodology. The source of the outbreak is actually a MacGuffin but I felt that the discovery of its nature and the antidote was handled a wee bit superficially. Of course there's the risk of bogging the reader down in too much technical jargon but I felt this whole section of narrative was underdone, finding the "cure" was too easy. There are a couple of set pieces that seem bolted on and which aren't fully developed (the bombing of a major London landmark and a mindless banker (is there another type?) bringing about financial ruin at the press of a button) and I felt two of the key characters were underdeveloped, serving only as devices to allow plot developments. The first, scientist Penelope Chambers, features in a key moment but by doing something that seemed out of character and a wee bit hard to accept whilst the second is "the military man" who I felt was a little too stereotypical in his actions. Interestingly, he is never named - possibly, in so doing, the author is acknowledging the role he plays in the narrative.
Criticisms aside, Severed is a thoroughly entertaining read, one which skillfully mixes the visceral horror you'd expect from a zombie book with intellectual concerns, the two facets sitting alongside each other perfectly.
Whether it's reasoned argument or gut instinct that informs your decision making, you really should buy Severed, it's a cut above the rest.