Exquisite Corpse (novel) - 1996

In a totally unbeknown to me coincidence, I sat down to write this review today and noticed that many of my fellow horror bloggers have been participating in "Women in Horror Month". I didn't even know that there was such a thing, but it seems mildly serendipitous that I should be reviewing a book by one of the undisputed Queens of horror during in such a month, Poppy Z. Brite.**

 **Note, this article was published years prior to Poppy Z. Brit’s transition, as such this article contains outdated language, and we support William Joseph Martin whole heartedly here at TGDH

Now, that all aside, let's get onto the meat (oh God, that was a regrettable turn of phrase to use in context with this book) of the review.

If you strip Exquisite Corpse down to its bones, (another regrettable phrase, wow, I'm batting zero), it's a love story. A really, really, twisted love story. Even though the two lovebirds in question don't even meet until a little over 3/4 of the way through the book; it's clear, in retrospect, that everything that comes before their meeting is Z foreshadowing their eventual romance, they are each other's destiny if you will. And if you won't, then take it outside, your negativity is bringing down the room.

In a relationship that would put Bonnie and Clyde to shame, our protagonists Andrew Compton and Jay Byrne are two serial killers with the Atlantic Ocean between them. However, as they discover when they finally meet up, they are cut from the same cloth, as they are incredibly similar in their preferences. The main difference between the two - Andrew likes to kill boys, then screw them, then keep 'em in his flat until they smell, at which point he throws them in the Thames.

Whereas Jay likes to screw boys, then torture them to death, and then, finally, eat them.

WHAT A CRAZY RANDOM HAPPENSTANCE AM I RIGHT?!

However, it stands to reason that Jay must be a good deal craftier, because while we begin the book with Andrew wasting away in a British prison, Jay is rumbling the about the streets of New Orleans, picking up transient pretty boys. The first part of the book mostly parallels between these two, Andrew's goings on in England versus Jay's in America. And whilst Jay is busy seducing his dinner, Andrew is pulling off an elaborate jail break that involves fooling everyone into thinking that he's dead and then busting out of the Morgue and pretty much slice 'n dicing his way to the airport. And without spoiling much of the journey of the book for you - he ends up in New Orleans.

Beneath the plot line of Andrew and Jay's eventual love at first sight encounter, there are two subplots; the first of a Vietnamese boy named Tran who is interested in Jay, and has a rocky past including an abusive relationship with his psychotic, HIV positive, ex-boyfriend. The other sub-plot is the HIV/AIDS epidemic in general, to the point that it is almost a character in the work. A third serial killer, if you will. Most of the supporting characters are HIV positive in the work, and it does deal quite sensitively with the subject matter of the men who are slowly dying of the disease. And it's an interesting juxtaposition against the relatively quick, gory, deaths of Jay and Andrew's victims. And its all set against the already macabre associated backdrop of New Orleans (thanks Anne Rice), which is an apt enough location. This is essentially a modern Gothic novel, and what says Gothic better then the French Quarter and above ground mausoleums.

So on a psychological level, that was incredibly interesting. However, as you can imagine with a book about two serial killers in love it is extremely graphic. The details of the murders, necrophilia, and cannibalism leave nothing to the imagination - to the point that I occasionally felt squeamish. ME! I watch slasher movies while eating spaghetti with tomato sauce! So, really, that should tell you something.

Without sounding too prudish, I should also note that it is downright pornographic in points. If Z doesn't pull punches with the violence, then she sure as hell doesn't when explaining sex to the readers. And if I'm admitting that I got a bit squeamish with the gore, I will have to also admit that some of the sex scenes had me clutching at my pearls and lamenting my delicate modern sensibilities, in a full on southern accent.

But I don't want you going into the book, should you choose to read it, thinking it is nothing but "sex,sex,sex, graphic murder, eating people, some more sex" ... sure, there is plenty of that. But there is also plenty of interesting psychology tucked inside as well, especially since roughly a third of the book is told from the perspective of Andrew Compton, so literally, the mind of a serial killer. So, if you're interested in abnormal psychology, or serial killers this might well be your cup of tea. But, like when I reviewed Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted, I feel that it's only responsible for me to warn you that if you don't have a strong stomach you should put this book down, now, really.

It's okay, just set it down on the table and walk away. Nobody is judging you, we're all friends here.

So, if you feel like curling up this Valentine's Day with a really warped love story, then PZB delivers that. If not, I don't know, there's always Jane Austen or something. With or without zombies or sea monsters.

So until next time kids,
play nice, tip your waitresses, you know the drill.

Hugs and Kisses my Spooky-Dos

♥
Spooky Pie

Haunted (novel) - 2005

Some of you may, or may not, know that I basically heart Chuck Palahniuk more than what probably lies in the realm of human decency.

Sure, sometimes I have a hard time remembering how to spell his last name, and yes there is the matter of that pesky little restraining order (I kid, I kid). But in short, I pretty much devour every book of his as soon as I can get my mitts on it.

However, I was somewhat resistant to reading Haunted for awhile. This is largely because instead of being just one large storyline, it breaks off into sub stories told by each of the characters. And, generally speaking, I don't usually go for 'anthology' type books, mostly because I like to have the entire novel to get to know the characters, get a feel for them. When it's a bunch of short stories I usually feel like the individual tale ends before I have gotten anywhere in the neighborhood of giving a good, and honest, damn about the characters.

Well, a pox on me for being such a ridiculous ninny! Why I thought good 'ol Chuck would fail me this time, when he never has in the past, I don't know. I'm a silly bitch.

So the essential idea of Haunted is this;
Seventeen people sign up for a three month Writer's Retreat. They are to be completely cut off from the outside world during that time, and are told that this will be the time to write the masterpiece of their career.

No real names are allowed, and everyone is allowed only one suitcase. In theory, none of the participants are in any real danger, the only real trouble is that no one is allowed to leave before the three months is up, and the retreat is below ground and remote enough that escape is highly unlikely.

The real trouble comes from the seventeen writer's realization that rather then create their own master works, they are going to gain a fortune telling their story to the outside world. Of how they were held captive, tortured, forced to survive without heat or food.

None of this is actually inflicted on the writers by the people organizing the retreat. It's the writers themselves who become their own villains, even though, for the sake of the story, they have painted the organizer and his assistant as their villains and captors. So it really isn't that surprising when the writers begin to die off one by one, and with each one who bites the dust the others don't mourn; they just discuss how they will have to split the royalties in fewer directions.

On the side of the core narrative of the goings on in the retreat, as told by an unnamed narrator. Each character has a side story, and each story has to deal with what dark secret drew them to hideout in the retreat.

As the title would suggest, each of the writers is, in fact, Haunted.

Throughout the course of the book comparisons keep being drawn between this little group of writers, shut off from the outside world, and the Villa Dioda. For those of you not in the know, this is where Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and John Pollidori holed up; this resulted in the writings of both Frankenstein and The Vampyre. And it's an easy enough comparison to draw, and, more than likely, since it is Palahniuk who gives us this parallel, that this was in fact what inspired him to write Haunted.

However, this is really not the comparison that most came to mind for me whilst I was reading this novel. Throughout the whole thing I could not help but be reminded of Jean-Paul Sarte's No Exit, and it's chilling, most infamous line:

Hell is other people.

For those of you unfamiliar with Sarte's work, No Exit is about three completely unrelated people who die and end up locked in a room together. After a bit they realize that they are in Hell and each one speculates on who is the torturer and what torment they will receive. It soon becomes evident that there isn't a torturer, it's just the three of them, locked in a room together, for all of eternity. The only torment stems from the way they treat each other. Which leads to the one character's realization that "Hell is other people".

And, considering that all the harm that comes to the players of Haunted comes from themselves, is it any wonder that No Exit was the first thing that came to mind? I didn't think so.

Do I recommend Haunted, yes, but NOT IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH. This novel is really quite grisly at points, considering one of the short stories called Guts, Palahniuk read aloud and reportedly has had multiple faint from listening to it. Also it was a story controversial enough that it got a Highschool teacher sacked for having his students read it.

So really, bare that in mind, and I don't even think that it's the most disturbing part of the book. HOWEVER if that is something that you can get past it's a GREAT book, not my favorite of his works, but still pretty damn amazing in this girl's opinion.

Okay, so there you have it.

Kisses and hugs.

♥
Spooky Pie

John Dies at the End (novel) -2001/2007/2009

Okay, I admit that I put this review off for awhile, but that's mainly because I was having trouble putting into words the sheer, overwhelming, adoration that I have for this novel.

Also, this is probably the weirdest book I have ever read ... ever. Period. And that's saying something, because I read some pretty weird shit, believe you me. I mean, Chuck Palahniuk is one of my favorite authors, and I think he would find this book strange.

So also, I had no idea how I was going to describe it to y'all, because I got the feeling it would be a lot like when you witness something strange and hilarious, and then you are later trying to tell your friends about it, and they're all looking at you like "Shit son, you've gone completely sideways."
So you end up huffily telling them "Well, I guess you HAD to BE there."

It's kind of like that. Although I suppose in this case it's more of a "you had to READ it"... or something... anyway, I'll give the obligatory summary a shot. But I make no promises that you aren't going to read it and think I've lost my fool head.

Okay Dears,Darlings, and fellow Spooky Dos, basically, the story of this charming little book is about two guys, David and John. These are not their real names. If they used their real names then they could be tracked down. Also the town where the whole story takes place is referred to as [Undisclosed] because we couldn't let you know about that either.

Dave and John are a couple of college drop-outs in un-fulfilling minimum wage jobs in an extremely boring town. But after a seeming normal concert by John's band "Three arm Sally", wherein David encounters a drug peddling fake Jamaican thing get kind of loopey.

The drug in question is referred to as "soy sauce", due to it being roughly the constancy of. When you take it you can apparently see into the future, and around sound waves, and just generally know shit you shouldn't. But people who take it have a tendency to explode, and it also seems that the soy sauce has to do with a strange group of "shadow-like" beings that are trying to overthrow humanity.

Mixed into this story for good measure are helpings of demonic possession, floating dogs, paranormal conventions in Las Vegas, and some unpleasantness involving bratwurst.

The whole thing is narrated by David, as he meets with a reporter who is going to "tell his story". And honestly, it's a GREAT voice that the story is told in , like really, I feel sort of hosed that this is the only book this man has put out.

The novel itself is the most scrumptious blend of hilarity, creepiness, and "Oh my God what the HELL just happened" that I wanted to start reading it again as soon as it was done.

Y'all don't even know. I finished the book and pretty much did this for like an hour:



Seriously, seriously, weirdest thing I ever read. One second I was snorting with laughter (how sexy is that?) and the next I was literally getting the chills.

IT WAS AWESOME.

On top of which, this little, well, maybe not really so little, book is one of the most amazing "Little Engine that Could" type things around.

I mean, it started out a web-serial over at Johndiesattheend.com , which a few years later got turned into a book. The book did not sell, like, at all, but this story developed such an avid cult following that fan outcry finally got in re-released in brand-spanking-new paperback form in 2009.

I for one was overjoyed, I came into knowledge of this book in-between the first an second printings. I don't even remember how, but I somehow ended up at the author's website, reading all the absolutely AMAZING madness on johndiesattheend.com, and when I saw that there was a BOOK I absolutely *HAD* to read it. Except, you know, at that point it was no longer in print.

The author talked about how there was a good chance it was getting re-released. But it hadn't happened yet, and the first edition copies were selling on Amazon for around $100. I'm not kidding. I'm also not kidding when I say that I was seriously considering paying that for it.

But then one day in the not too distant past I was driving my roommate to the airport. She had a pretty long wait there and hadn't remembered to bring a book. Being the combination of caring roommate and freakish bookworm that I am, a produced the book that I kept in my purse, that I hadn't even gotten a chance to read yet, and let her borrow it. I think found myself not too long afterwords on my university campus before class with suddenly NOTHING TO READ. Which, by the way, NEVER happens to me.

So I wandered into the campus bookstore (which actually has a stupidly good selection of books), and there, on a table of new releases, was John dies at the End. The clouds parted, angels sang, I was nearly weeping as I handed my money over to the cashier, and not just because books really cost way more than they should. Especially when you buy as many as I do.

It was love, you don't even know. It's not a short book, seriously, it's about the size of the bible. I was done with it in under a week. Complete and utter madness, I tell you what.

And then about a week or so ago, I found this.

Filming has officially begun on the movie adaptation of John dies at the End. And it's being directed by none other than Don Coscarelli. Who, by the way, was the director of the Phantasm franchise, in case you didn't know.
And this girl sure does love her some Phantasm.
Sure, I would be a little more jazzed if Sam Raimi or Edgar Wright had gotten the rites to it, because in my book, they are the KINGS of Horror Comedies. But let's face it, it's probably going to be totally awesome.

I know that this girl, at least, will be following the film's progress with damn-near rabidness. And you had better believe that she will also be at the first showing she can't get herself to as soon as its released.

Now, my darlings, go read it, like ten hours ago.

Harvest Home (novel) - 1973

Yes kids, that's right, we have our first ever HORROR BOOK REVIEW here at TGDH! And it is none other that the extremely hyped up novel Harvest Home by Thomas Tryon.



I won't lie, when I found this at a used book sale (which are my Achilles heel, by the way, this girl finds it impossible to resist the lure of a good used book sale) I was *BEYOND* stoked. I had heard SO much about it, how terrifying it was, what an amazing story, and of course the "I think it's out of print, so good luck finding a copy, and if you do expect to pay hand over fist for it."

So imagine the ludicrous smugness that settled over my person upon finding it at said book sale, and then further only having to pay $1.50 for it. I felt proud, I felt mighty, I felt that I had good and stuck it to the man; and that always makes me far too pleased with myself.

So there I am. 'It's summer', says I, 'This is the ideal time for a good old fashioned 'scare the pants off you' type book'. Much like the tradition in Japan of beating the summer heat by sitting around and telling ghost stories, so you get the chills enough to forget that it is 100 Goddam degrees in the shade. So excited was your beloved Spooky Pie, SO EXCITED.

I finished this book last night, and I am not anywhere near as excited anymore.

Le Sigh.

But before I get into how this 'meant to be awesome' book made me want to start chewing on my desk out of annoyance and frustration, let me give you the general run down of what its about.

Harvest Home is the story of stereotypical, wholesome, American family, the Constantines. Father, Ned, is a miserable bureaucrat, married to dewy eyed June Cleaver-esque Beth, the daughter of a Preacher. Their daughter Kate is a fussy asthmatic, who, as far as I can tell, has never had a friend in her life.

When our tale begins Beth's over bearing Preacher-man dad has just kicked the bucket, and the Constantines are enduring the road trip back to New York from his funeral. During said road trip they take the scenic route and happen upon the quaint hamlet of Cornwall Coombe and decide that THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WHERE THEY MUST LIVE AND THEY WILL ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTIONS SO DON'T EVEN TRY TO TALK THEM OUT OF IT BECAUSE IT WON'T WORK. Lucky for them, there's an empty house, and after a spell they get the provincial locals to cave in and sell it.

Now that they live in the country side Ned no longer needs to make money or something and spends all his time painting, whilst Beth does... I don't know what Beth does. Maybe she lies down on her face for eight hours at a time. But everyone is so in love with the little town and their quaint, old fashioned practices.

Namely the multitude of ceremonies they have to celebrate the various stages in the cycle of the harvest, which ultimately culminates in a giant ceremony known as "Harvest Home", at the center of which are the two villagers who have been deemed the Harvest Lord and the Corn Maiden. You know, basically hillbilly prom court. Ned can't keep his nose out of others peoples business and he stumbles upon the "pagan" belief system that the people of Cornwall Coombe have, and their "terrifying" rituals they perform to insure the growth of the corn.

Basically:
* outsider comes into community
* outsider mocks natives' belief system
* outsider becomes obsessed with belied system
* outsider is given what for because he is a persistent bastard

I had a multitude of issues with this book. First, and foremost, it is written in first person, and the narration of Ned Constantine is the most self-involved pompous voice ever; which alone made it hard to get through. He is, APPARENTLY, not only a genius but sex on two legs because every woman wants to jump his unemployed bones. Everyone is a caricature - Ned is supposed to come across, I think, as some sort of Byronic hero, although he just seems like a douche bag. Beth is the ideal housewife who spends a lot of time putting a hand to her bosom and making declarations that start with "Oh Darling!". And of course, the village has all of its stereotypical players as well; there's the town slut, the town crazy, and of course, the weird-ass old woman who acts as Judge Judy and executioner for the community.

Then there's the over used tropes throughout the book, an ideal village with a dark secret... wait? That's been done before? When? Oh... 5789489737893478943987 other times? Huh... well, let's do it anyway.

Know what else we'll do? Let's have the whole village be a bunch of "Crazy ass Pagans" who do nothing but butcher people and have sex in Cornfields, because that's totally what they do right? Right?

Ugg.

This sort of crap is why a lot of people still assume that being Pagan equals being a Devil Worshiper. Wow. Just wow.

And this is yet another thing that made me think that if I were a feminist I would be up in arms about the portrayal of women in this book. Every woman is completely one dimensional, and all are thoroughly objectified and made out to be so much under the males. They are all simple minded creatures who have the singular goal of popping out babies and making food.

I might have been offended if the whole book weren't so damn ludicrous that if I got offended about everything in it that was worth getting offended about I probably would have gotten a brain hemorrhage.

Okay, okay, I'm getting a little irritable and long winded, so I'm going to wrap this up you guys.

If you can get past the narration, and the fact that much of the story has been done to death a thousand times, and pretty much always better, its an okay read. The "big reveal" is fairly weak, and Tryon seems to get confused about the mythology he's already set up in the book towards the end, because it basically double back on itself and becomes a giant contradiction.

Basically, I finished the book and went

"...meh."

Take that however you want guys.