Nefarious | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Possessed, mentally ill, or deceiving? Strong acting propels new twist on serial killer mind games horror/thriller.

Even before Edward Norton’s Oscar-nominated and career-defining performance in Primal Fear (1997), the character suffering (or pretending to suffer) from multiple personality disorder (now called dissociative identity disorder, or DID) has been a means for actors to showcase their versatility. One only has so much capacity for this type of character, and I’m close to being filled up on it. In Nefarious (2023), Sean Patrick Flanery gives it a go as convicted serial killer Edward Wayne Brady and another identity who claims to be a demon. 

A few minutes into the film, directed by Chuck Konzelman and Cary Solomon, I was sceptical. Beyond the DID strategy, here was yet another horror movie whose singular adjective title is a synonym for “bad” or “evil”. Additionally, our protagonist – this time it’s hotshot psychiatrist Dr James Martin (Jordan Belfi) – is about to interview a supposedly brilliant convict. Haven’t we seen this before? 

Martin must determine whether Brady is sane and therefore eligible for execution (at 11 p.m. that night). Otherwise, the serial killer goes back into the system. The warden warns Dr Martin that his interviewee is a master manipulator; could that be why the convict’s previous psychiatrist died?

I assumed that Martin would confront a smooth and eloquent Hannibal Lecter type – I was wrong. Instead, Flanery portrays a stuttering and twitching, albeit sharp inmate claiming to be a demon named Nefarious. Despite the oversaturation in the DID subgenre, Flanery plays the character well. He shifts from the wily provocateur toying with Martin and commenting on the world’s problems to the weepy, helpless victim unable to control the demon.

Thus, Nefarious offers a cocktail of uncertainty: not only do we question whether the self-injurious Brady is truly afflicted with DID, but we also wonder if he is possessed. How and why, for instance, does the demon know certain personal things about Martin? It’s a technique often used in possession stories.

To further draw the viewer into the film’s outcome, the demon tells Martin early on that by the time he leaves that day, the psychiatrist will have killed three people. Belfi is convincing as Martin, though one might question whether a top-tier psychiatrist would so easily lose his composure and allow the demon/convict to get into his head. 

The film also has a classic religious undertone, with the demon frequently mentioning his master and “the enemy”. Moreover, the supposed demon has some discouraging things to say about mankind. In one scene, for example, Martin argues that humanity has evolved and keeps getting more morally advanced. To this the demon laughs and spews back dismaying statistics. 

Although the film’s conclusion, which brings in right-wing political commentator Glenn Beck, feels a little preachy and silly, Nefarious is worth a watch. When the two main characters are in the interview room (the majority of the film) it’s hard not to be entranced by Flanery’s performance. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

The Wish List by Eoin Colfer (Penguin) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Battle for a soul: reluctant perpetrator reunited with victim in touching young adult novel that examines resentment, vengeance, friendship, and the relationship between young and old.

A teen fantasy tale bursting with creativity, The Wish List introduces a world in which Satan commands his number two, Beelzebub – or “Bub” as the dark lord calls him – to capture the soul of 14-year-old Meg Finn after she dies following a botched robbery. Meg’s mother is dead, and the devil is particularly interested in Meg because of something awful she did to her ne’er-do-well stepfather. 

In this domain, dead people have auras: blue if they’re good and red if they’re bad. Meg’s happens to be purple. 

After the explosion, Meg’s unsavoury co-conspirator Belch gets merged with his pit bull and goes straight to hell. Meg, however, gets another chance on Earth, where she decides to help Lowrie McCall (the pensioner they tried to rob) fulfil four long-held wishes ranging from reclaiming lost opportunities to seeking vengeance on those who’ve wronged him. 

Beelzebub enlists the now-dead 16-year-old Belch to stop Meg from helping Lowrie (and therefore doing good). A computer whizz named Myishi uses an often-annoying holographic demon to accompany and advise Belch. If Beelzebub and Belch stop Meg from doing good, she goes to hell; if they don’t, they’re going to be in hot water. 

While the structure of the novel is familiar, the creativity of the setting and the coming together of two flawed and initially antagonistic protagonists earn the reader’s buy-in. Eoin Colfer’s version of hell and its denizens is entertaining. Satan and Beelzebub nonchalantly dole out punishments. The latter even has a direct line to Saint Peter, from whom he attempts to extract information about Meg. Interestingly, whereas the bad guys are pursuing Meg, the good guys are mostly detached and letting her do her own thing.

Additionally, the omniscient point of view in which the author flips between characters’ thoughts in the same scene works. Meg’s ability to get into Lowrie’s head to see his past or invite him into hers paves the way for extended backstory scenes that help the protagonists sympathise with one another because they’ve both been through some difficult times. 

The Wish List offers an experience where reinvented biblical characters engage in captivating contemporary dialogue, technology has made its way into hell, an act of love can embody God and banish evil from the room, and old and young can learn from each other. And it all leads to a poignant ending that uses an unexpected sensory impression to tug at the heartstrings. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

Mr. Tilling’s Basement & Other Stories by Edward Lee (Deadite Press) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Old pervs collide with young floozies in extreme horror collection that considers aging and self-perception amid gratuitous sex and violence

Holding back? Not here. Subtlety? Nah. Leaving sexual encounters or violence to the reader’s imagination? Read something else!

One of the four tales in Edward Lee’s Mr. Tilling’s Basement & Other Stories describes a painting that depicts spectator benches surrounding a hellish landscape where people are being tortured in the most gruesome ways. This collection gives readers a seat on one of those benches. 

Several stories involve nubile young women who are not only willing but also eager to have intercourse with an older, and in some cases, physically unattractive man. What distinguishes this from pornography is that Lee provides a reason why these women are so aggressive. And it’s usually a duplicitous one.  

In the titular story, college professor Herman Tilling takes over the dilapidated home of a man suffering from dementia. A potty-mouthed albeit beautiful Native American woman shows up and reveals that there is some secret associated with the basement — it involves cryptic text, smoking herbs, and an incantation. Throughout, Tilling remains focused on the woman’s physical endowments such as her thin stomach (and other traits). 

At one point, Lee throws plot out the window and moves from one brutal scene to the next, but with its inventive torture scenes and wordplay, the story entertains. Moreover, the work explores aging: an academic past his prime questions his self-worth and his authority as a bearer of knowledge when this young woman (whom he can’t help but sexualize) suggests his entire way of thinking is flawed. 

The reclusive older male protagonist in “The Night-Sitter” also encounters a sexually aggressive young woman. This time, it’s a webcammer who is staying up at night to keep an eye and ear out for any oddities. Seeing him as a cash cow, she’s more than willing to indulge his fantasies, but he doesn’t want that. Once again, we’re taken to a place where horrific things are described in vivid detail. 

Part history book and part slasher, “An American Tourist in Poland” is about a horny, overweight man. The unnamed narrator, an acquaintance of Mr. Foster Morley (also referred to as “our protagonist”) recounts the horrific thing that happened to Morley during his second trip to Poland, a trip fuelled by both cultural curiosity and lust. One fascinating aspect of this story is its strange juxtapositions. The style and vocabulary, for instance, feel like it was written a hundred years ago. Old-fashioned words such as “balderdash” and “gads” mingle with vulgarities. Geographic landmarks and historic events coexist with graphic depictions of violence in everything from tapestries to snuff films. Morley’s appreciation of Poland’s architectural highlights competes with his focus on women’s breasts and genitals. 

The final and much shorter story, “The Statement of Sgt. Justin Jessop of the Innsmouth Police Department”, is clearly influenced by H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos. Somebody is interviewing a police sergeant about the horrific incident that he experienced. It has to do with cosmic creatures and because this is Lee, there’s a sexual component. It all started when the sergeant saw a legless guy dragging himself across a field… 

I once heard Lee, the godfather of extreme horror, state that extreme horror stories, with their over-the-top violence and debauchery, are supposed to be humorous. And in this case, they are. 

Sometimes, when the Kindle shows I have an hour left in a story, I dread it and just want to get it over with. In the case of Mr. Tilling’s Basement & Other Stories, I was glad when I had an hour left. 

What makes Lee’s work so compelling is his ability to keep the reader wondering: what hellscape awaits within that closet… or in that basement… or on that SD card? Whatever it is, it’s going to be grisly and imaginative, for there is no hellscape like that depicted by Edward Lee. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

He’s wealthy, attentive, protective, and attractive. Cha-ching!

I’m tired of vampires and werewolves. I’m not big on first-person narration. I’m not even in the right audience for this one. But I had to do it. I had to go back and read the books that inspired a cultural phenomenon thanks to the 2008 film Twilight and its offspring. 

It all started with Stephenie Meyer’s 2005 novel of the same name that sank its teeth into the YA market. Alongside narrator Isabella “Bella” Swan, we travel to Forks, Washington, where we meet the mysterious vampire Edward Cullen and bear witness as they fall in love. 

When Bella inadvertently crosses paths with another vampire with no compunctions about cracking open a nice human neck, she becomes the target of an unrelenting hunter. And Edward and his family will do everything within their formidable power to protect her.

The novel also introduces Jacob Black, whose Native American tribe in nearby La Push has a severe distrust of the Cullens. Thus begins the series-long rivalry between Jacob and Edward. They’re both strong. They’re both attractive. And they both want to protect an aimless young lady. For many, that’s an irresistible combination. 

One of Meyer’s most potent strengths is on display early in the novel. She plays up Edward’s peculiarity, compounded by his initial revulsion towards Bella. Beyond that, the Cullen family’s sharp contrast from their fellow Forks High students is something to behold. 

Unfortunately, however, Edward needs to be fleshed out as the novel progresses. A hefty chunk of the book details Edward and Bella getting to know each other. They talk at school, at her house, at his house, in cars, in a field. All this “I’ll love you forever” talk even after being together for a week or so starts to grow wearisome for some audiences. 

Again, I understand the fascination with the competition for Bella and with Edward: his godlike presence (even a waitress rouses Bella’s jealousy), his speed and strength, his multiple talents, and the attention he showers on Bella. Nevertheless, there came a point at which I thought to myself, If I have to read about another young man pushing a stray lock of hair behind Bella’s ear or how good Edward smells, I’m going to throw up. 

Here’s the big secret about the entire Twilight series and its heroine: despite the excitement of everything happening around her, Bella is rather average (with some exceptions). And maybe that makes sense – maybe it helps more people identify with her. Douglas J. Ogurek ***

It Waits in the Woods by Josh Malerman (Amazon Original Stories) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

There’s a line between suspense and annoyance – this story crosses it. 

Josh Malerman’s It Waits in the Woods is the third instalment in Amazon’s creature feature series of short stories written by high-profile horror writers. 

The story’s first problem is inherent in its title. Haven’t we seen enough of these monster in the woods stories? This time, the threat is a faceless creature – Malerman calls it an “imp” – that lures people and takes their faces. Add a bridge. Add a mirror. Insert enough of these tropes and hopefully the reader will assume some symbolic significance.

When her sister and another girl go missing, aspiring filmmaker Brenda travels into the woods and films her quest to find her sister. Her aim is to go where police and parents haven’t gone.

The story repeatedly reminds the reader that during a television broadcast, Brenda’s parents partly blamed her for her sister’s disappearance. All right already, I thought to myself, I get it! 

There comes a point when hammering the reader over the head with the same information knocks you out of the story. 

Despite these shortcomings, It Waits in the Woods gets more suspenseful as the climax approaches, thanks to Malerman’s strong storytelling abilities. His cinematic writing style makes it difficult to turn away. Alas, this strength is only exhibited for a brief portion of an otherwise banal story. Douglas J. Ogurek **

Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #80: now out in paperback and ebook!

free epub | free pdf | print UK | print USA | Kindle UK | Kindle US

Welcome to Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #80: Station, edited by Stephen Theaker and John Greenwood. Our third issue in five months!

The stories begin with “The Naval Cadet: A Case of Identity” by Rafe McGregor, another in his series of mind-bending mysteries. “Great Central Station”, by Harris Coverley – his longest published story to date, in any venue – will appeal to anyone who enjoyed Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom by Sylvia Plath. “A Beckoning Star” is by Michael W. Thomas, who I think was the first ever external contributor to our magazine and “The Green Perplexity”, by Charles Wilkinson is perhaps the best story yet by one of our most consistently excellent contributors. “Across the Ages” by Soramimi Hanarejima is a time travel story with a difference.

In The Quarterly Review, Douglas J. Ogurek and Stephen Theaker review books by Paul Tremblay, Aron Beauregard, Zoraida Córdova, Martin Munks, and the films Kalki 2898 AD, M3GAN, Renfield and The Super Mario Bros Movie.

The cover art adapts Shantum Singh’s “Abandoned Railway Station in Delhi, India”, used under licence via Pexels.

I hope you’ll enjoy this issue as much as I did.

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Here are the exceptionally patient contributors to this issue.

Charles Wilkinson’s publications include The Pain Tree and Other Stories (London Magazine Editions, 2000). His stories have appeared in Best Short Stories 1990 (Heinemann), Best English Short Stories 2 (W.W. Norton, USA), Best British Short Stories 2015 (Salt), Confingo, and London Magazine, and in genre magazines/anthologies such as Black Static, Interzone, The Dark Lane Anthology, Supernatural Tales, Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction, Phantom Drift, Bourbon Penn, Shadows & Tall Trees, Nightscript and Best Weird Fiction 2015 (Undertow Books). His collections of strange tales and weird fiction, A Twist in the Eye (2016), Splendid in Ash (2018), Mills of Silence (2021) and The Harmony of the Stares (2022), appeared from Egaeus Press. Eibonvale Press published his chapbook of weird stories, The January Estate, in 2022. He lives in Wales. His stories have previously appeared in TQF41 (“Notes on the Bone”), TQF44 (“A Lesson from the Undergrowth”), TQF46 (“Petrol-Saved”), TQF48 (“A Thousand Eyes See All I Do”), TQF54 (“Septs”), TQF56 (“Mr Kitchell Says Thank You”), TQF59 (“The Constant Providers”), TQF60 (“Evening at the Aubergine Café”), TQF64 (“September Gathering”), TQF70 (“July Job Offer”), TQF73 (“The Arrival of an Acquaintance”) and TQF76 (“Controlling the Lights from Above”).

Douglas J. Ogurek is the pseudonymous and sophomoric founder of the unsplatterpunk subgenre, which uses splatterpunk conventions (transgressive/gory/gross/violent subject matter) to deliver a positive message. His short story collection I Will Change the World … One Intestine at a Time (Plumfukt Press), a juvenile stew of horror and bizarro, aims to make readers lose their lunch while learning a lesson. Ogurek also guest-edits the wildly unpopular UNSPLATTERPUNK! “smearies”, published by Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction. These anthologies are unavailable at your library and despised by your mother. Ogurek reviews films and fiction for that same magazine.

Harris Coverley has had more than a hundred short stories published in Penumbra, Hypnos, JOURN-E and The Black Beacon Book of Horror (Black Beacon Books), amongst many others. He has also had over two hundred poems published in journals around the world. He lives in Manchester, England. His stories have previously appeared in TQF70 (“See How They Run! See How They Run!”), TQF72 (“Father Figure”), TQF73 (“The Scorpion”), TQF74 (“Kung Fu Sue: Origins”), TQF75 (“Kleptobiblia”), TQF76 (“The White Body”), TQF77 (“Kung Fu Sue and the Circle of Broken Bones”) and TQF79 (“Kung Fu Sue and the Drug Lord’s Elephant”).

Michael W. Thomas’s latest poetry collection is Nothing Louche or Bohemian, a collaboration with poet Tina Cole (Black Pear Press). His most recent solo poetry collection is A Time for Such a Word (Black Pear Press). His latest novel is The Erkeley Shadows (Swan Village Reporter). His work has appeared in, among others, The Antioch Review, Critical Survey, The London Magazine and The TLS. He is on the editorial board of Crossroads: A Journal of English Studies (University of Bialystok, Poland). Website: www.michaelwthomas.co.uk. Blog: http://swansreport.blogspot.co.uk/. Socials: @thomasmichaelw. Instagram: michaelwthomas5. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=549139910. His most recent appearance in these pages was in TQF68, with “The Erkeley Shadows”.

Rafe McGregor is a critical theorist publishing on Anglophone culture, political violence, and policing. He is the author of twenty books, including Reducing Political Violence: Narrative Accounts of Crime and Harm (2026), Anthropocide: An Essay in Green Cultural Criminology (2025) and The Adventures of Roderick Langham (2017).

Ever yearning to be spellbound by ideas of a certain fanciful persuasion, Soramimi Hanarejima often meanders into the euphoric trance of lyrical daydreams, some of which are chronicled in the neuropunk story collection Literary Devices for Coping.

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As ever, all back issues of Theaker's Quarterly Fiction are available for free download.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Basic plot, basic tech, sophisticated filmmaking 

A girl gets kidnapped by desert-dwelling motorcycle thugs. They kill a loved one. The girl sets out to exact vengeance on their leader without revealing her utopian homeland. There’s the plot of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, the 2024 prequel to Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). We’ll leave the rest of the details to the film nerds.

Furiosa reveals the protagonist’s early ingenuity, how she gets involved with Immortan Joe (a villain from previous installations), and even how she lost her arm – it makes sense given the tenacity of her character. 

The guzzoline that drives the film is the beautifully choreographed action sequences. Most memorable is the scene during which Furiosa (Anya Taylor-Joy) joins part father figure/part potential lover Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke) on a “war rig” – it looks like a giant gasoline truck – headed to Bullet Town to collect ammunition. The “war boys” stationed throughout the vehicle use a variety of weaponry (including their own bodies) to fight off a motorcycle hoodlum cavalcade. Thanks to the giant fans attached to their backs, some of the enemy can take flight and attack from above while still connected via cords to the cyclists on the ground. Attackers enter the fray in sequence, like dancers coming onto a stage.

With its desert setting, accelerated movements, distinctive vocabulary, and unrestrained characters – Immortan Joe’s bumbling and adrenaline-fueled sons Rictus Erectus and Scabrous Scrotus are prime examples – the film stays true to the Mad Max brand. Moreover, it retains the visual splendour of its predecessor. Hit the pause button at any point and there’s a good chance you’re looking at an image iconic enough to decorate a movie poster. And for evidence of writer/director George Miller’s focus on details, look to the scenes embossed in the metal of the war rig. 

While casting Taylor-Joy as Furiosa is like using a Lamborghini to deliver pizzas — the heroine does not have much of an emotional range — placing Chris Hemsworth in the role of Dementus proves a strong choice. From his big movements to his vocalizations, Hemsworth delivers as a chatty (but not annoying) and power-hungry villain who all but steals the show. When the dirty-faced antagonist, with his teddy bear, tarp-like cape, and unHemsworthian teeth and nose, comes onto the scene, the viewer tunes in. 

Another fascinating aspect of Furiosa is the creative use of basic technologies. Dementus’s chariot, for instance, is drawn by a pair of driverless motorcycles that he controls with attached ropes. And when he addresses an elevated Immortan Joe and comrades from the desert floor, Dementus uses a grimy microphone. Well worth the watch. Douglas J. Ogurek****

Best of Luck by Jason Mott (Amazon Original Stories) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Strong pacing and redundancy collide in creature feature story exploring friendship and power structures.

“Best of Luck”, the fifth offering in Amazon’s six-story creature feature series written by bestselling authors, revolves around two friends. Will holds Barry at gunpoint for a reason that author Jason Mott gradually reveals. 

The story tends to prolong philosophical arguments and repeat the same ideas ad nauseum. Another shortcoming: conceptually, it’s not all that memorable. 

On a more positive note, “Best of Luck” builds tension by dropping key information at an impressively patient pace. Initially, the story refrains from divulging the source of the confrontation. It plops in nuggets about Will’s backstory and this mysterious Henry that he keeps mentioning until an ineffective plot twist provides answers. 

“Best of Luck”, a commentary on societal power structures, explores the concepts of passing privilege on to the next generation and gaining and maintaining power at the expense of others. Douglas J. Ogurek ***

Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #79: Unsplatterpunk! 8: out now!

free epub | free pdf | print UK | print USA | Kindle UK | Kindle US

Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #79: Unsplatterpunk! 8 is now out in paperback and ebook, edited by Douglas J. Ogurek!

Steel your guts!

The UNSPLATTERPUNK! slaughterscape expands its grisly reach with more tales that blend a positive message into a cesspit of gore and grossness. In this eighth issue, four heroines bash and slice their way to illumination.

A status-seeking it girl takes self-injury to throbbing new heights in a commentary on the allure of attention via victimhood. The Bachelor unites with Squid Game when a hand model joins a reality TV competition and learns that beauty goes beyond designer stilettos and jewellery. Bullied high schoolers achieve vicarious vengeance in an allegorical tale that explores the power of camaraderie. Kung Fu Sue, returning for her third UNSPLATTERPUNK! performance, gives fans another fix of her fighting virtuosity and nonchalance as she takes on a drug cartel with pachydermatous power.

The moral of the gory

If you’re looking for a splatterpunk anthology that wrings some positivity out of the carnage and nastiness, then this is the anthology for you. Mind you, you’ll still get the cracked bones, exploded heads, and ruptured organs… but you’ll get it with a ray of hope.

Contents

• Star Struck – Kevin Brown
• The BTB Royale – DW Milton
• Schoolyard Saints – Alistair Rey
• Kung Fu Sue and the Drug Lord’s Elephant – Harris Coverley
• The Quarterly Review – Stephen Theaker and Douglas J. Ogurek review The Blood-Drenched Honeycomb by Leo X. Robertson, Dating After the End of the World by Jeneva Rose, Dead Scalp by Jasper Bark, Envy by Ash Ericmore, The God of Wanking by Peter Caffrey, A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay, Millionaires Day by Kit Power and the Ploopy Knob.

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Here are the blood-spattered contributors to this issue.

Alistair Rey is the author of the fiction collection The Art of Ghost Writing. His work has been featured in the Berkeley Fiction Review, Weirdbook, Juked magazine and Lowestoft Chronicle, among other publications. Rey’s fiction also appears in anthologies alongside such authors as Stephen Graham Jones, Philip Fracassi, Jonathan Sims and Gemma Files.

Douglas J. Ogurek is the pseudonymous and sophomoric founder of the unsplatterpunk subgenre, which uses splatterpunk conventions (i.e. transgressive/gory/gross subject matter) to deliver a positive message. His short story collection I Will Change the World… One Intestine at a Time (Plumfukt Press), a juvenile stew of horror and bizarro, aims to make readers lose their lunch while learning a lesson. His novella Stone Ovaries and Bowling Balls Trapped in Beautiful Prodigy World (Planet Bizarro) offers a minefield of immaturity filled with bodily expulsions, princesses, deranged mothers, malapropisms and guacamole.

DW Milton is a pen name. The author has a day job but would rather be writing speculative fiction.

Harris Coverley has had more than a hundred short stories published in Penumbra, Crimeucopia, JOURN-E and The Black Beacon Book of Horror (Black Beacon Books), amongst many others. He has also had over two hundred poems published in journals around the world. He lives in Manchester, England.

Kevin Brown has two published short story collections, Death Roll and Ink on Wood. His fiction, nonfiction and poetry have been published in over 200 literary journals, magazines and anthologies. He has won numerous writing competitions and was nominated for multiple prizes and awards, including four Pushcart Prizes.

Stephen Theaker’s reviews, interviews and articles have appeared in Interzone, Black Static, Prism, Dark Horizons and the BFS Journal. His story “The Reader-Queens of Tranck” appeared in the BFS anthology Emerging Horizons, edited by Allen Ashley. He has written many novels, none of them well-regarded.

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As ever, all back issues of Theaker's Quarterly Fiction are available for free download.

Hemlock Grove: A Novel by Brian McGreevy (FSG Originals) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Cheap beer in a crystal glass: gifted slackers from different sides of the tracks hunt for a monster.

Two high school senior boys, one a werewolf and the other a vampire, team up to hunt a thrill kill werewolf whose victims are girls. It sounds like another famous vampire/werewolf teen duo, but these two are slackers who bumble around and get into trouble with the law. Gypsy Peter Rumancek lives in a trailer with his pot-smoking mom, and “walking god complex” and human roofie Roman Godfrey, heir to a massive steel mill fortune, lives in a palatial home. They both think the other could be the murderer, so they start a quest to figure out who really is. 

Roman’s sexy mother Olivia has sustained a decades-long affair with her deceased husband’s married brother Norman Godfrey, a psychiatrist at Hemlock Acres Hospital. Peter’s girlfriend Letha, also Godfrey’s daughter, claims she’s been impregnated through divine intervention. Then there’s Shelley, Roman’s seven-foot-five-inch sister who wears boots that resemble milk crates. She is mute and born with physical differences but by no means stupid. Also, she tends to glow. Shelley will come to have a critical role later in the book. 

Dr Pryce is the slick and soulless director of the Godfrey Institute for Biomedical Technologies, also known as the White Tower. He’s involved in something called Project Ouroboros – an ouroboros, by the way, is a symbol of a snake eating its own tail. 

What makes Hemlock Grove so unique is that author Brian McGreevy gives an intense literary treatment to teenybopper subject matter. The result is at times brilliant and at others maddening. Some scenes are highly entertaining: Peter’s recollection of encountering some vampires, for instance, or Roman’s taking over the minds of police officers referred to as “Nose” and “Neck”. And the novel features one of the best werewolf transformation scenes this reviewer has read.

On the other claw, McGreevy gets carried away with elevated language. Doing so may have been permissible and even welcomed at the advent of the monster genre, but this has been done thousands of times since then. Maybe we don’t need to take that subject matter that seriously any more. Examples of other distracting elements include a character reading poetry, a character thinking what it would be like to have a female’s hand on his face, and tangents aplenty. 

As the dispassionate duo attempts to solve the mystery, the story flaps along like a fish taken out of water. Still, despite the showboat sentences and extravagant vocabulary, it can be captivating. 

Hemlock Grove keeps the reader in a semi-haze, which may be intentional. Material is delivered in a variety of formats: traditional third-person narration, erudite emails from Shelley, newspaper articles, psychiatric transcripts, dictation of an autobiography. Also interesting is how Roman treats his sister: always patient and loving… and woe to those who would do her harm. 

Another thing I like: sometimes when one character poses a question to another character, that other character doesn’t respond or ignores the question and moves to another subject. That’s some Seinfeld-level authenticity.

The subject matter is immature and not earth-shattering. Even back in 2012, this stuff had already been done before, but the way the story is told… it’s like putting common beer in an expensive crystal class. Not saying that’s a bad thing. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

Skeleton Crew by Stephen King (Putnam) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Storytelling splendour: the enemy has been named, and the enemy isn’t what you’d expect.

Let’s take a moment to explore a trio of stories from a seminal collection by America’s (and arguably the world’s) most-revered living horror writer. Although this year marks Skeleton Crew’s fortieth anniversary, it remains a storytelling model that exemplifies Stephen King’s talent for injecting menace into the mundane, writing concisely with a minimal number of characters (though he can certainly handle a huge cast), and making the most of a looming threat. 

A fall swim with young adults just entering the prime of their lives. A toy monkey. A grandmother. These things are all supposed to bring joy, but not in the master’s hands. 

In “The Raft”, four young adults get trapped on a raft in the middle of a remote lake. The terror floating around them is neither human nor animal, neither ghost nor monster. It is, rather, an amorphous blob of… stuff, toxic stuff with some kind of awareness. And King repeatedly reminds the reader that something bad is going to happen.

The story explores the chummy dynamic – they call each other Pancho and Cisco – between the brainy Randy and the more athletic Deke. Randy, whose perspective the story is told from, is not all that impressed with his girlfriend LaVerne. She has the hots for Deke, who is all but done with his girl Rachel. 

The blob, with its mesmerising colours, becomes an embodiment of the lust and jealousy that jeopardises these relationships as it crawls across the water. Interesting, too, that King names the story not after the threat but rather after the characters’ one means of support. 

“The Monkey” takes the nontraditional monster concept one step further by infusing dread into not only an object but also an object intended to be the opposite of scary: a toy monkey. That’s a bold move. 

Protagonist Hal, now an adult, is surprised that the cursed toy, with its clanging cymbals and creepy smile, has resurfaced after he threw it into a well as a child. 

King weaves in backstory about Hal and his brother discovering the monkey in their vanished father’s closet. The toy, with its portentous chiming, becomes a representation of that father, the mystery surrounding his disappearance, and what he left behind. 

Georgie, the boy protagonist of “Gramma”, keeps watch over his ailing grandmother while his mom takes his brother to the hospital after a baseball game injury. On first read, the story might seem uneventful to a modern reader. But give it another go around, and you will discover a slow burner that grows more terrifying with each page.

As Georgie repeatedly peeks into Gramma’s room, King releases more details about the obese and apparently senile woman: her smell, her flesh, her long fingernails and the sounds they make on the coverlet. Georgie, who has always been afraid of her, suspects something malignant at work.

Backstory filtered through Georgie’s perspective reveals how Gramma is different and aligns the reader with the boy. She gets kicked out of church, for instance, for something to do with books.

He recollects family members expressing apprehension about her through their conversations.

The story’s ending, both shocking and convincing, comments on the hold that our ancestors have on us.

While these are just a few of the gems in Skeleton Crew, they reveal the ingenuity of a master at work, and four decades after their initial publication, they continue to offer lessons in strong writing. ***** Douglas J. Ogurek

Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #78 is now out in paperback and ebook!

free epub | free pdf | print UK | print USA | Kindle UK | Kindle US

Welcome to Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #78: Returns, edited by Stephen Theaker and John Greenwood! It's here at last! A year late but ready to rock!

This issue contains four pulse-pounding short stories:

• "Two Copyrights Don’t Make a Wrong" by Dan Muenzer
• "Drawermongers" by William Foulke
• "Any Other Way" by Michael Hart
• "The Red Trees" by Rafe McGregor.

In the Quarterly Review, Stephen Theaker, Douglas J. Ogurek and Rafe McGregor review books by Ian Bain and chums, Matthew Hughes, Rachel Harrison, Christina Dalcher, Joe Dever, Camilla Sten and Kristi DeMeester, as well as the films All of Us Strangers, Badland Hunters, Hanu-Man, Lisa Frankenstein, Madame Web, The Parades and Poor Things, and season 4 of the television programme For All Mankind.

Here are the extremely patient contributors to this issue.

Dan Muenzer is an educator from Honolulu, Hawai’i. He dreams of one day writing a page-for-page duplication of Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy.

Douglas J. Ogurek is the pseudonymous and sophomoric founder of the unsplatterpunk subgenre, which uses splatterpunk conventions (transgressive/gory/gross/violent subject matter) to deliver a positive message. His short story collection I Will Change the World … One Intestine at a Time (Plumfukt Press), a juvenile stew of horror and bizarro, aims to make readers lose their lunch while learning a lesson. Ogurek also guest-edits the wildly unpopular UNSPLATTERPUNK! “smearies”, published by Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction. These anthologies are unavailable at your library and despised by your mother. Ogurek reviews films and fiction for that same magazine.

Michael Hart writes stories that blend fantasy, science fiction and horror genres. His stories have appeared in Dark Tales, Frost Zone and Mythic Circle, to name a few. He is a copywriter, an electronic waste recycler and a father of two young children, with whom he spends hours building the most fantastical worlds of all.

Rafe McGregor is a critical theorist publishing on Anglophone culture, political violence, and policing. He is the author of twenty books, including Reducing Political Violence: Narrative Accounts of Crime and Harm (2026), Anthropocide: An Essay in Green Cultural Criminology (2025) and The Adventures of Roderick Langham (2017).

William Foulke is the MFA graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts who aims to become the next Master of Horror. When he’s not exploring the curious and the terrifying at his keyboard, he enjoys traveling to unique destinations. He resides in Pennsylvania where he’s working on his first novel. See www.williamfoulke.com for more information.

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As ever, all back issues of Theaker's Quarterly Fiction are available for free download.

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay (William Morrow Paperbacks) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Questioning possession: inventive novel swerves horror trope in new direction. 

While getting accustomed to Paul Tremblay’s Bram Stoker Award-winning A Head Full of Ghosts, I kept asking myself: do I like this, or don’t I? The more I read, though, the more I moved towards the “like this” option. 

Like many Tremblay novels, this one takes a common horror subject – this time it’s possession – and gives it a twist. A Head Full of Ghosts swerves from the expected, steps back, and, in a way, explores what a possession story is. It starts silly with young sisters Meredith (Merry) and Marjorie telling each other stories about molasses floods or things growing in their house, but the book gradually reels the reader in as things start to go wrong in the Barrett family’s Massachusetts home. 

The story hinges on the question of whether Marjorie is possessed or mentally ill. When the girls’ father John loses his job and has trouble finding another, he turns to prayer and becomes a religious zealot. To alleviate their growing financial difficulties, the Barretts become the subjects of a reality show called The Possession. A film documents the family and especially Marjorie, the one who claims to have the ghosts in her head. 

As the novel builds towards an exorcism event, Tremblay plays with opposites (e.g. cold and hot, fiction and nonfiction) to suspend the uncertainty. Father Waverly, the aptly named priest involved with the family, talks about the financial gain coming from the TV show. And fourteen-year-old Marjorie seems to enjoy the limelight. Perhaps this is all a moneymaking and/or an attention-getting scheme. But then again, how is Marjorie accessing the knowledge that she confidently spews at the priest? What are these strange things happening in her room? She could just be a precocious kid, or maybe there’s something else going on. 

Tremblay also flips around in time and narrative format. While much of the story plays out through the perspective of eight-year-old Merry, the novel also contains passages in which a woman planning to write a tell-all book interviews a twenty-three-year-old Merry to get her side of what happened on the show. Additionally, excerpts from The Final Last Girl blog reinforce the ambiguity of the situation. Blogger Karen Brissette, writing fifteen years after the show, rips it apart, commenting on its amateur cast, lewd imagery and clichés. She references everything from The Exorcist and Lolita to more recent works like The Ring and a “lukewarm parade of possession movies” from the 2000s. The blog is most interesting when its chatty author breaks down scenes from the show. Some readers might not like getting pulled out of the story for this deconstruction. I happened to enjoy it. 

Beyond a possession novel, A Head Full of Ghosts comments on contemporary media and art and their ability to manipulate actors and yes, even readers and viewers. Typically, revisiting worn-out horror tropes would be anathema to good storytelling, but in Tremblay’s hands, everything you’ve come to expect moves in a new direction. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Three More | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Short film quartet relies on shifting views, restrained performances and subtle humour to encourage reflection and underscore the complexity of fiction writing.

If you stare at something long enough and focus exclusively on that one thing, suggests Wes Anderson's Oscar-winning short film The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, you can develop the skills of seeing with your eyes closed and seeing through things. These concepts of intense concentration and observation propel the viewer’s experience of The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Three More, a quartet of films not only based on but also infused by the writings of Roald Dahl. One would need to immerse oneself in these labyrinthine films (and by extension the stories) for years to unravel them. And yet, a single viewing is enough to entertain.

It is not difficult to follow what is happening in the films: a cheater finds fulfilment in altruism, a man relates a childhood bullying experience, a rat catcher comes to town to eliminate an infestation, and a bedridden man must remain motionless to avoid death. The challenge, rather, comes in unearthing the films’ extensive subtext and discerning the techniques Anderson calls upon to reinforce subject matter. 

What unites the works is a sense of playfulness and an admiration for the magic of storytelling. In each film, a composed character looks at the camera and recites Dahl’s stories (right down to the dialogue tags) but also partially participates in them. Initially, one might consider this an esoteric move no better than a one-act play at a community college theatre. Further viewings, however, prove these are brilliant contemporary works of art that sharply deviate from typical shallow films and force viewers to reconsider story and point of view. 

Originality suffuses the films: Opening credits fabricate their origins. Characters pretend to hold things (animals and guns, for example) that other characters pretend to see. Actors reappear as different characters among and within the four films. Stage crew members wearing coveralls enter the frame to assemble, disassemble and manipulate settings (and sometimes even pause to look at the camera). Dahl (Ralph Fiennes) also appears as a character who introduces and concludes each story. These techniques strip away the artifice, reveal the author’s presence in the story and draw attention to the mechanics of storytelling. 

Additionally, the camera’s constantly shifting viewpoint – level with the ground, straight up, straight down – underscores the films’ beckoning watchers to consider them from different angles. At one point, a character looks straight up at the camera and speaks to the viewer while he walks.

Although everything is presented soberly and perhaps even stiffly, humour permeates the films. In the main offering, an ultra-serious doctor/narrator and his colleague quickly walk down a corridor. The narrator explains to the viewer that his colleague’s face was rigid with disbelief. The other doctor then turns to show the viewer the rigidity of his face. Another example: for much of The Swan, the boy version of the narrator stands behind him and stares at the camera. Also, the narrator shows the viewer a photo of a boy, but it is too small and too far from the camera for the viewer to see. Now that’s funny. Throughout the films, when a narrator converses with another character, he will turn to the camera and say, “I said” – the viewer never forgets his role as consumer of story.

Multiple viewings are sure to elicit more questions. Why, for instance, does the narrator in The Swan keep looking at the camera and speaking to the viewer but stop moving his lips just before the camera cuts to a different view of the same character now moving his lips? Why are the backgrounds deliberately fake? Why do lights shine in characters’ eyes at certain points? 

While the end credits roll, Fiennes-as-Dahl comments on the gruelling process of writing fiction, clearly a parallel to the meditation practice in the opening episode and an attempt to give a taste of what it feels like to be in his shoes. Kudos to Anderson for challenging the viewer to be still… to interpret… to imagine… to THINK. Douglas J. Ogurek *****

Divine in Essence by Yarrow Paisley (Whiskey Tit) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Psychoanalysts take heed: hints of the divine surface in quagmire of confused children, mentally ill mothers, and strained relationships. 

Writing instructors often cite Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” as the epitome of clear, concise, and concrete prose. The works in Yarrow Paisley’s collection Divine in Essence are, in many ways, the opposite. Place the two works of art side by side and you might cause some kind of cosmic meltdown. This is not to suggest that Paisley’s often baffling yet sometimes transcendent stories are substandard but rather that they make more demands on the reader than the typical story. 

A common complaint of genre stories is that they have no depth. Fair. Conversely, the bizarro/slipstream entries in Divine in Essence undoubtedly have depth, but some of them have a surface so tenuous that it leaves readers longing for a lifeline… something to latch onto so they can come up for answers. 

If you’re looking for a beach read or something to ease your mind after a long day’s work, look elsewhere. If, however, you’ve blocked out uninterrupted time in your book-lined den where a fire blazes, then you might consider this volume. Additionally, be sure you have your thinking cap on and maybe a couple of cups of coffee in you – you’re going to need to be at your most alert when you unpeel Paisley’s many-layered stories filled with strained child-parent relationships, unorthodox-bordering-on-abusive sexual circumstances, and eccentric and perhaps mentally ill mother figures who emasculate their sons. Be prepared for loads of disassembling… of bodies, of words, of relationships, and even of the narrative. Sometimes Paisley’s narrators will even pull the rug out from under the reader by revealing, for instance, they’ve inadvertently been calling a character by the wrong name.

Divine in Essence has garnered a noteworthy amount of critical acclaim, with reviewers tossing out words like “surreal”, “dreamscape” and “uncanny”. Paisley’s writing style, characterised by literary allusions, superlong sentences stuffed with million-dollar words, authorial intrusions, and a sometimes pontificating tone, often gives the book pre-twentieth century feel. 

While some of the stories are too inaccessible for this reviewer’s tastes, the collection does offer several pieces that show a creative mind brimming with novel ideas. Despite his lack of attentiveness to (or perhaps disregard of) the distracted and apathetic modern reader, Paisley knows what he’s doing. 

One of the collection’s strongest works, “I in the Eye”, is told from the perspective of a seven-year-old boy trapped in his sexy stepmother’s glass eye. He not only observes an emotionless and fragile “simulacrum” of himself living on the outside but also looks on as his mother, aware of his residence within her, dances naked in front of a mirror and seduces his father. As the father’s alcoholism worsens, the boy stifles his own emotions to better absorb his reality. The loss of his own mother, the stepmother’s erotic machinations, and the father’s grief and addiction essentially cause the boy to split… so much so that he needs a surrogate viewpoint. 

Mundanity becomes calamity in “Nancy and Her Man”, in which a woman finds a man at a cemetery – he doesn’t remember her, but she remembers him – and takes him for coffee and a walk. As the man begins to shed body parts, we learn that the woman needs to return him whole to the cemetery, or their annual meeting won’t happen the following year. The story not only comments on the difficulties of holding a relationship together but also stresses the importance of holding onto memories to keep loved ones alive. 

“Rocking Horse Traffic”, another complicated entry, introduces a first-person narrator whose parents are literally trying to get inside him and extract things. A jarring shift to second-person perspective near the end underscores the violent and bizarre conclusion. It is a riveting story with a strong focus on obedience versus disobedience, and, similar to the cemetery story, this one involves grieving, going in cycles, and the inability to let go. In this instance, the father is constantly trying to fix his son, but it’s an unfixable situation. The son settles on an extreme way to break that cycle. 

An important consideration in his work is the role of the reader and the writer. If you were trying to convince someone that reading is fun, this would not be the go-to book. But there is no rule that says the writer must be obedient to today’s harried reader. Divine in Essence, with its bulky paragraphs and refusal to spoon-feed readers, challenges us to veer from the contemporary obsession with instant gratification. Douglas J. Ogurek

The Earth No Longer Exists by Ben Fitts (Alien Buddha Press) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Pessimism smothered in absurdity with a dash of hope: short story collection substantiates future bizarro heavyweight

Ben Fitts’s bizarro collection The Earth No Longer Exists is custom-made for the media-weary twenty-first-century reader. The writing is clear, concise, and above all, original. The paragraphs are short. The language is modest. Fitts admirably avoids any writerly pretension, and with each entry not only entertains but also tackles contemporary issues with a jocular pessimism that occasionally leans toward hopefulness. Moreover, despite their simplicity, all his stories leave room for interpretation.  

Although absurdity permeates them, these pieces are not merely weird for weirdness’s sake. Fitts’s characters ¬¬– sometimes foolish, sometimes silly, and often flawed – operate from a viewpoint of misunderstanding. Political leaders think that replacing the world’s dead superheroes with janitors is a smart move. A man decides he’s going to become the world’s third-sexiest matador… so he can get with a woman. An artist born into privilege becomes so obsessed with the idea that a successful artist needs to be destitute that he loses sight of what he’s creating and what art is. In an insightful exploration of empty sexual encounters versus lasting love, a young man discovers something unexpected in the shoebox of his new lover.

“Raspberry Heart,” an indictment against the chauvinism that still permeates corporate America, introduces a raspberry interviewing for a job. The raspberry grows agitated because its would-be employer is focused not on its qualifications but rather on the fact he’s interviewing a raspberry. 

Clearly influenced by COVID and current political conflicts, “On the Back of an Octopus” involves a city on the back of a giant octopus. When a shark supporting another city approaches, the politicians and scientists of Octopolis go into the highest tower and debate an appropriate response. The idea of getting along is, if you’ll pardon the pun, unfathomable to them. Leaders refuse to see somebody else’s perspective… and the public suffers. 

The volume’s only non-bizarro work, “Next Year in Jerusalem,” is strong enough to be in a high-end literary journal. After an antisemitic message is scrawled on her son’s locker, a Jewish mother decides to move her family from the U.S. to Israel. Her teenage son resists, partly because he’s terrified of being forced to fight in the Israeli military. This fear plays out in the role playing and video games the young man plays. The story stirs up emotion on many levels, particularly animosity toward the mother, who steamrolls her son’s concerns. 

Several stories cover romantic relationships – some elicit sadness, while others end on a more positive note. The man who falls in love with “The Cactus” suffers because of their relationship. Perhaps the physical pain the man feels is a stand-in for the emotional pain that comes with bad matches. That’s the negative side. On the positive side, if a spouse sticks beside a spouse no matter how much pain, that shows love. Regardless, the story punctures the reader with one irrefutable message: love is painful.

In “My Winter Lips,” another relationship-based tale, Fitts takes the current fascination with body modification to the next level by skilfully introducing a new world while avoiding expository dialogue. People can, for instance, get jacked arms or replace their fingers with something that looks like snakes. Unlike many of his peers, the first-person narrator goes to the “parts store” merely to replace his chapped lips with another pair of normal lips. The employee reveals the store is out of human lips, and what transpires is a humorous conversation and a resolution the narrator does not anticipate. The new lips aren’t just lips — they symbolize how openness to new ideas and personal change can allow one to see others in a more positive light. 

The treasures in The Earth No Longer Exists confirm an emerging author’s potential to rise as a leading voice in the bizarro subgenre. Fitts’s stories grasp the reader and refuse to let go; he knows how long each entry needs to be before it starts losing its potency, and he never gets preachy or pontificates. Douglas J. Ogurek*****   

Haunted House by J.A. Konrath (independently published) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Figging and maniacal ghosts: horror/thriller uses well-developed characters and strong plotting to bring life to haunted house trope.

Everybody knows that you don’t go to Butler House, a supposedly haunted mansion on a former slave plantation in South Carolina. It’s also the perfect setting for a fear experiment conducted by Dr. Forenzi. Haunted House, the sixth twisty instalment in The Konrath Dark Thriller Collective, brings together characters from throughout the country (and from the previous books). Each of them is offered a monetary award plus a bonus in exchange for participating in the experiment: the alcoholic mother will get reunited with her child, the disgraced molecular biologist will get his old research job back and so on. All of it seems a bit shady. 

Konrath effectively delays conflict by building suspense as he delves into characters’ backstories and problems to align the reader with them. The novel also explores the history of Butler House and how its sadistic owners psychologically and physically tortured slaves. Additionally, each fear experiment participant has already faced a hellish ordeal ranging from being locked in a basement with a maniac to being trapped on an island with a cannibal who files his teeth. You’re with these characters, and you want them to escape. 

When the key players arrive at Butler House, they encounter other, more typical horror characters: a skeptical author, a specialist in debunking paranormal phenomena, and of course, a medium. They also meet the boisterous prostitute-turned-dominatrix call girl Moni, a major source of comic relief. Participants are allowed to bring one weapon; Moni brings a plunger full of heroin. She repeatedly refers to something called “figging” that she does with her male clientele. Konrath plays with the reader by withholding the definition of this term – can you resist looking it up until the novel ends?

The participants find themselves in a 13 Ghosts type of environment, with the spirits from the house’s sordid past supposedly rising up to terrorize them. A giggling, bare-chested guy who wears a gas mask, smells like meat and enjoys cutting himself with a cleaver. A slave driver who uses a whip and has a patch over one eye. A vengeful slave with four arms stemming from a Civil War-era experiment. Konrath keeps the reader wondering: is what is happening real, or is it a trick to frighten the subjects? The dangers escalate, and the prospect of escape decreases. All the while, the reader roots for the underdogs. 

The cop Mankowski seems the most grounded of the characters. In one scene, there’s a fascinating interaction with a serial killer in prison. The killer relishes telling Mankowski the awful things he’s done to his victims. 

A group of strangers getting trapped in a threatening environment has been done many times but rarely so entertainingly. Douglas J. Ogurek ****

The Accident Season by Moïra Fowley-Doyle (Kathy Dawson Books) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Young adult novel hides sexual and physical abuse within a bubblegum wrapper of tarot cards, costume parties, kissing and witches.

The Accident Season focuses on a trio of Irish teens: seventeen-year-old narrator Cara Morris, her best friend Bea (a witch – not the supernatural kind), and Cara’s ex-stepbrother Sam whose crush on Cara is abundantly clear.

Every October is “accident season” for the Morrises due to the inordinate number of negative happenings: cuts, broken bones, severed relationships, and worse. This accident season, according to Bea’s tarot cards, is going to be awful. 

The trio undertakes a quest to find classmate Elsie, an outcast who keeps cropping up in Cara’s photos. Elsie has no friends, and yet people know her as the girl who oversees the school library’s “secrets booth”. Here students type out their secrets and give them to Elsie to keep safe. After her father died, Cara was friends with Elsie, who is fading into the shadows – Cara can’t even remember the semi-doppelganger’s last name.

The novel also explores the somewhat forbidden attraction between Cara and Sam – his father Christopher was married to Cara’s artist mother, but he left abruptly. The mother has assumed guardianship of Sam. Then there’s Cara’s sister Alice, dating a handsome and manipulative older vocalist from a band. 

The Accident Season contains lots of talk about masks and hiding one’s true feelings. The Cara/Bea/Sam trio isn’t very popular, but they host the Black Cat and Whiskey Moon Masquerade Ball, the point of which is that attendees will take off their figurative human masks to show what they really are. And they’re gaining popularity because of it.

The tension escalates as things come to the surface near the end, but until then, it’s a rather dull read. One can take only so much hanging out and smoking and drinking and tarot cards and writing poetry.—Douglas J. Ogurek ***

Suckers by J.A. Konrath and Jeff Strand (independently published) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Stupid. Ridiculous. Brilliant.

This collection alternates stories between comedy horror masters J.A. Konrath and Jeff Strand, then culminates with “Suckers,” a cowritten longer piece in which their recurring characters Harry McGlade (Konrath) and Andrew Mayhem (Strand) meet and undertake an absurd caper. 

Though each author’s work is distinctive, what unites them is playfulness with language, an avoidance of pompous prose, a comedian’s recognition of everyday absurdities, and often, a deliberate imbecility. “The pain was painful,” observes Konrath’s detective, while Strand’s protagonist, more of a sharp albeit regular guy playing at detective work, questions “fun size” Halloween candy – if it was fun, it would be enormous. Throughout the collection, the action moves quickly, and the dialogue stays tight and rapid fire. 

McGlade is the ultimate jerk. He’s also highly amusing. He’ll check out a woman’s legs while she’s crying or insult someone at their first meeting. He makes fun of others, whether they’re wearing too much makeup or have a face resembling a percussion instrument. He’s a chauvinist and a womanizer, and he doesn’t pay attention to others. At one point, he even admits to lying to the reader. 

Mayhem, on the other hand, is analytical and talky. He points out contradictions in things people say to make them look foolish. He’s also inventive when it comes to defending himself, whether that means using a hardcover copy of Stephen King’s The Stand or a box of grape juice. And Mayhem is more of a family man… but he’s not beyond showing his young son a movie called Blood Blood Blood. 

The differences between the two authors surface in the first two stories. Konrath’s “Whelp Wanted”, in which McGlade is tasked with finding a missing dog, takes place over multiple days. He does shoddy research and makes several mistakes. “Poor Career Choice” by Strand is a dialogue-heavy but by no means dull exchange between Mayhem and a would-be assassin who shows up at his home. The action takes place in real time.

McGlade gets more entertaining as the collection progresses. “Taken to the Cleaners” introduces another incompetent hitman. An attractive young woman who is the wife of a chicken king wants McGlade to kill the man her husband hired to kill the man she hired to kill him. 

In “A Bit of Halloween Mayhem”, Strand’s protagonist and a friend decide to explore a supposedly haunted house. Strand demonstrates the silliness of two grown men doing something kids are more likely to do. 

Next up is Konrath’s “The Necro File”, a magnum opus of humour, disgustingness, and authorial mischief. Client Norma Cauldridge, to whom McGlade repeatedly refers as “Drawbridge” (not to be funny but rather because he’s sloppy), wants him to follow her necromancer husband. This is Richard Laymon level stuff topped with a hearty portion of urine, barf and poop. Moreover, the story exemplifies that going off on tangents isn’t always ineffective. McGlade, for instance, rambles on about the unappetizing look of hot dogs before eating three of them. 

“The Lost (For a Good Reason) Adventure of Andrew Mayhem” recounts how the protagonist met his friend Roger in school detention at age thirteen. They get into trouble when they discover a naked neighbour thrusting around a butcher knife while talking to himself. 

In “Suckers”, the two characters inadvertently meet when Mayhem, running an errand involving spaghetti sauce and mushrooms, confronts McGlade intent on rooting out some “pires” (aka vampires). The reader gets the best of both worlds with the witty Mayhem and the not-as-smart-but-still-absorbing McGlade, who often bends the truth to make himself seem more heroic than he is. 

The story takes a giddy sidetrack when it introduces email communications between the protagonists and their editor Chad. Mayhem begins commenting on the falsity of McGlade’s version of events. When the story resumes, McGlade mocks his coauthor by engaging Mayhem in over-the-top actions inspired by his email comments.

The book ends with Strand interviewing Jack Kilborn (Konrath’s pen name) via email about a forthcoming novel. The exchange has them poking fun at each other and getting silly.

Both authors brought their A game to this collection, whose adventurousness and friskiness enthral the reader’s inner child. Douglas J. Ogurek *****

The Gingerbread Girl by Stephen King (Simon & Schuster Audio) | review by Douglas J. Ogurek

Novella mixes grieving mother with giddy maniac and turns up the heat.

Emily, whose relationship with her husband has soured after the loss of a child, travels to her father’s beachside residence on the fictitious island of Vermillion Key, Florida. She takes up running – a near obsession that will play into the story later – with hopes of healing. Soon, however, a murderous brute will engage Em in an extended cat and mouse chase.

Em first learns about villain Jim Pickering from a friend of her father’s. Each year, she is informed, the wealthy tech guy arrives in his red Mercedes and brings a young, attractive “niece” (eyeroll) to his place. At the end of their stay, they leave via boat. 

Because The Gingerbread Girl is a novella, King acts quickly. Thus, this isn’t the typical scenario in which a gullible female falls for a dapper gent who eventually turns on her. Pickering is bad news from the start. Thus, Em gets drawn into the villain’s clutches not through his charm but rather by witnessing something he doesn’t want her to see. The story then sprints along at an exhilarating pace. Survival for Em means leveraging her strengths and her pursuer’s weaknesses. 

Mare Winningham’s audiobook narration endows Pickering with a cheerful bordering on giddy – listen for the yapping laugh – disposition. He finds unpleasant things funny, talks to himself, and has zero concern for Em.

Despite his story’s fairy tale-inspired title and straightforward narrative, King manages to inject depth into the work. Yes, Em is fleeing a madman, but she’s also trying to run away from her pain. Perhaps Pickering is even an embodiment of that pain, a pain that must be confronted to be overcome. Will the Gingerbread Girl crumble? Or will she prove herself a tough cookie? Douglas J. Ogurek ****