A Lump of Coal

 

Every year around the holidays, I'm always on the lookout for new horror fiction that takes place during the Christmas season, so when I saw Secret Santa by Andrew Shaffer making the rounds on Instagram and Facebook, I knew it just had to be added to my holiday reading list. It promised "horrific accidents," and what's better than a mess of gore for Christmas, so I put everything else on hold to see what secret Santa was keeping.

At the beginning of the novel, we are introduced to Lussi (pronounced Lucy) Meyer, an unemployed genre editor arriving at the imposing Blackwood-Patterson publishing house for a job interview. The head of the company, a stuffy, snooty old man, looks down his nose at Lussi when he learns she edited horror novels in previous position, and immediately dismisses her as not worth his time. They are a publisher of literary fiction, after all, and they have no interest in starting a genre line. As Lucy gathers up her things, Xavier Blackwood suffers a heart attack and later dies at the hospital. Since she was present when the old man keeled over, she felt it was her duty to check on him at the hospital, where she meets Digby Blackwood, Xavier's son, and learns that the old man has died. Seizing the opportunity to take advantage of the tragic situation, Lussi is able to score a job at Blackwood as a senior editor. It's only short term, as Digby plans to unload the company by the end of other year -- unless Lussi can find the next Stephen King, which just might save the company from the financial trash heap it is in.

From Day One, it is apparent that Lussi is not welcome, as the other employees, who have been with the company for a long time, are stand-offish, but it's as if destiny has placed Lussi at Blackwood. The holiday party is approaching, and Lussi discovers that there is already a present underneath the office Christmas tree with her name on it. Nobody expected her to be hired, so they are all as surprised as she is. But her coworkers continue to show their contempt for Lussi by pranking her. When the office Christmas party occurs and the gifts are handed out, Lussi is surprised by what was gifted to her, but she tells her coworkers the box is empty. The only one who knows differently is Digby, who was seated beside her when she opened the box. Then her coworkers start to become the victims of pranks themselves, but the pranks pulled on them are for more vicious than those perpetrated upon Lussi. Does Lussi's Secret Santa have anything to do with what's going on? Is it the gift? Or is somebody just trying to scare the new girl off?

While I was definitely caught up in the story and couldn't wait to see what happened next, I can't help but feel disappointed upon finishing it. It wasn't what I was expecting. To me, there were so many missed opportunities to deliver what the jacket copy implied -- horrific accidents. Oh, the accidents were there, but they weren't described to the extreme, rather, they were glossed over as if Shaffer had a fear of offending the more delicate of his readers. In short, I wanted more gore and the author didn't deliver. In fact, as I was reading, I couldn't help but make comparisons to The Legacy by John Coyne, where a group of strangers is gathered together by an aged benefactor, and one by one they are eliminated in a manner that emulates their worst fear when it comes to dying. And while Shaffer didn't deliver the splatter fest I had been hoping for, what he did deliver was a compelling supernatural mystery that some folks might find enjoyable. I might have found it enjoyable had I not gone in with preconceived expectations.

The other thing I found disappointing and somewhat unbelievable was Lussi's transition. Despite having been spoon-fed on tales of the European spooks and fairies by her grandmother, you never get the impression that she believes any of what she was told. It did ignite in her a love of horror, but Lussi comes across as being a sensible young woman who knows the difference between fantasy and reality, so when it comes time for her to learn the truth of what's going on, she's far too accepting of it. And she seems too eager to embrace her destiny. Granted, it was literally a life or death situation, but friendship only goes so far. I mean, I can understand taking a bullet for a friend, but what Lussi does is tantamount to selling her soul to the devil, and it makes you question her true intentions.

All that aside, would I recommend Secret Santa to a friend? Absolutely. Despite what I said above, it's not a bad book. In fact, it's a rather good supernatural mystery. But it's not what I was expecting. Is that the author's fault? Nope, it's mine, and I should have learned by now not to go into a book with preconceived expectations, but there are times you just can't help it. So if you want a good Christmas mystery with a supernatural slant, then by all means, grab yourself a copy and enjoy. But if you, like me, are looking to take a trip through a winter slaughter land where the snow is stained red with blood and intestines are strung from the trees, then skip this one and keep looking. If you have to find one, drop a line and let me know.

Road Trip

Prior to HBO's adaptation of Lovecraft Country, I hadn't really heard anything about it. I'd seen the cover floating around some of the Facebook groups, but never paid that much attention. Yeah, it had Lovecraft in the title, but the cover didn't do anything for me. The teasers for the HBO series, however, had me chomping at the bit. I figured let me watch a couple of episodes to get a feel for it. Needless to say, I was hooked. Hooked enough to pick up the book.

The first thing I noticed was the book was more subdued, less graphic than the series, and at first glance, you might think you're reading separate novellas that take place within the same universe. First up, Atticus Turner's return home and search for his missing father, followed by Letitia's purchase of a haunted house. All of the characters intermingle, as they're all family or friends of the family, and you wonder how Ruff is going to bring all these tales together, as they all seem to lead back to the Braithwhite family, the ones responsible for Atticus's father's disappearance.

Set against of the backdrop 1954 Chicago, the characters are not only faced with the supernatural, which up until their first encounter with the Braithwhite family, was something you'd tell your children about at night to scare them into behaving, but they also have to deal with the monster called racism, and you find yourself questioning who are the real monsters.

Ruff more or less throws all the characters at you in one fell swoop, but then takes his time providing you with their backstory, fleshing them out so they're real to the reader and causing the reader to become invested in the characters and what happens to them. He feeds you tidbits of information, not too much, but just enough to keep you hungry for more, and gradually builds the suspense that keeps you on the edge of your seat. He's like a fisherman jiggling the bait before you, getting you to strike, and setting the hook, then letting out the line, playing with you. letting your think you've escaped only to reel you back in.

The problem is, having seen the series (I was four episodes in before I picked up the book), I was going into it expecting more blood and gore, but Ruff wants you to feel the horror of the times without diluting it with unnecessary gore. This is the only thing that makes me wish I'd read the book first, as I couldn't help feeling disappointed coming out out it. That's not to say it's not a good read, because it is, and I highly recommend it, but when certain expectations aren't met, disappointment is bound to follow. So if you're going to read Lovecraft Country, don't go in expecting the graphic nature present in the series.

Playing Possum

Folks who know me know that I love Nature Strikes Back movies and books, but they also know I hate books and movies that show violence against animals, which might seem like a contradiction. And sometimes it is; I've been known to stop reading books because animals have been killed, but there are other books that I've devoured. The difference? I guess it has to do with the reason the animal was killed. If you kill a dog for the sake of killing a dog (for shock value?), I'm done. But if the animal is killed in an act of self-defense, that's a different story altogether. Or so my brain tells me.

When I first stumbled on Alan Baxter's The Roo and heard the backstory about how it came about, I knew I had to read it. Likewise with Stephanie Rabig's Playing Possum. I was curious to see what she could do with opossums that would make them scary. I mean, other than just have them bare their teeth, because when they do that, they're freaking terrifying.

Rabig wastes no time throwing the reader into the thick of it when a young woman, after fighting with her boyfriend, is attacked and presumably killed by a bunch of opossums. Then we slow things down a bit when we're introduced to the main character, Vanessa, her family (aunt, uncle, and cousin), and her girlfriend. Things start to ramp up again when Vanessa's girlfriend is attacked. She's taken to the hospital, given the all clear, and is sent home. But all isn't clear, and she starts to feel sick. Vanessa wants her to go back to the hospital, but finances prevent her from doing that. So she stays home...and gets worse. Meanwhile, the opossums are launching attacks all over town, and things go from bad to worse when Vanessa's young cousin is attacked and disappears. Figuring there's safety in numbers, a number of townsfolk head to the clinic. They're scared and confused, and they want to know why the opossums are attacking. They aren't normally pack animals, and the don't usually attack unless threatened, so what's changed. One woman thinks she knows; in fact, she's certain she knows who's behind the attacks and why. And then it's a race against time. Can one old woman and Vanessa's family put a stop to the attacks before the entire town falls victim to the rampaging marsupials.

In Playing Possum, Rabig has created a thrilling take of jealousy and revenge. It moves along at a brisk pace, and rarely lets the reader come up for air before launching them into more mayhem. With Vanessa, she has created a strong, independent woman who is not without flaws. She's fully fleshed out and believable, but alas, she's the only one who is. The other central characters are fleshed out enough so that the reader comes to care about what happens to them, but they don't reach the full three-dimensional nature that Rabig reached with Vanessa. This might have been intentional, in that they feel more like cannon fodder, which means we're guessing all throughout who's going to live and who's going to die. That and the suspense of waiting for the next attack makes for a nail-biting thrill ride that will keep you gripping the roll bar until the ride comes to a complete stop. Be forwarned, Rabig does set things up for a possible sequel, and we can only pray that she follows through and delivers. Final rating, 5 out of 5 stars.

 

Bigfoot Takes a Holiday

Folks who've read my reviews know I'm Cryptid Crazy, so when I first stumbled across Kristopher Rufty's Bigfoot Beach, I had to add it to my TBR list. But because of a previous experience with one of Rufty's books, I was hesitant to start it. But after watching Primal Rage again, I knew it was time for another killer Bigfoot book. But let me start off by saying, when I first saw this cover, I thought it was going to be a horror comedy. Boy, was I wrong. Well, kind of. The only thing funny was Gunner's ogling of every woman he came across, but I'll get to that later.

Like any slasher-style book, we start off Bigfoot Beach with an attack on an amorous young couple. The young man is savagely butchered and the young woman is carried off. Based on the title of the book, it's no secret what the attacker is. Then it jumps to the arrival of Paul Thompson, his hunky teenage son, Gunner, who apparently doesn't know how attractive he is, and his eight-year-old daughter, Natalie.

Their arrival in Seashell Cove is supposed to be a new start for them. We learn that Paul is a hunky hero cop and is in town to take on the role of deputy to his big brother's sheriff. We also learn that Paul's wife has suffered a breakdown and attempted to kill him, so she's out of the picture for good. He's soon to learn of the town's local celebrity, a legendary Bigfoot that appeared a little over a year ago and is the scapegoat for many of the town's disappearances and killings. Why Bigfoot and not a bear or some other wild animal? The footprints left behind. As the story progresses, we are introduced to the other key players: Howie Thompson, the equally hunky sheriff and Paul's big brother; Trish Thompson,the sheriff's wife who has movie star looks; Mayor Caine, a pompous ass who sees the Bigfoot as a way to spur the town's economy, provided they can keep the murders under wraps; Becky Aniston, the local reporter (who also happens to be drop-dead gorgeous -- maybe the new Mrs. Thompson?) who dreams of breaking that one big story that will land her a job with the big boys; Megan Caine, the mayor's daughter, also drop-dead gorgeous and often runs around in a bikini top -- yeah, I'll come back to this; Striker, the rugged bounty hunter who has been on the trail of the Bigfoot for some time; and a host of assorted cannon fodder.

As the body count rises, the sheriff and Paul, along with Becky, Mayor Caine, and Striker, lead a search for the creature, which leaves them through a labyrinth of caverns not too far from the Mayor's mansion. Meanwhile Gunner is making goo-goo eyes at the Mayor's daughter and ogling his aunt's tits. Yeah, of all the characters, I like Gunner the least and hope he turns into Bigfoot chow before the end of the book. It all leads up to a thrilling chase across the beach and to an abandoned miniature golf course. Like all slashers, there are some unintentionally funny scenes, as well as several eye-roll moments, but all in all, Bigfoot Beach was a solid story. There were only a couple of things I took issue with.

First of all, I read an e-book version of Bigfoot Beach, and the formatting was awful. Like this post, there were blank lines between every paragraph, which, in the case of this post, is unavoidable as they don't allow for paragraph indents (or if they do, I haven't figured it out yet). But in the book, it was distracting enough to pull you out of the story, especially when there's a series of short lines of dialogue. Second was the adolescent way Gunner's fawning over women was handled. I mean, Gunner is supposed to be 17 years old, so why does it feel like he's 13 and has never seen a woman before, especially one in a bikini, let alone naked? And his ogling of his aunt comes across as sleazy/pervy. It's almost like there was a blatant attempt here to emulate Richard Laymon, which, to me, is not a good thing. These scenes could have been lifted directly from Laymon's Island, with only the character names changed. Practically every Gunner scene had me praying Bigfoot would break in and rip his head off to save me from any more eye-roll moments. Paul is almost as bad with Becky and Trish. Almost. But not nearly as bad as Gunner, so he was allowed to live in my mind.

Those issues aside, I enjoyed Bigfoot Beach, but taking these issues into account, I feel the need to subtract a point, so a solid 4 star read becomes 3 stars. Given how I feel about these issues, would I recommend the book. Definitely. Especially if you're a fan of killer Bigfoot stories. It's the perfect summer beach read.

Savage Seas

Last summer I started what I called my Don't Go Near the Water Summer Reading List, but unfortunately, when it comes to series books, I find I am unable to binge read any series. Eventually, I grow bored and put the book aside, quite possibly to never go back to it again. That's why, with Steve Alten's Meg series, I decided to space them out because I enjoy them so much that I don't want to get bored with the characters. So some six months after reading The Trench, I tackled Meg: Primal Waters, book 3 in the Meg series.

Unlike The Trench, which takes place a few years after the events in the first book, eighteen years have passed. Jonas Taylor is more or less a has-been, struggling financially and reluctant to admit that, although he loves his wife and kids, his marriage is in trouble. So when Jonas is offered the job as a consultant on a daredevil reality show, he jumps at the chance. Terry is against it, but reluctantly agree -- provided he takes their seventeen year old daughter with them. No way is she going to allow him to spend six to seven weeks away in the company of a bunch of wild young women. Neither of them realize Jonas, and by extension his daughter, is being set up so he won't return.

While Jonas is away, Angel returns, which inadvertently causes the death of Terry's father. And somewhere between Jonas's shooting location and the Tanaka Research Institute, another Meg has surfaced, which prompts Terry to confront her fears to do her part to save her family financially. Which leaves their fourteen year old son, together with Mac, to try to recapture Angel.

I've read books in the past that have tried to cash in on the reality show setting, and some authors have handled it successfully and others not so successfully, so I have to admit I went into this one with some reservations. Not that I had any doubt that Alten would create a thrill-ride worthy of Universal's theme park; I just wasn't sure the reality show setting was going to work for me. All my worries were for nothing. Three parallel story lines, each featuring their own megalodon (that's right, folks, you get not one, not two, but three megs in this one), race toward one explosive finale, and Alten skillfully weaves them seamlessly together. There's even a hint of something more dangerous than the meg living in the depths.

My only question is why the eighteen year span between The Trench and Primal Waters? It seems like a rather heavy-handed plot device to keep the story oriented around the Taylor family -- unless Alten knows something about the Meg reproductive cycle that wasn't made obvious in the narrative. You see, Angel is cycling through estrus, and the one male that Terry at first thinks is Angel, is in pursuit of the female. And Angel, having been raised in captivity, is returning home, like a salmon, in the hopes of spawning.

And there's something I must confess. Originally, I had no plans on reading past The Trench, which I had read when it was first published and recently reread to prepare myself for Primal Waters, but not too long ago, I read The Loch, and wanted to read Vostok, which is the sequel to The Loch, but it's also the prequel to Nightstalkers, so I figured I had some catching up to do. I'm not sorry. I had at first though Meg was going to be a tired rehash of Peter Benchley's Jaws, but I'm enjoying this a helluva a lot more than Jaws. Alten focuses on his prehistoric shark and the events surrounding its hunt and capture, and everything that happens serves to move the story thrillingly forward. There are no tangents to the stories, unlike Jaws, which gets bogged down in a Mafia storyline and a pointless affair, which often has the reader tempted to put the book aside. So if you're looking for a thrilling sea adventure, Alten's Meg series is the obvious choice. Next up, Hell's Aquarium, but I need to put some distance between Primal Waters and the next adventure. Stay tuned.

The One Who Got Away

I'm not normally a fan of King's non-horror work, but I wanted to have an introduction to Holly Gibney before venturing into The Outside, and since she was introduced in the Bill Hodges trilogy, I figured I'd give it a go.

Mr. Mercedes is basically the story of a retired detective who comes out of retirement to pursue the one who got away -- The Mercedes Killer -- after being goaded to commit suicide by the killer.

The book starts off strong, with the Mercedes Killer driving a stolen Mercedes to drive it into a job fair, killing 8 and wounding so many others. Then we jump to retired detective Bill Hodges sitting in his living room toying with the idea of swallowing a bullet when a letter comes through the mail slot, a letter that more or less tells him to go ahead and do it. Which means the killer has been watching him. Instead of pushing Hodges over the edge, it invigorates him, and before you know it, he's back on the case again, even if unofficially.

The novel moves along at a swift pace, well, for at least half the book, and then I have to admit, King kinda lost me, and I was tempted to put the book aside. It was a real eye-roll moment for me, and that was when Janey seduces Bill. It was so out of the blue, but so contrived. You can't even call it spontaneous, and you just sit there in dumb disbelief and ask yourself, "Really?" After that, I more or less lost interest in the book, but then I had to remind myself why I started this one in the first place, and that was to meet Holly, and I still hadn't done that yet. So I pushed on, but from this point on, the story never got back on track for me. It just kept moving further and further into the unrealistic. Hodges knows there's a point where he should hand everything over to the police, but stubborn pride doesn't let him. This HAS to be his collar, and it doesn't matter who gets hurt in the process. Not even the death of his "girlfriend" is enough to make him turn it over to the police. He continues his investigation, putting the lives of a teenager and a middle-aged, emotionally challenged woman at risk. It's at this point I found myself turning against Hodges, which I'm sure wasn't King's intention, and found myself rooting for the crazy killer. You WANT Hodges to get his comeuppance, but sadly, it never happens. It all builds up to a totally unrealistic ending in a packed concert hall.

Would I recommend Mr. Mercedes? If you're a die-hard King fan, of course, but if you're one who has been disappointed with his later works, or one who, like me, finds him hit-or-miss (mostly miss, especially in his later books), I'd recommend approaching with caution; the first half worked for me, the second half didn't. Now I have to decide if I want to follow up with the second book in the trilogy.

It Sure as Hell Ain't Meg

There are times when I binge read a certain category of books. Coming off of Jaws, Meg, and The Trench, I was still in the mood for something dealing with sharks, but I wasn't ready to dive into Meg: Primal Waters just yet, so I tooled around on Amazon for a bit and discovered Rick Chesler's Hotel Megalodon. Story sounded interesting, so I picked it up.

I have to admit, the book had potential, and in the hands of Peter Benchley or Steve Alten, I think we would have had a hit on our hands. The story is simple: the development and building of a "luxury" underwater hotel disturbs a megalodon, that then proceeds to launch its attack on the hotel on opening weekend, methodically cutting off any means of escape for the guests and staff. The focus of the book, besides the shark attacks, is trying to get the guests safely out of the hotel and back on land. Sounds thrilling, right? Yawn. Wrong.

The problem we have here is the author not having a firm grasp on his subject matter. And if he does, something got lost in the translation as he put words to page because it doesn't come across. The setting is supposed to be a luxurious underwater hotel, but you don't get the feeling that the place is that luxurious. A kid in the book describe it best: it's like a Habitrail for humans. For those unfamiliar with Habitrails, it was a plastic prison for hamsters, gerbils, and mice. It was made up of a central "living area" with

tubes that led to other smaller compartments. And that's exactly what the hotel feels like, nothing luxurious about it. AND it's opening weekend and the guest list is all A Listers, so they need to impress. And make an impression they do. In the fact that nothing, and I mean nothing, has been tested for functionality, so you know when they attempt to activate something, it's going to fail. Of course. Like the escape pods -- that sink.

The other problem is the characters. You really don't come to care for any of them. The "hero" of the story is a young marine biologist, described as being in her mid twenties, but when you first meet her, she comes across as a fifteen or sixteen year old during a Bring Your Daughter to Work day. She's obviously out of her league here, so you hope she becomes shark chow soon so they can bring in the real star. James White, the man running the whole show and the resident villain, is so inept at his job, you have to wonder who he slept with to get the job. Maybe Mick, the supposed love interest, who breaks the heroine's heart when she walks in and finds him in a compromising position with the dolphin lady -- Carrie, Clarrie, Clarice, whatever the hell her name is. She's not important.

You also get the impression that the only knowledge the author has of marine equipment and sharks has been garnered from reading Steve Alten's books and Jaws, or maybe from an Atari 2600 simulation. When Coco is piloting the sub, it just doesn't seem real. And the megalodon? There were times I felt like I was watching SyFy's Supershark, especially when the shark was breaking windows and attempting to swim into the hotel to get at the guests. It would get itself wedged into a place, then swim backwards to free itself (sharks mobility is limited to forward motion), and often it seemed like the author lost track of his shark. In one scene, he says it slipped from window, and the body was more or less acting like a plug because suddenly the water was pouring in, but then the shark is back to snapping at Coco. Uh, didn't it just extract itself from the window to allow the water to flood the hotel? And every so often the author would throw out terms from out of the blue just to make it sound like he knew what he was talking about. And all you could do was chuckle.

And the ending?!?! OMG, I wanted to throw the book across the room . If I hadn't been reading a digital copy, I probably would have, but I didn't want to damage my Kindle. It was probably the worst part of the book. It's literally like giving a kitten a boop on the nose and telling it to be good.

Sadly, though, the author doesn't pursue what could probably have been one of the more interesting aspects of the book, and that's the old tribesmen that appear at the beginning and the end. You get the feeling that the megalodon is kind of a guardian spirit that rises up to protect the islanders and their way of life, almost like Godzilla defending Japan, but that aspect is never explored.

Overall, this book was a major fail for me, and if you are in the market for a big fish story, I'd suggest looking elsewhere.