Down the Rabbit Hole...

One of my favorite books when I was a kid was Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and through the Looking Glass. I remember my mother trying to dissuade me from reading it. It's not that she tried to censor our reading, so she would never forbid me from reading it, it's just that it was one book she couldn't get through. All the "Eat Me" and "Drink Me" and shrinking and growing and telescoping necks... She just preferred her books more reality based. But when I saw Christina Henry's Alice, I knew it was something I was going to have to check out, moreso because the reviews for it seemed to be all over the place.

The premise for the book comes across as a sequel. Alice, now 26, has been locked away in an asylum. She doesn't recall why she's there; all she can vaguely remember is "...a tea party long ago, and long ears, and blood..." Her family no longer visits, and the only companion she has is the man in the next cell, a man named Hatch, and they communicate through a mouse hole in the wall between the two cells. When I fire breaks out at the hospital, Alice and Hatch escape, but so does the fearsome, nightmarish creature called the Jabberwock, to which Hatch has some kind of weird connection. And thus the adventures through Old City begin, as they search for the only weapon that can destroy the Jabberwock. Their adventure eventually leads to a long past due confrontation between Alice and The Rabbit, a crime boss responsible for scarring Alice's face, and finally a showdown with the Jabberwock.

The thing that strikes me after reading the reviews is so many people see this as a reimaging or a retelling of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. What they seem to so obviously miss is this is intended/presented as a sequel, and as such, you expect to meet a lot of familiar characters. And you do. In name only. For folk familiar with Alice's story, this is how we remember the Cheshire Cat.

And if you only know the story through the Disney adaptation, he's a purplish cat with an ear-to-ear grin. In Christina Henry's sequel, Cheshire is a man, whose symbol is a cat. Likewise The Walrus, The Carpenter, The Caterpillar, and The Rabbit. They're all men. So imagine my disappointment when I encountered all these "creatures" in Alice. As a retelling/reimaging that draws inspiration from Carroll's masterpiece, I would find this acceptable. But as a SEQUEL? Absolutely not. And thus the dilemma. How to rate Christina Henry's book...

On a personal level, I HATED it. I know HATE is a strong word, but I can't help feeling that the author and publisher intentionally misled potential readers into what to expect. Did they expect those of us who went in expecting to be reunited with familiar characters to just shrug aside our disappointment once we got involved in the book and found out we were lied to? Not gonna happen. BUT...

Is it a bad book? No. It's just not what I expected going in. As a reimaging/retelling, I feel it's rather creative and intriguing. BUT if it was meant as a reimaging of Carroll's novel, then it should have started at the beginning, with Alice's first adventure through Old City (Wonderland), all the initial encounters, the betrayals, and not years afterward.

And this is where I wish I could dual star this one. Personally, for me (and most reviews/ratings are done on a personal level), it's a 1-star read, but objectively, I'd give it 4 stars. So take it from there.

I Want My Mummy

 When I needed a Mummy book for part of a GoodReads challenge, my mind immediately went to Stoker's The Jewel of Seven Stars, but then I was like, "Curses, foiled again," because I read that last year. For some reasons, mummies aren't big in horror fiction. On the screen, yes, but on the printed page... Well, the pickings are slim. And thus the search began. Eventually, I stumbled across Ragman by JG Faherty, and two things sold me on this book. Besides the fact that it was about mummies, the deciding factor was that it took place in NYC. As a native New Yorker, I'm a sucker for anything that takes place in and around the Big Apple.

The book opens in Egypt, 1888, where we witness a group of men descecrating the ruins of a temple and killing one of the priests, allowing them to get away with artifacts stolen from the premises. As always happens among friends when money is in the picture, there's treachery, and one man ends up taking the fall for all of them.

Jump to present day, New York City, where we witness the awakening of Ahmes the Second, High Priest of Sokar, risen from the dead to carry out a blood oath. One year later, someone is killing homeless people, literally sucking the lives right out of them. Elsewhere in the city, someone is killing of some of society's elite gentlemen, literally ripping them apart. Tom Reardon, a retired/disgraced detective now working security detail, answers a cry for help against his better judgement. After all, he's not a cop anymore, but a deeply rooted sense of duty has him springing into action. It almost costs him his life. Later, at the precinct, after giving his statement, he comes face to face with his old partner, Daniel Reese. There's history between the two, some good, some bad, and it's the bad that overshadows their reunion. Reese is responsible for investigating the Ragman murders, the death of the elite gentlemen, one of whom will turn out to be Reardon's employer. As a result, the two former friends are forced to work together to try to find out who is behind the killings before anyone else dies. They don't do a very good job of it, not at first, but what can you expect when two men firmly rooted in reality are forced to confront the supernatural. It isn't until they become targets themselves that they begin to accept the fact that what they are dealing with isn't exactly human. And how do the brutal murders tie in to the string of homeless murders?

Ragman isn't an out-and-out horror novel, but a combination of who-dunnit and Friday the 13th, part mystery/part slasher fiction that's heavy on the supernatural. It's well paced and the characters are likeable enough. Reardon comes across as an Everyman, far from perfect, able to make mistakes and accept the consequences of his actions, which makes him more relateable. Reese, on the other hand, is an extreme character, in that he reacts more emotionally to things than Reardon, and as a result, tends to harbor grudges that border on the irrational. As a result, it takes a while to warm up to Reese as a character. There are times, I must admit, where I kind of wished Reese had fallen victim to the Ragman so I don't have to deal with the whiny, angsty emotions he's struggling with. But by the end, you're rooting for the pair like they were Batman and Robin.

Overall, I enjoyed the book, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its share of issues. I tend to visualize while I read. What I mean by that is the scene unfolds like a movie screen in my mind. As a result, there were a few details in the beginning that threw me as not being possible (yeah, I know we're dealing with a supernatural slasher, so nothing is actually possible), but these were details rooted in reality, minor details that made me go, "Huh?" And then there were the eye-roll moments, which, for me, is when one of the characters took a tour of the Other Side. I had the same problem with the movie Insidious. I thought it was great---until the characters ventured over to the other side. That's where it lost me. Thankfully, though, in Ragman, this is a mercifully short visit before we're thrust back to the "reality" of Faherty's world.

If you're a fan of mysteries, slashers, or supernatural thrillers, this is one I would definitely recommend. 4/5 stars

It's Always the Quiet Ones

Jasper Bark's Quiet Places is another book I stumbled upon while looking for a "Q" title for a reading challenge. Well, that's not entirely true. I'd seen it mentioned occasionally in the various Facebook groups I belong to, but it never crossed my mind until I saw it among the Amazon listings. I also needed a Cosmic Horror read for another challenge, so I figured it's a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Quiet Places is Sally's story. It tells of her life before before and after her move to Dunballan, and what befell her lover, David, once they were settled. To the outsider, Dunballan seems rather idyllic -- and isolated town tucked away deep in the woods that rarely, if ever, gets any visitors. So how did a young woman from London end up in such a secluded, out-of-the-way place? It seems it's her boyfriend's ancestral home. And when his uncle passes away and leaves the entire estate to him, it's his familial duty to take up residence. This is a big change for Sally, in more ways than one. Even though she and David have been together for a number of years, they have never cohabitated. And you get the impression she's a city girl at heart. So her life is about to enter a period of great upheaval, as she agrees to make the move with David.

Almost from the start, Sally realizes there's something not quite right about Dunballan. For one thing, David, who often experiences periods of emotional distance, becomes even more withdrawn. Then there's the way the townsfolk huddle together whenever Sally's around, whispering secrets Sally isn't privy to as they eye here with... Sympathy? Suspicion? She is, afterall, an outsider. Then there's the mysterious beast that seems to be stalking David. Not menacingly. Almost as if it's keeping an eye on him, making sure he stays where he belongs. In Dunballan. And finally there's the whisperings coming from the hedgerows. Whisper that seduce Sally, and promise that if she does what it asks, she'll get her David back.

Little by little, Sally uncovers the secrets of Dunballan, but will she learn everything she needs to know in time to save David?

With Quiet Places, Jasper Bark has created a riveting tale that keeps you on the edge of your seat, reading late into the night. But it's not because you care about the characters (personally, I didn't find any of the characters particularly likable), but because you, as the reader, want to know the town's secrets. If you've read enough folk horror, what happens between the covers of the book probably doesn't come as much of a surprise, but if you're relatively new to the sub-genre, then you're in for a bit of a treat. And if you're good at putting the pieces together, you'll be able to figure out what's going on within the town before Sally does, and you'll be sitting there hoping she comes to the same conclusions you've already arrived at.

All in all, I enjoyed Quiet Places, and I would recommend it, even though I do have one MAJOR gripe -- and that's that there's no big surprise at the end. Bark gives away the ending at the very beginning, so no matter what happens during the course of the story, you already know the outcome. The only reason you keep reading is to see how and why this is the outcome. To create a sense of mystery and not spoil the ending, I think it would have been better had the author started with the news of David's inheritance; this way, we're with Sally from the very beginning, rather than starting it the way he does. You don't even get the impression that this is the hook to keep readers reading, in that it lacks the excitement you would be looking for with a hook.

Bargain Basement Read

I stumbled across this one while browsing through the horror titles on Amazon, looking for something that started with a "P" for a reading challenge. The premise sounded interesting -- three novellas written by three authors based on the same writing prompt. I thought it would be interesting to see where each author ran with the bone they were given. Well, rather than give a blanket review of the work in general, I'll tackle each novella in turn.

The first novella in the collection is "The Survivor" by Chisto Healy. I knew from the first few pages that this was going to be a slog. First off, and this is just a personal opinion, the character names don't fit the characters or their professions. Paulie Paisano and Sal "Guido" Corelli sound like they should be gangsters, so when you find out they're a pair of cops, you're like, "Huh?" Everything about them is un-coplike, and they come across as low-budget Keystone Cops. The author doesn't appear to have any knowledge of police procedures, and the dialogue is laughably juvenile. Likewise, the interactions between Paulie and his wife. The whole thing is awkwardly written, and I mean that in a bad way, as if the author was uncomfortable writing the scene, not that the characters themselves were uncomfortable. Then there's the obvious lack of editing. It's the little things that make me want to grab a red pen and re-edit the piece -- things like allowing the use ground when it's obvious floor is meant. It's things like that that really pull me out of the story. The character is sitting on the ground of the shower; I find that jarring enough because I'm suddenly picturing an outdoor shower.

And, unfortunately, that's as far as I got. It's rare for me to not finish a book that I start, but when you have a collection like this, the publisher would traditionally start off with the strongest work and end with a strong piece, and if "The Survivor" is the strongest story, then I can only imagine what the others are like. So slash this one off your shopping list and keep looking.

There's No Such Thing as Ghosts, Right?

There's no such thing as ghosts, right? Try telling that to Lilian Chesterfield, her associate Dave, and Captain Moses Akinyemi, a retired military medic. These are the central characters in The House at Phantom Park by Graham Masterton. You may as well add Alex Fowler to that list because, in this particular story, he's the first to encounter the spirits inhabiting St. Philomena's, an abandoned hospital that is soon to be turned into luxury apartments.

Alex's encounter with the spirits leaves him in excruciating pain that seems to have no end. Not even medications and an induced coma can keep him from giving voice to the pain. Amongst his howls, groans, and tormented screams, he keeps asking for Captain Akinyemi, a man he's never met but someone he seems to know very well. When Moses arrives, we learn that Alex claims to be a Corporal Terrence Simons, a man Moses treated in Afghanistan, but Moses insists he's never met the man before in his life.

Meanwhile, back at St. Philomena's, enter Charlene"Charlie" Thorndyke, Alex's replacement, who, while making her rounds of the abandoned hospital, also has an encounter with the spirits that leaves her in a statement of rigidity, as if she'd been carved from stone. At the hospital, she also asks for Moses, although she uses the name Mingus, a nickname he had while serving in Afghanistan. The mystery only deepens when Alex and Charlie die, but not before passing on their afflictions to their caregivers. What is the connection between the retired army medic, these two young surveyors, and the abandoned hospital? Moses intends to find out and pays a visit to St. Philomena's, where he encounters Lilian and David, who are being tormented by all the usual haunted house trappings -- slamming doors, moans, groan, and whispers. David is convinced te place is haunted, and Lilian believes steadfastly that the events are being caused by locals who are against St. Philomena's being turned into luxury apartments. Together they set out to solve the mystery of St. Philomena's.

The House at Phantom Park contains all the trappings of a typical haunted house tale, but Masterton takes it several steps further, creating a hellscape for the tortured spirits inhabiting the hospital that's rather heartbreaking. The characters, for the most part, are likeable enough, although Lilian was getting on my every last nerve, which is a shame, as she in the centralmost character, and she also happens to be the least believable of the entire cast. Masterton maintains an steady pace with the narrative, with only the occasional hiccup, and by that I mean there's some needlessly repetitious lines and statements that are close enough together as to be noticeable, which can sometimes cause a distraction. And while I'm assuming Masteron uses it to establish setting/timeframe for the story, all the references to Covid come across as a heavy-handed means of doing so, especially since Covid has nothing to do with the story itself. At the first mention, you shrug and think, Okay, so this is present day, more or less, but when it's mentioned again and again, the reader is left waiting to see how it's going to tie in to the story, and it never does. However, these few speedbumps, while noticeable at the time, weren't enough to pull me out of the story.

All in all, I enjoyed Graham Masterton's The House at Phantom Park, and I would recommend it if you're looking for a haunted house tale with a twist. Rating: 4 stars out of 5.

 

Tries too Hard to be Shocking

This title has been floating around the book groups on Facebook for a while now, and, considering how I feel about animal cruelty (even in fiction), I had some reservations about diving in. It was never far from my radar, though, and this year is the year I decided to take the plunge.

I wasn't sure what to expect going in, as I had heard no particulars about the book, only that it was vile, disgusting, gross... You get the picture. Folks said the same thing about Duncan Ralston's WOOM and Chandler Morrison's Dead Inside, both of which were, while extreme, not as bad as I was led to believe. Well... Matthew Stokoe's Cows certainly delivered, but not in the ways you might expect.

There are two parallel storylines in Cows, one more extreme than the other. You have the domestic story, which tells of Steven's dysfunctional home life, with a mother who hates him and who he, in turn, hates, and an ancient dog on its last legs. There's the love interest, an equally disturbed and dysfunctional young woman who lives in the same building. And then there's the worklife at the slaughterhouse, where Steven appears to thrive. And while the domestic side of the tale is disturbing in its own right, the work storyline is where the story goes off the deep end. Among the debauchery that takes place within the walls of the slaughterhouse, there's a talking cow that has somehow evaded slaughter, as well as a whole herd of cows living beneath the streets.

I'm not going to go into story too much, as I don't think you'd believe me if I tried. Suffice it to say, you need to read (actually, you really don't --but if you choose to, don't say I didn't warn you) this to believe it. I'm sure you'd much rather have another question answered, and that is, Was it as disgusting and vile as folks have made it out to be? Yes. And therein lies the MAJOR problem I had with Cows.

The story in and of itself wouldn't be bad if it had been told in a straightforward manner, but add in the atrocities and it ends up having the opposite effect of what's intended, becoming instead something of an exercise in eyerolls. It seems Stokoe's focus in Cows is to outdo what he's done previously in his attempt to gross you out, to one-up himself, and you can't help but laugh. You certainly can't take it seriously. It all becomes a tad predictable (in regards to his relationship, I called that ending the moment the romance began), and it becomes a game, trying to guess what gross misdeeds the author will come up with next. And because of this, the writing comes across as juvenile, the thing junior high students will write and titter about in the corner of the library. The vile acts that occur within the novella lack the organic nature found in other extreme horror works that I've read, in that they don't arise naturally from the narrative, but rather come across as forced, crammed in like puzzle pieces in the wrong places.

Would I recommend it? Not particularly. Why? Because reading is supposed to be pleasurable, and I found nothing pleasurable about Cows. However, if you feel you need to read it because of its cult status, then by all means, go ahead. I won't try to dissuade you. But as for extreme horror, there are other, better-written works out there in which to invest your time.

It's All Fun and Games Until Somebody Dies, and Even Then...

Ghostland by Duncan Ralston is one of those books that everybody was raving about on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I knew it was one I was eventually going to have to check out, so it was added to the TBR list and forced to wait until the mood hit me. And eventually, it did.

One of the questions I've seen posted on Twitter for the writing community is: Can a location be a character? In Ghostland, the location is Garrotte House, and it is indeed one of the characters. In the very beginning, we see Garrotte House being relocated-- That's right. The entire house has been removed from its original location and is being located to Duck Falls, Maryland, where it is to be the star attraction in a new themed attraction -- Ghostland. Garrote House belonged to Rex Garrote, an infamous horror author with a fascination with the occult who killed himself within the house. Witnessing this event are Ben Laramie and Lillian Roth. But Garrote house isn't unoccupied, and Ben knows who the occupant is. The shock of it is enough to trigger a fatal heart attack. That's right. Before the Prologue is over, one of our central characters, Ben, is dead.

At the start of Chapter 1, we find that Ben is very much alive, having been resuscitated and is considered to be frail. Any sort of excitement will more than likely trigger another heart attack, and this time he might not be so lucky. We also find that he and his BFF, Lillian, are no longer forever friends, as she can't come to grips with Ben's death and resurrection. She has issues with death, issues that she is in therapy for, and Ben's presence is a constant reminder of that. Given the physical and emotional baggage both kids are carrying, it's surprising to find that they mend their relationship enough to take a trip to Ghostland on opening day. Lillian is hoping to get a handle on her issues with death by exposing herself to the assortment of haunted properties population Ghostland. These are just haunted houses; they're haunted houses with histories, rather bloody, deadly histories. You see, the owners of Ghostland are in possession of technology that not only makes ghosts visible, but more or less keeps them imprisoned within their respective haunts. Unbeknownst to Lillian, Ben's reason for going is to destroy Garrote House. He suspects that Rex Garrote is alive and living within the house, and he (Garrote) is determined to follow through with the plans outlined in one of his books, and that is to open the doorway to the other side to allow the spirits to come through and create their Hell on Earth.

Opening day at a theme park that, through the magic of modern technology, keeps the ghosts on display like so many cage-crazy zoo animals, what could possibly go wrong? Before you can say Casper the Friendly Ghost, the park is on lockdown, and nobody is allowed in or out. That includes the ghosts, who are once again trapped within this giant snowglobe (minus the snow) by a containment field. Also trapped behind the park's walls are Lillian and Ben and hundreds of other people, all trying to find a way out before the ghosts start using them as target practive.

When I started reading Ghostland, despite the age of the characters, I wasn't expecting a young adult (YA) novel, but that's what I got, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I just wasn't expecting it. And just because it's YA, that doesn't mean Ralston holds back on the blood, guts, and gore, because he doesn't. He's also created a wonderful cast of characters (good guys and bad guys) that you quickly become invested in, and you are often left sitting on the edge of your seat hoping, as they battle ghost after ghost after ghost, that they come out of this unscathed, especially considering Ben's delicate condition. There's also an assortment of secondary characters, both living and dead, some of who become unlikely allies as they attempt to escape from Ghostland. The pacing is relentless, and you are quickly swept up in the events as they unfold, and should you find yourself reading this on a day off from work or on the weekend, it's very likely you might finish this book in one sitting because once Garrote House has you under its spell, it doesn't want to let you go.

Don't let the idea that this is a YA novel dissuade you from picking it up. Ralston doesn't dumb down the narrative, like I've seen done in so many YA books, so even adults can enjoy this ghostly tale. Just be forwarned... This is the first of a trilogy.