Inhuman By John Russo

Inhuman
By John Russo
1986 Pocket Books
Paperback, 221 pages

                                                 

    John Russo is no stranger to horror fans. The co-author of Night of the Living Dead should need no introduction. His novels have been inconsistent, in my opinion, but Inhuman is very good, despite horrid online reviews. In fact, it is one of my favorite non-Dead ones so far.

    There's a lot going on in the first hundred pages. An old, dying woman predicts "Great big snakes are a-comin'. To Kill us!" Her religious family don't know what to make of that. Meanwhile, a pair of married psychiatrists are preparing their remote and beautifully maintained Manor House for a marriage encounter for five troubled couples. Meanwhile, again, a bank in New York has a hostage situation, with an SLA offshoot group of fanatics, the Green Brigade, killing off the innocents until their leader and his comrades are freed from prison. They demand a plane to Cuba and get it.

    OK, set-up complete, the fun begins. Of course, an over-zealous FBI agent does not want the plane, full of terrorists and hostages, to make it to Cuba. His plan is to get to such a high altitude as to knock out the passengers, with only the pilots having access to oxygen. They try to implement that plan, but a grenade makes it irrelevant. The pilots do their best to land safely and preserve the lives of the hostages. The landing is more or less successful and most of the passengers survive. But… the lack of oxygen when they were up there has had some nasty side-effects.

    Sure, the resultant story is heavily influenced by Night of the Living Dead, with the remote plantation house being under siege by the brain-damaged and heavily armed terrorists. Russo even says, with a wink, that the basement is the safest place and should be a last resort. While none of the characters are particularly likeable, the suspense is still thick, and the “automatons” are relentless.

    No, Lisa Falkenstern’s brilliant cover has nothing to do with the novel. The brain-damaged folks have a “reptile instinct” in that they want to hunt and kill and won’t stop until they do. Not sure I’ve met many reptiles who act like that, but then I’m higher on the food chain, I guess.

    Good book, great cover. Add it to your collection.

Cat’s Eye By William W. Johnstone

Cat’s Eye
By William W. Johnstone
1989 Zebra
Paperback, 397 pages

                                                   

    Anya and Pet are back! The huge maggots are back! The Old Ones are back! God and his old buddy Satan are back! William Johnstone strikes again with this, his sequel to Cat’s Cradle. Fasten your seatbelts, you’re in for another ridiculous ride.

    The events that happened in Ruger County, Virginia have not been forgotten so when shit starts going down a few counties over, in the town of Butler, it all had a familiar ring. Carl Garret, the bodyguard to Dee, a writer, also happens to be a self-proclaimed coven-buster. He is a one-man Satan-stopping dynamo, and he recruits police and townsfolk (that have not yet been turned into satanists) to fight for good.

    This book isn’t quite as wacky as the preceding one, but it is pretty nuts. I thought for a moment that we’d actually have a strong female character in a Johnstone novel, but Dee turned out to be really good at making coffee and being protected by Carl. Yes, somehow, the bodyguard runs the whole show because he was familiar with the happenings in the previous book, and he has a chip on his shoulder because he’d lost his father there. But we still have the flesh-eating maggots, possessed cats, rape, living severed heads, people turned into unrecognizable demons and all sorts of evil shit.

    One thing that makes this sequel a little bit of an eye-roller is the mentioning of God on every other page. Yes, I realize this is a good versus evil tale and it’s God versus Satan, but the Christianity is pretty heavy handed. Carl even cries “God, guns and guts!” as the means to beat the devil. That’s just fucking silly. Lots of things, including… wait for it… heavy metal music (!) are signs that one is turning to Satan. And, once again, there are so many characters that I got lost a few times, wondering just who I was reading about at the time. This entry wasn’t nearly as well laid out as the first one, and Anya and Pet are mere bit players here.

    If you dare to delve into the wild world of William W. Johnstone and this sounds like it would tickle your fancy, I suggest you read Cat’s Cradle first as this book refers to that one’s story frequently. By the way, that wonderful, embossed cover image (art by Richard Newton) has nothing to do with the story. That’s unfortunate, but…

    … you do get Satan farting.

Junkyard By Barry Porter

Junkyard
By Barry Porter
1989 Zebra Books
Paperback, 284 pages

    At first, I didn’t think I was going to like this book. The main characters are four teenage boys (not my favorite creatures), and the author was giving them very detailed back stories. I was saying to myself, “get to the horror part!” Then, a side-character got a full backstory and after rolling my eyes, my distress turned to joy. Everything was shaping up nicely after all.

    Four pre-teens built a huge clubhouse/ hideout in the local junkyard. Now, four years on, as their lives and interests are changing, the Pit, as they call it, is pretty much only used by Larry and Mark to watch porn and drink beer. Now one of them, Nick, has asked to use it on Friday night for his date. He wants to lose his virginity to Pauline. The fourth Pit member, Ray, has a long-time crush on Pauline and hates that plan. Larry wants to make a peephole in the Pit to watch live porn.

    Meanwhile, the junkyard owner knows there is something big and hungry on his property; he lost three Dobermans to something savage in there. Larry has an encounter one night, as well. Will the gang believe him? Deputy Gavel would. He’s been leaving the remains of his pedo-sexual murders for the beasts to eat for a while now! All of the characters plan to be in the yard on Friday night. Larry and Mark want to spy on Nick and Pauline, Ray wants to find and slay the monsters to prove his manhood, the owner wants to get revenge for his doggie “children” and the cop needs to get rid of remains that he was unable to earlier. Friday night is going to be a hoot!

    Part Stand by Me, part Food of the Gods and part American Psycho, this book strikes a lot of chords and with patience it really pays off. The clashing friendships of the boys as they wrestle with adolescence adds the emotional layer needed to pull the story off and the slow reveal of the flesh-eating beasties works very well. The pedophile, murderous cop could have been a gratuitous cartoon character, but he isn’t, much to the author’s credit. The Pit, a huge, cavernous construct made of cement, stacked tires and a Buick, is a character in and of itself.

    I thought this book was pretty well-written; I don’t understand the brickbats that some reviewers throw at Porter online. It was a little plodding in the first third but after finishing the book, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. The great cover (Perkins? Barkin?) has nothing to do with the beasties in the book but is also a huge selling point.

Saurian By William Schoell

Saurian
By William Schoell
1988 Leisure Books
Paperback, 368 pages

 

                Suspension of disbelief is of the utmost importance while reading this book. It gets pretty goofy but if you play along, you can have some fun with this dinosaur stomping tale of aliens and alcoholism.

 

                In 1957, lil’ Tommy Bartlett is a loner of a kid, content to read comics and monster magazines alone (sounds like me). His folks are useless; his father a drunk and his mom a woman who has given up. Bribed by his mother to play with the local kids, he acquiesces and through them, finds a hidden lake in the woods with a creepy house on the other end. He rows over to the house on his own (the others are chicken) and gets a scare from a weird man in the house. That night, a massive dinosaur levels the Florida shanty town Tommy lived in, leaving the boy the only survivor.

 

                Onward to 1988, and Tom co-owns a bar (odd since his father’s drink is what destroyed his childhood) on the Florida coast. He is drawn back to his childhood area and finds it all built up into an expensive property. He bravely goes back to the hidden pond and found that area developed, too. He’d forgotten the tragedy that befell him back in the Fifties but piece by piece it comes back. The weird man, the massive dinosaur… how does it all fit?

 

                OK, I’m not going to say too much. The dinosaur scenes are tons of fun. The beast is massive, it swallows Blue Whales whole for a snack. It levels cities, hurls boats and licks human remains off the bottom of its feet like you’d suck honey off your finger. Impossibly huge, savage and yet with a human intelligence. So how does this tie in with the weird old man in the house? Don’t worry… kooky exposition lady Mistress Dunn will tell all. Now, even with a completely open mind, I found this to be really dumb, but I carried on and let Schoell tell his story. It’s a lot to swallow but it’s a fun ride.

 

                A few notes: considering his father was consumed by alcohol, Tom drinks a fuck of a lot, even though he says he has no problem. Maybe that’s the author’s point, that addiction sneaks up on you. Tom’s girlfriend in the latter chapters is an alcoholic as well. Lots of drink talk. There is also a lot of padding, as is the case with a lot of Leisure’s horror novels. Some of the well-rounded characters have nothing to do with the narrative, they just add color. That’s fine but a tighter book might have been a little more satisfying. Still, this is a fun, if silly, creature feature. It is well written and easy to blow through.

The Woodlice By G.P. Nedloh

 

The Woodlice
By G.P. Nedloh
2025 Self-published
Paperback, 131 pages

 

 

                When I was a kid, I called them Pill Bugs (I still do). I’d also heard Roly-Polies and Sow Bugs. The author of this book introduced me to Chuggy-Pigs. There are over two hundred nicknames for this innocuous isopod, but a woodlouse by any other name is still a woodlouse. Author Graham P. Nedloh is a massive fan of Guy N. Smith and even thanks GNS for the inspiration in the book. Every word in this novella is a tribute to Smith and I found it to be a blast!

 

                The discovery of a deceased cow covered with woodlice gets Jack Fuller, a gamekeeper in the wonderfully named town of Bramblehurst, and the vacationing Dr. Sarah Brapples (another great name!) on the case. The woodlice, normally herbivores, seem to be eating the flesh of the carcass and are bigger than normal. When a couple of teens are found dead in the same manner, it is clear that there is a real problem in Bramblehurst. And possibly beyond.

 

                Genetech was developing a hormone to enhance plant resilience, but it seems that it affected other species as well. Like woodlice. So, we have the culprit but just how do you stop something like this? That is Jack and Sarah’s problem to solve. Meanwhile, characters are introduced and eaten, just how GNS would have done. Really, Nedloh checks all of the boxes, and I couldn’t be happier. Inappropriate sex scene? Check! Potential romance between two people who didn’t hit it off at first? Check! Best of all, mutated nature getting the taste of human flesh in all of its gory glory? Check, check, check! This is a valentine to fans of Smith’s work. You and me.

 

                Nedloh isn’t just aping the Great Scribbler, however. There are plenty of new ideas, my favorite of which is a woodlouse attack on a couple who had just started to peak on an acid trip. A ten-year-old torturing a bird gets a lovely and well-deserved comeuppance that had be jumping for joy. This being his first book, I would say that Nedloh is off to an auspicious start. Hopefully, he will keep at it and bless us with another tome inspired by my favorite author. And I enjoy the word “chitinous”.

 

                No art credit for the cover. It doesn’t LOOK like A.I. and I hope it’s not because I will not support any book with an A.I. cover.

The Auctioneer By Joan Samson

The Auctioneer
By Joan Samson
1977 Avon
Paperback, 301 pages

                                                       

    Like many other people, I suffer from anxiety. I take plenty of pills to keep it (more or less) under control. Then why the hell did I submit myself to such a frustrating, nerve-wracking read as The Auctioneer?! I must be mad! But holy crap, this is a good book.

    John and Mim Moore, with their 4-year-old child Hildy and John’s Ma, live and farm in the backwoods town of Harlowe, New Hampshire. They work hard, living mostly off the land like their neighbors do, and they all have for generations. Into town blows Perly Dunsmore, a slick city-boy who has chosen the town to live in. He starts weekly auctions to raise money for Harlowe, initially to pay for deputies for Sheriff Gore. Why this tiny town needs deputies is a question pondered by the Moores, but they, like everyone, look around their homes for stuff they can get rid of and offer up for auction.

    The auctions are a hit, pulling in money from outsiders and vacationers and soon the deputies and Perly himself come around to sweet talk more and more knick-knacks and furniture from the townsfolk. From the townsfolk who haven’t been deputized yet, that is. It is getting out of hand and the Moores have had enough. Other families that felt the same have been suffering bad accidents, however, and it becomes clear that a nefarious plot has been unraveling.

    This book is a classic slow burn and then all of a sudden, you realize that you’re on fire. Perly is wonderfully hateful villain, hooking the yokels with his smooth talk and crooked promises. When John realizes that his family is trapped, so is the reader right along with them. I swear, my heart rate was soaring by mid-book, just hoping that insidious city-slicker would get his comeuppance. Deep breath… deep breath… it’s only a story.

    Samson is one hell of a talented writer, and every word feels perfect as she weaves the story, revealing the plot little by little until you are stuck and frustrated right along with the characters. This is her only novel and sadly, she died shortly after its publication in 1976. It was a best-seller back in the day and has been resurrected by Valencourt in recent years, as part of their Paperbacks from Hell series. A proposed film adaptation doesn’t appear to have materialized.

    I usually never go for a book with so many blurbs on the front and back covers (and pre-title pages) saying how great the book is but in picking this book up and devouring it, I gave myself a memorable reading experience. And a few late nights and some slightly higher blood-pressure.

Werewolf by Moonlight By Guy N. Smith

Werewolf by Moonlight
By Guy N. Smith
1974 New English Library
Paperback, 110 pages

                     

                  NEL 1974, artwork by Lucinda Cowell                             BHB 2024 artwork by Mike McGee

    This landmark novel is a short, quick read that isn’t perfect but satisfies on so many levels. The very first published horror novel by The Master, Guy N. Smith, this book was originally written when a friend told the author that NEL was looking for a werewolf novel to publish. Guy sent them an outline; it was accepted, and the rest is history. He wrote this in three weeks, and he didn’t stop going until his death 56 years later.

    A neighbor’s new dog (of a mysterious breed) bites Philip Owen on the leg. They then develop an odd kinship and Philip starts getting strong sexual urges for the women in town. So does journalist Gordon Hall, who is bonking a village wife. Philip’s urges become more than sexual; he starts to feel outright bloodlust, so he eats a few sheep. Then a girl. The town and Scotland Yard blame the dog and put it down but when the next full moon arises, they still have the problem. Just what is responsible for the savage killings?

    OK, most of these characters are thin, but the narrative is strengthened by having the setting a very familiar one to Smith. He utilizes the small town and its surrounding hills to great effect. Hall seems to be GNS himself, with a few extra eccentricities (like adultery!). He’s a writer, a hunter, smokes a pipe and is a hero. There is never any question to the reader that Philip is the werewolf. We are with him during his changes and his kills. We live through his confusion and torment, together with him. No other characters in the book make a huge impression, save maybe Peter Pike, a leather-jacketed interloper that becomes a red-herring to the police for the murder of a girl he was seeing. Nope, we know the werewolf did it!

    Being Guy’s maiden voyage in novel writing, there are a few problems, but nothing that deter the reader from having a grand old time. The wad of bloody clothes that Philip hides under his bed seem to live in a timeline of their own, and a gratuitous decapitation by electric saw is only there for us gorehounds, but there’s certainly nothing wrong with that!

    Fast moving and loads of fun, this is a wonderful introduction to the horror world of Guy N. Smith, one of the most important voices in the genre over the last 100 years. This is the first book in his werewolf trilogy, followed by Return of the Werewolf and Son of the Werewolf. All three books have been collected into Werewolf Omnibus (Sinister House, 2019), along with a short story. It’s also on Kindle for you freaks that like that sort of thing. Best of all, Black Hill Books have recently reprinted this title so you can forget about all of those expensive originals. The Mike McGee cover captures the spirit of the novel perfectly!