The Island By Guy N. Smith

The Island
By Guy N. Smith
1988 Arrow Books

Paperback, 191 pages

                I really liked this one. As good a GNS read as any of the classic nature-runs-amok masterpieces. Completely different in every way from every other book of his that I have read, but still pure Guy N. Smith.

 

                The Laird of Ulver is a dick. He repeatedly assaults his wife to keep her pregnant in hopes of a son to call his heir. When the fifth birth is yet another daughter, though stillborn, Marie, the wife, has had enough. Her four daughters and she try to escape but his lordship instead catches them and abandons them on Ulver Island, along with his deformed boatman, Zoke. Nobody on the mainland ever saw them again.

 

                In modern times, widower Frank Ingram, trying to get over his wife’s tragic death, decides to buy a small island “for a snip” to get away from it all and do some farming alone and uninterrupted. It’s a fine plan and it more or less works until one stormy night when five women show up on his doorstep. Their story isn’t very cohesive, and Frank finally learns that they are a mother, Samantha, and her four daughters. We, the readers, have a good idea who they really are.

 

                The story is played out with Marie and her clan alternating every other chapter with Samantha’s brood and we follow Frank’s plight as they take over his house, his land and his life. His frustration becomes our frustration, and Smith ratchets up the tenseness of the situation (in both eras) brilliantly until we just want it all to end! I don’t mean that in a bad way. I was just looking for relief for Frank.

 

                The only problem I had with the book was remembering all of the daughters and mothers’ names while reading. Somebody on less medication than me would likely have no problem with that but I got confused a few times about which daughter was acting out during some moments. But the book is very satisfying, and I plowed through the last 100 pages just hoping to speed things up for poor Frank!

 

                Top shelf GNS right here. And check out that Les Edwards cover!! Wow!

 

Originally published in GNS2: A Guy N. Smith Fanzine by Chris Elphick

Wolf Tracks By David Case

Wolf Tracks
By David Case
1980 Belmont Tower
Paperback, 240 pages

                That sounds like some kick-ass ice cream! But no, it’s David Case’s second horror novel, written ten years after his first, Fengriffin: A Chilling Tale. That book was made into a great Amicus film, And Now the Screaming Starts (Roy Ward Baker, 1973) starring Peter Cushing. I haven’t yet read that book, but it has plenty of positive online reviews. I wonder what happened during those ten years to make the quality of Case’s writing dip so deep.

 

                There is a string of murders in Toronto. The victims are bitten and ripped up but not eaten. Wolf and human saliva are found in the wounds. Eyewitness accounts are uneven. A huge man, not a man at all, a hulking hairy humanoid. It sure sounds like a werewolf to me. Detectives Greene and the laughably virile and stuck-up La Roche are on the case. Greene sees Cronski, an expert on wolves, who tells him it is not a werewolf, but it might be a wolfman.

 

                Meanwhile, American Harland James is in Toronto to visit his draft-dodging son Paul, hoping to rekindle their relationship. Paul was having girl trouble with his live-in girlfriend Sheila. She is a free-thinking hippy. In 1980. There are a number of hippies in this book. In 1980. OK. Anyway, the father and son hang out and things turn worse when Sheila becomes a victim of the killer.

 

                The book has a handful of side characters who are far more interesting than the leads. Barfly Wash, the ex-boxer, who is called the N-word later in the book for absolutely no story-telling reason, Ike, the legless eyewitness, Gus the bartender and Cronski, the only female with a brain in the book. In fact, it became quite obvious that Case is not a fan of women. La Roche’s wife is a childish idiot and the victims are all boneheaded tarts or prostitutes. Even a female cop on duty (undercover as a hippy…) thinks she might have rather been a whore or go-go girl. That shit makes me bristle. Like a wolfman.

 

                More because of the fact that this was a Belmont Tower release than any ineptitude on the author’s part, there are dozens of misspellings and wrong words throughout the text. Proof-read much? Evidently, in the recent Valencourt reprint, the errors are still present. I find when editing is this poor, it is part of the fun of old, shitty books. So, yes… I did read this quickly despite its flaws, and there are many. As a horror book it fails and as a detective novel, it’s pretty darn easy to know whodunnit early on. But the book has a lovely R.S. Brown cover painting of Lon Chaney Jr., and you do get this bit of dialog…

 

                “She was lying in a pile of cheese sandwiches, Steve. Goddamn cheese sandwiches.”

Dog Kill By Al Dempsey

Dog Kill
By Al Dempsey
1976 Tor Books
Paperback, 203 pages

 

                What a cover! Hats off to Jon Ellis, the artist! And to Tor for commissioning such a dynamic cover!  But fuck you, Tor, for the bait and switch. There are barely any killings in this book; the dogs seem to merely irritate the local farmers and law enforcement. But Dog Annoy wouldn’t have been as good a title as the one we got.

                A group of students release a bunch of test dogs from the University lab. OK… we’re going to have a roving pack of genetically altered mutts tearing up children! No, all but one of the dogs die in short order. The leftover one eventually forms his own pack with the help of Mitzie, an abandoned beagle in heat, whose scent brings all the boys to the yard. They move into a cave in a park and eventually get up to no good.

                OK, this book starts off with a note from the director of the American Humane Society. I was ready for some heavy stuff. As Blackie, the lab dog builds his tribe, each dog is introduced with a Humane Association “Animal Control Study” card. Then, we meet the dog’s owners and the dog. After 100 pages and far too many characters for me to remember who the ones at the beginning of the book were, the pack is complete. And the book is half over.

                The dogs kill some farm animals and some bunnies and, in an unnecessarily graphic scene, a fawn. But I was like “yeah… when they get to humans, it’s going to be amazing!” I was wrong. While there is an attack on a playground ballgame, the body count isn’t what I was hoping for, and the gory details are few. Too much time is spent on a blooming romance between park ranger Mel and Mary Ellen, a poor little rich girl that he has nothing in common with, but she has blonde hair and a good body. Deep. The other characters of note are pretty cut and paste… the yokel sheriff (nick-named Greasy!), the park director acting like the mayor in Jaws and local farmers puttin’ their gun hats on.

                Dempsey obviously knows a lot about dogs; all of the breeds get a lot of historical description. I guess this makes the actions ring truer. Unfortunately, this is at the expense of any kind of story, action or suspense. We already know that humans do not deserve dogs and every one of the dogs in one way or another are not responsible for their predicament. Humans, as always, suck.

                So, yeah… shitty book. Also, the print isn’t justified and that drove me apeshit. Great cover, though.

Gila! by Les Simons

Gila!
By Les Simons
1981 Signet
Paperback, 166 pages

    

    By now, everybody knows that Les Simons is actually Kathryn Ptacek, author of many horror and romance novels. Simons is one of her many pen-names and Gila! was her first published horror novel. Having grown up in the Southwest, Ptacek sets a believable tone for this tale of giant, people-eating, mutated Gila Monsters. In real life, despite being called "monsters", Gilas are slow moving animals and really not much of a threat to humans.

    These radiation-born ones mess up the homo sapiens in a big way. The body count is very high and to a killer-animal reader, that is of the utmost importance. It's not just gore and rampaging reptiles, however; Ptacek manages to squeeze out some pathos, none more than in the visceral fairground scene. (This chapter is so great that it inspired Tom Hallman's paperback cover.) Check it out...

    A mother is relaxing while her five children are enjoying a safe, family friendly County Fair on their own in different spot on the fairground. When the Gilas come, she faces the dilemma: which child to save? Heart wrenching! She makes her decision (a bit of Sophie's Choice there) and... "Hypnotized, frozen, Julia could not take her eyes away. She saw the mangled body of her son fall from the lizard's mouth, saw that only half of it was there and that the upper part of the torso, the shoulders and the head, remained in the lizard's mouth." 

 Hot diggity, that's some excitin' writin'!

    Unlike many animal-gone-amok novels, Ptacek's science isn't completely absurd. I mean, we're dealing with giant Gila Monsters that crave human flesh, created by bombs in the desert. You can't get more 50s Sci-Fi than that, but she obviously knows a good deal about the real-life animal and thus makes a potentially silly idea work. For me, Gila! is one of the finest rampaging reptile reads around. Gore, humor, emotion and action; what more could you ask for? Evidently, Ptacek herself is fond of her first horror novel: for a time, she published a writer's market newsletter called Gila Queen's Guide to Markets, a publication with an eye on the horror and fantasy genres.

    Obviously, I'm not the only fan of this essential tome. Centipede Press released a deluxe, signed hardcover of Gila! and Macabre Ink have issued it as part of their Resurrected Horrors series, both released in 2025. And, of course, you need Grady Hendrix's indispensable Paperbacks from Hell (Quirk, 2017) for many reasons but especially to get a peek at Tom Hallman's rough cover sketch.

                                               
                                                         Centipede Press, 2025

This review first appeared in a slightly different form in Midnight Magazine #1 (MCE 2018)

Satan’s Mistress By Brian McNaughton

Satan’s Mistress
By Brian McNaughton
1978 Carlyle
Paperback, 252 pages

                McNaughton’s follow-up to Satan’s Love Child isn’t as sex-filled as its predecessor, but it’s a truly inspired piece of lunacy in and of itself. Nobody in the book has a shred of decency and wonderfully awful things happen to everyone.

 

                The Laughlins are a fucked-up family. Mom’s an insane hippy, dad is a commercial artist and young Patrick is confused as hell. They live in Mom’s inherited old Mill that has a suspect history. Patrick is an awkward nerd but has typical teenage thoughts and desires, and dreams of a red-haired mistress. In the waking world, he has a crush on a cheerleader. When the folks have an “adult” party, everyone gathers at the Mill and, quite literally, all hell starts to break loose. You see, Mom has found a hidden passageway in the basement that leads to her ancestor’s library which is filled with evil writings. It turns out that the Cthulhu Mythos that Lovecraft wrote about was not fiction!

 

                That’s about the gist of it and believe me, that premise allows all kinds of wacky things to happen. Patrick gets taken over by evil spirits, Dad buggers his gay boss, and everyone gets wrapped up in the madness. There is incest, infant-eating, possession, and brutality, but it’s all served up with a healthy sense of humor and clever storytelling. At one point, the family lawyer, a Lovecraft fan, figures out the connection when he finds the real Necronomicon in the library and says he has to call Colin Wilson, L. Sprague de Camp and Robert E. Briney, all real-life writers who have dabbled in the Mythos (the last one, a collaborator with McNaughton!) to see what they know about it.

 

                In a word, this book is fun. Sit back and enjoy the silly weirdness. By the way, it was Carlyle Books that made this and three other books “the Satan Series” back in the day. Overall, they don’t really share a common thread, though the third book, Satan’s Seductress, does continue this storyline. This title has been restored as Downward to Darkness with McNaughton’s original, preferred text and title, by Wildside Press and it is readily available online. But feel free to stick with this, the pulpier version, for a wild ride.

Killer Croc By Grahame Webb

 

Killer Croc

By Grahame Webb

1982 Fontana
Paperback, 249 pages

 

                Professor Grahame Webb is a noted zoologist who has specialized in crocodilians for decades and he is well versed in Aboriginal culture, having worked with the people for many years. It seems that when Peter Benechley’s Jaws (1974) became a best-seller, it was irresistible to Webb to put his expertise into a fiction story about an oversized Saltwater Crocodile running amok in the waters of Northern Australia. Published by Aurora Press in 1980, the hardcover was called Numunwari, the name of the sacred crocodile in the story. Obviously, Fontana wanted something with a little more zing and changed the title to Killer Croc and had Wilson Buchanan whip up some Jaws-esque cover art, though it looks more like a swipe of Roger Kastell’s cover art for Creatures (Pocket Books, 1979).

 

                In Arnhem Land, Oondabund is driving a boat for fisherman, poacher and all around bad guy John Besser when they see a massive, 30 foot crocodile. Oondabund recognizes it as an animal sacred to his people while Besser wants to kill it. Besser goes back for it later and gets two of his mates killed. Now, the croc is a maneater and will have to be destroyed. Steve Harris is put on the case to take care of the beast but he is friends with Oondabund and knows the deal. When the croc heads towards the city of Darwin, Harris is pushed by politician Rex Barrett to destroy the federally protected croc. A cop gets eaten and the shit hits the fan. What to do? Well, Oondabund says capture it. It is his spirit animal, literally.

 

                Yes, you have all of the necessary characters for an animal attack book, the crooked politician, the bad guy(s) and the good hearted Harris, but you also get a main Aboriginal character and his people and that is a flavor that I had not tasted before. Oondabund’s broken English is well written (and it never got on my nerves like when some authors try to write phonetically) and Webb reveals a lot of the culture to the reader. Best of all, he imparts a ton of knowledge about the crocodiles and the conservation efforts to keep them safe. While most animal attack books show the animal attacking as a monster, Webb (and Harris, who really is Webb, I think) portrays the croc, Numunwari, as a sentient being with every right to live its life.

 

                For being Webb’s only attempt at fiction, I have to applaud his writing skill. Though it gets a bit long in the third act while trying to catch Numunwari, Webb writes a cracking adventure full of suspense and excitement, with real human characters and a lot of heart. I got miffed when a new character was introduced with 50 pages to go but soon saw the error of my ways; it’s an absolutely essential plot point. The book was adapted into the film Dark Age (Arch Nicholson, 1987) which stayed fairly loyal to the book even while condensing things and rewriting for more action. The exception is Harris’s love interest: in the book it is Oondabund’s (black) daughter while the film has him with a lily white former lover working with the Aboriginal people. Meh!

       

                                    

                 Aurora Press, 1980, Jacket illustration                           Dark Age 1987 VHS, 

                    by Roger Janovsky                                                      Charter Entertainment

The Djinn By Graham Masterton

The Djinn
By Graham Masterton
1977 Pinnacle Books
Paperback, 210 pages

                I have been aware of Graham Masterton and his dozens of horror novels for much of my life, but I had never read him. I’ve been told he is great. Well, I finally burst my Masterton cherry and I agree… yes, he is great! I went for his second novel, the one that came right after his debut and probably his most famous book, 1975’s The Manitou. This one is in keeping with that book’s idea; an ancient evil threatens folks in modern times.

 

                Harry Erskine (back from The Manitou) goes to his Godfather Max’s funeral on Cape Cod. The deceased was a collector of early Arabic artifacts and throughout his life, Harry would see some of the collection when he visited. At the funeral, he meets Anne, and they head off to dinner rather than stay and mourn around the Cape house, which has all but fallen to ruins. His Godmother Marjorie is acting strange and there are no paintings or photos left on the walls. Oh, and Max died when he cut off his own face. The mystery is made even worse by the fact that one of the treasures of the collection, an old jar from Iran (that Max likely stole) is sealed up in the turret of the old house. Guess what’s in the jar!

 

                The story is told in more or less real time, the action and unraveling of the mystery taking place over just a few days. Anne, it turns out, is there to try to get the jar and return it to the country to which it belongs. She has a nearby friend in Professor Qualt who also knows a thing or two about ancient Arabic magic and the genies, or djinns, that are thought to inhabit jars. It seems that the one in the Cape house is a famous jar containing an evil djinn that can kill you in forty ways.

 

                Never mind the fact that there are so many people that know so much about dead languages and ancient magic. This book is exciting from start to finish and the primordial evil threatening contemporary people who clearly do not understand it is exciting as hell. Some genuine chills are provided by a wispy hooded entity and when the djinn does appear, it is a roller-coaster ride to hell. Harry might be a bit of a dick, but his reactions and fear come off as very real. He tells the story in first person, a device that I normally don’t like (“hey, that means he’s gonna live!”) but it’s all good and he returns in subsequent Masterton novels.

 

                A+ for my first Masterton book. I’m looking forward to more. The cool stepback cover artwork on this one is by Ed Soyka.

The Colony By Paul Lalley

The Colony
By Paul Lalley
1979 Carlyle
Paperback, 221 pages

 

                Carlyle was porn publisher Bee-Line’s imprint for publishing other genres. They had had some success with Brian McNaughton’s Satan series so you’d think they would have had a lot of horror novels made to order but there aren’t many. This nature-strikes-back monsterpiece is one of the few I can find, and finding it (affordable, or at all) hasn’t been easy. Reading it certainly was easy.

 

                The book starts right off with a bang. The South American Fire Ant has served up a few corpses in a small Mississippi town. Luckily, they have Mark West of the Crop and Pest Commission and an able-bodied sheriff in the person of Web Maddox. Together, these two try to wrap their brains around how these foreign insects have come to set up colonies in their sleepy town. A visiting carnival is attacked just pages after it is mentioned, which made me feel pretty darn good about the Pediatric Hospital mentioned on page 9!

 

                The attacks are suitably gruesome and the first third of the book is riddled with envenomated and chewed up humans. The middle section slows down a bit so we can get some back story on our heroes and the other characters involved in the admittedly paper-thin plot. Mark and Web form a good friendship and soon become a good buddy team. Women? Not much to see here, folks. Mark is seeing his secretary but not seriously and he has an ex-wife. That’s pretty much the only estrogen in the book.

 

                Still, reading this one is a hoot. Lalley, whoever he might be, is no Shakespeare and the text is filled with monstrous mistakes: misspellings, missing words, improper or missing punctuation. It only adds to the charm. (I’m sure Bee-Lines porn books were similarly error-ridden.) Funny enough, Mark West’s ex-wife is a proofreader!! I commented to my own wife that the ex-Mrs. West should have worked on this book!

 

                Unlike McNaughton’s Satan’s Love Child published by Carlyle in 1977, it appears that Lalley wasn’t asked to sex-up the narrative. It is quite chaste, in fact, unless you count the town’s name, which is Beaverton. But we won’t count that, OK? This book, warts and all, is an extremely fun read and it blows the shit out of Peter Tremain’s tepid Ants (Sphere, 1979).

The Millfield Terror By John Monsees

The Millfield Terror
By John Monsees
2025 Grindhouse Horror
Paperback, 210 pages

                I received an advanced review copy to… review. So here I go!

 

                The Millfield Terror fits in comfortably with the books released by Hamlyn and New English Library in the Seventies and Eighties but also offers a heavy dose of good ol’ American corruption. It turns out that, even with all mod cons like cellphones and the interwebz, you’re still fucked if mutated nature gets a taste for human meat.

 

                The brain trust in Millfield, Ohio cut corners and hire a shady clean-up crew to take care of a closed chemical plant but their method makes the local centipedes into human hunting, organized giant monsters. Not willing to admit a mistake was made, the councilman who made the call and his brother, the sheriff, initiate a cover-up, despite what locals have seen. The town is sealed off, dooming the citizens, while a group of four believers with evidence (foreman on the clean-up, a doctor, a former scientist and a paperboy) become wanted criminals because they believe in telling the truth. It’s a mad race to stay one step ahead of the rapidly evolving centipedes.

 

                That’s the story in a nutshell but this is a multi-layered story with a town rife with corruption and full of really bad choices, really flawed people trying to save themselves and the town, and intelligent bugs who are far smarter than their prey. Monsees’ science all looks and sounds pretty spot on; my own knowledge is with reptiles and amphibians, not etymology, but it all reads plausible to my eyes. A great deal of writing about the town and its legal (and illegal) dealings also ring true. Obviously, a lot of research went into this and the reader is rewarded with an intelligent and more or less believable tale of giant, mutant centipedes feeding on a small town.

 

The author is a remarkably gifted wordsmith, enjoying some excellent turns of phrases in the vein of Raymond Chandler-meets-Ramsay Campbell. His main characters are all well-formed, behaving believably and the quartet of “good guys” are really worth cheering for. I’m happy to say that, like in our beloved nasties from the past, we get a few small characters introduced just to be bug chow. While the blood and meat does get splattered about and the action is breath-taking, the story really is more about survival, guilt and penance.

 

                Monsees really deserves to be read by a larger audience. It’s tough for an Indy author to gain traction and his writing really has style and panache that should be seen and enjoyed. Give this one a shot and thank me later. The author is responsible for the cover art as well.

Satan’s Love Child By Brian McNaughton

Satan’s Love Child

By Brian McNaughton
1977 Carlyle
Paperback, 256 pages

 

                After a decade or so of publishing adult paperbacks, Bee-Line Books started the imprint of Carlyle Communications in 1977 to test the waters of more respectable book genres. Like Horror. They hired one of their authors, Brian McNaughton, who had written a handful of adult books with the nom de porn Mark Bloodstone to start things out. Satan’s Love Child was the result.

 

                Marcia, a former hippie, is a reporter for the Riveredge Banner, a small-town newspaper. She is also the married mother of three children. Speaking of hippies, a group of them have been hanging around in town and raising a lot of suspicion and Marcia feels that she, with her background, should get a crack at a story. But with murders (some townsfolk point to her pet Doberman as the killer), a crumbling marriage and a teenage daughter, Melody, that hates her stepfather and disappears into the night, Marcia has her hands very full.

 

                Man, everybody hates hippies. Like, just because they’re dirty outsiders doesn’t mean they’re dangerous. Unless they really are a Satanic cult, hell bent on raising the Old Ones and sacrificing the innocent to achieve their goal. Melody’s future and her mother’s past look like they’re going on similar paths and Hell couldn’t be happier. And is there an actual monster on the prowl?

 

                McNaughton is an excellent writer but evidently, when he turned in his manuscript, the publisher asked him to spice it up significantly. You know, like the other books they were trying to break away from. Well, he sure did. The added hard-core sex scenes stand out like a sore thumb and are howlingly hilarious next to the somewhat solemn story that he’d been telling. Not that his previous draft was without a sense of humor, but the sex is so in-your-face that you just have to laugh. No book ever published has more uses of the words “cunt” and “prick”. And all of the good things that go with them.

 

                Like the other McNaughton Satan books I have read, this first one is an easy quick read that never has a chance to get dull. Marcia is a good character, though she is surrounded by less than desirable folks. Her mothering is questionable (always leaving the two youngest children alone) but her motives are just. McNaughton’s original draft, without the howling porn, is now in print as Gemini Rising by Wildside Press (2018). But hey, as a McNaughton fan, why not read as many words that he has written as possible? Even if a huge percentage of those words are “cunt”.

Night-Shriek by Michael Wolfitt

Night-Shriek
by Michael Wolfitt

1983 Granada
Paperback, 223 pages

                I swear I thought I was reading a William Johnstone novel except there was no right-wing agenda and it took place in London, not Louisiana! But holy hell, it’s just as batshit crazy as anything in the Johnstone oeuvre!

 

                A couple, Roger and Hilary, get into an accident on the way home from their friends’ house and wind up in the hospital. Hilary was pregnant and loses the baby. The fetus was a weird looking thing, so the doctor saved it to examine later. The fetus breaks out of the storage cupboard. Cats start spying on people. Nurses die. Everyone involved with the case start dying violently. It seems Hilary had the bloodline of the ancient Cat Goddess Bast. See what I mean?

 

                You know me. I can’t resist cat-horror. There is plenty of feline fear in the pages of this book, be it a sleek black cat staring a victim down through a window or a person actually becoming a cat. The more convoluted the storyline became, the more I had fun with this absolute mess of a book. Egyptology often loses my interest in books but this time, it all worked for me because of the laughably over the top audacity of the story.

 

                I’m not saying this is a terrible book. I found it thoroughly entertaining. Yes, it is batshit crazy, but it never dragged and kept me smiling throughout. And if the cover art by Tim White (actually credited on the back cover!) doesn’t grab you, then I don’t know what will. Filled with kinky sex, mutilations and mind-control… they just don’t publish books like this anymore.

 

Online sources say that Wolfitt is actually Mystery writer/ poet Mike Fredman but I haven’t seen Fredman himself admit that anywhere. I won’t be searching out his recent poetry or any of his Willie Halliday detective novels, but I will cherish this strange little piece of pulp forever.

Joyride By Stephen Crye

Joyride
By Stephen Crye
1983 Pinnacle Books
Paperback, 248 pages

                How do you review a book like Joyride? Do you like slasher movies? Then you will like this book. That is exactly what this is, a slasher film in book form. It hits all of the proper points, and it is a shitload of fun because of it. Brutal and unrelenting.

 

                Robert Atchinson was a high school outcast. Recently orphaned, everybody made fun of him and mentally abused him. Too bad he had such a crush on pretty, blonde Carla. One day, he would muster up the courage to give her the gift he’d bought for her, some bright red hair ribbons. But everything changed after the accident that disfigured him.

 

                Present day, a group of teens are looking to party in the cemetery. They break in and find a remote spot and do the drinking and smoking thing that all high schoolers do. The characters are cookie cutter slasher film fare; the horny ones, the sensible one, the fat one, and the younger brother who tags along. Little do any of them know that the cemetery has a caretaker names Cleats, formerly known as Robert Atchinson, and he has a serious grudge against all of them for what happened in the past. Except one, a pretty blonde who he thinks is Carla.

 

                The story takes place all in one night with flashbacks to Robert’s shitty school life. Crye gets some good atmosphere in the graveyard and the kills are gruesome and memorable. As a groundskeeper, he has many garden tools on hand and puts them to very good use. None of the characters are particularly likeable so we’re all really on Cleats’ side. BEWARE: the first chapter depicts a very gruesome and brutal murder of an innocent dog. It really has nothing to do with the story, it just shows how messed up Cleats is. It’s incredibly disturbing and if you skip right to Chapter 2, you might thank yourself for it.

 

                Is it original? No. Is it well-written? Well, it’s not poorly written. But it’s a blast, a fun page turner full of gore and mayhem. Isn’t that what we all want? Go, Cleats, GO!

 

                On Will Erickson’s brilliant Too Much Horror Fiction blog, he reviews Joyride and got a response from the author’s ex-girlfriend that is full of wonderful information. Crye is Ron Patrick, who was an editor that thought he’d try to write a book just as a goof. This was the result. Evidently, he was a handsome, partying, fun-loving dude who just did it “as a lark”. Under his real name, he also wrote Beyond the Threshold, a title that is in my TBR pile. Sadly, Patrick is now deceased.

 

                And YAY to Pinnacle Books for crediting the cover artists, Somja Lamut and Nenand Jakesovic on the Copyright page!

Water Rites By Guy N. Smith

Water Rites
By Guy N. Smith
1997 Zebra Books
Paperback, 253 pages

 

                This is the last of the Great Scribbler’s horror novels to be released by a major publisher. It is the fourth book from US company Zebra and represents a far more mature writer in Smith than you might be used to if you have only dipped a claw into his early Crabs books. In Paperback Parade #43 (Aug. 1995), Guy announced this then-forthcoming book as The Water Witches.

 

                Phil Quiles hated his job. He tended the underground reservoir in Hopwas. His boss was a dick, his future was in doubt and frankly, his place of work scared him. He was sure something was hiding below the dark surface of the water, watching him. Turns out, he was right. Meanwhile, a nutcase who thinks he met the Queen of the People of the Water as a child, prepares for the flooding of the world as foretold by the Queen. He gathers as many followers as possible that would believe him (or at least pretend they do) to become the chosen few to survive the floods and adapt to an underwater life.

 

                But that’s all just a fantasy. Isn’t it?

 

                This one moves along at a brisk pace and is filled with characters that you will hate, some that you’ll feel sorry for, and some that go through such changes (both mentally and physically) that you will cheer them on. Poor Phil is a real schlub, but his fears are justified, and I could kind of relate to his employee/ boss dynamic. You’d love to quit, but you can’t so you just stand there and take the abuse. Another great character is the shrewish, domineering Jocelyn who lords over her family and even fucks with Phil, too. And let’s not forget Mukasa…

 

                For a story that is essentially about mermaids, el maestro manages to serve up a great deal of creepy atmosphere and chills. No, nobody has a gory demise at the claws of a giant crab, but that reservoir does manage to raise a few hackles and the Quiles family’s plight packs an emotional punch, even though both parents seem a bit dumb compared to their kid.

 

                This one is definitely worth a look and the Richard Newton artwork on the cover is worth the price of purchase alone.

Manitou Doll By Guy N. Smith

Manitou Doll
By Guy N. Smith
1981 Hamlyn
Paperback, 236 pages

                Man, this one starts out with a bang. The first chapter is set in Kansas, 1868, where soldiers are looking to wipe out the Plains Indians. A bloodbath ensues and, true to white-man’s sickness, Indian women are raped. One victim, Mistai, curses them, though she later finds she has become pregnant by her loutish attacker.

 

                Fast forward to the present, to a carnival set up in a seaside town. It is a holiday week, and the place is hopping. Bikers show up and all is well until one gruff individual gets cotton-candy stuck to his beard. He violently beats the woman who accidentally did it and fucks up her kid. Brilliantly violent, it is... damn! Then, he goes on a rampage, eventually raping the American Indian woman working the fortune-telling tent. Bad idea. Didn’t he read the first chapter?

 

                So, that’s the set-up. The fortune teller is also gifted at carving figurines that she supplements her income with. The Caitlin family is on vacation and the deaf child Rowena becomes enamored with Jane, the Indian woman. Jane carves a doll for the girl, starting a chain of horrific events that fucks up the whole carnival and the whole town. Evil forces are killing people and destroying the whole seaside.

 

                Without giving much more away, I’ll just say that this is Guy in top form. Man, those first two chapters had me sweating. The remainder of the book is spent mostly from the family’s point of view and what a messed-up crew they are. The wife is an unsatisfied nag, the husband is a philandering tool, and the child disobeys them at every turn. Guy lays the violence on thick and blood flows freely. The generational curse theme winds its way through the narrative until all is explained.

 

                This isn’t at all what I had expected when I went into this one blind, but it was better than I’d imagined. Nasty rapes aside, this one was just a joy to unravel and wallow in the violence and horror. Top Shelf GNS. Another reason to love him. Get the Hamlyn version with the Punch cover… it’s the best one!

Zombie! By Peter Tremayne

Zombie!

By Peter Tremayne
1981 St. Martin’s Press
Paperback, 183 pages

 

                Do not go into this expecting some Romero-esque gut munching. This is a solid voodoo story taking place on a small Caribbean Island. Fear not, I know Tremayne (Peter Berresford Ellis) tends to overwrite the history and topography of his exotic locales, but he sums up the specifics of St. Miquelon in a few pages.

 

                June Lambert gets a letter from her grandmother with an invite to meet her on the tiny island that her late parents grew up on but eventually fled. June never knew she had a grandmother. With her husband Steve, they make plans to visit Grandma for a tropical vacation with visions in inheritances dancing in their heads. But things aren’t very rosy in St. Miquelon when they arrive. Being outsiders, they aren’t welcome and there is political upheaval in the air.

 

                Well, Grandma is already dead. And has been for a while. Her estate is in ruins and the Lamberts find themselves stuck there. The few friendly townsfolk can offer little help and it seems that June is the key to an intricate plot to strengthen Mama Mambo. When June disappears, it is up to Steve to sort things out. And to try to figure out who is decent and who is a part of the wicked plot as the lines between the two sides blur.

 

                OK, first off… Steve is a dick. He is rude and short tempered, and I disliked him long before I realized he was going to be our hero. Also, I was halfway through the book before I realized that nothing had really happened yet. Tremayne books are very hit or miss with me but this one falls somewhere in between. Not a steaming pile of shit like Kiss of the Cobra but also not a quality read like Swamp or Snowbeast. Zombie! Is middling and kind of boring but not so dull as to give up on it. The ending is the most preposterous bit of convenience that I have read outside of comic books.

 

                First published in 1981 by Sphere Books, I grabbed 1987 St. Martins edition (1^st US printing) thanks to the gaudy and misleading cover of a savage rotting zombie. I do not know who the artist is, but I figured it was worth the $3 price tag. Not a great book, not a bad one. I’ll keep it for the cover.

Michelle Remembers By Michelle Smith and Lawrence Pazder, M.D.

Michelle Remembers
By Michelle Smith and Lawrence Pazder, M.D.
1981 Pocket Books
Paperback, 334 pages

    This is a tough book to review now, over 40 years after it was first published as a true memoir. The book inevitably caused a lot of problems for a lot of people as it was the launching pad for the widespread “Satanic Panic.” Back in the early Eighties, my wife at the time read it and bought it hook line and sinker and urged me to read it. I did and even the wide-eyed and stupid, more gullible me only believed it to a point. Now that the whole thing has been thoroughly debunked, I can only go into it reading it as a horror fiction novel. Which is essentially what it is.

    Michelle Smith has been having bad dreams following a miscarriage and seeks help from her psychiatrist whom she had been seeing for four years. Her doctor, Lawrence Pazder, M.D., helps her go back 22 years to when she was 5 years old to uncover her terrifying past that she had hidden away from her consciousness. Her mother had offered her up to a group of satanists as a catalyst to raise Satan himself for the Feast of the Beast. She was beaten, caged, defiled, burned, poked and prodded for 81 days straight, all in the name of Satan. The horrors she witnessed would drive anyone insane, but being just a child, she could rely on her goodness and innocence to help her survive.
    
    There is some pretty heavy stuff going on for sure. Kitten slaughter, fetuses cut up and rubbed on Michelle, possessed people, horrid rites, shit, piss and blood. It really is some horrifying stuff. I could tell exactly where it was back in the early Eighties where I stopped buying it… when they actually summon Satan. Yeah, right. But up until then, sure, why not? Child abuse is a very real a terrifying thing and I can certainly see a bunch of losers torturing a kid in the name of a fantasy that they believe in. I might not have even finished the book back in the day; the last hundred pages are a chore, with Satan and his annoying rhyme-talk and other fictional religious characters making appearances.

    Whether or not I believed it, a lot of people did, and the age of Satanic Panic was ushered in. Most of you will remember it from heavy metal records being thrown under the bus. Thank Smith and Pazder. Much like the Salem Witch Trials, people were being arrested with no evidence and being turned in to the police on the accusation of kids being coached by money hungry psychiatrists. Eventually, it all died out and Michelle Remembers was discounted as fiction, though Pazder (who died in 2004) and Smith (who divorced their spouses and married each other shortly after the book’s publication) have never admitted that it was a hoax. But it made a lot of money for them, and they gave a lot of money to the Church to play along.

    I recommend Steve J. Adams and Sean Horlor’s 2023 film Satan Wants You for an in-depth look at the book and its repercussions.

The Walking Dead By Guy N. Smith

The Walking Dead
By Guy N. Smith
1986 New English Library
Paperback, 160 pages

 
                                                  

    Ten years after the Great Scribbler’s second horror novel The Sucking Pit (1975), Smith returns to the Pit along with the previous book’s hero, Chris Latimer. The Sucking Pit was filled and the land around it has been razed and flattened, the evil buried deep in the ground. A rich and greedy land developer plans on building on the flattened terrain. A bulldozer starts to slowly sink into the sand in the old Pit spot… and gets sucked in completely and releases the trapped evil spirits of The Sucking Pit.

    This one starts right up with a bang and never relinquishes its fevered pace. When that machine and its operator are below surface in the Pit, Smith raises plenty of hackles with his imagery. Once that ground has broken through, the Pit refills and unleashes its evil spirits on everyone around. A gang of cycle kids fall under its spell and do a lot of damage at a local bar in one grueling scene. The man who OK’d the building on the Pit gets under its influence and savagely murders his wife with an axe only to be murdered by Grafton, the man who bought the land.

    Damn, this one gets brutal; GNS holds nothing back in the over-the-top violence. Gore flows freely and the sacred vow of marriage gets pissed all over with blood. Only Chris and his new girlfriend Pamela seem to be safe, though as usual, the Pit makes people’s carnal desires rise to a sadistic level as well. Nobody who sees the black, still waters of The Pit can control what happens to them. The old Romany burial ground’s inhabitants are looking to fill the pit back up with bodies.

    This being a sequel, Smith makes references to the first book and annotates them thusly, but I do recommend reading The Sucking Pit first. Just don’t wait ten years between readings because you’ll want to reward yourself with this brisk, bloody tale of vengeance as soon as you can. Many of the victims of the Pit from the first book play a part in this and you’ll appreciate the story more knowing where they came from. Top shelf GNS, this is, and it is vicious and cruel, just how you want a horror story by the Master to be.

Pestilence By Edward Jarvis

Pestilence
By Edward Jarvis
1983 Hamlyn
Paperback, 158 pages

                                                      

    I really didn’t like Maggots, written by Jarvis three years after this one, despite the amazing cover. Why did I try so hard and wind up spending so much on this, his only other horror book? Do I like pain? Self-abuse? Or am I just one of those pitiful completists? Whatever the reason, I managed to snag a copy of this rare one and decided to dig in right away.

    I was immediately reminded of why I didn’t like Maggots. His dialog is all over the place, more like chatter than a conversation and his prose isn’t much different. Is his tongue in his cheek or hanging out of his mouth with a dallop of drool dripping off of it? The set-up is slow and before too long, the meeting, conferences and phone calls begin to pile up. This is what frosted my balls with the other book.

    Garry, a journalist, loses a couple of fingers while cleaning his drains. He has no clue how that happened, but it falls in place with odd occurrences happening all around the world. A young actress in India loses a leg, ducks and other animals are disappearing and the water is becoming a dangerous place. Garry gets recruited by his pal Miles to head up an investigative unit and from there, phone calls ensue. And meetings. At least Jarvis throws us a few bones in this one though, with a few bloody attacks occurring while they’re still trying to figure out the cause.

Well, after discovering that those vile Russians have done some underwater nuclear bomb testing (tsk tsk!), the eventually find out that giant prehistoric lampreys are the culprits. Real life lampreys can get to almost four feet but these guys double, triple… multiply that by hundreds. One takes down a Blue Whale, another takes down a Great White Shark on Cape Cod (where the exploits of local man Quint and the town of Amity are referred to, in an amusing nod). The names increase as the sizes increase… Giant Lamprey, Mammoth Lamprey, Mega Lamprey… Supreme lamprey!

    OK, I know Jarvis is taking the piss out of the genre, but it is hard to tell sometimes if he is laughing with us or at us. Garry is such a cad; he makes a Guy N. Smith leading man look like a choirboy. The night that he gets news of his wife’s death (by lamprey), he fucks his secretary. Jarvis takes an 8-page detour from the story on page 100 to show us the town of Rye. This book is completely absurd in a Lionel Fanthorpe kind of way. In the end, I have to say that despite the fucking meetings, it was pretty fun and quite bone headed. The ending may be the dumbest ever and for that, I give it extra points.