By L.A. Morse
1979 Warner Books
Paperback, 237 pages
Historical novel as
exploitation? Exploitation novel as history? While there may be some who think
the legend of Sawney Beane was real, I’m pretty sure we can file this book
under pure exploitation. Based on the legend of Sawney and his cannibal family,
this book delivers so much sleaze and gore that it should jump to the top of
your reading pile.
Ol’ Sawney was a guy living in
the 16th century in Ediburgh Scotland who worked for an abusive
master and got off during public executions. One night, after the Master rapes
his own daughter, Sawney and Meg, the daughter, slaughter the Master and revel
in the joy of bloodshed. The two take off into the wilderness to be together,
kill together and eat the flesh of their victims together. Sawney, the new
Master, likens himself to a wolf, a great hunter.
“They are the hunters. They kill
men to live. They live to kill men.”
Finding seclusion in a deep,
concealed cave on a beach, the couple breed a family of cannibal children who
terrorize the countryside for decades, making disappearances commonplace in the
area. So, if you’ve ever read anything about Sawney Beane, you see that Morse
sticks close to the legend. It is his embellishments that makes this book the
jaw-dropping sludge-fest that it is.
How can I recommend a book that
has so much sleaze? Graphic cannibalism, rape, incest, child abuse… nothing is
skipped over. It is all so over the top that you can’t help but get a delirious
kind of satisfaction reading it. Oh my… he went there! The book is not without
a potent dose of humor, as well. The lazy Sherriff, who is anything but hot on
the trail, provides ample comic relief to cleanse your palate from the carnal grappling
and human meat preparations.
This was Morse’s first novel and
he followed it up with a handful of very gritty mystery novels, one of which is
simply entitled Sleaze (1985). I am interested in finding them and
basking in more of the gory glory of his prose. Oh, and the Warner cover of The
Flesh Eaters is a painting by none other than the legendary Frank Frazetta,
making the book look a lot more classy than it really is.