Legend of the Werewolf By Robert Black

Legend of the Werewolf
By Robert Black
Based on a screenplay by John Elder
1976 Sphere Books
Paperback, 158 pages

                                                 

                As a Peter Cushing fanatic, I have long been a fan of Tyburn Studio’s Legend of the Werewolf (1975). I am the proud owner of the kick-ass one sheet poster and as I wait for Tyburn’s Kevin Francis to become less insane about licensing the title for Blu Ray release, I wanted to revisit the story via the novelization. While Les Edwards’ amazing cover is enough to make me open my wallet, I wondered if Robert Black’s (Robert Holdstock, 1948-2009) adaptation of John Elder’s (Anthony Hinds, 1922-2013) screenplay would do the film justice. I need not have worried. Even though “Elder’s” name isn’t on the cover or title page, “Black” follows the script to a T and does so with excellent, descriptive and often eloquent prose.

 

                If you’ve seen the film (and you should seek it out if you haven’t), you know the plot. Etoile is a young man who was raised by wolves who joins a traveling circus and then winds up in Paris. He finds work with crusty old Duvic, a sleazy zookeeper who gives Etoile a place to live and a tiny bit of money for his services. While there, Etoile meets Christine and becomes smitten, not knowing she’s a prostitute. When he does discover her line of work, the men who see her wind up shredded. Morgue doctor Cataflanque (the Cushing character) starts looking into what is making Christine’s clients become his clients despite the police’s warnings to back off the case. Meanwhile, Etoile is obviously conflicted for many reasons, as is Christine.

 

                As noted, the novel follows the script quite closely, but Black fills in a lot of background detail and employs many colorful descriptions to make this much more than a carbon copy. Cataflanque’s detective work is very exciting despite the reader knowing a werewolf is at large. The scenes in the bordello are perfectly elegant and sleazy and provide a welcome sense of humor while Cataflanque investigates. It was easy to read that character as played by Cushing and that made my experience with the book that much better. The written gore is plentiful and the suspenseful ending is a rip-roaring good time. This is one novelization that gets it just right and I recommend it howlingly!

 

                Now, Mr. Francis… don’t be a putz. Get this film out on home media soon. My creaky old VHS tape wants to retire.

                                   

                                                            My one-sheet from the film.

Mania By Guy N. Smith

Mania
By Guy N. Smith
1988 Sphere Books
Paperback, 234 pages

 

                Another excellent book from the Great Scribbler with another excellent cover by Les Edwards. You just can’t go wrong with that potent combination.

 

                Suzannah Mitchell and her 14 year old daughter Rose are caught in a massive blizzard and have to abandon their car and seek shelter. They wind up at the Donnington Country House Hotel, formerly the Donnington Nursing Home, which was a looney bin, a head farm. The thing is, since the name change, the clientele has remained pretty much the same. Suzannah and Rose feel very uncomfortable the moment they step inside and with good reason. There are loonies living in and running the hotel. Luckily for the Mitchells, Owain Pugh, a young man who is also stranded in the storm, shows up seeking shelter as well.

 

                The cast of characters is the best part of this book. You get a drunk, a flasher/ religious zealot, a chronic masterbator, and a pregnant virgin, among other eccentric and potentially dangerous tenants. The pregnant girl is of the most interest as she is either carrying either the second coming of Christ or the Devil’s spawn. Evil things are afoot in the hotel. A shadow of a beastly hand crawls across the ceiling and warnings of Satan’s presence are proof of that evil. But is there real evil in the hotel or is it just the collective madness of the unfortunate people who call the hotel home, the power of suggestion? And that is the crux of this story to me; is it real or is it craziness?

 

                GNS is ever the romanticist. Once again, he has Suzannah and Owain developing feelings for each other in record time. It works here because it gives them some sort of motivation. You see, with all of the wonderfully wacky hotel inmates, the two leads are pretty dry characters. They hope to save Rose from being a pawn in the plans of the bad guys, like anyone would, but offer little color to the proceedings. The story works much better for this. Also, despite being fourteen, I was reading Rose as much younger.

 

                Top shelf GNS right here; fun, fast paced, ambiguous and nerve-wracking. As an added bonus, one character is a picky book collector and has received a shipment from Black Hill Books, Guy’s own real-life mail-order book business at the time, and mentions that “the bloke was bleating for his cheque”. I always appreciate a little in-joke to lighten the proceedings.

Feast By Graham Masterton

Feast
By Graham Masterton
1988 Pinnacle Books
Paperback, 448 pages

                Graham Masterton’s cannibal classic has a lot of fans and a lot of detractors. I consider myself a fan, though with some reservations. Masterton is, of course, an excellent writer and storyteller and keeps the narrative flowing forward at a decent tempo. There are portions of the book, however, that slow down a bit and feel like padding, especially in the middle. Some pacing problems and repetition (and dozens of annoying typos in the Pinnacle edition) get in the way of this being a perfectly enjoyable experience. And I say that with the main character being kind of a dickhead. He wasn’t a problem for me.

 

                Charlie McLean (the dickhead) is a traveling restaurant critic going through small town Connecticut with his estranged son, 15 year old Martin, trying to spend some “get to know you” time together. Charlie learns of a secret dining club called Le Reposoir and desperately wants to get into it. All of his attempts are squashed and eventually, he gives up. Until his son goes missing and he learns that Martin has joined a cult, the Célèstines (at Le Reposoir), one that believes that the way to Jesus and spirituality is self-cannibalism. The cult is well-protected legally, as the “victims” are willing participants and there is little that Charlie can do. His attempts to “rescue” Martin get him nothing but trouble. With Journalist/ instant love interest Robyn in tow, he heads to New Orleans to the Célèstines headquarters to try a different way to gain access to his son.

 

                For me, the book got a little overlong while still in Connecticut and as the story became a road trip, but once they reached the Big Easy, things really started to pick up. Charlie’s effort to join the cult by practicing their ways is an unforgettable scene that even had me squirming and the sights and sounds of the New Orleans complex are horrifying yet shown with a spirituality and calmness that makes it feel twice as bad. You see, the Célèstines think that with Martin’s offering, they will bring about the Second Coming and nothing will stop them from making this come to pass, especially not Charlie’s harassment.

 

                So we have a great story by an excellent author but perhaps the scope is too big, dragging things down a bit. There are also a lot of convenient characters in on the whole plot to capture Martin that in retrospect were very much in the right place at the right time. Still, my suspension of disbelief is very strong so I just went with the flow. While the book could have lost 100 pages and should have had an actual proof-reader, I still enjoyed this and will hold it in high regard. Bob Larkin’s step-back cover art is a thing of rare beauty and that alone is worth the high price tag that Feast often commands. That the story is good, all quibbles aside, is icing on the cake.

    In 1989, Sphere released the title as Ritual with a less exciting (but still cool) step-back cover.

The Camp By Guy N. Smith

The Camp
By Guy N. Smith
1989 Sphere
Paperback, 288 pages

    Just what did Guy N. Smith have against vacationers? He set loose his crabs on them, he sicced a manitou doll on them and this time out, things get even weirder! Thank goodness he held some kind of grudge against people on holiday. We got a lot of great stories out of it.

    This time out, we’re at Paradise Holiday Camp. It has everything. Chalets, amusement parks, bars, restaurants, and a covert project where certain campers are being tested on a new mind-altering drug. The project gets mixed results; one couple thinks they’re in the new ice age (in the middle of a hot summer), one woman thinks she is a prostitute while her abusive boyfriend doesn’t even know her, and one older woman thinks she’s pregnant. Jeff Beebee fares better. Ann, the woman who is to dose his food with the drug, kind of falls for him and she is reluctant to administer it.

    We have a little soap opera here, too. Ann is the (older) drug scientist’s mistress, and Jeff’s girlfriend has just dumped him at the Camp. We also have a little classism as the more affluent guests stay in better digs than the riffraff (you know, like me). GNS throws a lot of different characters into the mix, and they are all well-rounded, even if only through their hallucinations. There is some shocking violence and plenty of frustrating moments where you just want to yell and let people know what’s happening to them.

    The book chugs along at a good pace but slags a bit going into the last 50 or 60 pages. It is almost as if as he was in the homestretch, Guy thought up a better ending and tried to tie everything up before getting to it. If that’s the case, then I’m glad it happened because the ending is a fiery, violent burst of mayhem. It is hard to not recommend any GNS book and The Camp is another winner. Les Edwards’ cover captures the angst and horror admirably, too.

Polish edition, Phantom Press 1991

art by Radoslaw Dylis

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

Kiss of the Cobra By Peter Tremayne

Kiss of the Cobra
By Peter Tremayne
1984 Sphere Books
Paperback, 182 pages.

                                                 

    Ah, Peter Tremayne. I am of two minds about his work. His books are impeccably researched, thus making the setting perfect for his adventures, but at times it can be to the detriment of the narrative. His Snowbeast (1983) put you right into the Scottish mountains and maintained a good pace with a few chills, but Ants (1980) was a bit tepid because he spent so much time showing his research of Brazil that it deflated the storytelling. Swamp! (1985) is the best Tremayne book that I have read so far. Taking place in the Everglades, he gives us more horror than history lesson and the book is better for it.

    There’s no doubt that Tremayne (real name Peter Berresford Ellis) put a shit-ton of research into Kiss of the Cobra and the fruit of his studies clog up nearly every page of this novel. Yes, he sets the table nicely, putting you right into Indian culture and teaching you dozens of Hindi words but when you get right down to it, there’s hardly any story. It’s the ol’ “open the tomb- suffer the curse” routine with a cobra goddess rather than a mummy and it really doesn’t do much with what little potential it has. It is horror-lite and it seems like Tremayne just wanted to show off how cultured and intellectual he is rather than tell a scary, exciting story. Never has a 182-page book felt so much like a 900-page book.

    I’m not giving up on Tremayne; there are still a few horror titles of his out there that interest me, but I’m hoping for more like Swamp! and less like Kiss of the Cobra. One thing, though… the cover on that Sphere paperback is pretty sweet.

This review originally appeared in Midnight Magazine #8, July 2021.

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