Night Mask By William W. Johnstone

Night Mask
By William W. Johnstone
1994 Zebra
Paperback, 350 pages

                There have been a few homicides of late in La Barca, California and the victims’ faces are missing! That’s right, their faces have been flayed off and taken. This revolting turn of events has a somewhat familiar ring to it, so detectives Leo Franks and Lani Prejean start a cross-country investigation to get to the bottom of it. And how does it tie in to La Barca’s easy listening radio station?

 

                Johnstone really puts the pedal to the metal in this one, delivering mind-melting gore and over the top cruelty, but always keeping his sense of humor intact. The body count is staggering, and the two detectives do everything they can, legal or not, to get to the bottom of it. It become clear pretty early on that “The Ripper” is likely more than one person.

 

                Of course, most of Johnstone’s usual right-wing bullshit is on display here, in fact, he spouts off more than usual. Guns are good, heavy metal is evil, the gay community are freaks, and only God can really be trusted. Whereas that usually adds to the camp charm of a Johnstone book, it gets to be a little too much in Night Mask. Don’t get me wrong; denouncing heavy metal as the work of Satan is never not fun but the gay bashing gets quite irksome.

 

                The scope of the book gets a little too big after a while, as well, and the cozy little killer-thriller starts to get a little long in the tooth. The kill-pits and the disenchanted (heavy-metal) teen followers of The Ripper gets silly. He had a nice little, gory potboiler going but went and made it too big to truly satisfy. Still, I enjoyed this book a lot. Huge print, lots of breaks, gallons of blood, mounds of rotting corpses, and a compelling story (to a point) had me blowing through this one in just a couple of days. There are more twists and turns than needed but dig in, check your brain at the door, load your gun and genuflect… you’re in for a fun ride.

 

               

Toy Cemetery By William W. Johnstone

Toy Cemetery
By William W. Johnstone
1987 Zebra
Paperback, 412 pages

 
    Old Scratch is running rampant in a small town in the South and it’s up to a rough and tumble Viet Nam vet to stop the madness! It sounds like every other William W. Johnstone book doesn’t it? But wait, there is much more. So much more that I really have no idea where to begin. This is top shelf Johnstone kitchen-sink madness.

    New York divorcé Jay Clute (the war veteran) has inherited his aunt’s fortune down in Victory, Missouri and he and his 10-year-old daughter Kelly take a trip down to his hometown to settle his affairs. As memories flood him, the two notice lots of strange things going on, not the least of which is little dolls running around. They stay in town, meet up with Jay’s old friends and Kelly meets some local kids. But there is an evil grip on the town that has everyone acting strangely and weird creatures skulk in the shadows.

    I’ll let Deva, Jay’s high school sweetheart, and her sarcastic retort to Jay’s suggestion that it must be an explainable phenomenon reveal some of the weirdness… “Grown men and women are thrust into near-incestuous relationships with their kids; creatures roam the night; toys come alive; and the personalities of nearly everyone in town have been altered. Explainable phenomenon. Sure, Jay.” All this and more and yes, Johnstone goes there with a lot of incest, rape and pedophilia in this one.

    Truthfully, this is so chock-full of strangeness that it gets confusing but it’s all good because the gore splats freely and despite the cringey mean-spiritedness of some parts, there is no shortage of intentional humor. My favorite character is old man Milton, Jay’s next-door neighbor who rocks in his rocker, cheerfully calling Jay and his crew assholes every time he sees them. There is an explanation for everything, and it slowly unfolds during the course of this overstuffed tome but don’t worry about logic; this is Johnstone at the peak of his batshit craziness. Just go along for the ride and try to picture the author tapping away at the typewriter, chopping out this stream-of-consciousness prose, wondering himself where it’s all going to end up.

    Johnstone will never be mistaken for a great writer, but his work is fun as hell and this one is as over the top as it gets. And even though good ol’ God is mentioned a number of times, he doesn’t play a huge role in this novel. Thank Him for that!

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.

Cat’s Cradle By William W. Johnstone

Cat’s Cradle
By William W. Johnstone
1986 Zebra
Paperback, 412 pages

 

                Oh, William Johnstone, how I hate to love you. But I just can’t help myself! We would never agree on anything in real life but you sure can write an entertaining horror novel.

 

                Every 25 years, a small girl and her cat, born of the same mother (so I guess they are twins), emerge from hiding to devour a few people and get ready to invoke the big guy… Satan. They are awakened early this time, but the murderous rampage begins anew. Their victims age rapidly, mummify, and dead or not, become instruments of evil themselves. Large groups of cats gather to shred the population. One of the mummified arms starts spewing forth millions of huge, flesh-eating maggots. Pools of curdled blood are passageways for the Old Ones, demon minions of the big guy himself. Man, Ruger County is fucked.

 

                As you can see, this is typical Johnstone kitchen-sink storytelling but by god it never gets dull. When the government (The OSS, Office of Special Studies) gets involved and begins a cover-up, it makes things even more difficult for our manly-man cop hero Dan. With so much going on and a lot of characters, many chapters tell the tale with short paragraphs checking in on different situations happening around the county. I kind of liked this, it kept my lazy brain up to date with the turmoil.

 

                This book doesn’t utilize all of Johnstone’s usual tropes. The action takes place in Virginia, rather than Louisiana, and Dan is ex-CIA rather than a Viet Nam vet. Most of the right-wing viewpoints are saved for picking on an intrepid female reporter; one of the OSS crazies is even called a right-wing fanatic for his overt, dangerous patriotism. But Christianity is still big and is called on in hopes of saving the day. Admittedly, I got confused by all of the characters a few times, but you can’t deny Johnstone’s gory, eyeball melting, flesh-shredding madness. If one bonkers horror scene doesn’t tickle your fancy, the next one will. Or the one after that. Richard Newton's lovely cover has nothing to do with the narrative but it might as well!

 

                Oh, and there’s a phone call from Satan. In the days before caller ID, that was possible.

Bats By William W. Johnstone

Bats
By William W. Johnstone
1993 Zebra Books
Paperback, 348 pages

                Seemingly out of the blue, massive hordes of flesh-eating bats descend upon a normally quiet parish in the-middle-of-nowhere Louisiana. Luckily for all involved, macho he-man Johnny MacBride, rough and ready military intelligence bigwig, made an early retirement to settle there. With Johnny on humanity’s side, there is a chance, however slim.

 

                OK, yeah… right off I had a hard time with this because the main character is an adult named Johnny, and he was supposed to be badass. Whatever. At least the book starts off right away with the gory bat-attacks and never really lets up. Johnny is pretty much a cartoon, with everyone in law enforcement kowtowing to him and being in awe of his manliness, but there’s enough bat action throughout to keep you going. In addition to the bats themselves, victims of bat bites who do not die quickly become rabid spreaders of the deteriorating disease and lots of smooshy fun is to be had there. If the bats don’t get ya, the rabies-folk will!

 

                I liked the book, but a lot of it bothered me. Firstly, if Johnstone could have kept his politics and classism out of it, it would have been a smoother read. I have no problem with characters having a political preference but too much of it reads like Johnstone’s angry personal agenda. He does it in most of his books, though, so I should be used to it. There is a prevalent sense of humor throughout, which I like, though sometimes it was a bit too “nudge-nudge-wink-wink, aren’t I being funny” ... (a redneck character is named Billy Joe Harry Bob).

 

                Overall, the gore is good, the bats are formidable and despite Johnstone’s eccentricities, the writing is decent. In my opinion, about 100 pages could have been culled and it would be a much more satisfying read. And Johnny? Come on… you might as well have named him The Fonz. Couldn’t he have been called Walter or something?

    As always, a nice cover by Richard Newton.

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