The Tribe By Glenn Chandler

The Tribe
By Glenn Chandler
1981 Hamlyn
Paperback, 187 pages

                This is Chandler’s second and final novel in the horror genre and, hot on the heels of his book The Sanctuary, and the second one of his to earn Hamlyn’s “nasty” designation. I can’t tell you how much I love the fact that Hamlyn has “nasty” as a category! Does this one earn the right to be called a nasty? Yes. Yes it does. Much more so than his previous book.

 

                A bizarre string of cannibal murders have been popping up across England and Detective Chubby Holroyd is put in charge of the perplexing investigation. Trying to find a connection between these homicides is no easy task. A woman eats her fiancé, a man eats his brother, a man kills and cooks his daughter and force-feeds her to his wife… these are the cases that Chubby has to figure out. Looks like a good time to go on that diet; at least give up meat.

 

                Meanwhile, Herbert and Maggie Gunter are at the end of their vacation and back in England. They find themselves in a small village in Kent whose name is familiar to Maggie; a lovely man they had met while on expedition in New Guinea lives there. She calls their daughter and grandson to say they might drop in on him, but they’ll be back home in time for the grandson’s birthday. They don’t make it. Neither of them ever leave anthropologist Allen Briathwaite’s mansion ever again.

 

                With no main characters except for Chubby and his fellow investigators, the first half of the book tends to be a little confusing. You meet a number of characters, but they’re all just set-up for their descent into cannibalism. And what’s with the leering, seemingly alive shrunken heads? After the Gunters get involved, it starts tying together, for both the reader and dear Chubby. It’s a good thing Maggie called her daughter because when they start to investigate as well, you know you’re going to get an explosive ending. And you do.

 

                This is top-shelf gory pulp horror, and it is the very thing we all love about 80s gross-out books. This one is certainly next level (though I would say it is less vile that L.A. Morse’s The Flesh Eaters, 1979 Warner Books) and Chandler’s descriptions hold nothing back. The man roasting his brother’s head and peering “down at the golden brown face” is a scene that stays with you. Nasty for sure. This book gets quite expensive these days, but it is worth the extra dough. You just don’t get books that are this brutal very often.

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.