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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The Montauk Monster By Hunter Shea

 

The Montauk Monster
By Hunter Shea
2014 Pinnacle Books
Paperback, 347 pages

 

I admit it. I’m stuck-up. I don’t give new things a chance. Any horror novel written after 1990 surely sucks. But while perusing the books at Savers recently, this one caught my eye. Despite being newer (2014) and twice as thick as I like to read, the back cover hype made me give it a chance. A gory monster book for $3; it was worth a shot.

Remember when the mangy, hairless raccoon carcass washed up in Montauk, NY and a new cryptozoological hero was born? Well, Shea took that sensational (if fleeting) story and fleshed it out as reality and the results are phenomenal. Indescribable monsters are flooding into Long Island and shredding everyone in sight. Where do they come from and how do you stop them?

Shea gets it. He knows how to write a nature-strikes-back/ bloody monster story and this one is right up there with the best of this beloved genre. All of my favorite tropes are present: introducing characters that are mere monster fodder, gratuitous gore and sex, snarling, unstoppable monsters and the death of characters that you thought would live. One welcome update to the model that I love so much is an ass-kicking, disabled woman; someone that Guy N. Smith would never have had the presence of mind include in a story.

After enjoying this one as much as I did, I looked up Shea’s other titles and it seems that the cryptozoology monsters are his thing. I look forward to reading more of his work, especially his Skunk Ape novel, which clocks in at well under 200 pages. The Montauk Monster runs a bit long because plenty of explanation is needed for the beasts’ existence, but it still moves quickly, and I couldn’t be happier with my $3 purchase.

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

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Panther! by Alan Ryan

Panther!
By Alan Ryan
1981 New American Library
Paperback, 212 pages

                To promote his new film Panther, a studio head plans on having twenty live, wild black panthers, freshly imported from Africa, caged in the lobby of the theater on opening night. What could possibly go wrong?

                Granted, I prefer gory action to characterization, but Ryan gives us a collection of good characters to enjoy while we await the inevitable. Once the cats are loose, some (not all) hell breaks loose and Ryan occasionally lets himself slip into Guy N. Smith mode, where he introduces new characters only to dispatch them a few pages later. I live for that shit. Of particular interest is a backfired blowjob scene.

                Considering the mayhem doesn’t kick in until well after the halfway mark, Panther! still manages to stay consistently interesting, if a bit predictable at times. Some plotline shit gets a little convenient by the end, but the story never drags. And I never once rolled my eyes that they were able to capture twenty wild black panthers for this promotional stunt.

                “Black panthers” are a color morph of the leopard in Africa and Asia (and jaguars in the Americas), a fact that is given less than a full sentence in the book. Though roughly 10% of leopards are prone to a degree of melanism, it seems highly unlikely that Ransome, the panther hunter, could have been so successful. But who cares, right?

                So, there you have it… today’s science fact and a thumbs up for Panther! The cover art is by Tom Hallman.

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

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Cows By Matthew Stokoe

Cows
By Matthew Stokoe

Made on Demand, 1997/ 2015

Paperback, 206 pages

 

                This is the notorious, gross-out, disgusting novel that has all the kids a’ twitter about how nasty it is. When online discussions about the “most extreme” horror novels pop up, Cows is sure to get a mention. Needless to say, I needed to take the plunge and shell out my hard earned dough.

 

                Steven is a fucked-up guy. His unloving mother (The Hagbeast) routinely abuses him, and he longs for the “real”, happy family life he sees on TV. He gets a job in a slaughterhouse, his first move towards independence, and it fucks him up even more. Soon, a group of rogue cows that have escaped the kill-line are talking to him and indoctrinating him into their underground society, hoping he can help with their cause.

 

Yeah, that’s right. Talking cows. On the surface, it’s just more wackiness in a book that has more shit, vomit, blood, jizz, and other bodily fluids than every other book ever written combined, but it’s all just allegory, and it does get a tad heavy handed at times. Not to say that it doesn’t work, though. The world (and our place in it) is a mess and Stokoe does a masterful job of showing just how bad it could be for some folks. Granted, I’m not going to shit down my mother’s throat to kill her, but I do feel a little alienated sometimes.

 

Is the book a gross-out? Oh, hell yes! Has Stokoe actually eaten shit? Because he goes into great detail about the texture, taste and viscosity of feces that will have your brow furrowing at the very least. His descriptions of the desolate world of Steven filled me with his hopelessness and, as a veggie, the slaughterhouse scenes reinforced my choice of a meatless lifestyle in a massive way. Yes, the book is a gross-out, but it is a hell of a lot more than that. It will make you think about things you’d rather not think about. I made me squirm, laugh, roll my eyes and think. It’s actually quite a deep book.

 

First published in 1998 by Creation Books, Cows is now self-published by Matthew Stokoe.

This review originally appeared in Midnight Magazine #9, March 2022.

 

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The Coming of the Rats by George H. Smith

 

The Coming of the Rats
By George H. Smith
1961 Priority Books
Paperback, 158 pages

Priority Books

    This one threw me for a loop. I thought I was in for a typical post-Nuke killer rat novel, but I got oh, so much more. And less!

 

    The first thing you notice is that the main character, Steve Seabrook, is a real douchebag. Self-centered and eternally horny, Steve is completely out for himself. His only real comrade is his dick. In fact, his drooling over his coworker’s curves is so overt as to be distracting. I wondered just what this book was up to, so I took a break and looked up the author. Smith was a soft-core erotica writer, responsible for such titles as Orgy Buyer and Country Club Lesbians while also trying his hand at science fiction. OK, so I wasn’t seeing things. With that settled I went back and enjoyed the book for what it was: soft-core sci-fi.

 

    Y’see, with bombs imminent, Steve had secured a cave deep in the valley where destruction and radiation would be minimal. He’d been stocking it with essentials, and he just needed an Eve to his Adam. He chose his stacked co-worker Bettirose, for better or worse. Meanwhile, he’s fucking his Mexican friend’s hot 18-year-old daughter, who will be a neighbor in the Valley after the bombs drop. After two thirds of the book is done, the bombs do drop and the post-apocalyptic fun begins, including the long-awaited rat scourge.

 

    Yes, this book is puerile and silly but it’s a ton of fun. The Priority Books edition I have is a study in cheapness, with smeary or faded inks on every page. The cover isn’t as lurid as the original Pike Books cover by Albert Neutzel, which features a blonde maiden being stripped by rats, but the story is just as wonderfully stupid.

                    

                                Pike Books #203                      My favorite retitling! PBR# 802

Check out Tony Shepard's look at the evolution of this story here... it's very interesting and gives you a look at the tale in its original form!

 

This review originally appeared in Midnight Magazine #8, July 2021.
 
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Only Child by Patricia Wallace

Only Child
By Patricia Wallace

1985 Zebra

Paperback, 332 pages

    This is another is Zebra’s never-ending line of scary brat books. I usually resist the urge to buy these, knowing they never truly satisfy me but for a few bucks at Savers, I figured what the fuck.

 

    A small plane crashes in Southern California and the only survivor is a young girl who seems almost too perfect to be true. The townspeople all fawn over her because of her plight and her blondeness. It seems that she has amnesia about everything except her first name: Hannah. She’s taken in by the local priest and shit starts going down around town… fires, disappearances and medical maladies begin to stack up. Could it be… young Hannah who is behind these horrors?

 

    Only Child doesn’t pull any punches and as soon as you see the cover, you pretty much know what you’re in for, but it’s not a bad book at all. Wallace makes it super easy to read, with frequent breaks between scenes, a good sense of humor, and enough zest to keep the pages turning. She doesn’t over-write at all, which is a godsend in a book like this. Easy peasy. She churned out a dozen of these books for Zebra and they’re all very readable even if they’re not great. While this one isn’t particularly memorable, it’s an OK way to spend a few nights, reading about other peoples’ creepy children.

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

 

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Blight by Mark Sonders

 

Blight
by Mark Sonders
1981 Ace Books
Paperback, 259 pages

    Blight is a no-bullshit book about killer moths. On page one, bulldozers clear some formerly protected woods that were the feeding area for rare moths and by page 5, the pissed-off insects are already attacking the human interlopers. Mark Sonders comes off like an excited 15-year-old kid with a good horror idea that he banged out with the glee of a teenager taking revenge on the world. The pace is relentless (until towards the end), and the science is bonkers; just how this type of book should be.

    The residents of Stole Estates are rich and doomed. Their hoity toity community was built on the cleared land that once belonged to the moths. The moths are hungry. And, for good measure, they sting as well. They come in such abundance that they clog everything, including human orifices. Moths are out to fuck you up. One very enjoyable thing in this book? Kids get killed, too.

    There is some priceless prose on hand, too. One victim, a famous entertainer, incredulous that she is being attacked by a usually benign insect makes the author ask, “Didn’t they know who she was? Didn’t they have any idea they weren’t supposed to eat people? What was she, a sweater?” Brilliant! And this line, which is either pure genius or total idiocy: “The last body looked like it had exploded, sending its vital organs and innermost secrets out to an uncaring world.” Just wow.

    As pulpy good as this, it does start to bog down towards the end while one character is making a long, introspective escape attempt, but I can forgive that as well as the abrupt non-ending. The sheer jubilance and excitement the book is written with (as well as the fairly large print) made this one an easy book to plow through in no time. Evidently, Mark Sonders is a penname for computer-game designer and part-time sci-fi author Michael Berlyn. Sadly, this is his only horror novel. I wish he wrote twenty more.

This review originally appeared in Midnight Magazine #7 (Jan. 2021)

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