Let’s Go Play at the Adams’ By Mendal W. Johnson

 

Let’s Go Play at the Adams’
By Mendal W. Johnson
1974 Bantam
Paperback, 282 pages

 

                This novel is inspired by the Sylvia Likens murder case, as was Jack Ketchum’s later work The Girl Next Door (1989). Thanks to Grady Hendrix’s Paperbacks from Hell, this book has had a resurgence in interest, driving already high prices even higher. Vanguard has reprinted it under the PfH banner. Perhaps that is why I found an original at a good price. I took the plunge.

 

                While the Adams are vacationing in Europe, they have their responsible baby-sitter Barbara minding their two children: 13-year-old Bobby and 10-year-old Cindy. All is rosy until Barbara wakes up to find herself tethered to her bed. She comes to learn that it is a “game” being played by the Freedom Five, the two Adams kids and their friends, 16-year-old John, Dianne, almost 18, and her brother Paul, also in his young teens. They consider her, at 20, to be an adult and, though they like her, she is one of them… a grown-up. Now the kids were in power.

               

                Naturally, things ascend, though they happen at a slow pace. There were times that I was afraid I was going to give up on it (a la Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game, a book I found so desperately boring that I didn’t finish it and haven’t read a King book since), but the prose made me stick with it, for better or worse. As the story progresses, so do the children’s cruel ambitions, and Barbara is methodically stripped, raped, and tortured. Much of this made me angry. I’m like, come on! You’re bigger and smarter than they are… make it stop. But this was just all a part of Johnson’s mastery of storytelling.

 

                Every character’s point of view is explored, from the 10-year-old right up through to the captive Barbara. In parts, I couldn’t tell if I thought it was wildly misogynistic or if that might just be how certain characters felt about the situation. At any rate, it made me very uneasy for much of the book’s length, but I had to keep going. Such is the strength of this narrative.

 

                The book absolutely kicked my ass.

 

                It took a few days (weeks?) to come up from the lows this book made me feel. It is said that Johnson’s wife blames this book, the author’s only published work, for killing him, driving him into deeper drink and depression. I can believe it. The attention to detail put into the psyche of each character makes everyone’s motives and beliefs crystal clear. And that makes it all even more horrifying.

 

                My wife has read Ketcham’s book and said I should avoid it, that it would make me mad. I have also heard that Adams’ is a “lighter” take on the same subject. I shall definitely be avoiding Ketcham’s book. Let’s Go Play at the Adams’ absolutely kicked my ass.

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Mastodon By Steve Stred

 

Mastodon
By Steve Stred
2022 Black Void Publishing
Paperback, 254 pages including Afterword and Writing Playlist!

                Seventeen years to the day of his mother’s disappearance, Tyler’s father’s plane goes down in the exact same spot of Canadian wilderness where Mom vanished. That leaves our 17-year-old hero to head out to search for his dad, although the area is restricted. Military owned. Off limits. Verboten. But thanks to years of hiking and survival lessons with his Pop, Tyler is ready to break the rules and go off to search for his parents. If the number of years sound similar to you, that’s right. Tyler has never seen his mother.

                Once Tyler is past the perimeter of the restricted area, the book alternates between his survivalist skills, his stealth, and his fears. It turns out the area is not safe at all. There are strange beasties afoot in the woods. With the help of a Mountie who is on a similar mission to get to the facility deep within the woods, Tyler discovers a military/ scientific conspiracy that could end his life if he gets too close.

                I came to this book as a creature-feature recommendation from the good ol’ Books of Horror Facebook page. It isn’t something I would ever have discovered on my own, and I enjoyed it, so… thank you. The tension stays high throughout the journey through the woods and gets notched up even higher as Tyler nears his goal. The creatures in this feature are many, with the scientists playing Dr. Moreau and creating hybrid, mutated monsters that now fill the woods.

                Stred is a fine writer and keeps the pages turning at a rapid pace. My only gripe would be that it is very much a boy’s book… a son searching for his father. There isn’t much estrogen in the story. If I had had a stronger relationship with my own father, perhaps it would have resonated with me more. Shit, if my father went down, I’d just say, “oh well… bummer” and move on.

                All in all, this is a fun book that hits a lot of the right notes. I’ll check out more of this author. I like his style.

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Bonegrinder By John Lutz

 

Bonegrinder
By John Lutz
1980 Berkley
Paperback, 232 pages

 

                No, perv, this isn’t a porno, it is an early novel from John Lutz, who went on to be a very successful mystery writer, author of Single White Female and an Edgar Award winner. Like so many animal-attack books, it came in the wake of Jaws, and it certainly wears it’s influence on its sleeve.

 

                There seems to be a monster in the lake in a small resort town in the Ozarks. There have been a few gory deaths and sketchy descriptions and that is enough to cause a lot of excitement in this remote setting. Tourists, news people and gawkers crash the scene, hoping to get a glimpse of the newly coined “Bonegrinder” or, better yet, one of the monster’s bloody victims. That’s more than Sherriff Wintone can take, and he struggles to maintain the peace and his own life in the midst of this Crypto-Craze.

 

                I don’t know. I guess this was a pretty good book; certainly, it is well-written, but most of the characters are somewhat annoying. The sheriff is pretty much likeable, though he’s written with such a laid-back delivery and colloquialisms that I struggled a few times. Of course, he is the Sherriff Brody of the story, but I kept picturing him as Richard Farnsworth in Misery (1990) due to the writing of the character. Of course, Farnsworth was far older than Wintone was supposed to be, so it made the love interest scenes a bit jarring. And, like the sheriff, I wanted to smack the town drunk in the face.

 

                All in all, the book felt a little overlong for me and the holding off (and holding off and holding off) on the reveal of the monster made me impatient. I can see how Lutz became adept at mysteries. I figured out one side-plot quickly, so I was pleased with myself. It’s not a bad book and I don’t regret the time I spent with it, but it didn’t completely satisfy me.

 

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The Fog By James Herbert

The Fog

By James Herbert

1975 Signet
Paperback, 275 pages

 

I’ve voiced my opinion that James Herbert tends to over-write in the pages of Midnight before, so I’ll just leave that here and shut up.

 

The Fog is Herbert’s first follow-up to his masterful The Rats and the first half of the book is pure, batshit crazy Herbert greatness. A fissure erupts in the middle of a small town, sucking half of the buildings and inhabitants into it. If that’s not bad enough, the rift also releases a yellowish fog, a mist that when it comes in contact with a person, it makes them insane. Suicide, murder, rape and all sorts of nasty behavior is lovingly depicted, and the fog grows bigger with every mind it destroys. Naturally, it’s headed toward London.

 

The set-up to this story is superb and the descriptions of the fog’s effects are gruesome and horrific. I’d have been happy with another 100 pages of just that. I don’t need an explanation or any science; just give me the mayhem. But we do get the reason behind the fog and the main character (a survivor of the fissure), and his crew of bigwigs try to solve the dilemma. Herbert is a good enough writer where he won’t leave you high and dry while they seek answers. There are exciting and dangerous treks through the fog while the crazy Londoners who are out of control lurk around every corner.

 

Herbert revisited some of this idea in his later book The Dark, though that had a supernatural bent. This one gets a little bogged down in the second half, but is still a highly recommended classic. I have the attention span of a tsetse fly and that might be why I started to lose interest while I awaited the finale, but for those of you with more brain in the pan than I, it might be (or become) a favorite.HerbertH

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Dollies By Pat Graverson

 

Dollies
By Pat Graverson
1990 Zebra Books
Paperback, 288 pages

                I don’t often step outside of my comfort zone of nature-run-amok novels full of gore and entrails, but every now and then I do, and sometimes I get rewarded. While Dollies might look like a typical Zebra scary brat book, it is much more than that.

 

                Real estate agent and divorcee Kit has a tough house to sell; the Bern’s house is an oddity as are the Bern’s themselves. So are the “beautiful and hideous” dolls that old man Bern collects. After he gifts one of his dollies to Kit’s daughter Jodie, Kit’s life, which was already pretty messed up, starts to unravel even further. Kit can’t seem to get rid of the doll. It keeps turning up. And the Berns will not take it back.

 

                Pat Graverson had a few novels under her belt when she wrote Dollies, and she drew upon her own experience in the real estate business to start this book. She crafts a moving story that never sags, and gives us a solid, believable main character. Kit is flawed but overall, a good person who loves her child and would lay down her life for her. The danger she is in doesn’t deter Kit from trying to unravel the mystery that will inevitably save her daughter.

 

                I gotta say, there are some really creepy moments in this one. This scratching and pitter-patter of little dolly feet from the other side of the closed door caused a frisson or two. Between the dolls, her ex-husband fucking her baby-sitter, the insidious Berns themselves, and dying friends, Kit has a really shitty time of it. But she doesn’t quit. I admire her character.

 

                Stepping outside of my comfort zone worked well with this one. I’ll likely give some more of Graverson’s work a shot. This one was good. It also has a nifty embossed cover sporting some nice Richard Newton art.

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The Ghoul By Marc Ronson

 

The Ghoul
By Marc Ronson
1980 Hamlyn
Paperback, 202 pages

 

                My wife was reading The Plague Pit by Marc Ronson at my recommendation. That was a pretty good book. One day, I was looking at vintage horror paperbacks online (as I am wont to do) when I stopped on Les Edwards’ cover of Ronson’s The Ghoul for Hamlyn Books. Great cover, indeed. So, I called Andrea over to see the cover and she said, “It looks like he missed arm day.” Skinny arms… he missed arm day at the gym. For some reason, I thought (and still think) that is the funniest goddam thing ever. I immediately found a cheap copy and bought it, if only to enjoy the cover.

 

                While not as fully satisfying as The Plague Pit, this one is still very enjoyable. It is about the unearthing of a tomb in the Valley of Jinn in the Middle East. The archaeological team digging it (led by a woman, not a common thing is 1980s pulp horror) encounters hiccups in the form of a nearby hippy cult, scared locals, and the titular ghoul. A dozen moderately interesting characters weave throughout the story, keeping the pages turning if only to find out why they’re there at all. That’s not a knock, just an observation; this is pretty ambitious for a 200-page book.

 

                One thing that slows me down in a book of this sort is the exotic names of people and places. I hope I don’t sound xenophobic when I say that I tend to sound out the exotic Arabian names in my head, decide it’s too hard, then mumble the name as I read… “Rmm-nn-mmm”. I’m lazy. I found relief when the archaeologist’s father Max was around, though his character is far less interesting than the locals of Abu Sabah.

 

                Still, this is a fun, quick book with plenty of intrigue, claustrophobic horror, a love triangle, and deceitful characters making the ol’ opening of a tomb premise sparkle a little bit. One gripe… not enough ghoul. He isn’t in it as much as I’d like. We need more ghoul. Maybe he was at the gym, trying to work up those arms.

 

                The abrupt ending all but promises a sequel, but that never materialized. Marc Ronson (Marc Alexander) passed away in February 2020.

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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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