Volume three serves as my introduction to the unique way this series runs. How many times have you passed judgment on an author based on a story you read in an anthology? If you could see me, you might note that I’m typing with one hand because the other is raised. Selecting six authors and presenting two stories from each works nicely on a few levels. First, the obvious. If you read a story by an author that doesn’t resonate, you get to try something else to see whether it was that author’s voice, style, or just the subject matter that didn’t work for you. The second successful aspect of this series is that if there’s an author whose work you appreciate, you get a double dose.

Picking this book up, I saw three authors whose work I loved and looked forward to here, and three who were new to me. Christine Morgan was a name that I had seen through various publications from Death’s Head Press. She kicks things off with Eye See You and Sharp Obsidian. Neither one was up my alley, but they were well-written and a bit off the wall. They may just not have been for this reader.

Robert Essig swings in next with From Unclean Spells and Fuel For the Kind of Death, the latter took me to a seriously uncomfortable place. I’ll keep it spoiler-free, but the subject material the story revolves around has always made me squirm, and Essig seems to know that and thrive on it. 

Mark Matthews is an author who knows exactly how to hit you right in the feels, and although Wicked Smart Carnie is entertaining, Goodwin is where he really shines. This one really hit home for me, packed with emotion and strong metaphor, as well as supremely difficult subject material. This easily stood tall as my favorite story in the collection.

Theresa Braun’s stories include Stillborn and Homecoming. Stillborn marked a unique entry, containing elements of horror certainly, but also wrapping itself up in a mystery. Homecoming, meanwhile, is completely different with a bit of gothic sensibility, but again showcases why having two stories on display here is such a winning concept.

Calvin Demmer’s story collection, Dark Celebrations, is one of my favorite collections of the year. Demmer has a way of drawing the reader in, escorting them through a condensed world and generally hitting with a sense of shock and awe. As a result, I looked forward to both stories he submitted for this. Highway Hunger is a strong one, and one of the best of the collection, but Motel Madness is stellar, presenting a unique and terrifying version of what hell could be, and I’m an absolute sucker for stuff like that.

Wrapping this book up, the inimitable Glenn Rolfe. The Guide is a short, touching vignette, a bit different than anything I’ve read by Rolfe before. The House on Mayflower Street, however, is the perfect choice to bring this collection to a close. Haunted or cursed houses plus creepy dolls, with a surprising, but characteristically Rolfe-ian brutality.

Double Barrel Horror Volume 3 did a couple things for me. It reinforced a love of some favorite short story writers, and on that note I’m so glad I got to read Goodwin by Mark Matthews. It introduced me to a new author in Theresa Braun that I’ll be on the lookout for. Last, but not least, it made me aware of the other two volumes of Double Barrel Horror, and there are some familiar names I’ll need to check out there, as well as some new authors to be discovered. Not every story here will necessarily resonate with the reader, but there’s a strong foundation and a lot to like in these pages.


I was given a digital copy by one of the authors for review consideration.

I’m still new to the poetry scene and Raw Dog Screaming has been a beacon of light helping me navigate the waters. John Edward Lawson’s 2006 collection, The Troublesome Amputee, doesn’t quite fit with any poetry I’ve read or reviewed before. To be fair, if the title and cover art didn’t get across the possibilities for what you’re about to immerse yourself in, Michael Arnzen’s introduction would likely do the trick.
The pieces in Lawson’s collection comes in all shapes and sizes, categorized mainly as dark poetry that employs some more traditional aspects, but also gets experimental in other places. The Troublesome Amputee even has limericks. I read between five and ten poems a day as I took my time wading through this collection, and quickly found that each day, each exploration held something new for me.
A reader might find themselves enveloped in social commentary. Turn the page. Grisly horror. Flip. Satire. Flip. Outright humor. Flip. Something so bizarre, you have to reread it to make sure you didn’t miss something. Lawson takes the reader on a journey, and I wasn’t far along on the ride, before realizing this would be something I’d want to do again and picking up another collection by the author. For anyone interested, the poem that made me temporarily close the book and go in search of more is called Full of Flava, and drips with social satire.
Some of my other favorites in the collection include the almost outright horror of Tricks of the Trade, the use of repetition in Past, and the back to back hits of Plunder Revisited and Demands of the Voluptuous Virginal Sacrifice. As a superhero nerd, Marvels of Horror made my day, with Doctor Doom being my personal favorite portion. Finally, Lawson’s homage to Chuck Palahniuk’s Survivor is a great longer form poem to cap the collection.
I’d be disingenuous if I claimed to understand the absolute intent of the artist in every single work contained within. I’ve certainly developed an appreciation for poetry, but it still occasionally flies over my head at alarming rates. I will say that even the poems that left me scratching my head provided horrific or startling imagery to sit and ponder. Lawson made me think, even if that train of thought didn’t lead me to any specific destination. That, my friends, makes for an author worth revisiting.

I was given a copy of this book by the publisher for review consideration.

Book eight in Unnerving’s Rewind or Die series comes from Lisa Quigley, best known as one of the hosts of the Ladies of the Fright podcast. Hell’s Bells marks Quigley’s debut novella and it is a doozy. We’re introduced right away to a cast of teenage girls who are remarkably easy to keep track of. This may sound small, but I often find myself struggling to keep multiple characters straight when they’re thrust upon me all at once. Quigley does a great job of establishing personality traits and quirks so that the reader is able to settle in and enjoy the storytelling, rather than being confused. The characters are developed and fleshed out in a way not often seen in a 140 page novella.

At the time I was reading this book, I also got sucked into a three-part episode of This is Horror with the author. The subject matter presented in this book, namely themes of Christianity, devotion, satanic panic, and the like stand on their own, and are investigated in complex, yet real-life ways. This book would have captivated my attention regardless, but hearing the story of Quigley’s early life tied in so much with her fiction. I don’t believe you need to read an author’s interviews to get their work, but for me, the podcast was the perfect companion piece to the book.

As I’ve mentioned countless times, well at least 7, the Rewind or Die series sets out to give us a literary version of B-movie horror. The reader goes in expecting to have a good time and be entertained. You may not expect to leave with existential questions, but hey, it could happen. There was one matter presented regarding history being written by the winners that has had my brain going for days since I finished this book in two sittings. I think most of us can agree with that concept, but I never thought to apply it to religion. 

Most of the story is told over the course of a very short period of time. While it works, it felt different to me. I’ve developed this idea of a novella following the characters and events over a certain period of time. When it mainly gets packed into a few hours, the narrative has to work outside of a traditional manner. I don’t mean this to sound like a complaint, because in reality it lends the book a unique way of working, but some readers may find it strange.

Lastly, I couldn’t very well write a review of this book that left out the music. The allusions to Queen and Freddie Mercury, both direct and indirect, give this book that nostalgic feel that has worked in all the strongest entries in this series. Quigley leaves the reader with earworms for days. I can wholeheartedly recommend this book to fans of satanic panic lit, character-driven horror, and Bohemian Rhapsody, because after all - Beelezebub has a devil put aside for me.

Charlotte Platt’s debut, A Stranger’s Guide, is something markedly different from Silver Shamrock, a press that consistently seeks out story and doesn’t lean too heavily into one sub-genre or another. This book takes us on a journey into dark fantasy. More specifically, a variation of fantasy that sees fantastical elements interspersed with a modern day city. With that in mind, it reminded me of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, one of my all time favorite fantasy stories, and an underrated Gaiman book.

In the case of A Stranger’s Guide, the action takes place in the city of Glasgow, Scotland. Our main character, Carter, rolls into town to find his missing sister, Sarah. The only tools he has to find Sarah are her group of friends and a mysterious journal she was working to unravel when she disappeared. Platt drops us right into the middle of a world with pre-established abilities and an accepted understanding of magic. It’s an intriguing introduction, but I did find myself wishing we got a little more in the way of the abilities presented, mainly how common they are and a little more about the different types.

Where this novel really shines is in Carter’s travels around the city and the creatures, monsters, and otherworldly beings encountered. Dex, the primary antagonist, sort of anyway, is potentially the most layered and interesting character. Unraveling his motives and what is fact versus fiction in the scenes he shares with Carter is a lot of fun, and was done supremely well by Platt. Side note, if this is ever adapted for television, and it would work well as a limited series, I couldn’t imagine anyone other than James Spader providing Dex’s voice.

Along the way, we also meet characters from mythology, theology, demonology, and who-knows-where-ology. I won’t spoil because taking the journey with Carter and experiencing what he experiences is what provided the best part of the reading adventure. I will say that Blob is sure to be a reader-favorite. The story and the world excel and create a very original piece of fiction, sometimes more so than the human characters. Carter acts as a vessel to propel the story forward, but I found him hard to invest in at times. As a result, some events that occur later in the story hold a bit less weight. I will say that this was my personal experience, and I have already seen other readers who don’t share it.

A Stranger’s Guide is a fun bit of dark fantasy that builds up its own underground world in Glasgow. I know it’s odd to have the words ‘fun’ and ‘dark’ in such close proximity, but it’s to Charlotte Platt’s credit that she’s created something that fits the description. The book clocks in at 374 pages and I tore through it in about four days. I’d recommend to fans of urban fantasy.

I was given a copy by the publisher for review consideration.

Rewind or Die, checklist - volume 9 edition: Creature features, check. Slashers, check. Shapeshifters, check. Food demons, unexpected, but check. Christian theology, check. Mermaids. Okay, we haven’t hit that yet. Let’s do it.

 Doctor Craig Bo is a successful dermatologist in a beachside town, a pillar of the community. Also a bit of a philanderer, but we’ll get there. Craig is named the town’s Sea King, an honor given every year to an outstanding citizen. After the event takes place, Craig develops a bit of an interesting skin condition that keeps getting worse and leads him on a journey of discovery.

Full disclosure, I didn’t like the main character. Now, I realize that I’m not meant to. He’s supposed to be something of a selfish asshole, but he’s the kind of irredeemable character who gets their comeuppance in a short story and everyone goes home happy. Stretching Dr. Bo over 115 pages and asking the reader to care where his journey ends up is a stretch.

The Kelping does have some redeeming qualities, however. As mentioned before, the inclusion of mermaids/sea people is a horror trope that could stand further exploration not pertaining to a Lovecraft mythos, as we get here. Stinchcomb also does a nice job of setting up a reveal that happens late in the story, which is very subtly broadcast early on, and I did not anticipate.

Fans of aquatic horror, body horror, and small towns with a secret just may find something to like in The Kelping.

The Only Good Indians either is, or should be on any horror lover’s list of the most anticipated books of the year. I’ve seen a lot of early praise for this one and was lucky enough to get a copy through Net Galley. The story focuses on four Native American men coming to terms with something that happened on a hunting trip years ago, and the inevitable repercussions that come calling.

First off, the book is exciting, and I don’t just mean I can’t believe Saga allowed me, of all people, to get an early copy. The pacing sets it apart and I can’t think of another story, horror or otherwise, to compare the prose to. It contains hints of stream-of-consciousness to it, but also a level of care that allows it to appear well thought out and carefully planned.

I appreciate the way the story is written and bow down to the immense talent that is Stephen Graham Jones. Mongrels holds a special place in my heart as a top-tier werewolf and coming-of-age novel. Mapping the Interior was one of the best novellas I read last year. Unfortunately, The Only Good Indians didn’t work for me. I found the characters and the timelines hard to keep track of at times, and although I enjoyed the way the story panned out, those elements definitely impacted my overall appreciation. Given the early feedback and my other experiences with this author, I firmly believe that this book didn’t hit me at the right time to resonate, or maybe it just wasn’t for me.

I would encourage potential readers to read reviews widely and give this book a go if the synopsis strikes their fancy. As I’ve mentioned, this is a very well-written story, and this may be a title I revisit at a later date. There are two consecutive chapters that deal with a high-stakes basketball game that at first glance don’t fit into the genre, but absolutely captivated me.

If you decide this book sounds up your alley, I sincerely wish you the immersive experience I hoped to have going in.

One of my favorite ways to work through a collection is to sample a story every day, make it the first thing I read in the morning and think about it throughout the day. Right from the start, Burke’s collection offered quite a bit to monopolize my mind. I’m a sucker for a well-curated anthology/collection. A strong opening story goes a long way toward winning me over. Walter and the Three Legged King is that story. Burke seamlessly mixes surreal horror, lightly tinged with fantasy, and then drives the story to a very real place in a blatantly jarring manner. It’s easily one of the best stories in the collection.

Walter is followed by the one-two punch of Purse, a very suspenseful entry, and I Make People Do Bad Things, whose final lines made the hair on my arm stand up. It’s that good. My other favorite story here is Chocolate Park, an almost novelette length story told in three parts. Part one is heartbreaking and raw. The reader is allowed to feel everything the characters go through. By the time the story carries us along to part three, there are some engrossing supernatural and horror elements that bring the tale full circle.

He Who Takes the Pain Away is another vibrant entry, leaving us asking what is pain without suffering? It’s a big story. That’s the best way I can think to put it. Cue: Change is a very timely and poignant entry in the book, also a zombie story. I’d also add the first person narration worked nicely for me here.

Nearly half the book’s runtime belongs to the novella-length The Teachings and Redemption of Ms. Fannie Lou Mason. This story spans place, time, and belief. At its core, it is fantastical and Burke’s love for her titular character shines through. In addition to the main character, Iona and Leona, captured my attention and my investment. The care that went into crafting these two makes for a grand payoff at the story’s conclusion.

Let’s Play White contains eleven stories, but I only mentioned six, which is not entirely reminiscent of my reading experience. It implies that just over 50% of the collection resonated with me, and the other 45% glided by unnoticed, and this is not the case. Every day I started with a Burke story felt a little more full, a little more thoughtful, and I highly recommend these stories to any reader who enjoys depth of character and flashes of magic.

Hunger on the Chisholm Trail, by Mike Ennenbach, is entry number two in Death’s Head Press’ Splatter Western series. I’d like to tell you how many books are expected in this series, but it keeps gaining in popularity, and they keep expanding it. At the moment, I believe it’s planned to be ten or eleven.

The Magpie Coffin, by Wile E. Young, kicked the series off with fireworks. It set the bar very high, and while Hunger is an entertaining and fun read, it doesn’t quite hit the heights of book one. It does, however, take us in a different direction. Rather than following the notion that humans are the monsters, Hunger shows us in chapter one that monsters are the monsters. I’ve read some real good wendigo books, but I still believe it to be an underrepresented trope in horror. The genesis of how a wendigo becomes a wendigo is a fascinating study, to say the least. Ennenbach does a nice job here tying it to the strained, and frankly abysmal, relations between whites and Native Americans in the late 1800’s.

Karl Beck, who shows up to the party late, is arguably the protagonist of the story and is best described as a monster hunter. During the course of a truly riveting dinner party scene, Ennenbach establishes Beck as a character I want to read more about. As he talks about his exploits and shows his scars, I couldn’t help thinking ‘put the wendigo aside’, I want to read that story. While Beck holds the reader’s attention, a light needs to shine on some of the women in this book as well. The third act of this story doesn’t work quite so well without Jia-Li. She’s strong, she’s funny, and she more than holds her own. Tracey is another character who is easy to invest in and makes a good counterpart to Karl.

When I review, I tend to focus on my reading experience, realizing sometimes that might help people decide to pick up a book, and sometimes not so much. Disclaimer since I’m highlighting what’s next because it appeals to me. I’m a huge fan of shared universe material, be it in cinema or in books. The way the Dark Tower series joins together King’s other books could very well be the reason I’ve been a constant reader all these years. That said, even though I have yet to read Chris Miller’s Dust, book three in this series, there are references and allusions to the titular town here, as well as the main character featured. This started a whole new branch of excitement for me, anticipating the way these splatter westerns could potentially crossover with each other, or even subtly reference each other on the sly. In case the magnificent artwork by Justin T Coons wasn’t a big enough selling point to collect all the paperbacks, this possibility just might do it for me.

While I started this review out saying that Hunger doesn’t quite hold up to Magpie, it does do what it promised it would. Deliver a western with some serious splatter. The pages turned quickly and I had fun the whole time. As long as that continues happening in this series, I will continue picking up the next installment.

Review coming soon to Dead Head Reviews.

Originally published at https://deadheadreviews.com/2020/06/16/pride-in-horror-month-playing-possum-a-book-review/