Volume two of Todd Sullivan’s Vampire Series of Extreme Horror picks up where Butchers left off, this time focusing on Hyeri, a character introduced in book one. Right away, Sullivan’s growth as a writer is on display. In my review for Butchers, I mentioned that the dialogue and language could be clunky at times. The Gray Man of Smoke and Shadow is a considerably smoother journey.
This story revolves around revenge, but with a few interesting twists. Hyeri utilizes her vampiric abilities to try and exact revenge on the uncle who tortured her, but quickly finds out there is more to the titular Gray Man than meets the eye. Adding to this, the Gwanlyo, the organization introduced in book one, is back and trying to rein in this rogue employee.
Many of things that Sullivan did with Butchers are on display again here, both to the book’s success and detriment, including the South Korea setting that sets this apart from other vampire lore . The story fits perfectly into the novella format, and at 113 pages, feels neither too fatty or like we’re missing anything. The pacing makes use of short, quick, bite-sized chapters to rapidly change character point-of-view and keeps the story barreling forward.
Another point I made in the review for Butchers is that it reads like a portion of a series, which of course it is. In book one, unanswered questions are par for the course, so long as we get answers moving forward. They don’t have to come in book two by any stretch of the imagination, but when book two introduces more nefarious creatures with limited explanation, and doesn’t go far toward answering questions, especially regarding the Gwanlyo, that I still had from book one, I get a little concerned. Book three could come along and totally allay my fears. I’m just cautious.
The Gray Man of Smoke and Shadow is a fast-paced, brutal, relatively self-contained vampire story set in South Korea. If that sounds like your think, then Sullivan may have just the series for you.


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


John F.D. Taff’s The Fearing series was an absolute event last year. I looked forward to each of the four releases and lamented the six week wait to find out what happened next. When volume four arrived, Taff managed to bring the whole thing to a satisfactory conclusion. It didn’t take long for rumblings to begin about Taff returning to the Fearing universe to tell additional stories. When it was announced that he’d be teaming up with Matt Corley of Saturday Morning Scenarios to tell a story set during the events of The Fearing and turn it into an RPG, I was sold before the punctuation hit.
Tim Jacoby, while not the main antagonist of the series, is audience fodder from the moment he steps on the page. Taff writes him in such a way that the reader is meant to say something along the lines of “Ugh, who is this asshole?” However, even the most irredeemable among us have an origin story, and Blood & Brimstone tells us about how Jacoby came to be a force to be reckoned with in volumes three and four of the original series. Taff writes us a surprisingly nuanced version of the character. From the first page, we can already see traces of the character we remember, but some of the choices made along the way still startle and shock.
Taff does character very well, but my favorite portions of these books have always been the way the fears come to life. If you thought all the potential ideas were used up in the main series, you thought wrong. Without going into spoiler-y details, we’ve got a fear that is upsetting and creepy, set at a somewhat abandoned school and we’ve got a fear that stands head and shoulders above the rest. Before going further, you may have seen some of the artwork for this edition online, pieces by Stefan Koidl and Francois Vaillancourt. Their work is phenomenal and truly serves to bring the pages to life. I mention this now, because both the scenes I talked about above have accompanying artwork, and for such a visual person as myself, it is chilling. It makes the story feel complete.
I’ve been racking my brain for all the wild, over-the-top stuff from the other volumes, so that I could make the next statement in all honesty. The events at the St. Louis arch occurred to me, as well as the invasion of the camp in book three, however I believe Taff saved the biggest for last. The fear-related events that occur in Blood & Brimstone in the final chapters are bonkers. Taff dreams up creatures from beyond the depths of our worst nightmares, and I’m absolutely here for them and the horrific things they do to the red-shirts.
As much as I love the splattery schlock and gore, one of my favorite parts is a bit more quiet. Early on, once the characters realize that the shit is heading straight for the fan, they hole up in a bunker, and hear about a specific event. They hear the aftermath over the radio and have to decide whether to believe the unbelievable. Taff writes this moment well, with a grand sense of isolation that the best horror puts on display, and it’s a nice homage to War of the Worlds.
This novella feels very timely, touching upon the current pandemic by name, as well as addressing prevalent social issues such as white privilege and even “Karens”. When reading the section regarding white privilege, my initial thought was it’s a bit too on the nose, but the further I got in and saw the relationship between Jacoby and Tam develop, I realized Taff is doing what we should all be doing. He has a platform, a readership, and he is talking about this very real issue that can be all too easy to sweep under the rug. For that, I commend him.
This e-book came to me on a Wednesday afternoon, and as has become tradition, I’d finished it by that night. Slipping back into that world felt comfortable, and as always, the pages pretty much turned themselves and took me along for the ride. Looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, I believe the novella is set in such a way that a first-time Fearing reader could start here. There’s a genesis to events, a character point-of-view explanation, and although the events are attached to the bigger part of the story, they are not dependent on one another. Another winner from John F.D. Taff in this stellar series.


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


There’s so much to anticipate about this anthology that I just found myself practically tap dancing when it arrived in my inbox. It’s the first anthology from Grindhouse and editor Samantha Kolesnik. Not to mention it’s got a great lineup and a killer, pun very much intended, theme - vacation horror. Kolesnik pulled out all the stops for this one, including an introduction written by Mother Horror herself, Sadie Hartmann. I’m completely onboard with Sadie’s take about going new places, although maybe for different reasons than the ones the stories here touch on. It’s a nice meaningful touch that got the horror community’s attention right away.

No matter how hyped up I get about an anthology, I’m always cautious heading in. After all, short fiction can be so hit or miss. However, the first two stories “You’ve Been Saved” by S.E. Howard and “Summers with Annie” by Greg Sisco alleviated a lot of doubts.  I’m hard pressed to think of another collection where the first two stories both strike me as hard as these two did, particularly Sisco’s story, which is an easy contender for top three in the collection, combining creep factor and nostalgia in an extremely successful manner.

“Unkindly Girls” by Hailey Piper and “The Cucuy of Cancun” by V. Castro were probably my most anticipated stories in Worst Laid Plans. Piper’s story hits hard and highlights subtle abuses that build and build to become larger and more pervasive. Like everything she writes, it was a pleasure to read. Castro’s story is quick, nasty and gruesome. It also serves to flip the trope on its head a bit, having the monster go on vacation.

“Deep in the Heart” by Waylon Jordan is another story of note that caught my attention for its’ use of sensory deprivation and isolation. The monsters contained within are described beautifully (maybe not the right word) and uniquely. While I don’t want to synopsize every story in the book, there are several others I really enjoyed. Asher Ellis’ provides some non-shark aquatic horror in “Expertise”. “Peelings” by Kenzie Jennings hits us with humane villain wrapped up in body horror. “In the Water” by Mark Wheaton dips its toes into an area of life/horror that makes my skin crawl. Telling you what it is would provide spoilers, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to read and find out.

As in any anthology, there were a few stories that were not for me. Unfortunately, it felt like many of the ones I didn’t care for resided in one portion of the book. The stories that didn’t resonate for me were not an affront by any means. Rather, the first six stories built a momentum in my mind that wasn’t entirely sustainable and the back half of the journey had a bit of start and stop feel to it.

With some really fantastic anthologies released already in 2020 and some more to come, I believe Worst Laid Plans earns the right to be mentioned alongside the year’s best. If Samantha Kolesnik opts to curate another anthology in the near future, I will be picking it up.


I received a digital copy from the publisher for review consideration.

In looking to read a little more widely, White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi was a title that kept floating to the top. Advertising itself as a semblance of a haunted house novel, the story follows Miranda, living in the Silver House, a bed and breakfast in Dover, England run by generations of her family. A major life change results in Miranda having to deal with an eating disorder and additional troubles, mainly related to mental health.

Oyeyemi is undoubtedly a very talented writer, with prose that reminded me of Stephen Graham Jones. Whether that’s a common comparison, or my experience alone, I can’t tell you. The story is written with a consistent dream-like quality around the edges, resulting in something that reads a bit like a modern day fairy tale. This style both drew me in because of it’s originality and unique tone, but also caused me to feel slightly lost at times. This could be an intentional choice on the part of the author, or it could have been my attention span failing me.

One particular strength of White is for Witching is the atmosphere that Oyeyemi creates, and is able to maintain, for the duration of the book’s 227 pages. The reader seldom feels at ease while reading about these characters, and this is a definite contribution to the horror on display. Readers looking for a more traditional haunted house story are not going to find it here. The terror presented is more a psychological adversary, dealing thematically with issues of family, legacy, race, and sexuality.

Being unfamiliar with the author, I discovered as I read, non-traditional storytelling elements and plotlines that didn’t necessarily move in a linear fashion, as well as an ending that doesn’t wrap itself up in a traditional bow. Once I gained an understanding of the type of book I was reading, it allowed me to immerse myself in the part of the story that was happening in front of me in the moment, and the components mentioned above didn’t detract from enjoying my reading experience. This isn’t necessarily a novel I would recommend to everyone, but then again, that’s why we write reviews. So you can read through the previous paragraphs and consider the way the story is written, the subject material, and this reader’s personal experience to decide if this is a book you might appreciate.

Paul Tremblay, you son of a gun, you’ve done it again. Survivor Song was easily one of my most anticipated reads of 2020. After multiple swings and misses to get my hands on an ARC, release day arrived and my copy arrived safe and sound. The synopsis is almost two-fold. One, a variation of the rabies virus, dubbed ‘super-rabies’ in the story wreaks havoc in Massachusetts turning infected people and animals into zombies. Two - Natalie, a pregnant woman who has been infected, and her friend Dr. Ramola Sherman navigate the swirling out of control landscape to try and seek medical care for Natalie and her unborn baby.

I say the synopsis is two-fold because despite the beginning-of-the-end events that Tremblay takes us through, this is very much the story of the friendship of two women. Tremblay takes the epic event of an impending apocalypse and brings it down to the smallest imaginable scale. At any given time, the reader has no idea just how widespread this issue is, and it’s left to the rumor mill and speculation how it’s affecting other people and areas. Instead we’re treated to a very introspective look at the way it directly affects Natalie and Rams.

This was an odd one for me, and I can’t think of a better word to describe it than sneaky. For Tremblay’s last few books, namely Head Full of Ghosts, Disappearance at Devil’s Rock, and Cabin at the End of the World, I found myself drawn in from page one. I read each from the edge of my seat, and most in a matter of a couple days. With Survivor Song, I enjoyed the ride at the beginning and it held my attention, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t up to the quality of some earlier books. It wasn’t til about 2/3rds of the way through that I realized Tremblay had sunk the hooks into me when I wasn’t looking and I cared about the characters and was absolutely invested in every inch of their journey, even two characters introduced about halfway through that I found obnoxious at first. Tremblay unquestionably knows what he’s doing there. By the time, it was over - I was sold.

I’ve mentioned it already, but I truly believe it’s the small scale, and the isolation on display that makes this book so effective. Paul Tremblay is doing some very interesting things with horror fiction and narrative, and not only does it make him an insta-buy author, it excites the average horror reader to see what comes next. What can this author do with another sub-genre, another trope to allow us, the readers, to see it in a new and interesting light? No pressure, man.

I’d recommend this highly to people who have enjoyed Tremblay’s previous books - what he can do with a story is on display once again. Beyond that, fans of character-driven horror will enjoy themselves and even though it’s not coming-of-age, it hits a lot of the same beats that coming-of-age horror does. Last but not least, fans of zombie lit will find that Survivor Song offers a new look at the genre, if not the monsters.

Fresh out of Asher Ellis’ story, “Expertise” in Grindhouse’s Worst Laid Plans anthology, I was anxious to see what a full-length novel from the author would be like. The opening chapter, functioning as a prologue, drags the reader kicking and screaming into the narrative. Seriously, it’s creepy, atmospheric, and reminiscent of an 80’s movie.

The pacing doesn’t die off from there as we’re introduced to Jason, who’s just moved to East Valley, Vermont. We might think we’re going to settle in and see how he’s adjusting to town, but instead get thrown into the action before page 5. Jason’s lot in life boils down to an injury that kept him from becoming a professional athlete. While storylines like this can be hokey, and frequently has, Ellis uses it effectively here without bludgeoning the reader over the head.

Curse of the Pigman fits neatly into a very specific sub-genre of horror lit. Outsider moves into a small town and realizes things are not quite as they seem. Ellis sprinkles in cults, conspiracies, cannibalism, and other tropes that just don’t fit the alliteration as well. The fear is tied smartly together with a fun, and unexpected, cast of characters. Tracy, another outsider and who fits into the story in an organic manner. Jimmy McDoyle, a very unlikely source of help. Also, Sophia who is the heart of the story and arguably the biggest reason Jason works as a man character.

I liked this book a lot more than I ever expected to like a book called Curse of the Pigman. In found notes of Stephen King's Desperation presents, but more importantly, combines an urban legend most people won’t be familiar with enough known entities to allow the story to resonate. Another quality Silver Shamrock release that I’d recommend to fans of small town, cult, and urban legend horror.

I received a copy from the publisher for review consideration.

On August 16th, Mark Cassell is set to release a chapbook, a collection-ette, if you will, featuring two previously published stories. One of Mark’s other books, The Shadow Fabric, is sitting on my shelf waiting for my attention, but in the meantime, I’m diving into a new-to-me author in my favorite way - stories.

Monster Double Feature kicks off with Mark’s contribution to last year’s Corpus Press’ In Darkness, Delight: Creatures Of the Night anthology. The story is called River of Nine Tails and details a tourist’s trip on the titular river in Vietnam. Cassell tells us in the afterword a little about the genesis of the story, and his trip to Vietnam that spurred it on. It certainly lends an air of realism to the horrors that our main character is about to endure, not to mention encouraging me to google “Mekong freshwater stingray”. Seriously, do it. The author’s note also includes some details about the story that I’ll leave the reader to discover on their own.

Given the title of the collection this shouldn’t come as a surprise, but River is a monster story. The monster presented spends a lot of time offscreen, potentially lurking around each corner, waiting to… well, that would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? At first glance, the character and the reader, as well, think giant crocodile story, but every further glimpse reveals new details until we’re not quite sure whether what we’re seeing is ancient, alien, or some mixture of both. The terror comes from not knowing any more than the main character does at any given time, and is backed up by Cassell’s liberal use of gore.

Reanimation Channel is a pretty unique story, throwing in a dash of video games, a bit of Frankenstein's monster, and even some vague reminders of The Thing. Scott, the character we follow wasn’t quite as interesting as those in the first story, which makes events late in the story hit not quite as hard. Cassell piles on the body horror, at least that’s my take, in this one. While I found myself thinking I was in for a very direct ethics lesson, the plot takes a turn early on and sends the reader reeling toward an ending that’s more off-the-wall than the wildest guess I could’ve made 30 pages prior.

If you’re reading an author for the first time, you go in looking for a good story, sure, but also to find out if this is someone you’ll be further interested in exploring once this one ends. Monster Double Feature did just that for me - two solid stories that go deep enough to make me want to see what Cassell can do in longform. I already mentioned The Shadow Fabric on my shelf. Maybe, it’s time to pencil that in.

I received a copy from the author for review consideration.

I feel obligated to preface this by saying I’m not in the habit of reading plays, or even screenplays, but everything I’ve read with Mark Steensland’s name on has been of the highest quality. In the Scrape with James Newman? One of the best coming-of-age stories 2019 had to offer. Jimmy the Freak with Charles Colyott? A unique ode to Steinbeck that hits hard right in the feels. Needless to say, regardless of format, I was really excited to dive into The Deception of Kathryn Vask.

We’re thrown straight into a dramatic moment, finding out right away that Kathryn lost her son Timothy some months ago, blames herself, and is having a lot of difficulties coming to terms with the loss. Her husband, Jonathan is portrayed as relatively cold and indifferent. There is a bit of stage direction and description later on, but Act I is almost entirely dialogue driven, and Steensland does a fantastic job in this medium letting us get to know the main characters. 

I’ll go relatively light on plot here because discovery is the bulk of the joy. Most of the set up revolves around the family’s priest helping Kathryn and Jonathan set up a seance to commune with Timothy so that Kathryn can receive forgiveness and find some peace. While Act I gives us backstory and characterization beautifully, Act II moves along at a breakneck speed and really subverts a lot of expectations that the reader/audience member might have. 

I’m utilizing my imagination here, but Steensland has crafted a very nice balance of events that I believe could be achieved using modest practical effects. One of the benefits of writing prose is that budgetary constraints can go out the window, however a writer drafting a play doesn’t quite have those same freedoms. Steensland has a lot going on in Act II to keep the audience on their toes, but won’t give the backstage crew fits. Again, I would throw out there that I am the furthest thing from an expert regarding converting the script of a play to the real thing, but these are all thoughts I had as I read and brought the production to life in my mind.

I immensely enjoyed the ride that Mark Steensland took my imagination on in The Deception of Kathryn Vask. Rich characters, great dialogue, and the ability to keep the audience guessing until the curtain drops make this a success in my mind, and I sincerely hope that I get a chance at some juncture to see this play come to fruition.

An abandoned room, bathed in purple light - the only item visible is a wheelchair whose occupant is unaccounted for. Out the window, we see the St. Louis Arch at night, lightning illuminating it. Take the title, Slaves to Gravity, the cover art, two indie horror darlings in Wesley Southard and Somer Canon, and Silver Shamrock publisher Ken McKinley’s word that this story is different than anything your wildest imagination might conjure, and you have all the ingredients for a seriously promising novella.

As is my custom, I really wanted to dive into this one knowing little more than what’s listed in the previous paragraph. From the word go, this is an unconventional book. Charlie Snyder wakes up after an accident to find out she’s lost the use of her legs. With the aid of her husband, she tries to come to terms with the new normal, with limited success. Then Charlie discovers she may have had a few gains along with all the losses she suffered. 

Toward the beginning and into the middle, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Josh Malerman’s A House at the Bottom of a Lake, not because of any plot similarities, but due to the sense of magic and wonder the authors were able to instill throughout. The set up is nothing short of magnificent, and the ominous appearances and forewarnings of the various creatures and the warnings about Charlie’s use of her newfound abilities are well dispersed throughout. If it seems like I’m being intentionally vague here, that’s because I’m being intentionally vague here. Like I mentioned before, this is an unconventional book and the discoveries are best left to the reader.

The dynamic exploring Charlie finding common ground with new friends, a group of people who understand what she’s going through post-accident, adds quite a bit as Charlie finds herself drifting from her husband. There’s a lot of subtext here for those looking for it about treating those with disabilities as people - not talking down to them or acting as though help is needed with every little task when it’s not asked for. Kudos to the authors for making this a focal point at the heart of the book.

While I enjoyed the nature of the ride, the ending - namely the last thirty pages or so didn’t resonate with me. I emphasize the words “with me” here because I believe there will be a lot of readers out there who adore the beginning, and keep that delight throughout. To me, it leaned a little too heavily into fantasy without sufficient warning, effectively pulling a Hancock (Reference included for fans of 2008 dramas masquerading as a superhero movie). As such, I feel good about giving this a 4 star rating, and if Southard and Canon opt to write more in the universe/mythos they’ve designed, I’ll sign up for it.

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


Rating/review coming soon

This is a tough one to write - not the review, that’s not too bad. No, I’m talking about the second book in a post-apocalyptic epic series. I won’t say book one is easy, but there are certain expectations. We need to meet the main characters, or at least a few of them, we need to see the beginnings of the “threat” plunging the world into an apocalyptic setting, or if the story begins later on, gain an understanding of the dangers the apocalypse cost, then point those characters in a certain direction. An author needs to make it original, but at least there’s some kind of template available.

Book two, Lullaby in this case, is a different story (no pun intended). Generally you’d see new main characters introduced, and the group or individuals continue on their journey, but you might not expect massive transpirings if you know you’re still less than 20 percent in. The beginning of Lullaby introduces us to Marcos. We get to learn a little bit about him and suspect he may be a key player going forward before we’re whisked away to continue the story of John and Mariah.

This is a tough one, and now I am talking about the reviewing process. As I mentioned, most of the 97 pages here are spent transitioning John and Mariah through Death Valley, and onto the next stage of their journey, however Barnett does something completely unexpected pretty early on in the book, and it’s probably not what you think I’m hinting at. I want to talk about it, I want to tell you how interesting it makes this book, but I don’t want to tell you what it is. I’d rather hype this portion of the Nightmareland series up and sit back knowing you’ll have a similar reaction to the one I had here. Enjoy.

I’ve seen a few people write about the first book in the series and say that they devoured it all in one sitting, and I can get behind that based on book length, but as far as writing style is concerned, I believe Daniel Barnett is best taken in sip by sip. I’m a relatively fast reader, and I spread this book over the course of four days by design. With Nightfall, volume one, I did the same, taking almost a week to pore over a 140 page book so I could digest the prose and mentally prepare myself for the next stage. Barnett’s apocalyptic tale is one of the more literary takes I remember seeing in the genre, however it doesn’t come at the expense of storytelling ability.

In the afterword, Barnett says we can expect volume three - Sleepwalking - to be about the same length as books one and two combined. I, for one, am on the edge of my seat to see where we go next. The scope of this series and the amount of story still to be told, never mind the continued cover art from Daniele Serra, excites me to no end. If you read Nightfall you’re going to love what Barnett has to share with you in Lullaby. If you haven’t, order both today so you’re ready when the next installment drops.

I received a copy from the author for review consideration.