Tag Archives: Horror

The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard

Most people know Robert E.Howard as the guy who wrote the Conan stories. Most people have only seen the Conan movie. I hadn’t read anything by the man (at least I can’t remember reading him growing up). So I thought I would read some of his horror stories as I am a horror fan.

I have only read two stories and a poem in it so far. But so far I like it. There is definite Lovecraft-like feel to the material, but I think more substance. He has that knack for creating imagery like Poe. Take this narrative example.

Look, Messieurs, I draw a map on the table, thus, with finger dipped in wine.

Such a simple sentence and such a stark image. One needn’t the room the person, nor anything else, althought that is already there. This single sentence forms a lasting image brilliant in its simplicity.

This will be fun times!


IT – Postscript


I finally finished IT by Stephen King tonight. Took almost a solid month. But at 1477 pages that is about four regular sized novels in a month so… not bad.

First the bad. I could have done without the chapter with the prepubescent gang bang. I think King must have put a giant rail up his nose that night. The kids lost in the underground sewers after thinking they have defeated IT but they have lost their “magic” upon defeating their foe and cannot find their way out of the maze of tunnels. So Beverly, eleven years old, suggests a different sort of magic. And coaxes her six male friends to take turns fucking her one by one. This serves as the reinvigorated magic that leads them out of the sewer system.

I am not joking. Oh sure, he makes it sound “nicer” than my brief description and uses the word ‘love’ and I suppose they all loved each other in their child-like ways.

But dude, these are eleven year-olds! Six boys taking a ride on single eleven year old girl. One of them is actually mature enough to achieve orgasm. And I had to read how sticky and sore Beverly’s thighs were.

That’s fucked up right there. I could have done without that.

The theme is both in the vein of C.S. Lewis and King’s familiar refrain of the importance of friendship and love (which would have stood perfectly fine without the kiddie orgy I talked about above). The Lewis vein is basically the kids defeated IT as children but did not destroy it. They defeated it as children open to magic. However, twenty-seven years later IT has healed or reawakened and by a promise they made they are sworn to come back to their small Maine town of Derry to try and destroy it once and for all. But now they are of middle-age. Can they destroy it now that their childhood magic has left them?

This plays out as best as one can do I suppose. What really worked for the book is the length, so you really got seeped into the town, the history of the town (all tied, in the crazy King way, with the clown Pennywise) and each of the characters. Also the multiple storylines that converged on the climax and the multiple storyline/time shifts so you were following two or three separate storylines paralleled decades apart. I read on Amazon reviewer complaints about this and that it was confusing and messed up the story. Stick to Green Eggs and Ham, kids. That was easy to follow and added tension.

I also liked the way he made the time shifts flow into one another. So, perhaps a chapter ended by one of the characters in 1958 calling, “Eddie!” and the next chapter, starting with Eddie turning around but in 1985. It was not time-travelling merely shuffling between two different points in time. I liked that.

Along with such books of his like Christine and The Tommyknockers King repeats his thematic accent on the importance of friendship and the pain of its loss. Here the touch was bitter sweet because (SPOILER!!) the loss was through amnesia after the defeat of IT. I also like how the amnesia was so woven through both timelines that when the final forgetting and the loss of the friendships started at the end it seems natural, inevitable, and, therefore, sad.

It was a good, long read. You have to be a reader of faith however because the journey is long. I have faith King would pay me off and he did. Even if he turned my stomach with the kid sex thing.


Alright, damn it, I am reading IT. For some reason the book never interested me even though I am on a “forever” end-of-time book project (that, at my pace, will be done at the end of time) that has villainous clowns. I just didn’t feel like reading a giant tome about Chester-the-molester clown which I figured it was. Turns out there is an inter-dimensional aspect to the story which I can get behind.

That and I can’t answer the question: “you haven’t read IT? Really?” again. On top of that the question: “You haven’t watched the original IT with Tim Curry?” And soon to be added, “You haven’t watched the new movie version of IT?”

Most people can accept I haven’t read the book. But you haven’t seen the movie? As a general rule if a movie is based on a book, and there is a chance I will read the book in the future, I will not see the movie until the book is read. And even then perhaps not. The book is primary for one. And for two – it is much easier to wade through a movie whose book you have read than a book whose story you have seen.

Coming in at 1138 pages, I would definitely not read it after seeing the movie. It’s King not Dostoyevsky for Pete’s sake.

And these questions are usually asked of me by people that were 3 or 4 years old when King’s novel first came out. Look, I was reading King before your daddy got a randy idea one night, alright? But one can’t keep up with such a prolific writer unless one shuns a great deal of others. So, sometimes King just has to wait. This is the same reason for which, even though I acquired his collection over a year ago, I have only read a few of the item from the Lafferty collection thus far.

The best reader, the best experience of being a reader, is the nomadic reading experience. I do not believe in sticking to one genre anymore than I believe in sticking to no genre (the mainstream literature reader). And no writer should dominate to the exclusion of other writers in the readers occupation.

Now I cheat a bit as I really just can’t read modern or current literature. I like my 19th century literature just find, my two favorites being Dostoyevsky and Dickens. The first half of the twentieth century puts a bad taste in my mouth.

In fact, this just occured to me. The first half of the twentieth century literature is like that salty, sickly taste you get in your mouth that is the precursor to vomiting all over the place. The second half of the twentieth century is pretty much the equivalent of shitting and barfing constantly after barely making it to the bathroom.

In fact, I remember in 1993 I had my last bout of the flu. And thank God the bath tub is right next to the toilet in almost all apartments. Because while I was hitting the surface of the water with enough force to splash up and wet my butt cheeks, I was making gore on the white plastic of the shower bed. That is the equivalency there.

Except for some books they had you read in school, I really can’t name a book of “literature” from the second half of the twentieth century that I have read to finish. I’d prefer to read the adventures of Pippy Longstocking again (yeah, I read those as a child, you want some of this shit?!). Hell, maybe I will, I seem to recall they were quite fun. Ooo! and Encyclopedia Brown as well! Well, I graduated to Chesterton’s Father Brown anyway.

The genres kept their head above water until recently, but literature, as they call it still, I cannot stomach. Genres are the literature now, I don’t know what the literature even is.

Boy, what a rant. Anyway. It has taken me thirty years to get to Stephen King’s IT.

And it starts off rather well. I was actually creeped out by the first scene.

Yet Another Acquisition and Tommyknockers Knockin’ at my Door

This one I had to get because, at the time, it was the only available copy on the internet and I already had number two. You never know if the one on the internet is the first of forty to show up tomorrow or the only one that is going to show up for forty years. So I bit.

I have to put a temporary halt on book buying. I can no longer even pretend that I am keeping up. Hell, last Friday I decided to reread The Tommyknockers by Stephen King on a whim.

Not totally a whim. It is one of my favorites. For one it was the first book I read in my very first place on my own. No television. Just beer and piles of books. And that was when I could read for 6 hours at a spin. Now I have to start fighting a nap within a half hour. That may be because I wear x3 magnification and hold the thing up to my face.

No television, no internet, no computers. Ah, those were the days, brother, those were the days.

Another reason I like it is it is a good story. Stephen King said in an interview it was his least favorite book and he doesn’t remember a lot of the writing. It was at the height of his drinking and cocaine days. And there are places in the book where you think, “ah, man, this was an eight-ball night for him for sure.” By this time he was a lot like Lucas I would imagine – editors as yes-men.

King’s strongest story-telling has always centered around friendship and this one is no exception. That, and the man knows the throws of alcohol abuse – quite intimate on that he is.

Anyway, it is one of my favorite science fiction / horror stories. Those are two genres that haven’t always mixed well, or believably. This one is a gem in my book. Love it. And it’s fast too. There is no hidden symbolism in King’s work, no meta-anything – just straight forward storytelling, contemporary Americana, and some shots of terror.

Hey, I just started a book called The Resurrection of the Son of God – go look up the table of contents. I need some rest after some of my reading!

Song of Kali


I’ve loved some Dan Simmons ever since his Hyperion series. I was about to read Drood, also by Simmons, but after barely finishing Leckie’s Titanic disappointment, and Wright’s super-dense 4th installment of his Eschaton series, I needed a break. So I thought a good horror story would be in good order.

And in good order it is! I am only 65 pages through it (and in one day which is warp speed reading for me) but damn if this isn’t good. I mean really good. He will have had to really let out a cosmic fart to screw this up. I’ll post something about it when I am done reading it.

Wright’s book, Architect of Aeons, tried my patience a little. It was mainly info dump through dialogue. I hope he has enough of a set up now that the last two books are mainly action. There is just too much referenced by the characters of times, peoples and ages and all done up quasi-medeival (which is not a problem of itself) that after awhile you glaze over and think, “I’m I supposed to keep this terabyte info dump in my head? Do I need it to follow along?” I did come into this book in a foul fiction mood after Leckie’s cosmic fart of a series, so that is a factor.

I needed a straight ass story. I got it. I certainly recommend the first 65 pages so far!


Drood by Dan Simmons

This is not a review because I have not read it. I was doing my monthly trip to Half-Priced Books and ran across this tome. I loved Dan Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos series. So after an hour of browsing and coming up empty I was heading for the door when I passed this:


I had to have it. First, it is obvious what the reference is with the misty image of the man in the top hat and the name Drood. It had something to do with Charles Dicken’s last, unfinished, work, The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Knowing a little of Dicken’s life and the fact that it is told by Dan Simmons, how could you not buy it?

Coming in at 771 pages, it will be the longest book I have read in quite some time. I can’t even remember the last one that clocked in over 500. Although if I consider science fiction trilogies (which are really 900 page books broken into pieces for marketability) then I read such lengths all the time. If I consider that many novels I’ve read over the years are six part series, then I read 1500 to 2100 page novels all the time.

I also want to read Simmons’ Carrion Comfort  which I have seen make it onto many a top horror novels of all-time lists and Stephen King listed it as one of the great horror novels of the 20th century (or so I’ve heard). I haven’t sunk my teeth into a new horror in quite some time.

One thing you’ll notice if you look up some of Simmons’ work is the one star reviews. Nearly every one of which decries the length of the work in question. Sometimes a book is too long, just like a movie that just doesn’t end when it should. But I get the impression that many of these complaints are not due to the author being long winded, but to the readers being a little too modern. There is something to be said for a work that goes for longer than 500 pages. There is a further immersion into that world. You stay just a little longer. If it is done right, you partly live in that world for a time while walking around in the regular one.

Regular one. Heh, and how regular is that?

And Then a Bomb Went Off…

Also a recommendation at the bottom…

I was lamenting the utter lack of anything real happening in the second book of Ann Leckie’s Ancillary series yesterday – look below ya, son. Reading this morning of two characters sitting on a bench discussing something (very Star Wars prequel-like) while another person left a steam room a little way away from them. One of the characters that was seated proceeds to approach the steam room (I think it was a steam room) when a bomb goes off…

Now in real life that is never good news. In a novel that has seen almost no action in some 260 pages? Hurray! Science fiction isn’t some boring French lit where people sit at bus stops pondering the meaningless of an existence that they’ve demanded have no meaning. No, this is science fiction, boys and girls. No, it doesn’t have to be pulp with nothing but endless action and damsels being pulled from danger. But it has to have action. You gotta move it along. Unless you are going very deep, philosophically into some dense metaphysics or something, I’d say there better be some action at least every 40 pages.

There are tons of “literature” out there, garbage dump proportions where nothing ever happens and people discuss their feelings or impressions. My wife attempts to read these things every once in a while, usually on the recommendation of a friend, and usually never makes it past the first hundred pages. I would think it is just as much a factor that the sense of life in those works are absolutely abysmal as well as the fact that nothing happens.

A bomb went off. Hopefully that will keep them from standing around in endless discussion for a while.


Centipede Press is a small publisher in Colorado that is publishing all of R.A. Lafferty’s short material (sorry, boys, no news on the long works. But, I swear to God I will read the Elliptical Grave before I step into mine!).

They tend mainly to horror, the quirky, and Weird (weird as genre). The link above is to their Authors page. If you are into science fiction, fantasy or horror, you will recognize more than just a few names on their roster. They even have Salvador Dali!

One writer I’ve wanted to check out for a time is Anne Herbert (she also has to be the cutest damned thing to ever pick up a pen…) . Her book, Children of the Black Sabbath, is said to be one of the best horror novels ever written (and not just by Centipede!).

She is said to have a very unique voice. That is a rare treasure in James Patterson’s ALL BOOKS SHOULD BE WRITTEN TO SELL 45 TRILLION COPIES era.

As a lover of horror, she had me at the title. There is William Hope Hodgson, author of the The Night Land which inspired one of my science fiction favs, John C. Wright, to pen Awake in the Night Land.

C.L. Moore, one of the first female writers of science fiction. The list goes on and on.

A lot of these author’s works you can find at the book store cheaper (Lafferty is one of the exceptions, it’s Centipede or rummaging through a slew of old books and magazines). But these are special books. You can go get a copy of Tim Power’s The Anubis Gates anywhere, but you won’t find an super cool copy like Centipede’s. Who wouldn’t want Theodore Sturgeon’s Some of Your Blood?

What about Gene Wolfe’s mega-masterpiece Book of the New Sun series? Don’t try it, they’re sold out – hopefully just for now. Talk about an infinitely re-readable book. Talk about a man that can hide the beams. They’ve got the work Bob Eggleton – great art work.

They have one of my top favorite science fiction writers, Fredric Brown. What they have here is his lesser known (if you’re a science fiction fan, if you’re a mystery fan, his science fiction is probably less know to you) mystery works.

Anyway, if you like your literature a little to the left, and maybe down a ways to that creepy little shop whose only entrance is at the end of a dark alley, Centipede press has got you covered, perhaps in sores, on that note.

Some Thoughts on Horror


I can’t remember who I read it from, it may have been Stephen King in Dense Macabre, that horror and comedy were two of the hardest genres to write in. You were in constant danger of the one becoming the other. Of inept horror becoming comedy, or comedy becoming the horror of embarrassing ineptness.

No one minds seeing a poorly executed horror movie with bad acting, it is its own genre. I used to love USA’s Up All Night with Gilbert Gottfried and his commentary of some astoundingly bad films. No one wants to see a failed comedy, we get angry at having wasted our time.


A horror writer (one that is attempting to shock or frighten) does not want laughter when he wants a scream. And a comedy writer doesn’t want a moan when there should be a chuckle.

I have flirted with trying my hand at horror before. I would probably be a little mild for people’s tastes nowadays. I don’t mind gore, actually quite numb to it, it just doesn’t interest me, it is not horrifying. I think far deeper horror is below the surface of the skin, below even the subcutaneous layer. It is not the doctor dismembering an infant in some dank basement that is the horror – not the deepest horror, but what is it in the doctor that makes the action possible. And how do you make that as difficult as possible for the reader.

Him just being a crazy is boring. He has to be made human, he has to be your father, he has to be you… or someone very close to you. That is why I find those profiler murder porn shows (the fictional or reality-based ones) to be so dull. There is a certain horror to the existence of a John Wayne Gacy or a Dahmer, but only so much because they are so much not us. We tend, as if instinctively, to disassociate ourselves from such individuals. And I don’t think it is an irrational distancing. Although many of the processes by which one becomes a sociopathic killer are the same processes by which many of us also become what we are, there are many distinctive characteristics that makes them wholly separate. To name but one, such killers display an almost complete lack of impulse control – that is how they first start indulging in dark fantasies.

As adults, if you are not already one of them, you are not going to become one of them. Not the lone serial killer type. Now you could possess the make-up to be an Angel of Death in a totalitarian dictatorship.

I think many more of us have that potential than we would care to admit.


Going back to the original comment about horror and comedy I find that it is obvious why these two genres would be so difficult. They are specifically defined by the eliciting of a specific emotion or reaction, horror in the former and laughter in the latter. It is true that all art seeks to elicit some sort of reaction in the participant. Mystery seeks to build suspense (who did it?). Although I think mystery achieves its aim more by a mechanical means of plot structure.


Horror and comedy seek to produce all the elements that any other genre attempts to produce, plus a standing order to produce certain specific reactions that define itself as that genre.

That’s pretty demanding.

Christopher Lee and American Horror Story

Christopher Lee


Sadly, actor Christopher Lee passed away last week at 93. Most people now probably remember him from either the Lord of the Rings trilogy or the Star Wars prequels. Growing up in the 70’s I remember him also as Dracula and about a dozen other bad men.

One thing I didn’t know about him was his heavy metal music career in his late 80’s to the time of his death. Heavy metal? Really? Yep. That’s gotta mark you as some sort of badass. Of course he’s not wailing high falsettos because he was more a bass voice. But I sampled some of his album Charlemagne: The Omens of Death, it’s… different, and certainly different as Lee comes on sounding like what you’d imagine Charlemagne to sound like.

If he sang in English, that is.

He also supplanted Tony Bennett as the oldest living performer to enter the music charts with his song Jingle Hell.

I laugh. That’s great. 91 and half years old and he makes it to #22 on the charts with a heavy metal song called Jingle Hell.

American Horror Story


I have always been a big fan of horror. Unfortunately horror is a very difficult genre to produce, in any medium, so most of it is garbage. Most of it nowadays I don’t even try to sample. But it is a genre that will always have a place in the dark recesses of my blackened soul, mwehahaha!

When I was growing up I had this friend named Pat who had a truly creepy house in mid-state Michigan. It was a two story house by a river and there was a fenced in barn opposite the house that always had a night light that shined dimly on the door. His bedroom was a small, cramped thing with only room enough for a bed, a television and the usual piles of children’s junk. But his bed was built into one of the walls of the bedroom and adjacent to it was the closet. When you entered the closet on the floor was a little hole in the wall that went under the bed. It was creepy.

We would stay up half the night watching the horror movie run on whatever channel did that in the 70’s. And then take dares to solo journeys either to the barn or under the bed. Or into the woods… across the river… under a pale moonlight.

And I was scared shitless by the whole Amityville Horror for many years. I think it was the news magazine exposes about it that really scared me.

Of course Stephen King managed to scare the shit out of me a couple of times in the 80’s. But the movies never did it for me after that. Slasher fests seemed to be the order of the day.

Now I’m a little old to be scared that same way again, but I still enjoy the genre. So I was delighted when my wife turned me on (pause for your discomfort…) to American Horror Story. It gives me three things horror can still give me: horripilation, suspense, genuine uneasiness.

First, the acting in this series is fantastic. You have Jessica Lange, that alone is probably worth the price of admission. Sarah Paulson, Kathy Bates is in for seasons 3 & 4 so far, Angela Bassett, and many other familiar faces.

The younger cast members are some real talent. Even Peters is in every season and is one of the best young actors I’ve seen in awhile although he did spend most of season 3 as a mute corpse… And Taissa Farmiga is also very good.

Zachary Quinto (most famous for taking over the role of Spock in the Star Trek revamp timeline movies) is absolutely stone cold as a sadistic psychopath. Some of the scenes with him and Sarah Paulson in season two were quite disturbing.

Each season is around 13 episodes with each one getting the characters into deeper and deeper trouble. Season two is definitely the strongest of the ones I’ve seen. It takes place in a psych ward run by nuns… and a former Nazi experimental doctor.

The only drawback to the show is they do an excellent job of building the tension and the story up to episode 8 or 9, and it seems right then that you can’t go any further and it has to break at that point – how are they going to do 4 or 5 more episodes? Well, they can’t so they have to segue into something or stretch it out. The ending of season three was noticeable for this problem. I think the problem is not the writing, which is excellent, the season is simply a little too long.

As the genre it is, you can’t have “slumber” episodes that are meant as filler. You can’t have a family in a haunted house and then have a few episodes where they have some yucks at Knott’s Berry Farm. Or have a psych ward run by nuns and then have a few episodes where some of the nuns take off for a Pope tour or something. Unless he’s the antiPope…

Horror in that way is very restricted to plot line. You can have scenes that relieve the tension for a moment, but you can’t go off the grid and cut it off entirely.

That knife, the psychopath, Dracula has to always be, possibly, right around the corner ready to strike.