This is kinda fun, a whiz-bang graphic novel about a bunch of goofball college students on a research project in the Aegean Sea.
I can’t imagine how anyone could not get a kick out of this novel’s premise of giant flesh-eating crabs rampaging through a British seaside community.
JAWS, one of the most iconic bestsellers of its time, was the debut novel of Peter Benchley.
Now that I’ve finally managed to excavate a copy I can understand, at least partially, why HELL HOUND by Ken Greenhall has been so widely ignored.
The surprise, then, is how well-written this novel is, with admirably clutter-free descriptions, a semi-successful attempt at three-dimensional characterizations, and convincing descriptions of the psyche of the title character, a mutant grizzly bear.
Killer kitties? That’s the subject of this novel, one of the first of the “nasties” that would come to define the 1970s horror fiction market.
Brendan Connell continues to impress me with his range and intelligence. This wildly satiric and surreal novella is one of several Connell tales centered on the character of Dr. Black, “polymath and great phytographist, foremost of amateur nephologists.”
This irresistibly goofy novel, by a writer better known these days for his nonfiction publications, reads like the wildest B-move ever. THE DRAGON is a damn good time, in other words, even if it won’t make anyone’s list of the great novels of the 20th Century.
These days it’s common for would-be filmmakers to turn their unproduced scripts into novels, although I’m not sure how prevalent that practice was back in the seventies. Yet reading David J. Michael’s DEATH TOUR, a largely forgotten but fairly potent seventies horror fest, I couldn’t help but picture it as a low budget movie: it’s extremely action heavy and has a tightly contained setting, not to mention a distinct three act structure.
Much of the THE DEADLY PERCHERON’s critical attention has tended to focus on the opening chapter: Karl Edward Wagner’s Twilight Zone Magazine “Fantasy Five-Foot Bookshelf” says “The opening chapter defies description. Imagine one of those 1930 screwball comedies with the crazy situations, but substitute malevolence for humor.” I believe the focus should instead be on the novel’s middle section, which is as mind-bending in its audacious twisting of reality as anything written by Philip K. Dick or Jorge Luis Borges.