The paperback edition goes out of its way to avoid the dreaded H-word, instead proclaiming it a “Psychosexual Thriller” and “Modern Gothic.” Don’t be fooled: this is very much a work of horror fiction, and an unusually potent and unflinching one.
1973’s THE EXORCIST remains one of the most successful and enduring horror movies of all time yet, Hollywood being as it is, multiple sequels were an inevitability.
This is the official sequel to THE EXORCIST (the novel) written by its creator William Peter Blatty. Most of the things that made THE EXORCIST such a memorable read are in evidence in LEGION, including page-turning suspense, strong characterizations and a powerful sense of raging evil.
Maybe this obscure exercise in European absurdism doesn’t belong in a horror book review, but it does contain generous helpings of mutilation, cannibalism and demonic possession.
This book suffers somewhat from being a short story stretched to novella length (with all the noticeable flaws that entails) and the fact that its premise isn’t terribly original, yet no Jack Ketchum effort is entirely unworthy, including I’M NOT SAM.
A short (98 page) tale of a voracious sex murderess, the novel is related in a jaunty and refined tone that dramatically offsets its depraved content. Aside from that, unfortunately, there’s really not a lot here to interest those of us who don’t happen to be easily scandalized 1930s-era Brits.
What makes it a standout is the rigorous intelligence and curiosity the author packs into his story, which is as thorough and complex an exploration of sexual identity as any you’ll find.
Now, however, a full 110 years later, John Antoine Nau’s ENEMY FORCE seems quite dull and uninvolving. The fault could be with the English translation–or, as the cover proclaims, “adaptation”–by Michael Shreve, who often seems puzzled by the text (
The Frank Miller scripted, Bill Sienkiewicz illustrated ELEKTRA ASSASSIN, from Marvel’s adult-oriented offshoot Epic Comics, was a vital yet largely unheralded entry in the comics renaissance of the 1980s.
An account of telepathy and bodily possession that reads like a Harold Robbins or Sidney Sheldon potboiler with a horrific edge.