FERAL
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.
DR. BLACK AND THE GUERRILLIA
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.”
The Dragon
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.
THE DOGFIGHTER
Here we have, according to the front cover, “A Novel of Ultimate Violence” that “Makes JAWS Read Like a Bedtime Story!” Ultimate violence is indeed what this novel contains, it being a grungy and altogether repellent glimpse into the world of Southern-fried dogfighting, as seen through the eyes of a slimy redneck named Lenny.
DEATH TOUR
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.
THE DEADLY PERCHERON
Much of the THE DEADLY PERCHERON’s critical attention has tended to focus on the opening chapter, but 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.
CUJO
CUJO carries Stephen King’s well-known penchant for bloat to hellacious extremes. It includes just about every extraneous detail you can think of.
THE COUNTRY OF WOLVES
This gorgeously designed graphic novel fleshes out an ancient Inuit folktale.
BRUJO
The impressive debut novel by the late William Relling, Jr.
Blue Pagoda
This 1946 novel, one of two A. Merritt novels “completed” by Hannes Bok, has intrigued me for some time. Unlike the other Merritt/Bok collaboration, 1948’s THE BLACK WHEEL, which was reprinted in the seventies, THE BLUE PAGODA has remained quite obscure (at least until the 2008 reprint under discussion). I’ve long wondered why that was, and after finally reading the thing I understand: quite simply, it just isn’t very good.