REVIEW: Teenage Grave | Filthy Loot, Ed. Ira Rat

Teenage Grave from Filthy Loot

Filthy Loot consistently puts out good product, and the press’s latest release is no exception.

This is a nice and tight anthology, coming in at just 70 pages, and can easily be read in one sitting. Every paragraph is compelling, and each story is paced nicely, with good payoff endings.

Jo Quenell hits it out of the park, as always, with “Stale Air.” Creepy and sad.

Sam Richard’s “I Know Not the Names of the Gods to Whom I Pray” is a look at visceral grief and bereavement after the death of a romantic and sexual partner. Sam’s writing punches you right in the gut, over and over, and his descriptions of gore are always fantastic. (check out more from Sam at WeirdpunkBooks.com)

“Apate’s Children” is the first work I’ve read by Brendan Vidito, and I really enjoyed it. Creative interpretation of guilt and atonement. Really imaginative use of mythological reference here, too.

Justin Lutz‘s “Start Today” gave made my stomach churn, gave me chills, and left me with my jaw hangin’ on the floor, in that order. Loved it. Great way to end.

I don’t hesitate when I give this book a 5-star rating. Filthy Loot had introduced to me so many authors whose work I love, and I’m excited to see what they have coming up next for us.

Follow Filthy Loot editor, Ira Rat on Twitter @eyerarat, and me @evanstjones

Review: Gianluca Cameron | Utopia

Gianluca Cameron’s Utopia reads simultaneously like a fever dream and a surreal translation of a philosophy text:

“Ennui is the ultimate symptom of privilege.” and “After all, if you improve yourself, are you really you afterwards? What is the self but a bunch of oscillating memories?”

There is a narrative to discover in Utopia, but my retelling of a plot (which is pieced together artfully with non-sequiturs) can do little to say what this book actually is. It’s a chaotic, stream-of-consciousness, bizarro, psychological/body horror, sci-fi, dystopian utopia. We quickly jump between timelines, dimensions, and points-of-view, which further adds to the surrealism. Though there are occasionally insights from other characters, we mainly focus on a man named Niko, his friend Raoul, and a green woman who grew out of a giant flower, Patema. 

Cameron’s use of language is impressive and often poetic, and the philosophical questions he weaves rapidly throughout Utopia were at times confusing, but instead of it being a frustrating experience for the reader, it added to the surreality and highlighted the confusion the characters experienced throughout the book. It all serves to highlight how we, in modern society, live insular, self-centered lives without regarding the feeling and well-being of others, explicitly ignoring the evidence of suffering: 

“I could not talk to these men because their experience was too alien to me. They spoke a different language that I couldn’t even hear, let alone comprehend.” and “…as I walked, I noticed some interesting graffiti. One depicted a tower made of people and another was of a tree growing from a corpse. They were intriguing, but I didn’t know what they meant. They probably didn’t mean anything.”

Thematically, I find this book hard to pinpoint. My gut tells me that there’s a clear allegory for the afterlife to be found, but I also feel driven and encouraged to live my life to the fullest, even through the absurdity. 

“Have you ever felt like a cipher? That you and everyone around you are not human beings but characters in a story? Mere catalysts for events? Do you view them from afar as a human views a play?”

 It’s loaded with lofty metaphors and references to both literature and film, as well as religious symbolism: 

“Baphomet cradled my soul in a manner reminiscent of Michelangelo’s Pietà,” and “…Patema had been born for our sins.”

A few ideas and references went over my twenty-nine-year-old head, which is almost twice as old as the author’s head when he wrote this. Cameron was born in 2001. That makes him 19, and his bio mentions that this book was written when he was 15 and 16. You can tell from his writing in Utopia that he is talented and eager, and I think we can look forward to a great authorial career from Cameron.

Review: Andrew J. Stone | All Hail the House Gods

All Hail the House Gods by Andrew J. Stone drops the reader into a dystopian future where even the illusion of autonomy and choice has been eradicated. Kurt, our protagonist, and his wife, Katie live in a city run by the Coupling Caucus, whose mission is to organize society in such a way that will produce daily sacrifices to the hungry House Gods. They are born to mate, and they mate to sacrifice.

Families are non-existent in AHTHG’s reality. Children are taken from their parents and raised at the Offspring Oasis, where they are either culled for the House Gods or paired off based on puberty and virility. They are taught to “pug” at a young age to increase their chances of being coupled before they are chosen for sacrifice to the House Gods.

After one of their own is chosen and fed to the House Gods, Katie decides she must start a collective to resist the Coupling Caucus and wage war on the houses, and Kurt is taken along for the ride. It’s not long before Kurt overhears a theory that goes against all the collective believes in. Are some House Gods good? Is it possible to overthrow the current system without violence?

To know anything about Andrew J. Stone is to know that he holds deeply leftist political views, and it’s clear that those views informed this novella. There’s a metaphorical war going on in its pages between centrist, “Let’s-all-get-along” liberals and leftists, and the fight between the two sides was illuminated well by Stone.

The prose in All Hail the House Gods is easily digestible, well-written, and effective. Written from Kurt’s perspective, the story propels itself nicely, making it a quick and exciting read. Kurt is a perfectly likable protagonist you want to root for. Will he find a peaceful solution to end the loss of life to the House Gods?

January 6th, 2021 was a dark day for those of us in the U.S. Rioters protesting the presidential election of Joe Biden stormed D.C. and breached the capitol building. Since then, we’ve seen Republicans and Democrats alike call for “healing” and a “reconciliation between the sides.” If I can, let me relate this to the theme of the book: there are some who believe that there are good people on both sides and that it’s worth reaching across the aisle and working within the confines of the system in place. Kurt, as a character, falls firmly within this group, while Katie and her comrades know that doing so is useless.

Will it be worth it for Kurt, in the end, to put his trust in the belief that some House Gods are good? Pick up a copy of All Hail the House Gods to find out.

Check out Andrew on Twitter @Andrewosaurus96 and me @EvanStJones.

Review: Dale Robertson | Project Fear: Season 1

Domestic, familial horror. Sentimental. Suburban. Dale Robertson’s Project Fear is a collection of horror stories that inspire nostalgia for the 90s kid in me. With tales that sit comfortably next to those that were told on television shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Goosebumps, this collection is one that will satiate the hunger of anyone who fondly recalls being spooked as a child.

Most of the stories revolve around families and children, and I assume Robertson is a dog person, seeing as many of the episodes feature man’s best friend in starring roles, which I also appreciate. 

Some of the episodes that stood out to me:

Episode 2: “Chew Toy” deals with the loss of a family pet, and how desperation to memorialize it (as well as procrastinating shopping for a birthday present) can lead to despair.

Episode 5 reminds me of stories about Dybbuk boxes. A little girl finds an odd music box at a yard sale and takes it home to find it impossible to open. Little does she know, this box will change her life forever.

Episode 7: “Stitches” recalls urban legends parents would tell their children to keep them from misbehaving. 

Episode 9 is a continuation of episode 4. Both are written as transcripts from a voice recording of a man who witnesses mass violence and chaos as people begin transforming into monsters. I love the found footage vibe from this set of stories.

Episode 10 is a revenge story of a femme fatale who kidnaps skeezy car salesmen who manipulate and take advantage of women in order to close a sale. This one gave me Saw/The Hunger Games vibes, and was a lot of fun!

Episode 12: Skee-bo. A violent, modern retelling of the Bloody Mary myth. 

Like mentioned before, if you’re a fan of shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Creepshow, this is the collection for you! With 13 spine-tingling tales, you’re sure to find one or two that suit your fancy.

Follow Dale on Twitter @Dale_Dez81 and me @EvanStJones.

Review: Jo Quenell | The Mud Ballad

The sky opened up and rained for me during two of my sessions with The Mud Ballad by Jo Quenell.

We begin in a small, rundown town called Spudsville with Jonathan and Daniel, a set of twins conjoined at the head. We meet them in their tent at the circus they travel with discussing the imminent self-separation Jonathan has planned for the two of them. He performs the deed, and Dawes, the resident circus doctor finds them bleeding out, Daniel’s throat slashed. He is able to save Jonathan and amputate his brother’s corpse from his head, leaving a protrusion like a horn.

Jonathan goes on trial with the circus for the murder of Daniel. He is found guilty and exiled from his carnival community. 

The story continues years later when Dawes returns to Spudsville, surprised to see Jonathan working as a restroom attendant at a bar there. Dawes has quit the circus and travels back to Spudsville to try and settle down. Jonathan offers Dawes a place to stay, if only a moldy sofa in a tiny shed behind the bar. In exchange for his hospitality, Jonathan asks Dawes to help him dig up the bones of his twin because he didn’t have a chance to say goodbye before Daniel’s burial. After the exhumation, things get stranger and more bizarre until all hell breaks loose upon our protagonists and the denizens of Spudsville.

And hell breaking loose in Spudsville is quite the ride. We have children raised to be fierce and violent soldiers, taught to fight with bear hands and teeth, brutal, carnivorous pigs that cannot be satiated, murderous mimes, bloodthirsty demons summoned from the grave, botched slayings and surgeries, Satanic cults, and so much more.

The Mud Ballad oozes grime from its pages, never letting you get more than a few paragraphs before again making you feel ill and as oppressed as some of those living in the rain-soaked dirt fields of Spudsville felt. Jo Quenell’s first novella succeeds in creating a bizarro world rich with characters who operate based significantly on desire and regret. There’s an air of sadness and guilt that pervades The Mud Ballad from start to finish. It isn’t stifling, and there is enough comedy to provide levity, but it’s an undeniable feature of the story (I mention this less as criticism and more as an acknowledgement of well-established tone and mood).

Despite its darkness, The Mud Ballad was a quick and fun read, and I’m already looking forward to reading more stories by Quenell.

“Antlers” by Evan St. Jones @ Serotonin Poetry

I wrote a short piece of prose about depression called “Antlers.” Serotonin Poetry published it on their site.

I’m thrilled, as this is my first piece I’ve had accepted by a publication. I’m excited to keep writing and submitting short stories, but having this little piece accepted is certainly a milestone I’ll always remember.

Check it out here:

“Antlers” by Evan St. Jones

Follow me on Twitter @ evanstjones and Serotonin @ serotoninpoetry

Review: Joe Koch | The Wingspan of Severed Hands

Shock and awe. Beautiful and grotesque. These are just a few of the words I could use to describe Joe Koch’s The Wingspan of Severed Hands.

The story takes the insidious concept of the yellow sign from Robert W. Chamber’s mythos he created for his short story collection The King in Yellow. The author uses such vivid imagery and lyrical prose to describe the most depraved and macabre scenes. I’m really into Koch’s writing style, and I learned several beautiful new words (fascia, instar, puerile) to add to my vocabulary.

It seems almost unnecessary to summarize the plot here, as the synopsis from the back of the book does that fine justice. What cannot be synopsized is the feeling and atmosphere created by the wordcraft employed here. There’s really not enough I can say about the fucking poetry in Wingspan. Please do yourself a goddamn favor and pick up this book. If you’re a fan of Robert W. Chambers, cosmic horror, body horror not unlike what you might find in the Saw franchise (but even saying that feels like a real disservice to the author—their prose is so much more amazing than any of the writing in any of those movies, but I couldn’t think of anything better to describe some of the more visceral scenes in the book, and goddamn it’s good), and just quality weird fiction, readdddd it. Now. It’s unlike anything else you’ll ever read. Also look at that cover art!

Review: Anya Ow | Cradle and Grave

Anya Ow’s post-apocalyptic speculative lit novella, Cradle and Grave was breathtaking.

Lien works as a scout for scavenger supply runs and a shopkeep in a wasteland known as the Scab. Her body has been severely altered by the Change, which is the aftermath of wars from people long ago. She is visited by a “halfer” with “prefab” parts named Yusuf, who resembles a centaur, his bottom half being that of a horse. He offers her a hefty sum of money to guide him and an associate of his through the Scab and into the City. She accepts the offer only after Yusuf leaves a photo of a room Lien remembers from her childhood, before she was changed.

Lien and Yusuf, along with Servertu, the mysterious cloaked figure who rode atop Yusuf’s back make way for the City, and it’s a treacherous journey. They come across mutants and mercenaries determined to kill. They must also guard themselves from the post-apocalyptic landscape that can alter their bodies beyond repair. 

The detail Ow gives to the landscapes, mutants, atmosphere, and anatomy is grotesque and beautiful. The world building is impressive, and I was truly invested in all of the characters. I very much appreciated that each time someone was introduced, they gave their pronouns with no fuss, and there’s a discussion of how people pre-Change saw many things in binaries, or dualities, that do not exist in the new world. Was refreshing to see what I perceived as an asexual character represented, as well.

Amongst all the mutants, radiation, and the ruins of civilization we find what it means to be human. And it doesn’t always look like what you might expect.

Cradle and Grave would be great for fans of Jeff Vandermeer and N.K. Jemisin.

I’m writing…

If you had told me at the start of quarantine in March of this year that by December I would be reading and writing every day, I would most certainly have thought you’d lost your damn mind. Early this year was tough. For me and everyone in the world. I felt the rug get snatched out from under me and wandered directionless. As a joke I saw on Twitter said: “Planning for the future during COVID is speculative fiction.” Indeed, that’s how it feels.

So instead of planning for my own speculative future, I dove into the imaginations of authors far and wide. With help from a genetics test, I was finally able to start a medication that works well for my depression and anxiety disorders, and I’m able to focus long enough to read again. Reading has inspired writing.

So I write. I write a little every day. Sometimes, I write a lot a day. I don’t know if it’s good stuff that I’m writing, and I don’t care. I’ve started a good dozen of short stories, and I’m impressed with my own capacity for creativity. I truly didn’t know I had it in me. Thank you modern medicine.

I’m currently trying to hone my skills as a writer. Like I said in a previous post, I haven’t really written any creative fiction in over 10 years until a few months ago. I’m rusty. Actually, I don’t know if I was ever any good. The stories I wrote in high school sure sound terrible. Haha. So I’m reading books about writing, taking segments of writing courses as I can, watching a lot of Youtube videos about writing and publishing, befriending authors and trying to work up the nerve to ask them for advice. One sweet man, whose work I really enjoy, offered to read some stuff for me whenever I feel like sending it, but so far I’ve not gathered the confidence to do so more than once (thanks Luke, if you read this. I’ll send some more eventually).

I’ve found that, while it’s difficult for me to share my work with people I know, sending in submissions is not as nerve-wracking. For some reason. I’ve sent out four submissions over the past month, and that feels good. I don’t have high hopes for any of them getting back to me with positive news, but it doesn’t matter. It felt good to send something in. Like I could look in my email outbox and see something tangible that I finished. That’s a good fuckin’ feeling for someone who feels like they haven’t completed anything in over a decade.

So, I’m writing. It’s a journey already. Let’s see where I go.

Review: Gerald Dean Rice | The Devil’s Gunt

The Devil’s Gunt by Gerald Dean Rice

The Devil’s Gunt is a bizarro horror-action(?) story about a second-rate porn actor impregnated by the devil. I can’t recall another book that ever made me laugh as hard as I did while reading this one; I couldn’t get two pages in before coming across another side-splitting line, and the outlandish humor keeps coming through ‘til the end of the book.

Our protagonist, Median, is introduced to the reader at a porn shoot he is starring in. While filming a scene, Median feels a pinching sensation around his asshole, which eventually moves inside his rectum. When he reaches climax, he cannot stop cumming. He soaks everyone in the room, enraging the director. He is fired from the shoot and goes home exhausted from his excess ejaculation. From there, he discovers his roommate is keeping a talking severed head in their refrigerator. He takes the head and jumps in his car; the head breaks the news to Median that he is pregnant with the devil’s seed, and they are soon joined by Joe (Median’s roommate, looking for the head), and Mary (Median’s wife; they’re separated), both with dark secrets of their own. Strap in (or strap-on) for a twisty and hilarious ride full of angels, devils, crisis pregnancy centers posing as real abortion clinics, aging actors named Hammercock and lots of violence. 

Though it takes place only over a couple of days, it felt somewhat like an epic adventure to me, with Median and crew narrowly escaping danger a number of times. There are several side plots that come together nicely with the main story by the end. Reading some of the flashbacks for the first time might seem confusing, but all will be revealed eventually.

Gerald Dean Rice has offered up some solid humor as well as mystery in The Devil’s Gunt. I called it bizarro horror-action earlier, but maybe also bizarro comedy-thriller, but also there’s no reason at all to put this book in a box like that. You can also find commentary on racism, the rights to reproductive justice, and bodily autonomy here, and it’s good.  Just read it.

Review: Amy M. Vaughn | Skull Nuggets

Skull Nuggets by Amy M. Vaughn

I’ve struggled my entire adult life with depression, anxiety, and panic disorders. There have been spans of time where I would have done anything to help cope with the pain accompanying mental illness, but I can say I never considered drilling a hole in my head. Maybe I would have if there was any solid evidence it worked for such illnesses.

Amy M. Vaughn’s book, Skull Nuggets, exists in a universe where nanoscopic organisms called neurophages (colloquial referred to as “brain mites”) have recently been discovered. It is theorized that undergoing trepanation, or having part of your skull surgically removed, can help relieve mental illnesses like anxiety and depression by decreasing the pressure on the brain and allowing for more blood to circulate through it. Vaughn combines the idea of trepanation (which actually exists, and the history has been well researched and documented in this book) with the fictional Forato House testing hallucinogens injected directly into the frontal lobe in order to eradicate the brain mites. In doing so, they believe they can help patients reach a state close to nirvana, and sometimes even beyond that.

Robert, our protagonist, lives in a small apartment subsisting on social security due to his depression. While researching neurophages and trepanation, he comes across Project Skylight, an experiment taking place at the nearby Forato House. He meets a woman named Bet at the corner store, and learns that she is in town looking for her father, who she believes is a resident at the Forato House. The two of them hatch a plan for Robert to apply to be a subject in their experiment, and Bet to apply for a housekeeping position in order to “save” her father, who had borrowed money from her for rehab, and then lost communication.

The characters in Skull Nuggets were all likable. Robert seems like someone who has a lot of potential, and seems quite bright, but he’s been overcome by his mental illnesses. Bet is audacious, sweet, and compassionate with the heart of an activist and fiercely loyal to those she loves. Those working at and running the Forato House seem to truly believe in their vision for a brighter future, and the patients there only did what they thought would relieve their mental maladies.

This is a story of grief, depression, sickness, desperation, and hope, above all else. The moral I gleaned was that what we’ve been through and how we’ve responded to it is what makes us who we are as people; that is, if it wasn’t enough to break you, and at that point, maybe a hole in the head would solve all of your problems?

I loved this book, and it made me feel like I’d be all right.

Review: Madeleine Swann | The Vine That Ate The Starlet

The Vine That Ate The Starlet by Madeleine Swann

Swann’s writing oozes atmospheric vibrations brought forward in time straight from 1920s New York. The Vine That Ate The Starlet is full of mystery, intrigue, and vines that feed on humans.

Dolly is a gossip columnist who quickly gets swept up into a conspiracy when she stumbles upon the husk of an aspiring actress she had met just hours before at a party. She notices the circumstances surrounding the girl’s death seem odd, and Dolly takes it upon herself to figure out what exactly happened. It’s not long before she finds herself being followed by a shadowy figure, and the deeper she find herself wrapped up in the conspiracy, the more dangerous things become for her and anyone unlucky enough to have made her association.

Like Swann’s stories from her collection Fortune Box, this novella is a quick and compelling page-turner that is full of quirks and enough weirdness to keep you satiated, unlike the man-eating vines.

Purchase: The Vine That Ate The Starlet

Review: Sarah Karasek | The Little Punk Princess: a Fairy Tale

The Little Punk Princess by Sarah Karasek

Princess Walton-Clinton-Trump loves punk music. She loves heavy metal, ska, and industrial, too. The only problem is that these genres are seen as anti-patriotic propaganda and have been made illegal in the country of The America. Her parents are the People in Charge, and Princess will one day inherit the presidency. Mr. And Mrs. Walton-Clinton-Trump want Princess to fit the role of a Person in Charge, so they put her on diets to lose weight, not to mention try to control every aspect of her life.

When Princess is caught with contraband in her room (the cassettes, CDs, and vinyl records she managed to scavenge), she must make a choice to stay and become president eventually, or escape with her music to a land that is rumored to be more accepting.

My favorite character is one Princess meets about halfway into the book. Their name is Occasum, and I have to give major props to the author for so flawlessly incorporating a non-binary character into the story. It means a lot to see that representation.

The Little Punk Princess is a fun and fantastic read that give a little glimpse into what communities can be like if we all work together and take care of one another, as well as what can come out of the greed and excess of capitalism. Read it!

Review: Andrew J. Stone | The Ultimate Dinosaur Dance-off

The Ultimate Dinosaur Dance-off by Andrew J. Stone

An explosion of dance, color, psychedelia, dinosaurs, and inter-dimensional / inter-species romance. I found myself literally dancing in my chair as I read, sights and sounds evoked by the story.

When brothers Colin and Joe, along with Joe’s girlfriend Emma, see a light emanating from a cave during a camping trip, they never could have imagined that upon investigation, they would be launched into a psychedelic romp through a prehistoric island of dinosaurs on a pirate ship complete with a talking longneck figurehead.

Once they arrive on the island, they are greeted by dancing apatosauruses with vibrantly colored tie-dyed skin. The landscape around them is as strange and colorful as the dinosaurs: twisted and warping based on the apparent whims and dance moves of its inhabitants. Colin, Joe, and Emma join the dinosaurs and dance until they collapse from exhaustion. When they awake, Colin and Emma realize that Joe has gone missing in the night. Colin stumbles upon Rose (the apatosaurus he danced with the previous evening) in the bushes, and she agrees to help him and Emma on their quest to find Joe. She had bad news though: Joe has been captured by The Tyrannosaurus Task Force and will be fattened up to be eaten at a feast following The Ultimate Dinosaur Dance-off at the House of Rex.

What follows is a funny, heartwarming, brain-scratching, and terrifying trek that will leave you admiring Andrew J. Stone’s writing (beautiful, lyrical), as well as having learned more than you expected to about dance and dinosaurs. 

We get a look into Colin’s relationship with dance and his brother, Joe, his infatuation with dinosaurs, and his attempt at love in flashback sequences sprinkled throughout. These always made me feel more fond of Colin, and helped me understand him a little better.

The author mentions in the acknowledgments that he has been influenced by Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and The Land Before Time for most of his life, and these beloved children’s stories are both evidently imprinted upon the DNA of The Ultimate Dinosaur Dance-Off. I would recommend this book to readers of both of those works, as well as anyone who considered themselves a fan of bizarro fiction. It was a wild ride, funny as hell, and touching. Do not miss this one!

What am I doing?

I started this blog to share written and visual works that are still mostly all in my head. I haven’t written creative fiction I wanted to share with anyone in at least ten years, and I’ve recently found myself compelled to write. More than that, I want to write and then show it to people.

a picture for reference of me not knowing what I’m doing

I think a big part of me has always been looking for a creative outlet that suits me. I’ve always believed that I have a lot inside that is screaming for expression, but I’ve never been able to find a medium that can encapsulate it. I’ve started six short stories over the past month, and they’re each coming along at their own pace.

I recently decided to do some writing exercises by choosing a prompt from a collection called Dog Doors to Outer Space (ed. Amy M. Vaughn) a couple times a week and just see what happens. I started and finished my first prompt tonight. What I had imagined ending up being sort of flash of micro fiction somehow turned into 1.2k words. I wrote a short story based on what would happen if you started receiving by mail all the trash you had thrown away in your life. It was fun, and something I probably would have never considered writing about myself.

I’ll post that story sometime in the next few days. I still have work to do on the site. I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s ugly, but I’m all out of design ideas. Oh well.

I might use this platform as a space for more traditional blogging as well. I recently told a friend it has been quite a while since I felt confident sharing my thoughts and feelings online, but now that I plan on sharing things that came from inside of me, I may as well share the feelings that swirl around my brain with all the weird ideas in there. We’ll see what happens.

It’s close to midnight when I’m writing this. I hope anyone who stumbles upon this is having an okay day. The world is shit, but we can overcome some of that horror by helping each other find joy with a little bit of art and a whole lot of heart.

Evan

PS: I don’t generally find myself to be as cheesy as I was in that last paragraph there. Forgive me. But there’s a fucking pandemic happening and the U.S. is in shambles. Let’s be cheesy.