Nick Cato's Blog, page 11

The End of ... EVERYTHING

FEAST OF OBLIVION by Josh Myers (2012 Copeland Valley Press / 199 pp / tp)

Peter Weller (yes, THAT Peter Weller) is on his way to a book signing in a bunker in a desert-stretch of New Jersey. His book is about halibut (yes, the fish) conspiracies and only 10 hand-written copies exist.

After Peter answers Q&A from a select audience of halibut conspiracy fans, he signs the 10 copies for the chosen few, among them a strange English woman who requests to meet with him in private.

FEAST OF OBLIVION then becomes a dark-humored take on (not only) the end of the world, but the end of ... everything. Cock-full of an oddball cast (including Jean-Michel Pititesbaise), some really wild dreams, and enough craziness to satsify any fan of bizarro fiction.

Let's just hope Myers' "real" characters don't decide to sue him before someone makes a cult film version and he misses the premiere.

GREAT debut

AT THE END OF CHURCH STREET by Gregory L. Hall (2010 Belfire Press / 296 pp / tp & eBook)

Rebecca is a runaway teen surviving in the back alleys of Orlando, Florida. One night she meets Renfield who takes her back to meet his gang of goth-"vampires" living in an abandoned theater. They clothe and feed her, and before long she becomes one of them. They spend their nights terrorizing tourists and living basically however they want, basically every young person's dream.

But Rebecca's new found family soon find their numbers dwindling: members of their clan are being found beheaded around the city, and they're now in a struggle to survive against an assailiant who believes Renfield and co. are actually the monsters they think they are.

For those of you (like myself) who are turned off even by the mention of the word "vampire," fear not: Hall's take on them is completely different. CHURCH STREET plays out like a gritty drama, complete with a realistic cast of troubled people trying to figure out their lives and relationships; it was refreshing to see goth culture portrayed in a non-sterotypical manner. Hall manages to deliver the suspense and thrills you'd expect from a horror novel, but this one goes a bit deeper than standard genre fare. There's some laughs, but nothing that takes you out of the story.

This is a seriously good read and one impressive debut novel.

Kiss NYC Goodbye!

PRIMEVAL: WEREWOLF APOCALYPSE BOOK II by William D. Carl (2012 Permuted Press / 274 pp / tp & eBook)

You know the term "popcorn movie?" Well, this second installment of Carl's BESTIAL saga is a definite "popcorn book," meaning the action is nearly non-stop and the monster-goodness never lets up.

After helping to take care of the Lycan Virus outbreak in Cincinatti in the first novel, General Taylor Burns and ace-sniper Nicole Truitt are taking some time off in New York. But almost as soon as they arrive at their Brooklyn hotel, all hell breaks loose in Manhattan: it seems over-sized rats are now carrying the Lycan Virus, turning both humans and animals into werewolves and mutated creatures. Nicole's girlfriend Sandy is in the city when the military quarantines the island by destoying all bridges and tunnels in an attempt to contain the outbreak. But Nicole and Burns manage to get a helicopter ride into the chaos to try and rescue Sandy and a small group of survivors.

Carl's plot may be simple, but like a good monster movie he delivers the goods at a relentless pace: swarms of mutated rats, lions, dogs, and a huge alligator wreak havoc both on the streets of the city and below ground, where most of the action takes place, and there's still plenty of room for the werewolves. Some of the violence is quite extreme, and I can't remember the last time I saw such gruesome scenes of child carnage before--but then again, this IS an apocalyptic tale so no one is safe!

This is the perfect novel to read on a Saturday afternoon if you're hungering for a thrill-a-minute monster-mash. Dare I say ... this is a real howl!

Cover Art for my New Novella

This one's a beauty, courtesy of artist Matthew Revert and the wonderful folks at GRINDHOUSE PRESS:


Front


Wrap around
Ordering info soon!

Don't Forget to Remember...

BURIED A MAN I HATED THERE by Adam Pepper (2013 Innovation Haven / 163 pp / eBook)

Since losing his wife and daughter 10 years ago, Jack Maddox suffers from memory loss. His wife's twin sister, Heidi, meets with him once a year every Valentine's Day in an isolated field in Vermont. She tries to get him to move on with his life, but he refuses.

Back in Manhattan, Jack is a window washer, working at great heights with no fear. His favorite building is where Heidi works, and he spends much time cleaning her office window. He likes to work alone, but on occassion has to share his platform with a co-worker.

Heidi begins to date the head of a huge corporation, but she can't seem to give herself over to him. She becomes increasingly concerned with Jack and starts to display behavior as strange as his.

Then there's Jack's psychiatrist, Dr. Hawthorne, a real sleazeball who seems to be in the business just for the money. We learn he has also lost a young daughter, and seems to take things out on Jack (mentally, at least) during their sessions.  But his way of coping with things leads to the abuse of another patient and his eventual ruin.

BURIED A MAN I HATED THERE, while a thriller, is also a truly odd mystery. When I passed the 100th page I still had no idea where the author was going, and I didn't until the final few chapters. Pepper keeps you guessing from early on, and most of the time you'll be on the edge of your seat . If you're afraid of heights (like I am) you're in for a real freak-out, and the conclusion, while wrapped up nicely, still leaves room for contemplation.

Although a bit different from his previous offerings, BURIED should satisfy anyone looking for a tight, solid read.

Artsy Fartsy WEIRDOS ...

THE FLAMETHROWERS by Rachel Kushner (2013 Scribner / 383 pp / hc)

Kushner's second novel deals with an experimental artist nick-named Reno (we never learn her real name), which is given to her in honor of her hometown. The novel is told from her point of view in 1976, with a second storyline dealing with the history of a tire-making family/company in Italy. Besides being an artist, Reno also lives for speed; she grew up skiing and now rides a slick new Italian motorcycle and attempts to not only break a land speed record on the Utah salt flats, but to photograph her track marks as an artistic piece.

When Reno moves to New York City, she meets an odd waitress and has a one night stand with a self-absorbed artist, then eventually meets Sandro, a much older man as well as wealthy heir of the aforementioned tire company. Through Sandro, Reno becomes involved with New York's underground art scene, although she never really becomes recognized for her artwork. She does, however, become a pinup icon for Sandro's family's tire company, and she gets him to reluctantly go to Italy where she can again try for another speed record.

But once they're in Italy, Reno doesn't get along with Sandro's demanding mother and an old flame happens to come by his family's villa. When Reno catches Sandro cheating on her, she leaves the villa with the groundskeeper, who happens to be part of an underground movement dedicated to taking down Sandro's family's empire.

When Reno finally gets back to New York, a city-wide blackout brings looting and a similar feel to the upheaval she just left behind in Italy, and she attempts to come to terms with her lost relationship with both Sandro, her spaced-out waitress "friend," and her one-time lover (who the author spends an unnecessary amount of time in Chapter Sixteen giving back story about).

THE FLAMETHROWERS is a wonderfully written novel if a bit frustrating: we cheer on Reno as she slowly discovers herself, but we never get to see her accomplish much, especially with her artwork. And while Kushner gives us some really shady and unlikeable characters, the novel thrives by the way Reno interacts with them. Her observations are often unusual, funny, and always give the author an interesting canvas to work her words with.

This may be considered hipster-lit, but Kushner's way of dealing with the historic settings makes it wildly entertaining and not, as I had worried before reading, just another stale interpretation of 1970's New York.

General Adolphus Returns and ROCKS the House!

HELLHOLE: AWAKENING by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson (2013 Tor Books / 527 pp / hc)

Exiled General Tiber Adolphus is now unofficially in charge of protecting the 54 planets of the Deep Zone, a stretch of universe where rebels and undesirables are sent by the corrupt government of the 20 Crown Jewel worlds. Sent away by the brutal Diadem Michella in the first book, Adolphus has allied with a strange alien race who are currently coming "back to life" through volunteer human hosts on the planet Hallholme (a.k.a. Hellhole).

Michella's spies have caught wind of Adolphus' growing power. She sends a hundred warships to stop him, only to once again have underestimated the General. When her massive fleet goes missing, Michella brings a famed war hero out of retirement to get her out of this mess.

Meanwhile, Adolphus' alien allies, the Xayans, are becoming more powerful with each passing day and with each new human convert. Their psychic powers manage to cause major damage to Michella's homeworld of Sonjeera, turning the corrupt queen into an even more bloodthirsty tyrant.

This second book in Herbert and Anderson's epic scifi saga is full of ingenious battle tactics, endless political and social intrigue, and focuses on space survival in the face of war with little-to-no supplies.

Everything ends on a wicked cliffhanger, and the threat of a new enemy should provide much material for book three. Like most series of this size, there are many characters, but the authors keep things tight and we're never lost despite so much going on.

HELLHOLE: AWAKENING is a long but satisfying installment in this powerful series. Get yer scifi geek on!

Writing Update

Just received word that my novella, THE LAST PORNO THEATER, has been bought by the fine folks at GRINDHOUSE PRESS for release sometime this summer. More news to follow.




I'm also halfway through a novella for DYNATOX MINISTRIES titled THE BLASPHEMOUS SISTERS OF ST. APOLLONIA'S. This is going to be an extremely limited edition so jump on it when ordering details are posted. DYNATOX will be releasing several "nunsploitation" novellas and I'm happy to be providing one for them.




ALSO: Along with my co-author Sheri Sebastian Gabriel, our HUGE look at 70s occult films (tentatively titled SATANIC CELLULOID) is coming along nicely. We're looking at each year during the 70s, and are currently up to 1974. There will also be side-articles, intros, and we're hoping a few interviews with directors and actors. I am continually amazed at the films we've been uncovering...the 70s truly were a time of cinematic occult madness!

A True Masterpiece

FALSE MAGIC KINGDOM / BAD ALCHEMY / THE GOG AND MAGOG BUSINESS / YOUR CITIES, YOUR TOMBS by Jordan Krall (2012/13 Copeland Valley / 87 pp / 86 pp / 47 pp / 227 pp / limited edition chapbooks & trade paperback)

This epic 4-book saga had me skeptical at first: the first three installments come in three separate chapbooks, and while they held my interest, I wasn't sure where they were headed or what the point was. It's wonderfully weird and featured some amazing ideas and visuals, but I didn't know if the author would tie everything up in a way that would make these early sections valid.

Then I read the final installment, the novel-length YOUR CITIES, YOUR TOMBS, and was completely blown away.

This tale is told from mutliple viewpoints but isn't distracting. Each one reveals a little bit more about what's going on during a city-wide terrorist attack. Through three slightly off-balanced doctors, a married couple with a failing sex life and mental illness, to a woman searching for the truth about her father's suicide, Krall takes us on a surreal nightmare fueled by an ever-present and growing paranoid phobia that leads to a horrifying finale that may be a bit too real for some readers. The author's influences are evident, but the series as a whole takes on its own feel.

This intense study of fear and conspiracies uses shadow and suggestion and allows the reader to savor and discern every bit of information and ultimately feel deeply for its cast (especially one reluctant terrorist) as the tale comes into light; a shaded light, but a light nonetheless.

As far as bizarre fiction goes, Krall's "False Magic Kingdom" series is a true masterpiece and easily his finest work to date.

The Gig to End All Gigs!

On a rainy Monday night in 1986 (October the 6thto be exact), my friend Scott and I set out to see a punk singer we knew only from a few 7” singles. We had heard about his onstage antics, but despite the stories, nothing could have prepared us for the night of total debauchery that lay ahead.
NYCity’s THE CAT CLUB was the venue for GG ALLIN AND THE NY SUPERSCUM. GG had a special group this night made up of mainly local NY musicians, including Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth. While opening contemporary jazz band New Man took the stage (how they got on this gig I’ll never know), my friend John introduced us to the legendary GG ALLIN by the bar (of course, he’d become more legendary after this show which GG himself eventually claimed was his 2nd sickest of all time—the first being a near-death show outside of Minnesota). GG was cool and collected and even bought all of us beers. And then a DJ friend of our (from a local college station) dared GG to prove himself. She dared him to eat her maxi pad.
He did. In front of us. He folded the pad on the bloody spot and bit into it like a zombie sinking his teeth into someone’s skull. He washed it down with a swig of Heineken and said, “Anything else?”
Speechless, we went with GG to the front of the club as punk legends ARTLESS took the stage. Mykel Board and co. rocked the place hard, and the stage was set for GG.
We hung out with GG and Mykel backstage as GG ripped off his pants and got ready for the show in his trademark jockstrap, boots, and leather jacket. Who knows what he had sniffed (or shot) upon his frequent trips to the bathroom? Some unattractive (but thoroughly insane) green-haired punk chick came in the dressing room; GG looked at her and asked if he could suck her breasts. She agreed. He did so with tender loving care, and then headed for the stage.
I stood on the edge of the dance floor (The Cat Club was mainly a dance club with occasional punk, metal, and ska shows) as Mykel Board introduced GG. As soon as he did, GG turned around, pulled his jock aside, and let out a small but stinky dump. He wiped it across his chest then flung some into the crowd as the first song began. Some freakazoid with spiky green hair moshed around a chuck of crap that had landed in the center of the pit.
I stood behind Roger Miret of AGNOSTIC FRONT, who had a look of sheer amazement on his face throughout the entire gig. And who wouldn’t? Within his 3-song set (the club pulled the plug during his immortal classic, EAT MY DIAHRREAH), I watched GG:
-Kick some poor guy’s head that was dumb enough to sit on the side of the stage, cracking his glasses in two.
-Smash his nose open with the microphone until blood flew and mixed with the feces on his chest.
-Get his jockstrap ripped down by the backstage punk chick, who punched him in the balls with everything she had, sending GG to the ground. He stood up a few seconds later as if nothing happened.
I also watched GG run through the crowd a few times, several of us (Aggy Front’s vocalist included) cowering behind over-turned tables like we were about to die. The smell in the place reached a fever pitch. I remember holding my shirt over my nose a few times; how the band were able to play without throwing up is anyone’s guess.
It should be mentioned that many other things went down, from small fights with various audience members, to more self-flagellation and abuse. There was so much chaos going down I don’t think anyone could remember all the crazy stuff happening in such a short time span.
My pulse raced at this gig faster than any other time in my life (save for the time a milk truck nearly collided with my friend’s van). Although GG didn’t perform any of his late 70s material (which sounds NOTHING like his poster 1982-“puke-era” stuff) and I can’t remember the first two songs he did if I tried, this was the Gig to End All Gigs. The audience was in a near-state of panic from the second GG to the stage until he ran off in a bloody, crappy , bruised mess. Later reports say GG had run all the way from the Cat Club (14th street) up to the Port Authority (42nd street) to grab a bus back to New Hampshire. A couple of fanzines reported the bus driver made him get off and hose himself down, and then allowed him back on.
Any rumors you may have heard about GG ALLIN are probably true. I know because I witnessed several of them as they happened at this infamous gig. The same friend who went with me to this show played bass for GG at a 1990 gig (that would be GG’s last show in NYC). That show turned into a sniff-dope-off-the-amps fest, and nowhere near as intense as the Cat Club show.
On a musical level, GG’s voice was truly horrible this night. His high-pitched late 70s punk n’ roll yells had faded as his gravel-laced “Vomitose-era” had neared its Zenith.
Despite the crappy vocals, the dumb (and frankly, douche baggy-things) GG did to certain audience members (both here and at nearly all of his gigs), GG ALLIN AND THE NY SUPERSCUM at the Cat Club was one gig I’ll never forget … even if I tried to.
(END NOTE: GG ALLIN died of a heroin overdose on June 28th, 1993. He was 36 years old.)