Nick Cato's Blog, page 24

One for the Youngin's...

CROOKED HILLS (BOOK ONE) by Cullen Bunn (2011 Earwig Press / 248 pp. / tp, eBook, and limited edition hc)


After their father passes away, Charlie and his younger brother Alex are taken on a trip to the small town of Crooked Hills by their mom.  Charlie's a bit upset as he was looking forward to spending the summer with his friends, but it doesn't take long for him to gain interest in their planned 6-week vacation.  Charlie's mom gives him a book about the haunted legends of Crooked Hills, and before long his cousin Marty and a red-headed tom boy named Lisa are exploring the back woods and its chilling legends.


When each kid has a nightmare about a legendary local witch--and discover young Alex has been kidnapped by a woman bent on resurrecting that witch--the stage is set for plenty of action and suspense.  Along the way our little heroes grapple with all kinds of creepy crawlies, ghosts, a nasty dog, and two teenage bullies.  Bunn doesn't shy away from having these children deal with death and dark situations, and does so in a manner that shouldn't freak out the more impressionable young readers.


Cullen Bunn's first book in the CROOKED HILL series is aimed at the 9-12 year-old market, and if given a proper push there's no reason this shouldn't take off.  It's loaded with fun, is written at a great pace, and is a good way to introduce the kids to the horror genre.  I'll surely be getting a copy for my nephew...

A 1980 Obscurity...

The 39th column in my SUBURBAN GRINDHOUSE MEMORIES series is now LIVE at CINEMA KNIFE FIGHT:
FIEND (1980)

Uncomfortable Admissions (Part One): The Strange Case of Dave Murray

I am a heterosexual.  I've been attracted to females since the day I came into the world almost forty-four years ago.  I love everything about them, even their irritating habits and endless need to buy the most useless crap to place around the house.


In 1980, I was a sixth grade student.  A friend of mine let me borrow a cassette by a heavy metal band called IRON MAIDEN.  I became a fan of theirs.  When their second album came out in 1981, I bought a cassette and played it non-stop.  Like most white suburban teenage boys into rock music at the time, this band consumed my mind 24/7, from their horror-imagery to their amazingly fast bass lines and gruesome lyrics.  I must have listened to their first two albums a million times each during these two years.


Then something strange happened.


I bought a couple of posters featuring IRON MAIDEN, both in their original five-man lineup (today the band has six members, only three from the first two albums still on board).  The long-haired man pictured at the top of this post is MAIDEN guitarist Dave Murray.  After countless hours spent in my bedroom staring at these posters as I read horror magazines and listened to MAIDEN on my stereo, I eventually developed a non-sexual man-crush on him.  A pre-"bromance."  I thought he was the coolest-looking guitarist ever with his extra-long hair and hard-to-identify cool-ass attitude when he played live on stage.  To me the guy was the epitome of a rock n roll god.  I saw Iron Maiden's 1983 and 1985 world tours, and most recently saw them on their 2008 retro-80s tour here in New York City.





My daughter (now 16) became a serious fan of IRON MAIDEN around age eleven, although she had been listening to them since she was three.  When my wife and I took her and my son to see IRON MAIDEN in 2008, my Dave Murray story came out and disturbed the poor child more than I intended it to.


"But you're not gay," she said, laughing as I attempted to explain my fascination with the British guitar slinger.


"I know," I said, "But if I was a chick, I'd probably think he was hot."


She laughed, especially when I told her one of my ex-girlfriends back in high school thought Murray looked like E.T.  Naturally, we broke up shortly after.


I'm one of those guys who has a hard time determining what other guys the ladies find attractive.  While most of my female friends are in love with Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt, I just don't get it.  Being straighter than an arrow, I enjoy some of the films these men act in, but couldn't tell you if one was better looking than the other.  OR Dave Murray.  Because to me--if I was a chick--would be after Dave Murray, the metal guitar wizard who has been blowing me away with his unique axe-sound for over thirty years.


And then...tragedy struck:


On a fateful afternoon in 2008 (shortly before we saw the 2008 tour), my daughter and I watched a VH1 program about IRON MAIDEN.  In the program, Dave Murray is interviewed along with the rest of the band.


It was the first time I heard Dave's voice.


After noticing a look my face had never made before or since, my daughter broke out into a fit of confused laughter that was a mixture of hysteria and genuinely feeling bad for her father.


Dave Murray--the rock god I had idolized since I was twelve years old--was the first man I ever heard speak with a British accent that also had a massive LISP.  And I mean MASSIVE.


I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.  I felt cheated.  How could such a cool-looking guitarist (and handsome son of a bitch) sound so goofy?  I looked on in disbelief as I remembered the stories former MAIDEN vocalist Paul Di'anno told about Murray in his autobiography, THE BEAST.  Murray--who had been a mad party animal with wildman Di'Anno during many of his arrests and nights of pure debauchery--was speaking like a mentally challenged reject from ROMPER ROOM.  My stomach sank to the lowest depths of the planet.


I didn't move from my seat for about two hours.  My daughter even handed me a cold bottle of water in an attempt to get this voice--this image--out of my mind.  How could I EVER listen to classic MAIDEN songs such as PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, KILLERS, or MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE again without thinking of my favorite guitarist's ridiculous-sounding voice?  How could I listen to any of their songs ever again without feeling cheated and having a mental breakdown?


My non-sexual man-crush came to an end after this program.  And to this day I couldn't tell you who a handsome guy is...not only because I'm a hardcore heterosexual, but because I am DONE answering this stupid question many of my female friends seem to ask me all the time.


As for Dave Murray . . . at least we had the early 80s.


(POST NOTE: Below is a picture of Dave Murray TODAY (2011).  What on earth was I thinking?)

Monster Mush...

THE CREEPING KELP by William Meikle (2011 Dark Regions Press / 158 pp / tp)


Remember that segement in CREEPSHOW 2 where a bunch of teenagers go on a raft in an isolated pond and get attacked by a mysterious, floating black mass?  THE CREEPING KELP brings this skit to mind, only on an epic scale.


Noble and Suzie are two scientists working near London in the North Atlantic.  After discovering a strange, black tar on the motor of his boat, Noble makes it back to the main ship just as all hell breaks loose.


As an ever-growing mass of black, tendril-sprouting seaweed attacks England's shores, Noble and Suzie uncover this phenomenon by reading through journals left by recent military persons, then older texts dating back to the 1500s by a Catholic priest and a ship captain.


While Meikle gives a few head-scratching ideas as to what this Creeping Kelp is (everything from an ancient God to a human-engineered military weapon is cited), this short novel is packed with so much cheesy scifi/horror fun it was easy for me to overlook the monster's unclear origin.


Like a better film on the SyFy Channel, THE CREEPING KELP delivers the creature-feature goods despite it's goofy, 'Spongebob'-sounding title.  It starts out as an ecological warning (the beast feeds on plastic consumer waste) yet ends on a Lovecraftian, action-packed note with plenty of dazzling visuals.  Its environmental edge is quickly forgotten in place of major Kelp attacks and latent conspiracy theories.


KELP is an uneven read that tries to make a point or two, but those seeking some classic 1950s-style monster mayhem should be able to ignore the confusion and have a good time.  I did.

Return to Breton Court...

KING'S WAR: THE KNIGHTS OF BRETON COURT BOOK III by Maurice Broaddus (2011 Angry Robot / 400 pp / mmp)

This third (and what seems like final) installment of Broaddus' Indianapolis street-gang saga begins with an unspeakable act of violence as two gangs battle for supremacy in the wake of King's most recent setbacks. It seems he's getting soft and the time is at hand for a new leader to take charge of the inner-city underworld. And when King is shot during an ambush, his rival, Dred, begins to draw as many as he can over to his side as his magical abilities grow stronger.


For those new to this series, it's basically a modern-day re-telling of the King Arthur legend, using 'hood gangs in place of knights, prostitutes in place of princesses, and a wise old man in place of the grand wizard. The series' strength has been its ability to blend fantasy elements (dragons, magic, and strange creatures) right alongside the gritty, realistic, every-day street lifestyle, and Broaddus brings this even stronger here than in the first two novels. There's also a deeper spiritual element this time, plenty of twists, surprises, and emotional depth that should satisfy those who have been hanging around Breton Court these past couple of years.

While I think a novel centered around street gangs could've used some more fight scenes (the final battle even seemed a bit rushed), Broaddus manages to keep the pace moving from the gripping prologue right through the unexpected conclusion, and whether this is the final installment or the beginning of a new chapter at Breton Court, things are wrapped up quite nicely. Some good stuff here.

HALLOWEEN 2011

SO a bunch of us were invited to a very cool Halloween party in Long Island this past Friday night.  Several in attendance were NECon regulars, so it was like a mini-reunion of sorts.  Below are the winners of several different costume prizes (Including me as "Dr. Howie Feltersnatch, GYNECOLOGY.").  I won for funniest costume...



Linda Addison won for sexiest, Matt Schwartz won two prizes, and Kelly Laymon won for her homeless woman get-up.  And yes, the alcohol was flowing freely . . .

My good friend Sheri came as Alex from A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, and despite getting lost going to and fro, the night was a lot of fun.
We now return to your regularly scheduled programming . . .

Voodoo Gets a New Spin...

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SACRIFICE by Wrath James White (2011 Sinister Grin Press / 174 pp / tp)


Detective John Malloy is called to a most unusual crime scene: it appears some poor soul has been eaten alive by his dog...and every other animal who happened to be close enough to take a bite out of him at the time.  While investigating the case, Malloy and his partner are called to a crime in progress: this time a group of young school children are savagely attacking their teacher...along with all types of animals and insects.  Soon after this, a former heavyweight fighter is attacked in a similar manner.


Along with these bizarre murders, Malloy and his partner Mohammed Rafik are also attempting to locate several missing young girls.  When they pay a visit to the parents of one missing girl, they find no pictures of the child anywhere in the home...but they do discover a picture of the parents with a woman who they eventually learn turns out to be a voodoo priestess named Delilah.


SACRIFICE is a brutal, action-packed horror yarn with two flawed but likeable detectives and a cast that's equally as interesting.  Its take on voodoo is quite different from anything I've read before, giving Delilah a different vibe from other voodoo-novel antagonists (such as the Haitian Voudon in THE EVIL and THE EVIL RETURNS by Hugh B. Cave).  And despite it's short 174 pages, this one also manages to double as a sequel (of sorts) to Wrath's 2009 novel, THE RESURRECTIONIST.  With lean, tight prose, a satisfying conclusion and a few choice surprises, Wrath has unleashed yet another solid genre read.

MicPocalypse...

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KARAOKE DEATH SQUAD by Eric Mays (2011 Copeland Valley Press / 308 pp / tp)


Odie Wharton is a hot shot on the underground karaoke bar scene in Baltimore.  Along with his off-the-wall friends, karaoke is not only something they do to kill time...it's everything from a serious sport, to a way to make extra cash...it's their way of life.  Their world is thrown into chaos when three beautiful Russian women show up one night and seemingly put the place into a trance with their rendition of Nancy Sinatra's 'These Boots are Made for Walkin'.'  Odie and his crew quickly discover there's more to these women than good voices and hot bodies when they begin to show signs of superhuman strength and other-worldly powers.


When one of Odie's crew goes missing after leaving with two of the girls, and when a few of his male buddies become pregnant after a wild shag session, an all-out war is on between our karaoke heroes and these sexy-but-evil dames...


With Russian mobsters, a quiet man who works origami in unusual ways, and a sexy cougar who--along with her hot teenage daughter--work their karaoke like a true art, KARAOKE DEATH SQUAD is loaded with irresistible characters and often hysterical situations.  Mays' witty and inventive prose keeps the pages flipping, and his use of popular songs (and how they're sung by certain people) had me in stitches.


This action-packed novel full of slackers, sluts, and succubbi is easily one of the most entertaining novels this year.  It might even inspire you to pick up a microphone...


(There's a GREAT bonus after the novel...Mays' special top ten lists to keep in mind the next time you hit your local pub!).

THE APOCALYPSE Arrives June, 2012...

...THE APOCALYPSE OF PETER, that is, my latest novella to be released by Damnation Books.  I'll be posting more info as it becomes available, but suffice it to say, this 20K novella is "The End of the World as You've NEVER known it!"

Who are the People in Your. . .

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THE NEIGHBORHOOD by Kelli Owen (2011 Thunderstorm Books / 106 pp / mini-tp)


In this brief novella, Owen introduces us to the small town of Neillsville, where everyone knows each other's business and there seems to be little-to-no crime.  But when Mary finds a young girl's finger in his son's pocket while doing laundry,  THE NEIGHBORHOOD becomes a dark mystery with countless suspects, including a demanding school bus driver and a pedophile who has recently moved to the area.  The first half of the novella sort-of reminded me of classic Bentley Little and there's plenty of suspense.


A second victim's body is discovered underneath an old foot bridge (and if you hate heights as much as I do you'll be cringing during the prior chapter), making even the most innocent among the townsfolk seem guilty.


Owen's novella is an enjoyable read, although it seems like part of a much bigger story; we get to meet several tight-knit small town people who I wanted to get to know better, and there's much potential for more Neillsville short stories or even a novel.  I'll be keeping an eye out for more...