They call him the Radiator Boy because he was raised by a steel-plate radiator. The product of a cruel father and indifferent mother, the boy is finally set free after many years of torture. Eager to see the world, he embarks on an adventure of self-discovery, determined to find the fabled “Christmas” he’s heard so much about.
Soon, he discovers the world is just as cruel and indifferent as the home he grew up in. Under the manipulative spell of the krampus ministers, the Radiator Boy finds himself embroiled in one destructive scandal after another until finally being elevated from his position as Prime Minister to that of a messiah—the ConvectorChrist.
Often misguided, but of pure heart, it’s up to the Radiator Boy to bring the warmth back to his people and restore hope in a world that’s been lost to a dark, eternal winter.
Zoltán Komor was born in June 14, 1986 and lives in Nyíregyháza, Hungary. He writes surreal short stories and published in several literary magazines (Wilderness House Literary Review; Drabblecast; The Phantom Drift; Gone Lawn; Bizarro Central; Caliban Online; Bizarrocast; Thrice Fiction Magazine; The Missing Slate; The Gap-Toothed Madness; Kafka Review, etc.) and anthologies (Unity, Volume 1: A Magical Realism Charity Anthology benefiting Doctors without Borders; The Horror Collection: Emerald Edition, etc.).
His first English book, titled Flamingos in the Ashtray: 25 Bizarro Short Stories, was released by Burning Bulb Publishing in 2014, his second English book, titled Tumour-djinn was released by MorbidbookS in the same year, and his third collection, Turdmummy was released by StrangeHouse Books in 2016.
In 2020 his short story titled "Mall-Head" won The Monolith Prize in Hungary.
Nowadays, I’m generally not drawn to books that rely heavily on shock value, gross-out tactics, sacrilege, subversion, iconoclasm, transgression, etc., to be interesting. Hey, nothing wrong with provocation through art. However, for me, if when reading someone’s writing I get the sense that the author’s primary goal is A) to earn internet high fives and the approval and commendation of like-minded edgy people while B) succeeding in getting old Christian ladies to clutch at their pearls, then I usually start yawning.
There are exceptions. Zoltán Komor is one such exception. His stuff generally contains all the ingredients of transgressive/subversive/“extreme” literature—i.e., some combination of explicit violence, gore, deviant sex, family dysfunction, incest, scatology, blasphemy, body horror, other taboos, etc. But Komor possesses this seemingly magical ability to bring such elements together to create highly entertaining narratives that transcend any desire the author may or may not have to provoke—wonderfully imaginative narratives that explode with vividly grotesque imagery, strange characters, insane plots, bizarre dialogue, and off-the-wall dark humor.
Komor employs a sort of old-world folktale approach to storytelling that is enhanced by his unique use of inventive wordplay, non sequitur, and the cut-up technique. What’s more, there’s a heightened lyricism to Komor's language that often elevates his prose to a raw yet lush poetry that thrums and pulses on the page with the rhythms of its own chaotic and byzantine beauty.
A sort of demented, nightmarish Christmas story, The Radiator Boy and the Holly Country concerns a messianic figure with psycho-thermodynamic powers who must contend with a gaggle of krampus civil servants while trying to bring back springtime to a world ensnared in perpetual winter. Marrying the nightmarish with the comedic, the earthy with the ethereal, the sacred with the profane, and the mundane with the mythopoeic, The Radiator Boy and the Holly Country was a delight to read and is another memorable addition to Komor’s body of work. Highly recommended.
In all seriousness—and with no exaggeration—Zoltán Komor is probably one of only three or four fiction writers alive today who are even worth reading. The kid’s like some sort of GOLDEN GOD who descended from the skies to live among the rest of us SORRY SACKS OF SHIT people who call ourselves writers.
And if for any reason you disagree with me on that point, you can go get bent, sizzlechest.
I don't know what to think of this book. I went on and off all the time, sometimes liking it, other times almost skimming through pages...
The writing style is impressive and nice, with beautiful sentences and lyrical turns. You sometimes get paragraphs like poems. The problem is that they don't always relate to the story.
The story itself is great and yet not so much. I don't know. It could have been / should have been awesome, right up my alley. It was true from time to time but not all the time and that bothers me.
There's something amiss here but I can't put my finger on it.
Either way, I feel this story was worth reading. The madness in it equals the cleverness of the style and both give something I've never met before.
It has a real Christmassy feeling, which is the reason I chose it in the first place and you might consider reading it in the season as well if you're on look of a "festive" bizarro story!