Solomon Kane - The Hills of the Dead

The August 1930 issue of Weird Tales featured a Robert E. Howard story titled “The Hills of the Dead”. It starred Howard's Puritan hero Solomon Kane. The story was later reprinted in Arkham House's Skull-Face and Others (1946), Donald M. Grant's Red Shadows (1968), and the Bantam paperback The Hills of the Dead (1979). The story is also included in Del Rey's The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane (2004). 

This story is an important one in the overall lore of Kane. It is this story where the character receives the juju staff (aka The Staff of Solomon), an iconic weapon used to fight the supernatural. Often, artists create artwork with Kane holding this mysterious staff. In later stories, the staff is described as having been used by Moses and King Solomon, two historical and biblical figures. This story also marks the return of N'Longa, the African shaman who appeared two years earlier in Howard's “Red Shadows”. 

As the story begins, Kane is in Africa talking with N'Longa. The shaman explains to Kane that the jungle is deadly, filled with nefarious creatures that will more than likely kill him. While it isn't named, N'Longa provides Kane a sharpened stave, which is ultimately the Staff of Solomon. As readers learned in “Red Shadows”, N'Longa can astral project his body. He advises Kane that this stave can summon N'Longa from far distances.

Kane travels deep into the jungle, rescues a girl from a lion, and then builds a shelter for the two of them in a cave. It is there that Kane and the girl are attacked by two vampires. After stabbing one into dust, Kane learns that the entire region is populated by vampires. Later, Kane summons N'Longa (in a rather contrived way), and the two use magic to summon vultures and bats to kill countless vampires. 

This story is rich with atmosphere, a frenzied second-half pace, and a satisfying, action-packed finale. This may be one of my favorites of Howard's Kane stories as it follows a horror formula built for the vampire saga – these undead creatures, bats, gloomy isolation, a storied history, and of course, an explanation on how humans can kill vampires. As I alluded to earlier, the inclusion of the gifted staff makes this an important chapter in the character's mythos, but also helps build the unique bond between N'Longa and Kane. 

“The Hills of the Dead” was adapted into comics by Marvel in Kull and the Barbarians #2-3 (Jul, Sept 1975) and The Sword of Solomon Kane #5 (May 1986). Dark Horse published an adaptation in The Saga of Solomon Kane (July 2009). 

Get The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane HERE.

Horror House

Paul Fairman (1909-1977) became the founding editor of If in 1952. He later became the editor of Amazing Stories, Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, and Fantastic. He authored several novels under his own name, as well as the pseudonyms of Ivar Jorgensen and F.W. Paul. Using the name Paulette Warren, Fairman wrote at least nine gothic paperbacks, with two of those consisting of the series titles Bitter Hill Saga and Ravenkill. I stumbled on the author's 1972 gothic titled Horror House. It was originally published by Lancer.

Terry Lawrence, a young writer living in New York, hits it big when she writes a critically-acclaimed biography. Her agent, clamoring for more exposure and work for his client, shares some good news with her over an unexpected phone call. One of America's wealthiest men, Jonah Garth, wants to employ her talents to pen his biography. He signs a contract to pay Terry $10,000. The catch is that Terry must journey to Garth House, the man's home, and interview him and his family of sons and daughters-in-law. Terry reluctantly agrees.

Garth House is in a sleepy upstate New York town that harbors the family's robust mansion and the family business – a myriad of labs and manufacturers producing various items for the federal government. Terry settles into a local hotel in town, awaiting a train that will take her to Garth House's front door. In town, she meets Deputy Bob and the two instantly fall in love. Bob shares the town's disdain for Jonah Garth, referring to him as a slave-driving monster that terrorizes his workers and competition.

Once Terry arrives at Garth House, she begins meeting the various family members, including a flamboyant beauty named Lisa, who is married to Garth's oldest son. There are two other sons, their wives, and the obligatory mansion helpers like the maids and servants. Jonah has prepared for Terry's arrival by recording several reels of tape for her to transcribe. While she's busy with dating Bob, transcribing the reels, she is approached by two mysterious men – each with their own plan to frame Jonah for his dubious misdeeds. Terry declines participation, but learns something detrimental to her safety at Garth House. Apparently, Jonah has murdered at least one man who meddled in his business affairs. Terry uses a great deal of caution when Jonah is around. But the tension and stress increase to the breaking point when Terry discovers the family's dark secret. 

Is Horror House a gothic? Yes. But does it have all of the trimmings to make it a full-fledged gothic? That's debatable. Fairman employs the same concept he used in his 1965 novel Ravenkill – placing the vulnerable beauty as a guest in a mansion as opposed to inheriting one. That's a change of pace that he apparently used frequently. 1972's Hazard House and 1967's The Nurse of Brooding Mansion are his other examples of “guest ventures”. Additionally, there's not much gaslighting, which is typically paramount to the gothic plots. It does feature other gothic mandatory elements like romance, hints of the supernatural and, of course, the “one-lighted window” cover art. I'd also add that Fairman injects one of the most overused tropes of gothic storytelling: an abandoned wing of the mansion. This is a huge part of the story.

Terry hears snarls and footsteps at night, a combination that is explained by the family as sounds made by the dog. Yet rumors abound that Jonah had a fourth son, a “monster” that lives deep inside the house's guarded walls. Fairman's intriguing narrative blends a corporate mystery, a racy love affair, the aforementioned “monster”, and eventually, murder. The book's finale includes the 'ole “daddy's dying but who's got the will” bit to add an element of surprise. I really enjoyed the characters of both Terry and Bob, and genuinely found the book to be a bit eerie in parts. 

If you love these old gothic paperbacks, then Horror House is an easy recommendation. Good luck finding a copy!

Haunted Island

Joan Lowery Nixon (1927-2003) was a celebrated novelist of juvenile fiction and mysteries. She won four Edgars and had five additional nominations. She also won the Western Writers of America's Golden Spur Award twice. All of this has me scratching my head as to why I've never read her novels before now. Breaking the ice, I chose Haunted Island as my first sampling of her writing. It was originally published as a YA Apple Paperback by Scholastic in 1987 with a gorgeous Rudy Nappi cover (Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys). 

Chris and Amy, teen siblings, are working with their Aunt Jennie to restore an old hotel in Missouri. Across the river, there's an ominous island that is strictly off-limits, partially due to the dense foliage, wildlife, and deep caves, but also because of a rumored ghost that still prowls the shoreline. Of course, Chris and Amy are fixated on this mysterious oasis and the mythology associated with the island's prior owner, a deceased farmer named Joshua Hanover. 

One evening, Chris and Amy confront a laborer upstairs in the hotel. He confesses that the island was created during a massive earthquake. Nixon allows this character introduction to flourish, introducing a long flashback scene in which the man, in first-person narration, explains how he grew up in the area and his experience working with Joshua. This is an entertaining portion of the story, complete with treasure, romance, and of course, a tragedy that fuels the ongoing mystery – does Joshua's ghost now haunt the island?

Oddly, as I was reading this, I couldn't quite understand how the man could have been alive in the 1800s to present this first-person account of life under Joshua's employment. Later, during a surprise twist, Chris and Amy learn the truth about the old man. This reveal sets up a fantastic second half in which the two teens are left stranded on the island. Admittedly, the locale of an old farmhouse at twilight on an uninhabited island was unsettling. Nixon's description of tattered curtains blowing in the wind, the old creaking sounds of the dilapidated house, and the dark recesses of the hallways and cellar were downright creepy, even for this YA novel. These two kids left on the island – a haunted island – were worth the price of admission.

Eventually, the finale becomes a bit rushed as the author had a strict 200-pages to wrap up this story. It felt a little hectic as Nixon revealed the mysterious circumstances affecting nearly 150-years of island life. But the frantic pace builds into a long chase scene as Joshua's ghost (yes, there are ghosts!) and the teens run wild through the forests and caves. The search for revenge and redemption, and the drive to survive, was a smooth blend of action and fright. Nixon's writing is superb and flexible enough to entertain all ages. This is an easy recommendation.

Get Haunted Island HERE.

Earth vs The Lava Spiders

In 2022, authors Candace Nola, Lucas Mangum, and Judith Sonnet contributed horror novellas to a trilogy series titled Earth Vs, a homage to the 1950s drive-in movie culture. Mangum's was Earth vs The Star Mummy, Sonnet's was Earth vs The Nudist Camp Freaks, and Nola's was Earth vs The Lava Spiders. The covers for all three books were created by Christy Aldridge of Grim Poppy Design. A friend let me borrow Nola's novella, which was my first experience with the series and the author. The book was published by Nola's own Uncomfortably Dark Horror and edited by both Nola and Mort Stone. 

Earth vs The Lava Spiders is set in Pine Grove, California, in 1958. Teenagers are making out in the car when they see strange lights over the bay. Soon, the landscape is glowing as fireballs erupt from the nearby mountainside. As a volcano erupts, the teens realize that the embers and lava aren't the only thing pouring from the mountain – there are also flaming spiders ready to pounce on human flesh! Then, the feast begins.

Each chapter of the book features a 1950s song title, like "Jailhouse Rock", "Blueberry Hill", and "Oh, What a Night!". Nola uses each of these early chapters to focus on one character or set of characters who are experiencing the spiders. These attacks occur in the suburbs, on the highway, at a nearby prison, and at a police station. By the sixth chapter, a story arc develops as an elderly man named Jonas escapes prison and begins a lively escape from the burning arachnids. 

Nola candidly admits on her website that Earth Vs The Lava Spiders isn't great. But, she explains, “it is a good story that is meant to be funny, wild, fast-paced, and corny.” She definitely achieves that in this 50-page novella. It is never too serious, and it hearkens back to the day when horror didn't have to say or mean anything. It's just a fun distraction from life's everyday horrors – mortgages, jobs, social angst, etc. I also borrowed Nola's book Bishop: Man vs Monster, and I am now anxious to read it too. 

Get Candace Nola's books HERE.

The House of the Nightmare

Edward Lucas White (1866-1934), who was educated at Johns Hopkins University, worked as a teacher at University School for Boys in Baltimore for nearly his entire life. While teaching, White was committed to being a writer. He authored short stories, novels, and poetry, some of which have been celebrated in countless horror and mystery anthologies. My experience with White is his beloved ghost story, “The House of the Nightmare”. It was first printed in The Thrill Book in 1919. Later, it was included in White's collection, Lukundoo and Other Stories.

This story uses the “roadside ghost” that is often affiliated with the dark traveler or dead hitchhiker shtick. We've all heard the campfire stories, or watched one of many horror films use the concept of an average person traveling a dark road and finding solace with a mysterious stranger. In some cases, the traveler will pick up a girl hitchhiking, only to later learn at a local truck stop or diner that the girl had previously died in a tragic accident and now exists as an apparition left to wander the highway for eternity. 

This idea spills into songs like Alan Jackson's (w/ Don Sampson) “Midnight in Montgomery” or David Allan Coe's “The Ride” (written by John Blayne Detterline, Jr. and Gary Gentry). The concept is often called the phantom hitchhiker, but it can be used for other occurrences, too. In White's case, it concerns a traveler meeting a young boy on a dark roadside.

The story is told in first-person by an unnamed narrator. He is traveling through the mountainous countryside when he spots an anomaly in the road. Ahead of him, he sees a large stone on the right side of the lane, yet as he gets nearer, it seems to have changed location to the left. As he struggles to understand this strange positioning, he runs off the road and into a tree. A young boy arrives and offers to assist the man, but is hesitant to shelter him.

After some back-and-forth, the man convinces the boy to allow him to sleep at his house overnight. The boy confesses that the home is messy, his mother is dead, and his father hasn't been home in months. There's very little food, and plenty of other excuses for the man to avoid this house. But he insists, and the boy welcomes him inside. The boy warns the traveler that he experiences nightmares concerning a large pig that is devouring him. That night, the man has the same nightmare and flees the house. Down the road, he learns the awful truth about the boy and the haunted house.

This was a familiar setup for me, but I still enjoyed White's storytelling. He adds a few clues throughout the short narrative about the boy and his living conditions. The cool, dark house offers plenty of eerie atmosphere, and there's a mystery about the boy's family that begs for answers. The nightmare scene was told vividly, with enough fright to warrant the character's quick departure.

I loved this story, and I often enjoy these phantom formulas. One of my favorites is an episode of the CBC radio show Nightfall. It's called “Windchill”, and it was written by David McCaughna and aired on September 19, 1980. You can listen to that audio presentation HERE.

The Haar

I really enjoyed David Sodergren's horror novel Night Shoot, but it has taken me over two years to find myself submerged in another of his books, The Haar. It was independently published by the author in 2022. The book is available in both hardcover and paperback, as well as a 7-hour Tantor Media audio narration by Mhairi Morrison. 

The novel stars an 84-year old widow named Muriel McAuley. Muriel lives in a cottage on the remote Scottish seaside. Land developers, led by an unscrupulous baron, have bought or bullied their way through the small village in a grand effort to create a golf community (side note – I despise golf). Muriel refuses to sell for any amount of money. She loves her little place, partly because she has lived so many years of her life there with her husband. He died years ago on a fishing expedition – this is important.

Often, Muriel journeys down to the rocky beach to enjoy a small watershed cave there, a place where she spent magical moments with her husband. In the opening pages of the novel, Muriel is in this place when she discovers a wounded sea creature lying on the jagged rocks. In an effort to heal the beast, she scampers back to her house and places the creature in her bathtub. Only there's a small problem with its healing...the creature doesn't just need water – it needs blood.

Soon, Muriel embarks on an emotional adventure with this strange creature residing in her bathtub. In a shocking revelation, the healed creature confesses to Muriel that it can appear as anything. It can also read her mind and cull from it her most precious memories – memories of her time with her husband. Muriel allows the creature to “become” her deceased husband, and the two cherish her memories together. Yet, Muriel knows this facade can only be temporary. The creature needs human blood in order to remain alive. 

The Haar is the best book I've read thus far in 2026. It is a combination of horror, dark fantasy, action, and romance. At a short page count of just 200 pages, Sodergren took me through different levels of emotion as Muriel experiences the ultimate reunion and is forced into some really dark decision-making. I described the book to a friend, and he immediately caught the Hellraiser comparison, but I'd also mention other influencing films like Splash, Lady in the Water, and maybe, to a lesser extent, Swamp Thing. It is a fish-out-of-water story, but it incorporates so many different aspects. It is violent, beautiful, gory, and wholly unique. 

The best compliment I can give to any book is how it made me feel afterwards. This book makes you feel something, and for that, I can't recommend it enough. You need to read this book.

Get The Haar HERE.

Fog Country

Back on Episode 67 of the Paperback Warrior Podcast, we examined the life and literary works of a mysterious female pulp writer named Allison V. Harding. No one really knows her identity. It could have been Lamont Buchanan, a woman named Jean Milligan, or really Dorothy Mcllwraith. It's a mystery that will never truly be solved. But, regardless, Harding left behind a legacy of 33 tales of terror that helped elevate Weird Tales into the stratosphere of iconic magazine horror. 

In 2020, Armchair Fiction released a compilation of 16 stories culled from the pages of Weird Tales, Allison V. Harding: The Forgotten Queen of Horror. This book includes a story titled “Fog Country”, originally published in the magazine's July 1945 issue. 

“Fog Country” is told in first-person narration by Smith - “I'm known as Smith. Just Smith.” He has arrived back to the small town of Elbow Creek after several years of living afar. Smith describes this rural place as a type of mecca where evil forces flow, forces beyond understanding. He then documents for the reader a mysterious family known as the Hobells. They reside – or did at one point – in a robust mansion on top of the hill. They were the founders of Elbow Creek, but they were met with dysfunctional personalities. 

Smith describes the night when one of the Hobells, a troubled, fighting-man named Jess, engaged in a fight with his brother Tom. Tom's wife was murdered during the fight, but charges were never filed, and the two brothers remained bitter rivals...until the fog came.

Every so often, a thick, supernatural fog creeps in from the nearby sound to engulf the town and its residents. One night, the fog came and seemingly wiped out the Hobell family, evaporating Jess and the remaining family members. As the story hits the payoff pitch, readers realize that Smith is actually Jess's brother, Tom. He's returned to town and the mansion he now owns, free and clear of any rival family members. As he settles into the house, clearing debris and old memories, the fog begins to roll in again. Only this time...there may be a figure in the fog.

Like any good horror story, “Fog Country” relies on atmosphere as the main character. The house's isolation in the high forest, near the shore, is the perfect backdrop for Smith to meet his fate. The fog, described as thick and slimy, is the menace, although it's metaphorically just the town's buried secrets regarding this oddball founding family and the blight they've left on the township. The idea that Tom killed Jess isn't mentioned on paper, but it's an ambiguous delight that often made these old horror tales better – it's all in the imagination. You can make of it what you will.

You can read “Fog Country” in the Armchair Fiction omnibus, available HERE.    

The Night Boat

In high school, I read Robert R. McCammon's Swan Song. The book, which was published in 1987 as a mass market paperback by Pocket, won the Bram Stoker Award for Best Novel in 1988. I was so impressed with the book that I swore that day I would read every McCammon paperback. As book promises go, I didn't follow up and have managed to neglect reading any of the author's books since. 35-years later, I finally have read my second McCammon book – The Night Boat. It was published in 1980 as a paperback by Avon.

The Night Boat is like the paperback equivalent of an Italian zombie film. I've watched the cult-cringes like Zombie Lake (1981), Shock Waves (1977), and Oasis of the Zombies (1982), so I know my way around the undead films featuring Nazi soldiers stirring from some ancient slumber to devour human brains. McCammon feeds off of that for this book, which was his third published work (actually his second written novel).

McCammon sets this underwater horror story in the golden sands of the Caribbean, specifically a fictional, small seaside village named Coquina Island. During WWII, the island was shelled and burned by a Nazi sub. Off the coast, British submarine hunters were able to torpedo the vessel and sink it to the ocean. The island's natives, steeped in Voodoo, curse the German corpses in their aquatic tombs. Then, David Moore comes along and mucks it all up.

Moore, struggling with survivor's guilt after the death of his family, is a salvage diver who runs a small inn on Coquina. While trying to unearth some hidden treasure, Moore sets off a discarded depth charge that frees the German sub from its grave. The sub rises to the surface, and later, is placed in a harbor awaiting either another sinking or some sort of museum appraisal. But, Moore, the island's determined constable, and a museum curator look inside...and discover Nazi zombies. They accidentally free the soldiers, and the undead begin to attack the living.

This is pure popcorn horror fun, and I loved every page of it. This isn't anything epic, and it doesn't waddle away time and energy with a lot of characterization. It's a combination of nautical fiction, police procedural investigation, and survival horror as the island defends itself from the zombies and the “ghost ship”. There's a little bit of entrail-shredding graphic scenes, a small dose of sex, an underwater salvage that reminded me of Clive Cussler, and of course, the traditional fleshy flavor of the traditional zombie sub-genre – in pure pulpy fashion. Voodoo priests, sacrifices, small-town paranoia, ghosts, Nazis, and ghost ships. It doesn't get any more enjoyable than this. The Night Boat is worth sailing. 

Get the book HERE.

The Totem

David Morrell's The Totem was first published as a hardcover by M. Evans and Company in 1979. It debuted as a paperback in 1980 on Fawcett Crest. It was just his fifth published book, arriving years before First Blood's movie adaptation propelled him into the bestseller cosmos. In 1994, the author submitted his original version of the book – longer and unaltered – to his publisher Donald M. Grant. It is this version of the book that remains in print as physical, digital, and audio editions. 

A fictional small town, Potter's Field, Wyoming, is the locale for this interesting blend of genres. The primary pecking order is horror, followed closely by suspense, crime-fiction, and high-adventure. Often, too many ideas and concepts become burdensome, but Morrell's smooth prose and imagination keep the pages flowing. This was an entertaining reading experience from one of the storytellers in the business.

Sheriff Slaughter is the original town outsider, hired years ago from the big city to calmly, and quietly administer peace. He has a well-developed backstory, complete with trauma, divorce, and regret, that adds texture and depth. His professionalism is put to the test as mysterious killings begin to impact the town. Citizens and livestock are being mauled by wild animals. Yet, the bodies don't appear to have been traditionally devoured. It's as if they are simply being killed out of sport of some sadistic hatred of their lives. 

The thoughts of Slaughter, and his investigation, pan back and forth through a variety of colorful characters, none more interesting than an alcoholic journalist named Dunlap. He arrives in town to research a hippie cult that met an untimely end a decade before. There's also the brief appearance of a lovable, wise old veterinarian, a despicable mayor, and a handful of Slaughter's deputies that provide some ebb and flow in the investigation. 

In terms of crime-fiction, Dunlap and Slaughter put their heads together to learn more about the back-to-nature sort of cult that existed in town years prior. There's also the procedural stuff as Slaughter orchestrates the town's authorities into strategic places for the narrative to come alive – dark forests, empty fields, mountain terrain, and a creepy mansion. Which is where the horror really comes alive.

The horror aspect bridges several sub-genres, notably an “invasion” angle, as this super-rabies type of epidemic transforms the average citizens into homicidal maniacs. I've heard mentions that Paul Tremblay's Survivor Song, based on a super-rabies concept, may have taken inspiration from this novel. Regardless, The Totem is far better. There's also the “animals attack” formula, which was running at an all-time high during the 1980s, post-Jaws. But, oddly, this creepy mansion may have been my favorite portion of the book.

Years ago, a rich and affluent entrepreneur lived in this large house/mansion on the outskirts of town. He murdered his wife, but the authorities never located her body. Like these sorts of “house on the edge of town” rural-America myths go, rumors abound that she's still in the house, either existing as a neglected corpse or a rampaging ghost. The police are called to the mansion at night due to a rabid boy fleeing to the location after attacking a neighbor. It's flashlights, cobwebs, and staircases in a traditional horror flavor that Morrell would later perfect in his masterpiece, 2005's Creepers. 

I could probably write a coffee table book, probably longer than The Totem, about this novel, but I'll end it by just saying this: The Totem is an excellent horror novel that deserves its flowers. It is unique, innovative, and truly terrifying. Highest possible recommendation. Get the book HERE.

Psycho

Robert Bloch's seminal bestseller was Psycho, a 1959 hardcover first published by Simon & Schuster. It debuted in paperback in 1960 as a Crest Book, an imprint of Fawcett. Within its first few years of publication, the book was printed in six editions, including a movie tie-in version for Alfred Hitchcock's classic in 1960. The book spurred film sequels, but Bloch wrote his own sequels to the book – 1982's Psycho II and 1990's Psycho House. There was also a TV prequel show titled Bates Motel (2013-2017), a fan-favorite that visualized the origin of the book's protagonist, Norman Bates.

Unlike the film, Norman is really the protagonist of the novel. He's overweight, struggles with his childhood traumas, and talks to his mother. He runs a roadside motel in rural California that has seen its better days. His boring day-to-day changes when a new guest arrives, Marion Crane.

Readers learn about Marion's dilemma in Bloch's beautifully orchestrated setup. She met a man named Sam on a cruise, and the two of them want to get married. But, Sam, who runs a small hardware store, has looming debt and isn't in a position to take on the financial responsibility a marriage requires. Marion works for a real estate company that has just finished a large property sale. She's asked to drop $40,000 at the local bank. Instead, she takes this as a perfect invitation to take the money and run. She plans on driving across the country to Sam's place to present him with a fake story about inheriting money from a deceased relative.

Weary from the road, Marion checks in to the Bates Motel...but doesn't check out. This dinner scene and Norman's fixation on the woman develop into one of the most iconic scenes in horror history. Like the film version, this shower scene is excellent, albeit a little different – Marion is eviscerated and decapitated in Bloch's version. 

Marion's disappearance leads to an insurance investigator, Arbogast, arriving at Sam's store. By this time, Marion's sister Lila has also arrived to inquire about her sister's absence. Together, the three of them team up to learn more about Marion's trip to the motel and the outcome. 

It is hard to read a classic like this after seeing the film adaptation numerous times. I often asked myself when I would catch the twist if I had read the book first, with no prior intel on Bates and his mother. Like many readers' experiences of the time, I'm sure the novel would have blown my mind as well. This is a masterful storytelling experience that incorporates everything I love about noir fiction – a heist, criminals on the run, a suspenseful locale, a driven detective, ordinary people pushed into extraordinary circumstances, and, of course, a heinous bad guy. At about the halfway point, I began pushing Anthony Perkins' on-screen portrayal of Norman out of my mind, replaced by a different image that more closely aligned with the book – an obese, drinking man with a more aggressive nature. 

I think this book, and to a lesser extent John D. MacDonald's 1960 paperback, The End of the Night, propelled violence and human horror into new heights. These books helped define modern horror as both authors were on the cusp of revealing the psychotic tendencies that would re-appear nine years later with the Manson Family murders, although the Ed Gein murders of the 1940s and 1950s had a spectacular impact on Bloch's novel. Like what Mickey Spillane accomplished in the late 1940s – more violence, anti-heroes, a dark progression of the cookie-cutter pulp – Bloch is able to replicate this in terms of suspense and horror. Psycho is the catalyst for “stalk 'n slash”.   

Regardless of whether you've watched Hitchcock's film or not, this book deserves to be read again...and again. Highest possible recommendation. Do yourself a favor and read this book!

Get it HERE.

The Brotherhood of Blood

“The Brotherhood of Blood”, authored by Hugh B. Cave, was first published by Weird Tales in the May 1932 issue, alongside other notable frightening wordslingers like Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, and Seabury Quinn. It was collected in Cave's first hardcover collection, Murgunstrumm and Others, in 1977. I reviewed the book's title story back in 2023 HERE.

Like “Murgunstrumm”, this story also features vampires and children of the night, only more situated in the throngs of love and rejection. It's a unique story, marked by jealousy and murder, that features Paul Munn, a narrator who tells us in the opening pages he is an aged vampire - if vampires ever really age. He stalks Cambridge, Mass., in an effort to find and drain the life's blood, from his nemesis, a medical student named Rojer Threng. 

Like the typical early 20th-century shorts and novels, the story begins in the present day while the narrator gets situated to tell us his personal experiences from the past. Munn takes the reader back to his college years, where he often shared his apartment with Threng. It was during this time that Threng was dating a woman named Margot, who eventually rejected him. One night, Margot goes to Munn's apartment for aid and is taken aback to see Threng there. 

Threng explains to Munn that there is something not quite right about Margot and her family lineage. Hundreds of years ago, a French village burned one of Margot's ancestors to death, accusing and condemning him for sorcery. That ancestor rose from his grave on his 28th birthday as a vampire. He then attacked and drained the lifeblood from another family member. Then that family member rises on the 28th birthday to kill another family member. This is a cycle. Margot has come to Munn's to warn him that she is on the cusp of her 28th birthday and fears that her mother will rise from the grave and kill her. 

Munn has fallen in love with Margot, but can't save her. Eventually, Margot succumbs to her mother's vampiric bite and dies. Yet, since Margot has no other family members, she warns Munn in her dying breath that when he turns 28, she will rise and attack him. After this statement, the story takes an unusual twist. When Munn turns 28, he does see Margot, but Threng has another plan fueled by his jealousy and rage. 

Obviously, “The Brotherhood of Blood” has an uneven sort of feel to the plot, mainly due to the vague nature of the family curse. The significance of the family killing each other may have been lost on me, but I did enjoy the Munn character and genuinely felt an emotional bond with him. His loss of Margot and the eventual reappearance were developed well. For a short story, Cave fully developed these characters, despite the page limitations. His ability to lift this ordinary college love triangle into a series of life and afterlife occurrences was remarkable. Maybe I just don't read Cave enough to fully appreciate his storytelling strengths. Based on “Murgunstrumm” and this delightful story, I need to pursue more of the author's work. Recommended!

The Dwellers Under the Tombs

There's three characters that appear occasionally in Robert E. Howard's horror stories: Conrad, Kirowan, and O'Donnel. Sometimes all three of these men are in the same stories, while others fragment the three. I covered one of these stories, “Dig Me No Grave” (Weird Tales, Feb. 1937), which featured both Kirowan and Conrad. I found another, “The Dwellers Under the Tombs”, that features both Conrad and O'Donnel. The story was originally titled “His Brother's Shoes”, and submitted to Weird Tales. It was rejected in 1932. It was later published for the first time in the fourth issue of Weinberg's Lost Fantasies in 1976 (alongside Warren Munn's “Tale of the Werewolf”).

In the story, O'Donnel is staying at his friend Conrad's house when a neighbor, Job Kiles, arrives screaming that he just saw his dead brother. It is revealed that Job's brother Jonas lived in an old house in the Dagoth Hills (unknown location). He recently died and is buried in the family's tomb, yet somehow is now alive as a vampire visiting Job. Obviously, the mystery is too inviting, and all three men journey to the tomb to see if Jonas is still lying at rest. What they find is surprising.

Howard is one of my favorite writers of all time (maybe the best), and even when he wasn't at his best, he's still better than the majority of his early 20th century contemporaries. This story may have been rejected for being a little too on the nose, leaving very little to the imagination. It may also have had too much “The Lurking Fear”, a Lovecraft classic first published by Weird Tales in 1928. 

Regardless of the original rejection, this ghoul story is ripe with atmosphere and incoming doom as the two men find themselves alone with the dead body of Job and a coffin that's empty. As they spiral deeper into the spiderweb of underground tunnels, they discover an ancient race that's inhabited the mountain. There is a tight tension as the duo read a diary entry from Jonas that explains his position and the concept of fooling his brother into thinking he was really dead (the reason for the story's original title). But is Jonas dead now? What are the yellow eyes that are peering from the hideous depths? Can O'Donnel, and Conrad, shoot themselves to freedom? 

Roy Thomas adapted this story as a Conan adventure in Savage Sword of Conan #224 (Aug. 1994). Howard loved his subterranean horror stories, evident in “The Children of the Night” and “Worms of the Earth”. This one is really a lot of fun and is highly recommended. 

Get the Del Rey omnibus of Howard's horror stories HERE. Get the 1978 paperback Black Canaan, which features this story and others, HERE. HorrorBabble also presents an excellent audio version of this for free HERE.

Coffin Moon

Keith Rosson won the Shirley Jackson Award for his story collection Folk Songs for Trauma Surgeons. His stories have appeared in Nightmare, Cream City, and the Southwest Review. He's received praise and critical acclaim for his full-length horror novels The Devil by Name, Fever House, and Road Seven. His newest novel is the 2025 hardcover Coffin Moon, published by Random House. 

Coffin Moon, set in 1975, features protagonist Duane Minor, a man rebuilding his life after returning home with PTSD from the Vietnam War. He is a recovering alcoholic and works as a bartender in his wife’s family's bar. Duane and his wife Heidi are raising their teenage niece Julia, who has emotional scars of her own from her troubled past. The makeshift family is fighting and striving for stability and peace. 

While working at the bar, Duane encounters a dark and malignant force named John Varley, who tears at the threadbare fabric holding together all that he loves. Duane is then thrust into a depressive and alcohol induced state while Julia seethes with a need for revenge. 

The two embark on a journey of hide-and-seek with Varley, a vampire criminal with a trail of bodies and a bloody history. The duo becomes entangled in a supernatural world that tests loyalty and the love of family. The desire for vengeance takes Duane and Julia from Portland, Oregon, across the highways to North Dakota. The brutality and body counts rise while Varley grapples with loss of his own, his humanity, or what little remains. The three are saturated with a grief that is palpable and a need to avenge that is all-consuming. 

Coffin Moon is an emotional and visceral vampire tale with memorable characters that are well-developed. Rosson’s telling of the vampire story is not simply a horror offering but a homogeneous blend of gore-soaked revenge laced with heartache and loss. Duane, Julia and Varley share their tales through their perspective, which makes the past events more dynamic. I was glued to the story and Rosson's central question – once our humanity is lost, can it be reclaimed and at what cost? 

Get Coffin Moon HERE.

Survivor Song

Paul Tremblay's horror novel Survivor Song was published in 2020 by William Morrow in hardcover and Titan in paperback. While the book has a COVID-19 feel to it, matching the intense year of publication, the author actually wrote the book two years prior, in 2018. It proved to be a timely publication.

The book takes place in Massachusetts as a new strain of rabies begins affecting the population. The illness prompts the infected to rage, battle, bite, and create overwhelming chaos. Think 28 Days Later on a state level. This is the early wave of the attacks, with many first response workers, facilities, and government agencies unprepared for the pandemic. 

As the novel begins, readers are introduced to Natalie, a pregnant woman living in suburbia with her husband. In this opening nightmare, Natalie's husband is murdered by an infected man, and in the attack, she is bitten. There's a sense of urgency for Natalie to get to a hospital for a vaccination, yet the chaos on the streets and highways makes travel difficult.

Natalie's friend, the protagonist of Tremblay's narrative, is a British pediatrician nicknamed Rams. The two were college roommates and live in the same area. Rams comes to Natalie's aid, and the two begin a perilous quest to overcome countless obstacles, bureaucracy, and waves of infected as they race against time to vaccinate Natalie at a functioning hospital.

At 320 pages, I felt that Survivor Song should have felt a bit more epic. It was my misunderstanding that this novel was a road trip journey, encompassing more landscapes and places as the two “survivors” travel from place to place for shelter. Instead, this is more of a confined road trip, featuring many scenes inside of doctors' offices and hospitals, albeit in a frenzied, panic-fused pace. I think the element of a long road trip ripe with danger would have been more appealing to me, as David Moody, Robert McCammon, and Brian Keene have proven in their more enjoyable post-apocalyptic novels. 

I enjoyed the Rams character immensely, but felt Natalie was a weak link in the story. Her characterization was annoying, with her heightened demands for more urgent care a repetitive cycle that wore itself thin as the book continued. Yet, the star of the show is really the situation – average people placed in extreme circumstances. There were moments of sheer horror, dread, and doom, all placed periodically between passages of subdued dialogue. The book's finale is worth the price of admission and will stay with me for ages. 

Survivor Song is an enjoyable, post-apocalyptic-styled novel that reminds us all just how close we came to annihilation. Get the book HERE.

Polybius

According to Amazon, Collin Armstrong has worked in the entertainment industry for over a decade, developing, writing, and producing material for outlets including 20th Century Fox, Discovery, and the LA Times Studios. His first publication, Polybius, has just been released by Gallery Books and touted by horror heavyweights like Richard Chizmar and Ronald Malfi. Searching for nostalgic small-town horror, I threw my change in for a delightful turn at Polybius. 

There was an urban myth circulating in the 1980s and 1990s about the U.S. government secretly working on a video game that would infiltrate the minds of the unsuspecting public. It was rumored to be a type of spy-craft where the game would read the player's thoughts and send subliminal messages to control the operator. Armstrong runs with this concept to bring Polybius to the good citizens of the fictional seaside town of Tasker Bay.

In the book's opening chapter, a liquidation firm is sent to clean out an office building. Inside, behind a discreet locked door, they find an unmarked arcade machine. Later, they sell it an auction and it ends up in Tasker Bay's arcade. Anyone that plays the mysterious game seems to experience hallucinations, murderous thoughts, and a tendency to mutilate people and animals. 

Armstrong introduces readers to a handful of important characters that must stop the town's decline into depravity and ruin. Andi is a young whiz-girl who works at the local arcade. Her friend, and later love interest, is Ro, the sheriff's son. Together, they must determine the game's origin, the secret behind the game's deadly messages, and, as tradition serves, convince the town's law enforcement that something unusual or supernatural is happening.

Polybius walks a balance beam of horror and science-fiction while marinating in 1970s/80s nostalgia. Think The Crazies, The Wizard, Wargames, and Deadly Friend blended with Stranger Things. At the root of the novel is a small-town mystery as the sheriff and town doctor dig into the root causes of the homicidal rage, while the kids embark on their own quest to discover the manufacturer. There are also some interesting tidbits about game coding back then, the brink of the internet (Usenet), and early psych ops. 

There's nothing to dislike about Polybius. While it doesn't break any new ground, the novel's character development, small-town charm, and rich nostalgia are worth the price of admission. You could do far worse. Polybius is an easy recommendation. Get it HERE.

Exiles

Andrew Pyper (1968-2025) received a B.A. And M.A. in English Literature from McGill University and earned a law degree from the University of Toronto. Instead of pursuing a career as an attorney, Pyper became a full-time novelist, writing 15 novels including, The Demonologist, a 2013 novel that won the International Thriller Writers Award for Best Hardcover Novel. As Mason Coile, Pyper wrote two darker science-fiction titles, William (2024) and Exiles (2025), the latter of which he wrote while battling terminal cancer. Pyper passed away on January 3rd, less than four months after Exiles release date. 

As Coile, Pyper took on a type of gritty, horror-related storyteller role, evident in his cutting-edge AI haunted house novel William. While Exiles isn't a sequel to the book, it still serves as a sort of literary sibling. Both books contain plots in which everyday people are trapped in structures with an evolved homicidal AI. Granted, there are a lot of AI-related films and movies, so the plot isn't necessarily innovative or unique. But Pyper could write well, and his prose is easy to devour, making Exiles a book I was really looking forward to. Be careful what you wish for. 

Exiles stars three astronauts – Blake, Kang, and protagonist Dana – on mankind's first landing on Mars. Their trip, seven months in hibernation aboard a spaceship, is closely monitored by millions of personnel to achieve success. Before the three arrive, a grandiose mission was launched with an assemblage of rovers and worker bots building  Citadel, a cross-shaped facility where the three astronauts will live while preparing humans for future missions to the red planet. The mission is for these three to land their pod, make a short journey to the facility, meet the trio of worker bots, and begin a two-to-three year study and preparation event. However, these sorts of things never go as planned in survival horror.

After a roller coaster landing, the three make it to Citadel and discover two worker bots that have begun to achieve a type of false humanity. These bots have assigned themselves genders, express emotional feelings, and seemingly want to return to Earth. The astronauts are equally shocked and perplexed by the bots' ability (or inability) to become “human”. But the bots, who call themselves Shay and Wes, are also afraid of what is outside the facility. Their description of an alien creature is terrifying to the crew. But, as things get weird – and then weirder – it seems as though the third worker bot might be a homicidal maniac, a crazed machine called Alex. This plot device transforms Exiles into a locked-room mystery set aboard this space facility. 

While this story sounds great, Pyper's characters are irritating. These three were picked as the best of the best, the ultimate representation of Earth transported to Mars. Yet they behave in obnoxious ways, curse every piece of dialogue, and behave like teenagers despite their stellar technical education. Dana is the worst of the trio, and unfortunately the reader rides in her mind and experiences her conscious thoughts. Pyper tries to make the book more dynamic by revealing pieces of Dana's childhood and a mystery involving her mother, but it just never worked for me. Also, the whole concept doesn't provide any answers to the AI problem, just more examples of machined intelligence gone wild. Lots of media positions the problem, but I need author commentary on how to fix the problem (besides crushing the mad robot in a pit). 

Exiles is an okay novel that could have been something special. Instead, poor characters, a bland second act, and the isolation all combine to make the novel one long snooze fest. Your mileage may vary, proceed at your own risk.

Get the book HERE.

Cry for the Strangers

There is a scene near the end of Cry for the Strangers in which John Saul describes his book perfectly. One character is saying to the other, “And I'll tell you something else – I don't think he's ever going to make sense out of this mess. I'm not sure there is any sense.” Interestingly enough, the characters seem to be having a discussion about their creator, John Saul himself. They are accurate in their assessment. Nothing in this book makes any sense because I'm positive the author himself has no idea what the book is about. 

Cry for the Strangers may be John Saul's most notable book. It was published in 1979 by Dell, reached bestseller status with the rest of his bibliography, and was adapted into a CBS movie-of-the-week starring Patrick Duffy and Brian Keith. It's a familiar formula for Saul, the one where the town's outsiders stumble upon a wicked secret preserved for generations. Small town horror is easy genre fodder as it creates an introduction to the town through the eyes of its newest resident. The readers can simultaneously experience the welcome along with the main character. Both are new in town, making it an easy story to delve into. Saul used this plot device for over three decades of horror superstardom. But the problem is, he fails to actually disclose the town's deep, dark secret. Instead, he meanders around it for 418 pages – the exact length of the book – leaving more questions than answers.

The book focuses on the newest two couples that have temporarily moved to Clark's Harbor, a New England-styled town on the California coast. For Brad and Elaine, it is a chance for both of them to pursue their personal goals, which include Brad's book about the body's bio-rhythms. For Rebecca and Glenn, the opportunity to raise their children on the rocky beach while establishing an art store. However, Clark's Harbor doesn't like strangers. Their leader, Police Chief Waylin, is dead set against any newcomers taking up residence in the town. But, despite warnings and threats of physical violence, both couples feel that Clark's Harbor is a place worth fighting for. Saul never bothers to explain what's so special about the town beyond sand and ocean.

Through 418 painful pages, readers experience moving, building store shelves, cooking, cleaning, and other daily routines that pad the page. The horror, if there is any, consists of a man drowning, a woman found hanged to death, a shipwreck, and a main character's death by broken neck. Beyond that...nothing. There's no real explanation for any of it other than some poppycock about storms and bio-rhythm that causes one resident to become homicidal. Nothing else is ever explained. Instead, the author just rests on writing pages upon pages of pointless dialogue and a recycling of the book's main chapter sparks – the two kids running on the beach at night and their parents asking where they are.

Cry for the Strangers is Hall of Shame material. The only crying is the after-effect of reading this boring pile of nonsense and realizing you've lost 12 hours of reading time. Stay away, for God's sake, just stay away from this clutter.

To the Dark Tower

It has taken me about six years to revisit Frank Belknap Long (1901-1994). My last experience with him, 1970s Monster From Out of Time, was unpleasant despite Frank Frazetta's promising paperback cover. Long is probably best remembered as a Lovecraft Circle member, sitting alongside other contemporary Weird Tales contributors like Clark Ashton Smith, Robert Bloch, and Robert E. Howard. As part of Nick Anderson's Book Graveyard YouTube show, The Guide to Gothics, I teamed up with the host and Liminal Spaces show host Chris to discuss Long's gothic paperback, To the Dark Tower (watch HERE). It was published in 1969 by both Lancer and Magnum using Long's pseudonym of Lyda Belknap Long. Humorously, the author adds at the beginning of the book, “To the untiring help and teachings of my husband, Frank Belknap Long.” I see what you did there.

The book stars a woman named Joan, an architect who recently encountered a dark supernatural force in the Pyrenees mountains. At least she thinks she did, and her life has been plagued with visions and nightmares since then. Her lover, Dr. Allen, has invited her to his rural Kentucky home so she can talk with mental health professionals about her experiences. Joan is appreciative of the gesture, but mainly just wants to get laid.

Before Joan's introduction, Long features a young disabled man named Willie witnessing some secret meeting of witches. He later finds a voodoo doll showing Joan's face before he is murdered. Two travelers in the area experience car trouble and make their way through the forest, and discover more crazy shenanigans. When they report their account to the local police, they are killed and buried in the woods. 

To the Dark Tower then shapes up to be a wild folk horror novel where the locals all worship the Devil and kill outsiders. Remember, this is just two years after Rosemary's Baby and the start of Satanic Panic. Books like Thomas Tryon's The Other and Harvest Home were around the corner, along with William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist. At least that was the idea, I think, disguised as a much safer gothic-romance or suspense book by the publisher. Unfortunately, as good as the setup is, Long fails to deliver a quality novel.

After a great beginning, Long delivers 40-50 pages of dialogue (in one room!) as the sheriff, Dr. Allen, and Joan all discuss various topics surrounding her experience in the forest, Europe, and meeting Dr. Allen's sister Helen. This is a long-winded, painful literary exercise that made me consider finishing the book, abandoning it, or simply skipping this ridiculous page padding. I skipped whole pages of this nonsense, only to find the end was nothing short of abysmal. In the finale, the author has characters reiterate what I had already read. This is a rookie mistake, not something a veteran author should be making.

To the Dark Tower is an unpleasant mess that could had the makeup of being a folk horror cornerstone. Proceed with caution; don't get this book. If you have to own it, at least throw a few cents my way by getting it HERE.

Paperback Warrior - Conversations

In this episode, I'm talking with Nick from The Book Graveyard and Chris from Liminal Spaces about a 1969 paperback titled To the Dark Tower by Weird Tales author Frank Belknap Long. Is the book an early representative of folk horror? Is it a standard gothic romance paperback? What are the ties to Lovecraft's cosmic horror? We have the answers in this newest episode of the Guide to Gothics series.

Stream the podcast below, on any streaming platform, or watch the collaboration on video HERE.

Listen to "Conversations - The Book Graveyard & Liminal Spaces" on Spreaker.

The Turn of the Screw

Henry James (1843-1916) authored a number of celebrated works, like The Wings of the Dove, The Golden Bowl, and The Ambassadors. However, his reputation is mostly synonymous with the ghost story The Turn of the Screw. The work was originally published in Collier's Weekly in 1898, then reprinted in numerous formats as part of The Two Magics collection, The Aspern Papers, and stand-alone editions by a variety of publishers. Maintaining the novella's relevancy are the endless adaptations. There have been at least seven film adaptations, ten television series productions, numerous stage performances, and a radio play. I read and enjoyed the book when I was much younger. As part of my collaboration with Nick Anderson at The Book Graveyard, I agreed to revisit the novella for a discussion on gothic paperbacks. 

The basis of the novella is told in first-person perspective from an unnamed narrator. She is the newly hired governess for a boy and a girl living in a large country house in Essex, England. While ages are never provided, I guess that Miles is around 14-16 years of age. He was attending boarding school and has been dismissed for the summer. Later, it is disclosed through a letter that Miles has been permanently kicked out of the school for some undisclosed act. Flora is Miles' younger sister. Based on clues in the novel, I speculate she is around 4-5 years of age. 

Through the narrative, the governess learns that two of her predecessors mysteriously died. While outside on the front lawn, the governess looks up to see a strange man inside the house walking along the tower. Later, the governess sees a malevolent woman dressed in black standing near the children. These appearances continue throughout the narrative, leading readers to question the narrator's mental state. In the narrator's defense, the children behave as if they see these two people as well. Later, the governess describes the people to Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper, and she confirms that these two entities could be the prior “dead” predecessors that tutored the children. 

The Turn of the Screw is a difficult novella to read. The prose and language are Victorian, creating abrasion for readers (i.e. “presumable sequestration”). The most straightforward scenes are described in abstract details that blur the actual events. There is too much anonymity to allow readers to connect to these characters, a strangeness that constructs and seals too many details. I conclude that James purposefully wrote the work in a vague way to create an air of mystery in the whole text. Either this presentation will work for you or it won't. The first time I read the novella, I was intrigued and overly enthusiastic about it. This time, I found the writing tedious and the pace sluggish.

While there are terrifying moments, the way they are described isn't captivating or revealing. Perhaps at the time of publication, this had more of an impact, but in 2025, the horror is tepid at best. I think I'm more moved by the general idea of the novella and the inspiration it provided for gothic paperbacks and films (The Others, The Woman in Black come to mind). There's no questioning the work's positive impact on modern thrillers and horror, and for that reason, I'm appreciative of James' contribution to the genre. You owe it to yourself to read the novella and come to your own conclusions.

Get a version you like HERE.