The Matrix Syndrome. I propose that as both the name for Dan Brown’s next Robert Langdon thriller and as the condition he now writes under. Or with. Or is expressing symptoms of. Not that it’s hurting his sales or his celebrity, of course. Or, as many would have it, his infamy. Remember how the first […]
Man, check this out: My students’ most recent project suite on @stephengjones72‘s fantastic novel, Demon Theory: gbdh.sadiron.com/demon-theory-p… — Chuck Rybak (@ChuckRybak) April 23, 2013
Mixer Publishing‘s letting me run all the tabs/genres this issue. Featuring a cool introduction by Brian Evenson. Seven stories in seven days, complete with story notes and an afterword.
Awards Stitches completely owns: best death-by-umbrella ever, in the history of whatever best cat-murder in a long, long time (to specify, this is the death of a cat, not Gage 2.0) best ‘bet I can extract your intestines and make them into a balloon-dog’-scene best high-heel-to-throat And, Stitches, he deserves some nominations, too. He camps it up with the best of
These are the ten movie clips that are always playing in my head, the ones that I don’t feel I’d be the same me without, my cine-DNA, I suppose. But, no, these clips aren’t necessarily the most iconic from all of film. There’s no “You had me at hello” or “Make my day” or “Of
Found Footage. I love it when a term contains the conceit, just because, by accepting the term, you’ve already bought into the trick: this movie you’re watching, it’s an artifact. Which of course means that it’s real. And if a horror film can have you convinced of that before even watching—it’s a feat. Most horror
How many grails are left now, in American horror? I mean, untouched, un-remade. Exorcist, Omen, Rosemary’s Baby, American Werewolf in London. Surely there’s another iconic one or two I’m missing, but, I mean, Jason and Freddy and Michael and Leatherface have all been updated, a new Carrie’s on the way soon, and I guess the
I haven’t been this impressed with a slasher in a good long time. I want to say since Cabin in the Woods. And before that . . . Tucker & Dale vs. Evil? Behind the Mask: Leslie Vernon? Except none of them quite play it Golden Age, either. And that’s good, don’t get me wrong.
1. Horror can still be very disturbing and very complete without gore and nudity Is there even any profanity in The Mooring? I can’t think of it, if there is. Which isn’t to say over-the-top gore isn’t a complete riot, just all kinds of fun. I like it when I have to hide my eyes.
Man, sat down to make this list on the last day of 2012, but stumbled into the opening line of a novel instead, and have been there ever since. 160, 170 pages in right now, and staring down that last chapter. Which, as always, is terrifying. So, to stall, here’s my list, taking into account
This deep into a franchise—really, I’ve lost count of the Texas Chainsaw Massacres—most horror series are limping along, putting a movie out just to keep the brand in-house, that kind of stuff. Not here. Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3D is every single thing I want from a horror movie. And the story actually surprises me. Worse,
ten in the morning, just after comic book class: and. the close-up: and, will be something different tonight, I suspect. Jason Voorhees, Ghostface, a horse-head dude, I don’t know. I do know this night’s never long enough.
This was the easiest list to make. These are the images and jump-scares I think of first thing each night at two or three in the morning when I wake up. Take last night for example: I’m gonesville when I hear something crash downstairs. Or, I hear the end of it. So of course I
When Katie from Paranormal Activity moves in across the street, it’s a pretty sure bet things are going to get demon-y, and fast. And, we’ve seen the other three, so we know all the rules: demons love to move furniture adults never notice anything there’s always some reason to have a camera rolling 24/7 something
We all live in Stephen King’s house. I mean, all of us who hope to write the scary stuff. Case in point: Sinister. Is there any way to move a writer into a new house and not conjure Jack Torrance? And, going back a touch farther—as King, I assume (going by Danse Macabre) would do
Some movies give me hope. Just, generally. I mean, that you can still mix a movie up from just fast, bad cars and a bunch of happy-go-lucky characters who can’t really ever die. But maybe I should preface this by saying I’m much more of a Cannonball Run/Smokey and the Bandit/Deathproof kind of fan than
I’ve usually got my tongue di-rectly on the pulse of anything slasher, but somehow — two months of book tour? — Detention slipped past. In April, yes, when Growing Up Dead in Texas was just advance copies. And just a couple of days ago I was having a big talk with a good friend about
I knew from the first time I saw the title of this book that I was going to have to consume it, and then I lucked onto an ARC, meaning all I had to do was steal some time from myself. Which, I can be particularly unwatchful when the reading’s good enough. And, here, it
Man, I know: last week I hit Prometheus, and just did a status update somewhere saying it was decent, it was cool, and now here I am with a non-review of a movie fourteen years old already. Still. This one I want to talk about it for a short bit: 1998. Dan Rosen’s Dead Man’s Curve
Just went to the most excellent lecture-discussion led by David Ulin, with Matthew Zapruder and Rob Roberge and Elizabeth Crane Brandt and Mark Haskell Smith and Tod Godberg chiming in—more people as well, but, you know, you lose track. Not of the talk, though. It was about John D’Agata’s About a Mountain, and the kind-of
Hey, Growing Up Dead in Texas is an LA Times Beach Read. And also all around. And Goodreads reviews are coming in — thank you, readers, talkers, passers-on. Bob Pastorella‘s writing about it from Texas. Amazon reviews are coming in. And, for the first time the other day, I saw it live in the wild
I’ve hit both Laird Barron’s collections, of course — if you’re going to play in the horror fields, his bloody square of grass goes for an acre or two — and, in the way of disclosure, he was kind enough to pen the intro for my first horror collection, and I know and respect him
by Caleb J. Ross: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAQBd_GWOE0
New story up at DIN, “Secret Maps” (they’re the best kind). More stories soon, too, in excellentcool places. June will be all linky. “The Ones Who Got Away” made it on/to EWN’s Short Story Month. My weird flowhcart at Weird Fiction Review is all BoingBoing‘d up, thanks to Cory Doctorow. And I made Ann and
Man, where to start. How about with John Mellencamp: When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand “Rain on the Scarecrow” came out in 1985, the year Growing Up Dead in Texas happens. Or, that’s when the events happen. Right around that time I remember walking the fence with my
