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The Heavy Horror Sound from Underground

Horror and music have a relationship going back as far as both; from classical masterpieces to witch house, the kinds and uses of horror themes and tropes vary widely. There’s a special chemistry, though, between horror and rock music, specifically. Indeed, were one to try to divorce rock from darkness, devilry, and delirium, you’d most likely wind up with Donny and Marie, or maybe Stryper. That’s a fate too cruel to damn someone to, so it’s hard to begrudge even the most straight-laced moralist a little taste of horrific fun every now and then.

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Special Edition: Bad Biology!

I have been doing this blog for almost six months now. Some might say I’ve got a couple screws loose, a beer short of a case, a little light in the belfry. All those things are true.


That’s me at my day job…as an accountant. But I digress.

There is one thing I got going on, folks. I have a degree in biology with a specialization in sharky stuff. So I know shark anatomy. I know what it is and what it ain’t. In 99% of these sharksploitation films…it ain’t.

Let’s explore the bad biology of shark movies, shall we? Allow me to play as fast and loose with latin scientific names as the filmmakers do with science-y shit.

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Redemption and Healing in Lucas Mangum’s Engines of Ruins

(This review may contain spoilers.)

I should have hated “Ghost Music,” the first story in the Engines of Ruin collection by Lucas Mangum. I wanted to.

It brought back so many conflicting memories from my childhood/teenage years.

I grew up surrounded by people that were very similar to the main character and his friends. It was the 80s—and it seemed that those “super-cool” social misfits had it all—music, friends, adventures, passion. I was just a regular, boring, nerdy misfit—nothing cool about me. And, as much as I loved the subculture scenes that surrounded goth and punk, of which I became part of myself in the early 90s, my first experiences with it were also ugly and frightening. I was both drawn to it and in love with the scene, and I hated it at the same time.

But once I got past that faintly nauseating, skin-crawling, too-many-memories-coming-at-you-at-once feeling I had when I started reading this story, I experienced something else.

I felt a new sort of darkness take over, replacing this muddled mess of blackness I’m existing in right now.

I felt clean. Centered. In control, even though I could still feel that skin-crawling, nauseous sensation nibbling at the edges of my mind.

I realized (remembered, actually) that’s what’s so valuable about horror.

There’s tons written about how horror can bring you face to face with the things that most terrify you, but it’s what becomes written psychologically through real-life horrors that’s most terrifying. The things that aren’t even that scary on the surface stay with you, for years.

Even into middle age, sometimes without you even knowing they are there.

And, when I read this story, it reminded me of the way that horror can became healing. It quieted those complicated memories from my love/hate relationship with the subculture scenes of the 80s and 90s. I felt closure. Ironically, even Mangum incorporates closure into one of his stories, later on.

And the story “Ghost Music,” perhaps also oddly enough, provided a sort of redemption. A release from my past, just like the main character was released from his, in a manner of speaking. 

I’m glad that “Ghost Music” came first—then I could read the rest of the stories with delight and even laughter, as I usually do with horror.

I laughed my way through “Hell and Back”—such a darkly comic romp.

And “Our Lady of the Sea?” It might as well be subtitled “The life of every writer”—especially when our worlds on paper become so immersive and emotionally demanding, and it’s hard to face the real world. Unfortunately, I was thrown out of the story a little by the type of animal used for the purported sacrifice. It didn’t seem to fit who they were sacrificing it to, or why, given that the animal chosen seems to be symbol of Christianity, and this church is something else entirely. Also, the whole story talks about how it’s winter, and blizzarding, and, although I’m not a farmer or rancher, it doesn’t make sense from that perspective, either. Generally, baby animals are born in the spring. Or so I thought.

But then there was the story “Worlds Colliding” to draw me back into the book. I’m not even going to give away any spoilers on this one…it’s just awesome. Even more delightful was the twist at the end of “Worm Magic.” That one I read more than once, just for the ending.

A couple of times, his female characters crossed over into something too stereotypical and cliché for my tastes, like in “The World Asunder” and “A Killing Back Home,” but I thought it was interesting to have the character of Percy appear in the story “A Killing Back Home,” as a child who is mentioned as being somewhere on the autism spectrum.

But I had Fern to make up for some of the too-typical women characters—Fern, in “Waters of Ruin”; whom I’ll liken to a modern, all-grown-up version of that other notable Fern I also loved in the classic Charlotte’s Web. Fern who breaks down doors to save the one she loves.

It was a lingering, and perfect, finish to the Engines of Ruin collection.

I’m looking forward to reading more from Lucas Mangum, and his demons he’s shared with his readers (the ones he refers to in his closing essay, “The Last Easy Rider.”)

Review by Willow Croft

Twitter @willowcroft16

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What Makes a Wandering Monster?

If you aren’t regularly getting your ear-holes tickled by Madness Heart Radio, you are missing out! Madness Heart Press is, after all, a multimedia affair. In addition to books, Madness Heart offers audiobooks and podcasts, including interviews with authors (including yours truly) and a new weekly podcast called Wandering Monster that I am proud to co-host with fellow Madness Heart madman John Baltisberger and Austin-based playwright and author Lemons Clemons. Wandering Monster is available on Apple Podcasts, I Heart Radio, Spotify, and wherever else fine podcasts are podded and cast. Every week, John, Lemons, and I discuss the coolest and dumbest monsters from gaming and pop culture and then pit them against each other to determine which would triumph in a fight. It’s silly, NSFW fun, and I hope you subscribe and leave us a rating to help others find our show.

There are a lot of questions about monsters that are fun to debate and discuss, many of which are related to taxonomies: what does or does not fit a particular category of monster and why or why not, and the question that underpins the whole affair: what, exactly, is a monster?

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A Dream of a Different World: The Old One and the Sea

Willow Croft’s Review of The Old One and the Sea by Lex H. Jones

This book is for the kids who wished for that one special friend.

Some friend who wasn’t imaginary, but different enough as to seem to be from another world.

A magic world.

A world deep under the sea.

Or even from a world way out in space.

Anywhere, really.

It didn’t matter where.

Only in finding that one true friend who taught them they weren’t alone in this world. And this little void inside that whispered to them they would never fit in; never find a place in this world, would be filled. Filled with love.

And that friend would show them that even this boring too-real world could still hold mysteries and miracles, and a safe place where kindness would win out over cruelty and hate.

In that light, the Old One and the Sea reminded me of what it was to be that kid. It took me right back to a time when the world was confusing and scary and so, so lonely; a place where only my imagination made this world bearable and filled with impossible possibilities.

But, unlike me, and so many other once-children out there, this kid—Howie is his name—discovers the impossible is real when the stars have changed.

And through those fantastical moments spent with what the majority of the world sees as a monster, he is given a gift. The gift of who Howie is meant to be. And while Howie is protecting the monster with his words, his mother Sarah is protecting and nourishing Howie’s newfound gift with her own version of love and kindness.

And that’s enough to break the reader’s heart with the memory of that little hope for something more in this world.

And it’s my hope, now, the children that read this tale will hold onto their own dream of magic made real, with all their love and heart and soul.

Before it’s too late for them, and this world.

Until then, I’m going to recommend Jones’ The Old One and the Sea to everyone I know at/from the day job: fellow teachers, students’ parents, school librarians.