Things that brought me delight in May, 2024:
I decided that my first book of May would be a re-read of Jesse Bullington's The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart. Generally speaking, the protagonists of picaresque fiction are scoundrels, but often lovably so. This is not the case with the Brothers Grossbart, two absolutely deluded graverobbing bastards, who gleefully murder their way across Europe toward the fabled treasure-laden tombs of Egypt. Along the way they encounter deviltry, popery, monstrosity, and all sorts of other sundry evils--but nothing nearly as evil as themselves. This is a nasty little book that lost none of its grot on a return visit.
Art by Nohr
Art by Nohr collects multiple years worth of grimdark monsters, horror-fantasy hybrids, and pieces that would find a home on just about any doom metal album cover. Most famously known for being the art-half of the duo behind the MORK BORG rpg, if you like that game's art you'll see a lot of old favorites here, as well as unfamiliar pieces that will also thrill you. One cool thing I wasn't aware of: Nohr has done a lot of really cool art for projects made using the MORK BORG license. Excellent stuff, beautifully produced book, and this thing is so much bigger than I thought it would be when I backed the kickstarter.
Kirsten Miller's Don't Tell a Soul is a pretty good update of the classic premise "imperiled woman comes to a manor house with horrible secrets." Instead of being a young bride, the protagonist is a recovering addict sent to live with her uncle in the manor he wants to turn into an upscale inn for wealthy Manhattanites. (Which, really, is as terrifying a social set as any corrupt nobles you care to imagine.) The flavor elements work well; there's a history of dead girls looming in the recent and distant past, a creepy mural laden with hidden clues, and a madman living in the woods. The main theme, that silence works against generations of women abused by men, fits nicely into Don't Tell a Soul's Gothic framework.
The Bite Club comics are about the Del Toro family, a clan of South American vampire gangsters running a crime syndicate in Miami. The collection compiles two runs. In the first, we find out what happens when the family patriarch dies, leading to a power struggle between the remaining siblings (a priest, a wiseguy, and a would-be record mogul) and their father's consigliere. In the second run, the Vampire Crime Unit is out to bust the Del Toro family once more, but...they're all hypocritical scumbags with complicated relationships to vampirism, so it goes about as well for them as you might expect. Bite Club is slightly trashy, but a whole lot of fun.
Darkthrone has been around long enough that they now qualify as elder statesmen and can largely do whatever the fuck they want. They've earned it. From their trailblazing black metal days to their crust punk excursions, they follow a muse only they can see. This recent period of albums, which combine a doominess with a love of old-school heavy metal, is shaping up to be my favorite era. Some might call it a Celtic Frost fixation, but to me It Beckons Us All is interesting in how traditional it is rather than how experimental or far-traveling it ends up.
Leon Craig's Parallel Hells is an interesting collection of short fiction. The author is obviously stepped in Gothic literature and medieval history, despite most of the stories traveling in the debauchery of a tonier set than I'm used to. I think that will be the make or break point for many readers when it comes to this collection; although the stories feature a wide variety of queerness, the characters involved tend to be wealthy and privileged. Basically, if you want stories that are the horror equivalent of Saltburn, Parallel Hells might serve you well. To be fair, the collection is a bit uneven, but when it's on, it's on. I particularly liked the hand of glory story; I love those things.
Gothminister is back with a sequel to their last album. The formula remains the same: a gothed-out Rammstein with some fun Engrishy lyrics. I mean, consider these lyrics about a big monster mash melee: "They sent a witch / We brought a monster / In camе the wolves on site / And now thе battle could begin!" Completely stupid, completely fun. Let's fuckin' go.
When the vicar's daughter goes missing during a conspicuously pagan harvest festival, she and her husband finds themselves drawn into a web of conspiracy underlying life in their small village. Ralph Ineson is an absolute treat in this, as is usual, and I enjoyed Tuppence Middleton's performance as well. Lord of Misrule is definitely slow-burn folk horror; if you go into it expecting immediate action and jump scares, you will be disappointed; I've seen a lot of negative-to-lukewarm reviews of the movie, but it seems like those people were looking for more punch and more bloody violence. But if you're fine with a more languid pace and an emphasis on atmosphere over murderous theatrics, Lord of Misrule might find your favor.
My re-read of Stephen King's Dark Tower saga continues, but this month I got to have a special experience with it: although I had "finished" the saga years ago, I never read The Wind Through the Keyhole as it was written after the saga concluded and inserted into the timeline. And it was a treat as The Wind Through the Keyhole is great. It's like a Russian nesting doll of narratives: in the present, Roland is telling his ka-tet a story of his youth, while in the story of his youth a young Roland tells a young boy a story he remembers his mother reading to him as a child. There's a little something for everyone in this novel: mystic cowboy action, weird nuns, sorcerers and their machinations, ancient advanced technology, treacherous fey, degenerate swamp folk, and even a dragon.
With the biggest names in Gothic symphonic metal moving away from the Gothic elements toward more contemporary, mature themes, there is a vacuum for the Romantically dark stuff. Enter Nocturna. Nocturna's album continues their previous sound: a combination of power metal and symphonic metal with dueling female vocals. I was surprised how hard Of Sorcery and Darkness goes; this thing has a breakneck pace that doesn't really let up until one lull in the second half. Blistering, maybe not entirely tasteful, but I'm glad they're keeping this dark flame alive.
I'm a big Robert Altman fan, but I hadn't seen That Cold Day in the Park before. If you want a bad feeling roiling in the pit of your stomach for almost two hours, this is the one for you. The premise is already so uneasy that it borders on the absurd: a lonely, wealthy woman spots a young man sitting on a park bench in the rain and invites him in to get warm. For some reason, he decides to play the part of a mute who can't communicate with her, but undeterred she feeds him, buys him clothes, runs him a bath...all over several days while keeping him as a kind of hostage. Except at night, he sneaks out to see his family before coming back in the window to resume his plush captivity. It quickly becomes a case of who is working who in this situation, and what it is they both want out of the arrangement. Sandy Dennis's performance is magnificent, just jaw-dropping in terms of quiet nuance, so if you get a chance and love a thriller, give That Cold Day at the Park a shot.
Drew Hayes, Poison Elves: Requiem for an Elf and Traumatic Dogs
I've begun a re-read of Drew Hayes's Poison Elves comics from the initial Muleshead Graphics issues. I've decided to document the entire re-read experience, which you can check it out here on the Bad Books for Bad People blog. If you're unfamiliar with it, Poison Elves is a dark fantasy comic that peddles violence and skulduggery in the form of a misanthropic elf protagonist. Suffice to say, I love this slice of 90s indie black & white fantasy comics, warts and all. So, yeah, I'm enjoying the re-read project and am looking forward to seeing where this one takes me.
In J. Nicole Jones's debut novel The Witches of Bellinas, a couple leave their life in New York City behind to start over in an exclusive northern Californian community founded by the husband's cousin-in law, a billionaire tech mogul turned lifestyle guru, and his ex-model wife. This is one of those "everything is too good to be true" situations, even at the outset. (And, to be frank, it's amazing how long it takes the wife in the couple to realize that her marriage is fucking terrible.) It's interesting that there a number of modern Gothic novels, such as The Witches of Bellinas and also Rachel Hawkins's The Villa and Anne Heltzel's Just Like Mother, where lifestyle influencers are the villains--have the influencer set fully become the "evil aristocrat" archetype of the current moment? Anyway, I don't think this novel is as deep as the reviews I've read indicate, but for me this is a fun and light "beach read" book.
I made a concerted effort to listen to the two Agathodaimon records I didn't get to last month: Serpent's Embrace and In Darkness. They're quite different as albums, which should come as no surprise given the width and breadth of Agathodaimon's back catalog, but they are united in the use of symphonic black metal as the underlying flavor of both.
It didn't seem likely that Furiosa would top, or even match, the unexpected adrenalinized spectacle of Fury Road, but the movie did manage to exceed my modest expectations. Yes, prequels are always already suspect, but there are so many interesting little elements of the post-apocalyptic hellscape here and there that the context of Furiosa's backstory becomes compelling. Additionally, while the action scenes are not as grandiose or bombastic as Fury Road's frenetic deathrace, they do manage some pulse-pounding moments. We liked Furiosa so much it we saw it twice.
Castle Rat, Into the Realm
The release of Castle Rat's Into the Realm has been one of the most hotly anticipated doom metal releases of 2024. The fantastical, 70s-worshiping doom of Into the Realm is solid, but I do find myself wondering if the hype and over-reliance on visual flare has set the album up for a few disappointed reactions from listeners who were expecting something a bit more unique or something that featured a few more surprises. As it is, though, Into the Realm is a tight--if short--debut album that makes me want to see where Castle Rat goes next.
At this point, Kideyuki Kikuchi's Vampire Hunter D light novels are comfort food. You know what to expect: D will find himself protecting an innocent or two (usually either children or a beautiful woman who falls in love with him) against a pack of assassins--each one of which will have a silly superpower that fails to take down D. Alongside that, you can expect some weird-ass shit that leaves you scratching your head; in the first two parts of Tyrant's Stars, we get an older mom who has her shirt cut in two to reveal a pair of massive breasts and an out-of-nowhere attempted incestuous rape later on. Kikuchi keeps it fucked up, you have to give him that, at least.
Leaves' Eyes, Myths of Fate
Leaves' Eyes returns with Myths of Fate, once more carrying the torch of corsetcore symphonic metal. Continuing the Norse themes of their past few albums, Leaves' Eyes gives you Beauty and the Beast style vocals, epic riffing, and orchestral wells you expect. Although the album pretty much keeps a standard, even keel, there are a few moments where they get heavier than I expected, which is always a nice surprise.
In general, you can't go wrong with a Euro Gothic starring Christopher Lee. Crypt of the Vampire is a riff on Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla, but unlike many similar films that play it straight off Le Fanu's premise, this movie makes some substantial additions to the famous vampire tale. For example, black magic now figures prominently in the plot. In the end, I'm not sure that the plot of Crypt of the Vampire makes a lot of sense--this is a film that does nothing to explain itself--but you do get plenty of scenes of two buxom women wandering around in the dark while wearing virginal nightgowns, and that's all right with me.
Rotting Christ, Pro Xristou
ODOD is a zine--although I'd say it's more the size of a small book--that collects Twiggs Gorie's writings on horror films. What I really appreciate about this project is that Twiggs doesn't just give you an analysis of each film that she covers here, she also adds the context of how the movie came into her life. That addition of real-life context makes ODOD feel extremely personal and intimate in a way that pushes back against the often sterile "scholarly detachment" that is commonplace in film criticism.
Ahab, The Coral Tombs
It's incredible how well the ebb and flow of Ahab's funereal doom metal matches their nautical subject matter; riffs surge and retreat like the waves of the world's most dangerous ocean. I slept on The Coral Tombs when it first came out, but I beg you not to be like me: if you're a metal head you should definitely add this to your rotation as soon as possible.
The title of The Monster of the Opera is a bit misleading because it's not about an opera company at all; it's about a dance troupe who have rented an old theater to put on their jazzy, modern Cyrano. And there is a LOT of dancing in The Monster of the Opera--it's not quite Ed Wood's Orgy of the Dead amounts of dancing, but we're verging on it here. Also, dancing is very literally part of the resolution of the movie: the vampire can't get them if they're moving, for reasons, so they have to keep dancing...OR DIE! This is one of the stranger Euro Gothics I've seen in a while, but it was pretty entertaining.
I already had a nice paperback copy of C. L. Moore's Jirey of Joiry stories, but when I found this awesome illustrated first-edition copy of Black God's Shadow, I had to add it to my collection. If you haven't read them before, C. L. Moore's Jirel stories are absolutely classics of the sword & sorcery genre; originally published in the pages of Weird Tales, these tales of a warrior queen's strange encounters with the supernatural will make you forget all about Red Sonja.
Dorthia Cottrell, Death Folk Country
Death Folk Country is a solo album by Dorthia Cottrell, better known as the singer in the doom metal band Windhand. Death Folk Country has a vibe similar to Windhand's catalog, but the sonic palette couldn't be more different: instead of crushing riffs, Death Folk Country is a melancholic acoustic affair. If any complaint can be made about the record, it's that the songs all do essentially the same thing. While there isn't much variation here, it's a great sound to get lost in.
It's summer, and tiki is back, baby. I found the two tiki lanterns in the middle at a thrift store. After that, we watched a documentary on the birth of tiki culture, after which my girlfriend bought me the Tiki Pop book. A conversation over on my discord pointed me toward the comic/drink recipe book Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood. Good times, man.
I was back on my Agatha Christie shit in May with another Poirot murder mystery. Appointment With Death features the world's worst family on vacation in the Holy Land. When the tyrannical matriarch dies mysteriously, Poirot steps in to solve the mystery or her...murder? The ending of this one does feel like it comes out of nowhere, but it's a fun enough ride to get there. After finishing the novel, I went looking for a film adaptation and found one with Carrie Fisher in it!
