Favourite Horror Reads of 2014


Thanks to all the writers, readers, publishers and reviewers who’ve kept horror thriving in 2014. Thinking back over the year, here are the stories that stuck with me.

Best of 2014 1

Top of the pile was “No One Gets Out Alive” by Adam Neville. A bleak haunted house story, it concerns a woman trapped in her grubby lodgings by a vicious landlord and other forces beyond his control. Deeply psychological and harrowing, it’s an unforgettable study of cruelty that has plenty of surprises up its sleeve and drags you right to hell and back with it.

I love an apocalyptic thriller and “The End” by Gary McMahon stands above the many others. Following a small group of survivors after the outbreak of a suicide plague, this is an exciting, intense and poignant book from a writer at his sobering best. As in Mr Nevill’s novel, humanity’s darkness is laid bare to the bone and it’s difficult to switch off once you’ve finished.

I’d hardly read any Jasper Bark before, and was absolutely delighted when I tucked into his collection “Stuck On You & Other Prime Cuts”. A real mixed bag of the brooding and the gleefully appalling, it contains two of my favourite stories of the year, “Stuck On You” and “Taking The Piss”. This is superb storytelling on every level, combining ugly violence with black humour to a level that made me feel ashamed for liking it so much.

I love a novella length story, especially in horror, and it’s been a good year for those. But these 3 still linger.

Best of 2014 2

You can’t beat reading a novella in one sitting, especially when it doesn’t give you any choice, and that’s exactly what happens with Mark West’s “Drive”. Heavy with threat, this is a genuinely scary journey of urban terror that follows a young couple in their car being pursued by some hoodies across the city. A true edge-of-your-seat cinematic experience that doesn’t let you pause for breath.

A particularly pleasant discovery was “The Black Land” by M.J. Wesolowski. A modern ghost tale written in a somewhat classical style, it concerns a baleful coastal castle and the family menaced by the Viking slayers that haunt it. It makes this list for the insidious, malevolent atmosphere that enveloped me while reading it, and still delivers a subtle chill when I think about it now.

I also couldn’t forget “Water For Drowning” by Ray Cluley. A tragic tale of longing, it’s narrated by a brash minor rock star who falls for a groupie who’s dangerously obsessed with mermaids. I was absorbed into their journey of warmth and sadness.

Alien Titan

Finally, as a huge fan of our toothsome, acid-blooded pals, special mention goes to the new Alien novels from Titan Books (“Out of the Shadows” by Tim Lebbon, “Sea of Sorrows” by James A Moore and “River of Pain” by Christopher Golden). It’s been too long since the mythos saw some satisfying spin-offs, and this muscular and well-written trilogy brings plenty of fan-pleasing familiarity along with fresh ideas.

Hope you all had a good new year, and keep reading the ghastly stuff in 2015.


Review – “No One Gets Out Alive” by Adam Nevill


Adam Nevill writes a mean “haunted house” story, as demonstrated by last year’s “House of Small Shadows”. His brilliant new novel from Pan builds on that foundation (sorry) and combines ugly violence with spooky chills for an engrossing read that sits in your psyche long after reading.

No One Gets Out AliveAfter a failed relationship and a grim family circumstance in Stoke, Stephanie Booth is making a new start. Strapped for cash and temping in central Birmingham, she rents a cheap room in what is advertised as “girls-only” accommodation on the rough side of town. But she soon realises that her house-sharing dream of chatting with similar young women over a communal stir fry and a bottle of wine is pretty far from reality. The neglected and cold house at 82 Edgehill Road seems strangely deserted, despite the creepy noises that emerge from beneath grimy beds and behind fireplaces, not to mention the silent figures that seem to stalk the corridors and bedrooms during the night.

But the danger also comes from a tangible presence in the form of her landlord, Knacker McGuire. An odious fashion-hooligan whose disturbing behaviour sets Steph on edge from the moment she moves in, he is determined to talk her out of leaving, and we know his intentions can be nothing but nefarious. When his even more unpleasant cousin Fergal turns up, Steph’s life soon descends into nightmare.

This novel dives straight in. I enjoyed the single point of view that immerses us into Steph’s plight and the slow-burning menace that pervades every chapter from the outset. There’s a Rosemary’s Baby feel of having nowhere to turn, and Steph seems trapped even when she could still physically leave. We are teased by her resolve to escape and also by the potential for outside help in the form of her old friends and ex-boyfriend back in Stoke. When she does briefly leave the house for work or other errands, our relief is palpable, but she keeps getting drawn back into its baleful atmosphere through no fault of her own. It’s to the author’s credit that this requires no suspension of disbelief and it’s a horribly believable pickle in which Steph finds herself.

All this would only work with a stout protagonist, and Steph is a perfectly investable character. She’s sensible, likeable, and possesses an inner strength that is soon tested to the max. Her fear is so real that it makes us want to intervene, especially when she’s being bullied by her landlord.

Regarding the other characters, Knacker Macguire is an obnoxious and unpredictable liar. In fact, he’s so devoid of positive personality traits that you might think he would be a bland cliche, but far from it. As Steph describes: “It was the kind of face that nutted and spat and bit; she recognised it from around the bad pubs in Stoke.” He’s the epitome of every sneering bully you’ve seen causing trouble after a beer, and only the arrival of his cousin manages to relegate him to being a secondary concern. Fergal brings a terrifying physical presence and an even bigger cruel streak than Knacker, but without any of the hesitation or insecurity. This makes him a truly vile presence, and the dynamic between the two men is an awkward and depressing phenomenon itself.

The author is an astute observer of the human condition which comes across through nuances of behaviour and faultless dialogue. This adds a grounded realism regardless of what strange occurrences may also be in progress.

Which brings us to the haunted house element. Is the house inhabited by spirits? Or are the spine-chilling nocturnal disturbances trickery on the part of the landlord? Or maybe it’s Steph’s own sanity that’s on the road to ruin. It keeps us guessing, and even as someone not usually impressed by the suggestion of the supernatural, it thoroughly creeped me out.

I love it that the house itself is a presence, almost fulfilling the role of an abusive partner, drawing Steph back for more torment and knowing she has no choice and nowhere else to go. As you read, 82 Edgehill Road also takes on the macabre aura of infamous addresses belonging to real-life serial killers.

Despite its dalliance with classic spookiness, this book is not for the sensitive. The jeopardy becomes truly unpleasant, and the often-misogynistic abuse delivered by Knacker and Fergal is pitch black, even when purely psychological. It also doesn’t hold back with the violence. The author understands the use of sound, and also utilises Steph’s unwavering point of view for scenes that can sicken even when off-camera. An example is this moment when she witnesses a man receiving a beating at Fergal’s hands:

“Even though Stephanie had turned her head away, a sound followed her, a noise similar to a large metal spoon repeatedly striking an open crate of eggs until they were all smashed to liquid.”

The bleakness is tempered by rewarding moments such as brief shifts in the balance of power that put me in mind of Susan Hill’s “I’m the King of the Castle”. We get a few surprises, superb use of the book’s ominous title, and just when you think it can’t sustain the spiral into hell for the whole novel, there’s a satisfying change of direction about two thirds of the way through. It’s unexpected and works perfectly to maintain the threat while keeping it all feeling fresh.

Being picky, my only complaint would be the occasional dreams. They’re well written and serve a purpose, but I found myself restless for a return to the real action. However, as I’m generally allergic to dream sequences in fiction, this may be more of a personal preference than a true criticism.

“No One Gets Out Alive” is a longish novel, but has the keen bite and ease of reading that one normally finds in something half this length. Creaking with desolate mood and menace, it nails its characters and settings through elegant turns of phrase and the intensity can be quite breathless at times. I was gripped by the descent as it kept peeling back its wounds and revealing more darkness, right up until the under-your-skin conclusion.

An intelligent slab of carefully-crafted terror, it made me feel somehow infected as though the malevolent forces at work had somehow leaked from the pages. Although as a reader of this book you actually get out alive, the scars might take some time to heal.

Highly recommended.

Review – “Stuck On You and Other Prime Cuts” by Jasper Bark


I adored the earlier single release of “Stuck On You”, so when it became the title story of a new collection from Crystal Lake Publishing, I was at the front of the queue. Jasper Bark has since become one of my favourite writers. As well as being a master of character and stage, he merges extremes of nastiness with dark humour to a degree that made me feel guilty for enjoying it so much. But not enough to stop reading, obviously. No, you never stop because Mr Bark doesn’t let you.

The title piece is up first and concerns the plight of Ricardo, a man assisting a drug mule called Consuela across the border from Mexico. He has a history of cheating on his wife and he falls at this hurdle too, succumbing to his lust with young Consuela in a roadside glade of trees. But a freak occurrence sees him stuck in a vivid nightmare of erotic, physical horror that grips from the opening page and doesn’t let go. It left this reader appalled, impressed, amused and ashamed. A cleverly constructed descent into hell, I would struggle to label it as either extreme horror or black comedy, such a seamless meld it is, and it’s certainly one of my favourite novellas of the year.

(My earlier, longer review of this story can be found here)

On to the short stories, “Taking The Piss” is up next, and maintains the high bar admirably with a brutal portrayal of urban, disenfranchised England. Our narrator is a hardcase you wouldn’t want to upset and despite being no stranger to prison, he has an admirably defining sense of right and wrong. So when a disabled boy is bullied and attacked by some gobshite wanker in his local pub, he decides to take conclusive action. The violence is ugly, the voice is convincing, and also works in the perfect audio version read by Chris Barnes (Available to listen for free here). We get another gleeful suckerpunch of a finale, and I think the price of this book is worth it for these two opening stories alone. But Jasper Bark is far from finished with you.

The tone shifts for “The Castigation Crunch”, a sharp satire about a demon and an oily economist who arrives in hell, full of ideas for organisational reform. The colourful underworld blends wonderfully with the world of management speak, the metaphors are effortless, and the humour much lighter. From PowerPoint presentations to fire and torture, the tale allows you to gather your breath after the brutal realism of the first two stories. Basically, you get to smile at this piece without feeling like you’ve done something wrong.

Up next is “Ill Met By Moonlight”, a sexually charged short about a lothario named Ben, his lover and partner. There are plenty of twists, but I’m not going to give anything away so you can enjoy it blind.

“The scalpels were so sharp Stephanie could almost taste them.”

Rob MoranThus begins “How The Dark Bleeds” with a deeply troubled woman in a hospital basement. An impressively harrowing story, and one of the few here in which humour doesn’t get a look in, we slowly learn about whom she is and her fascination with blood and folklore. Neat flashbacks paint Stephanie’s difficult past, which include a miscarriage and her partner leaving her for her own sister. Of course she is damaged, but the more we discover, the more the plot thickens in several directions. A very thoughtful instalment in which folklore combines with intense personal torment, it brings classic tropes to a beautifully sinister hospital setting. Although a few medical procedural things didn’t quite add up, the author delivers another trademark slap of icy realisation towards the end. Brilliant stuff.

Next up, “Mouthful” is a slick flash piece about animal rights and a discredited new age researcher. It lets us realise the punchline JUST before it actually tells us, which is no mean feat, and I applaud the author’s quartz-like timing.

“Haunting The Past” plunges us into the soup with a trapped thief. Whilst trying to burgle properties that had been evacuated due to an impending landslide, our unfortunate anti-hero leaves it too late to scarper and ends up completely entombed in a house beneath an ocean of mud. All he has for company are what appear to be ghosts from the past, watching ethereal snippets of their lives in the rooms of the house. Are these apparitions the product of an unravelling mind, or could they actually be his only hope? This tale throws a different angle on the traditional ghost story, teasing us with a clever ambiguity about who’s actually the ghost, and I found the stout emotional core very satisfying.

I had read “End Of The Line” before in the underground-themed anthology of the same title, and it brings another stark opening line.

“He woke on the platform in a pool of blood.”

So we find an injured man, confused by memory loss on the platform of a disused station. A twisting, dimensional nightmare, this tale pans out like an ultra-adult version of the Twilight Zone. I’ll confess that I got confused when I first read it a couple of years ago in “End of the Line”, but found that it works much better here out of that context, unswamped by all things underground. A neatly bookended and multi-layered piece, I was chuffed to have finally “got” it.

The final story in this collection is another novella and a glorious slab of monster-horror. The previously unpublished “Dead Scalp” clocks in at 70 pages and was well worth saving until last.

It begins with a kangaroo court being held in the saloon of Dead Scalp, a dusty and dangerous Western town that oozes threat, sweat and blood. It’s run by a terrifying thug named Big Bill and populated entirely by outlaws, thanks to a local native called River Flow who brings them to the town via a mystical portal. The story follows a new arrival in town – James Briggs – who is on the run for armed robbery, and soon starts to wonder why everyone has enormous beards and impractically long hair. Not to mention being intrigued as to what “death by ingrowing” might entail.

Naturally, what it entails is hand-rubbing gruesomeness in the Jasper Bark tradition, but there’s the odd sour uppercut here too. A fun scene of monster gore in a graveyard is followed by some horrific violence towards a prostitute, and it’s quite a shock. The abrupt switch to sobering reality reminds us that as well as a B-movie beastie, this town is populated with some really nasty pieces of work.

Blood Meridian meets The Thing, “Dead Scalp” explodes with imagination without ever letting the characterisation slip. The tough guy swagger and dialogue is a delight and some of the blackly comic turns of phrase made me grin as I was swept along by the action. It’s a proud finale to the book and concludes with an evil twinkle in its eye, just like how it all began.

I highly recommend Stuck On You and I’m glad Jasper Bark chose extreme horror to spill his demons. Even if the shocking stuff isn’t normally your bag, these tales are so well written and vivid that it might be the book that converts you to the dark side. The atmosphere permeates the room, characters clamber from the pages, and rarely are offensive horror and humour such filthy – but perfect – bedfellows.

The book also comes with an amusing introduction by Pat Cadigan, plenty of immaculate artwork by Rob Moran, and a pleasing afterword by fellow horror mischief-maker John Llewellyn Probert.

So get reading, folks. I’m off for a bath in industrial bleach and holy water.

Review – “Water For Drowning” by Ray Cluley


I was looking forward to this novella from This Is Horror, having enjoyed a short story of Ray Cluley’s in the “Dark Minds” anthology a couple of years ago. It stuck in the memory for merging a wild concept with heart, and I was pleased to discover that “Water For Drowning” takes this to the next level.

Water for DrowningIt’s narrated by Josh, a young lad in a rock band who lives with his mates near the Isle of Wight. Playing mainly cover songs in pubs and clubs, they enjoy just enough success to pay the bills and Josh cares for little else but gigs, booze and groupies.

But when Genna – a wistful girl with a fascination for mermaids – repeatedly turns up to watch them play, Josh finds himself attracted. She loves it when he puts his own material into the set, particularly those songs about the sea, and Josh is drawn by the mystery as well as his own ego and lust. But as he gets to know her, Josh realises all is not well. Damaged by her past, Genna’s mermaid obsession doesn’t stop at her seaweed tattoos and interest in folklore. She also drinks seawater, self harms and genuinely believes that she can become one.

This is a beautifully written piece. From noisy nightclubs to the cold ocean, this story is haunting in both its evocation of place and also the sheer longing that Genna projects. It drew me in straight away, intrigued as to how this young hedonist was going to deal with someone so fragile, dangerous and unpredictable.

Josh is a convincing character and a great voice for the tale. He and his friends are not the best of folk – brash, crass and in it for the girls – but this gives him plenty of room to evolve. His amusing observations and crude wit also balance the tone, preventing it from becoming too intense.

Despite his laddish attitude, Josh realises that the troubled Genna has massive potential for self-destruction. This forces him to actually think about consequence and their relationship evolves naturally from here. We know he cares about her and desperately don’t want him to mess it up for both their sakes, but even the moments of warmth are tinged with sadness. We want Genna to be okay, to achieve the peace she yearns, but we can’t shake the feeling that this is an inevitable slow spiral into increasingly dark waters.

With regards to the folklore, this novella had me guessing if there were actual supernatural forces at work or if it was purely the portrayal of an unravelling mind. The plot teased both possibilities, though it becomes almost incidental to the emotional resonance as it builds to a powerful conclusion.

And that’s the essence of “Water For Drowning”. A poignant meld of fairy tale and contemporary drama that washes over you like a swell. Ray Cluley is a thoughtful and sublime storyteller and I was surprised at how much I cared. One of those rare tales that left me in a reflective, melancholy mood.


Note: This story also comes with an author introduction about the genesis of “Water for Drowning” and a bonus short story “Shark! Shark!”. Concerning the shooting of a B-movie, this clever and darkly humorous horror whodunit won a British Fantasy Award in 2013. It made me grin and ties up this little package nicely.

Review: “Alien: Sea of Sorrows” by James A. Moore


This is the second in a new trilogy of Alien novels from Titan Books, and manages to meet the bar set pleasingly high by the first instalment of “Out Of The Shadows” (My full review of Tim Lebbon’s story here).

sea of sorrowsThis time, we travel to New Galveston – LV-178 – an outer rim planet already terraformed and boasting three cities. But plans for a fourth have been slowed by the “Sea of Sorrows”. This is a vast area of noxious and unstable black sand, threaded with strange silicon nodes, in which nothing will grow. Working on the site we find Alan Decker, a toughened safety commissioner with strong empathic abilities who also happens to be a descendent of our favourite alien-slaying icon, Ellen Ripley.

Of course, Weyland-Yutani (aka The Company) aren’t far away. When an old mining excavation and alien ship is discovered, talk of xenomorphs abound. After Decker is injured on the Sea of Sorrows and seems to have forged some kind of nightmarish link with the alien consciousness, The Company blackmail him. He has to join a crew of heavily-armed, hired mercenaries on an expedition into the mine and bring back a live specimen.

I had a great time reading this book. As you would hope, Weyland-Yutani present the epitome of corporate ruthlessness. Their knack for being one step ahead of the game and playing everyone as pawns is perfectly realised in the form of Andrea Rollins, their ice-cold and sociopathic spokesperson. The Ripley link is a nice idea, and it’s Rollins who uses this family tie to force Decker into compliance. This is with a bit of good old-fashioned extortion, naturally, making him pay for Ripley’s trademark talent for blowing up expensive Company installations.

Decker himself is a solid lead, investable and made real by his flaws, and the seasoned roughneck mercs do their job. Some of the characters are a little bit stock, and several of them don’t get enough airtime to become distinguishable from the others, but they serve a purpose even if it all feels a little familiar.

That’s one of two problems I have with this book. It’s initially rather samey with regard to setting and devices: The Company wanting to capture live specimens, a consultant thrown in at the deep end with a squad of protective hard-cases, a crashed alien vessel, being stalked in old mine shafts. We’ve seen all of these in the films and previous novels, several tropes of which feature in this book’s direct predecessor “Out of the Shadows”. I suppose I was hoping for some fresh ideas, the kind of which featured in some of the Dark Horse tales of the 90s. We had the infestation of earth in “Earth Hive”, a dangerous musician wanting to record an alien’s scream in “Music of the Spears” and the intrigue and mystery of an xeno-detective’s life in “No Exit”. As a result, “Sea of Sorrows” was never going to stand out too far above the crowd. But I was pleased to discover that the author makes the most of the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere for some superb tension and excitement.

My main problem however, lies with the concept of the aliens being out for revenge. They somehow know that Decker is a descendent of Ripley, whom they regard as “The Destroyer”. While I’m all for introducing new developments to the species, I think portraying them as vengeful thinkers makes them somehow less frightening than the instinct-driven killing machines that care for nothing but queen and nest.

That said, the rage and consuming hatred felt by the aliens is used to good effect, especially in a visually stunning encounter with a queen. There are also plenty of dream-like snippets in which Decker’s subconscious connects with the xenomorphs, and we see and feel their point of view. Conveying something so… well, alien, is no easy task but the author gives us a ghastly peek into what it might be like to actually be one.

Overall, there’s plenty to please fans of the mythos and also the casual horror/sf reader. The vicious attacks are cinematic and very easy to follow, despite the subterranean chaos, and the breakneck action is straight out of “Aliens”. One fight in a steep, narrow tunnel lingers in the memory as a horrible bottleneck of screaming, gunfire, corpses and acid blood.

I also like it that the story utilises the fact that readers are familiar with the xenomorphs, but the protagonists are not. For example, the mercenaries find a corpse they assume died by stray gunfire, though it’s clear to us that she was the victim of a chestburster. This fosters a wry but uncomfortable feeling. I also loved their gob-smacked reactions to seeing the black, chitinous creatures for the first time, and the author does well not to unnecessarily overdescribe.

There’s also a couple of pure horror moments for those who like their spines thoroughly chilled. A couple of attacks out on the malevolent sands of the Sea of Sorrows produce shivers and a good old-fashioned jump in the seat. While much of this book is in the vein of “Aliens”, these silent stalk-and-kill scenes evoke the anticipatory dread of Ridley Scott’s film.

Of course no story can survive without pathos, and there’s tragedy and humanity here too. One memorable scene sees two close friends cocooned beside each other in the alien’s nest. After realising they’re impregnated and awaiting a horrible death, the ensuing dialogue is refreshingly moving.

Despite my reservations of familiarity, the second half of the book is a blast with a couple of tricks up its sleeve, and of course not everybody is what they seem. I read the last 150 pages in one sitting, and after all that adrenaline, the conclusion is appropriately dark.

“Sea of Sorrows” is very well written. Some of the older Dark Horse mythos books were poorly scribed, to the point where I even bailed on one, but at least with this trilogy Titan have given the job to those who are up to the job. James A. Moore has delivered a robust novel of atmospheric action, treachery and dripping teeth. They can definitely keep them coming for me.

“The Black Land: Matty Dunn’s Story” by MJ Wesolowski


As much as a review, this is a bit of information regarding “The Black Land”: a novella of coastal terror by MJ Wesolowski (My review here). The author has written a short story, available to read on his website, telling the story of one of its minor characters.

Black Land picIt’s been several months, but the baleful atmosphere of “The Black Land” is still very much with me, and that doesn’t let up here.

Matty Dunn is the local fisherman who sails Martin, the troubled protagonist, to the grim island of Blamenholm. We find out about his upbringing, schooldays, and memories of his dying grandfather in his weatherbeaten bungalow. Not to mention the menace of the castle, almost personified in the form of a stone that young Matty stole from school.

“That stone; he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Miss McKay left it on the edge of her desk and it sat there, coiled and grotesquely ready, like a bony fist.”

“Matty’s Story” is a must for those who enjoyed “The Black Land” The change of POV adds authenticity through using local dialect, and the tale ties up neatly with the novella that inspired it. Apparently, this story came to be after a plot device involving a gun became too logistically difficult, and I’m glad. This is a far more elegant and chilling way to deal with it.

Read Matty’s story with authorial introduction here:

Part One

Part Two

Review – “The Sleeping Dead” by Richard Farren Barber


Despite what the title and cover suggests, this novella from DarkFuse isn’t a zombie story. It has a similar anticipatory aura at the outset, but rather than delivering adrenaline and the undead, this tale brings a haunting and disturbed take on the apocalypse.

The Sleeping DeadJackson Smith has a job interview, but notices during his bus journey into the city that something is askew. People seem distracted or silently adrift, and upon a bridge that becomes the scene of a suicide, Jackson finds himself succumbing to the dreamlike haze, entranced by the dark river that claimed the body.

He makes it to his interview up on the 8th floor of an office building, but after a series of increasingly gruesome deaths – and a sinister and enticing voice that has begun in his head – he realises that the city is gripped by some kind of suicide plague.

Trying to ignore the suggestions of his subconscious, Jackson latches on to the vague hope of finding his girlfriend Donna and ventures out into the burning city to find her.

This novella is superbly written, snaring us immediately with the author’s vision of an ordinary day turned to hell. Richard Farren Barber never tells us anything but simply lets us realise, and it’s always nice to be seamlessly informed yet unpatronised by an author.

Jackson himself is a normal and generally decent fellow, perhaps even rather bland, but this only accentuates the horror that intrudes into the urban mundanity. His reactions to the unpleasant events are very human, as is the way he grasps at a tangible goal – his girlfriend waiting for him – to try and bring cohesion and focus to the madness.

I particularly liked the novella’s pervading sense of nightmare. It begins subtly with a rocking man on the bus whom Jackson believes to be mentally ill, cranks up the unease through the silent witnessing of the suicide, and then really puts us on edge during the interview when one of the panel starts rocking and angrily mumbling to himself. I actually enjoyed this rollercoaster hill-climb more than when the city finally capsized.

But that’s not to say the apocalypse is a disappointment. It’s beautifully painted, full of grim and heartbreaking images of the oddly gentle carnage. Some people kill themselves, others slip into catatonia where they sit, presumably lost to their own whispering psyches. Jackson is left to battle himself as he wanders the city with Susan, a woman whose suicide he managed to avert, and they’re a pleasingly awkward team. Bound by circumstance and clinging to rationality, their relationship is suitably strained and soporific as both struggle to stay afloat.

I did find the second half slightly overlong and a more fleshed-out conclusion or an extra plot device or two might have assuaged its length for me. But this might also have distracted from the mood, not to mention Jackson’s internal voice. This is the essence of the scourge, and the most effective of villains: inescapable, parasitic and very creepy.

There’s little action, so if the cover had you hoping for scrabbling hordes and white-knuckle bloodshed, then you’ll be disappointed. Nor is it for those who prefer neat concrete packages with all their questions answered. But I loved the lingering menace of “The Sleeping Dead” and was left restless and bothered without quite being able to say why. Which is exactly how Jackson Smith’s day began…