Review – “The Sleeping Dead” by Richard Farren Barber

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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…

Review – “Mother’s Boys” by Daniel I Russell

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I hadn’t read a novel by Daniel I Russell before, and “Mother’s Boys” from Blood Bound Books was certainly a startling place to start. Full of high-octane horror, this is for those who like a bit of moral ambiguity to keep them on their toes.Mother's BoysWe meet Nat, a young woman with punk and goth tendencies who strives to be different from the crowd. Despite her subversive attitude, she lives an ordinary life, treading water in a dull restaurant job during which she looks forward to spending time with her boyfriend, Simon.

But one night outside a rough back-street pub, she witnesses some of Simon’s old friends attack a woman and starts to wonder about his past. She’s soon drawn into a battle between her boyfriend’s vicious ex-crew and a dangerous family that live in the sprawling sewer network beneath the streets. But choosing a side is far from easy, and Nat finds both her loyalties and her sense of right and wrong tested, not to mention learning the true nature of the outcast.

Nat is a solid character to drive this tale. She’s pleasant, sharp and generally sensible, but also harbours an impulsive naivety that lands her in trouble from time to time. Her familiar normality also helps to contrast the other main players, who are anything but.

Simon’s old gang are proper bastards. Johan, the leader, is a creatively misogynistic psychopath who has issues with OCD and rage, and you know it’s never going to be boring when him and his croneys turn up. They put me in mind of Alex and his droogs from “A Clockwork Orange” : the charismatic evil leader and his 3 lesser but tempestuous charges.

And as for the family of sewer dwellers, they’re a mixed bag of the monstrous and the humane. After an introduction in which they seem to be genre-conventional cannibalistic predators, we slowly realise that there’s depth to the family too, and become curious regarding the fraternal compassion and intelligence that keeps them alive down in the putrid darkness.

In fact, it’s the layers that make all the characters in this novel work. We learn more about them all through several reveals, and this is how they play with our loyalties. Will Simon fall back into his shadowed ways of yore? How far will Nat and the sewer family go to protect themselves? Whether driven by revenge, survival or love, there’s a pleasing ambivalence all round and any character investment in “Mother’s Boys” is far from clear-cut. Once the boundaries have been blurred, it’s easy to spend much of this book bouncing around and wondering who the monsters really are.

With a knack for atmosphere, this author takes us into the heart of the crumbling alleyways, bars and sewers of the city, and also writes action very well. When you’ve got multiple characters fighting in dark, enclosed spaces, this kind of scenario can get confusing – not to mention dull – but I was with it all the way.

As well as plenty of seamless action, there are nightmarish moments down in the sewers, and some shocking images that linger long after reading. A scene of appalling sexual torture from Johan in the opening chapters made me realise that Mr Russell isn’t scared to throw a screaming taboo in our faces, and ensured I kept my guard up for the rest of the book. This novel should appeal to fans of Richard Laymon and Bryan Smith, carrying a similar vibe in character, theme and the matter-of-fact prose, though perhaps without quite that heady level of violent lust.

There’s a degree of substance here too. The plight and the treatment of the homeless is touched upon, and also what it means to be truly different. Realistic dialogue and complex relationships between the characters – especially Nat and Simon – keep the human drama elements moving along nicely.

Being picky, I have a couple of buts regarding character motivation. Too often, Nat wandered around the menacing streets alone and got herself into terrible trouble. While I understand that she has a spontaneous and headstrong nature, it just didn’t quite add up for somebody generally in possession of common sense.

Another perplexing why? moment occurs when the sewer is being invaded. One of the more astute but physically vulnerable family members reveals himself to the gang for no apparent reason other than theatre, and pointlessly places himself in mortal peril. There’s also a strange lack of respect for the danger of firearms on more than one occassion.

But “Mother’s Boys” is an entertaining read, and once it kicks off, is difficult to put down. Greyzone morality stops us from relaxing too much, and humanity comes from where one might not expect it. The breathless showdown is a whopping 80 pages and I’m not going to let on as to whether it’s happy, bleak or finishes on a wry punchline. I tried to guess and was wrong, so I suggest you have fun doing the same.

Although I wouldn’t classify this book as extreme, the moments of ugly sadism mean it’s not for everybody. I’ll certainly never look at a cheesegrater the same way again. But it’s a tightly crafted story and if you like a bit of internal conflict with your subterranean violence, I think you’ll enjoy it.

Review – “Drive” by Mark West

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I’ve been enjoying Mark West’s fiction for several years now, and his brand of atmospheric, uneasy horror always has me coming back for more. He is one of those authors that brings such investable humanity and resonance to his fiction that genre is rendered almost irrelevant. I was therefore delighted to discover that with this new novella from Pendragon Press, he wanders outside his usual discomfort zone into white-knuckle territory, but still manages to deliver his most terrifying piece to date.DriveDavid Moore is a finance manager, away from his wife and home on a work-related course. Attempting to assuage the lonely boredom of an evening in the hotel, he grudgingly attends a house party held by a local course-mate. Here he meets Nat, a friendly divorcee, and as the night grows late, he offers her a lift home. But a black Audi full of drug-fuelled hoodies is terrorising the local population, and when David and Nat become their target on the lamp-lit, unfamiliar streets, things are all set for a breath-taking game of cat and mouse.

David is the perfect lead character for this story. It needed an unlikely hero, and as he is sensible, pleasant and tends towards gentlemanliness, we instantly invest. The same goes for Nat, who brings fire and intelligence to her classic role as “damsel in distress”. David’s courage is also amplified by his understandable fear and initial hesitation to act, so by the time the story has really got into gear, I was firmly in their corner.

In true Mark West style, he initially engages the reader through deft evocation of normal scenarios with which we can identify, then injects teasers of menace to draw us further in. And in this story, the menace is immense. The men in the black Audi are thoroughly nasty and dangerous, indiscriminate with their sadistic cruelty, and this threat is cranked up page by page. A particularly pleasing device is that their arrival is always heralded by pounding bass music from the car – the familiar epitome of anti-social aggression – which is used to great effect. It conjures an ominous and cinematic dread in the same way clanking chains precede the arrival of the cenobites in the Hellraiser films, or the slow, ground-shaking footfalls of an approaching T-Rex in Jurassic Park.

“Drive” is a simple chase story with a classic set-up. But it becomes so much more than the sum of its parts through superb writing and – once it kicks off – an adrenaline-soaked pace that doesn’t take its foot off the pedal for a second. The tension and fear are so palpable that there is nothing to take you out of the moment, right up until the intense finale. There are no clues as to how it will all pan out, or as to why David and Nat have been singled out as prey, forcing you to find out for yourself. And I wouldn’t dream of giving anything away.

Another element I loved is that despite the urban sprawl, David and Nat have nowhere to turn. This isn’t the traditional rural or isolated setting for such a tale – they are in the heart of civilisation – but the dark streets, petrol stations, and even the police offer no sanctuary as it becomes a matter of life and death. They are on their own, and this is skilfully achieved without any suspension of disbelief.

The moments of violence are stark and sometimes shocking. And these aren’t “fun” shocks either, like the gleeful scares of ghosts, deranged serial killers or monsters in the closet. This is bitter-tasting street violence of the kind that may well be lurking in an alleyway outside your house with a flick-knife and an erection.

If you can handle the darker stuff, I would recommend “Drive” regardless of your usual genre preference. Just be sure you have no plans for an hour or two, because you aren’t putting this rollercoaster of a novella down for anything. Except perhaps the arrival of a black Audi with pounding bass…

Highly recommended.

Review – “Deep Like The River” by Tim Waggoner

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My previous experience of reading Tim Waggoner was the slick hardboiled-horror series “Nekropolis”. This new novella from Dark Regions Press couldn’t be more different, showing that in addition to wise-cracking action, this author can deliver an intense and wrenching allegory in true style.Deep Like The RiverIt’s a beautiful day on the Little Clearwater river as we meet Alie and her sister, Carin, on a canoe trip through the tranquil, American countryside. As well as a day out for the two sisters to relax and catch up, it’s also an opportunity for Alie to deal with a terrible anniversary that involved the loss of her child.

When they find an apparently abandoned baby on a sandbank, Alie is determined to see the defenceless child to safety downstream. But something seems to be lurking in the trees alongside the gentle river, and bitter memories from her past seem to be out to get her.

I became snared by this superbly-written piece from the first page, and this is partly thanks to the rich evocation. I was immediately there in the canoe, soaked in the sights, sounds and warmth of the idling waters.

But it’s Alie that really drives it. This is her story, and we slowly get to know her through seamless dialogue, introspection, and flashbacks of an abusive childhood. These are just as gripping as what’s happening on the river, and Alie brings an incredible sense of humanity: its life-affirming strengths as well the terrible fragilities.  I love how the author fleshes his character out in such an intriguing, slow-burning fashion.

Alie’s experiences – her upbringing and recent grief – have left her damaged and vulnerable, but also full of spirit. I quickly empathised, and a couple of moments made me proud of her. But all this is soon tempered by some genuine chills as the gaps are filled in.

Tim Waggoner has nailed that askew, helpless feeling of when dreams teeter on the brink of nightmare. The canoe is attacked by a water serpent, sections of the shallow river become impossibly deep, and these episodes of fearful unreality crank up the menace. The occasional moments of relief – such as when Alie and Carin bump into a couple of other people basking in inflatable rings on the river – are also soured. Everything feels sinister, and the author cleverly makes us experience this as reader without necessarily requiring the conscious input of our protagonist.

The literal river journey is a mirror of Alie’s subconscious, and her desperation to save the baby is heartbreaking. Carried by the frustrated pain of her grief, I became scared of where it was leading. Not only with regard to what might befall the sisters further down the river, but also the slow reveals of Alie’s past. This is one of those stories that made me want to stop because I was afraid of what I might find out, but was too engrossed to even think about it.

I really enjoyed “Deep Like The River” and won’t forget the experience – the battle of desolation and hope – in a hurry. Tim Waggoner’s voice is beautifully invisible, letting the plot and characters unfold without intrusion. This is as much a thoughtful exploration of guilt, grief and a damaged psyche as it is a rural adventure, and while the finale rounds it off with appropriate flair, it’s the journey that’s important. And what a rewarding one that is.

Recommended.

Snippet of fiction news

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Bete Noire 15My new flash story “Gene Puddle” is now available in the latest issue of Bête Noire Magazine.

A speculative piece, it concerns the subtle but sinister fate of graduates in a world where the state knows more about us than we do.

With its pleasingly creepy cover, issue 15 is available in print and e-book from the publisher, and also Amazon and the like.

Cheers.

Review – “Stuck On You” by Jasper Bark

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“Warning! Do not buy this book, gentle reader” begins the blurb of this novella from Crystal Lake Publishing. It continues in a similar vein, shooing potential buyers away with cautions of plumbed depths but without actually offering any details about the contents. So how could I resist? But whether that purchase was the result of rash curiosity or clever marketing is irrelevent. “Stuck On You” is both the best and the most gleefully unpleasant thing I’ve read this year.Stuck on youThe tale concerns Ricardo, an American on a trip into Mexico to acquire some cheap artisan crafts for his wife to sell back home. As he’s a bit of a lothario with form for cheating, these trips are as much a test of his fidelity as a business venture. So when he bumps into young Consuela – an alluring drug mule who wants passage across the border – we’re not surprised when he agrees to give her a lift. Ricardo becomes increasingly horny throughout the journey, and while waiting on a deserted country lane for Consuela’s dealer to make contact, he gets the reward he was really after.

And that’s when it goes horribly wrong.

Terrifying-urban-legend meets worst-possible-nightmare wrong.

This is going to be an unusual and restrained review from me. Although that’s the basic set-up of the story, I’m not going to spill any specifics of what happens to Ricardo. This isn’t because of spoilers, as chapter one begins after his nightmare is already underway and has it all laid out within the first few pages. No, I’m holding back because I read it blind with no idea what was coming, and loved it that way. So I’ll just let Jasper Bark tell you what happens instead. Because you are going to read this.

Why? Heady erotica and extreme body-horror collide with a bang, sending us and Ricardo on a horrific downward spiral that gets nastier and… dare I say it… more amusing with every turn of the page. And just when you think it can’t get any worse, it does. And then again. And again.

The helpless descent is structured like a black comedy, and borders on gross-out slapstick at times, but never loses its agonisingly sharp edges. It made me writhe, recoil and smile, sometimes all at the same time, which is probably the most joyfully offensive thing about it. I almost felt dirty for allowing myself to become so charmed.

“Stuck on You” ticks every box with regard to pace, character and evocation. Just leave your concern for all that is good and wholesome at the door. The conclusion is glorious – a chilling suckerpunch that cleverly ties up this gruesome package – and my mouth might actually have fallen open for a moment. Then I exhaled and shook my head slowly as I put the book down, partly sickened by the assault, but mostly in sheer admiration of it.

If you can stomach the hard stuff, then you’ll devour this gripping piece in one sitting. I love it when extreme fiction is so superbly written, and I will definitely be buying Jasper Bark’s collection when it comes out in a month or two.

Never has an author’s evil eye twinkled so bright. Highly recommended.Stuck on you 2

Review – “Boot Boys of the Wolf Reich” by David Agranoff

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I really hoped that this release from Deadite Press would be good. Punk/skinhead subculture and werewolves are both right up my street, so I was pleased to discover that David Agranoff has written an appropriate homage to both. With characters worth rooting for and plenty of gore, this is as much a coming of age tale as it is a ghastly slab of Nazi horror.Boot Boys final coverA chilling prologue introduces Klaus Schroeder, SS gruppenfuhrer at Auschwitz. He’s as cold, efficient and dangerously hateful as you would expect, and whilst on the trail of escaped prisoners, he discovers an ancient cult who use the hide of an Egyptian wolf-god to achieve lycanthropy.

We are then transported to Chicago, 1989, to meet Paul: a young mixed-race skinhead new to town. He’s quite a likeable lad, and we’re along for the ride as he settles into his new life, sees his first street fight, and finds both love and brotherhood with the local scene of punks and skins.

Similarly we meet tough guy Sonny, who used to be one of this crowd but has since fallen in with neo-Nazis. He now works at an auto store run by an ex-KKK wizard and although more intelligent than the other thugs in the gang, he finds asserting himself more difficult in such an ultra-aggressive environment. Not to mention them getting a beating, twice, at the hands of new kid Paul and his anti-racist crew.

But our old friend Klaus is also new to the area, fresh from evading Mossad overseas. He’s looking to resurrect Hitler’s Reich by starting an Aryan werewolf army, tuned for hunting and unstoppable savagery. What better place to start recruiting than a store full of white power boot boys out for revenge?

I enjoyed this book. The first half has plenty of street menace, with one tense scene using a dead-end alleyway to good effect. I suspect that some of this is semi-autobiographical, which lends credibility to the action. And once the lycanthropy has kicked off, there are scenes of stalking and violence that get the pulse racing. Some of these characters are dangerous enough as people, but as werewolves?

Regarding the protagonists, Paul’s coming-of-age rings true and Sonny brings ambivalence. Despite him being on the wrong side, he has potential, and toys with our loyalties. It also leaves us guessing as to whether the bestial nature of the wolf will be his redemption or downfall.

While the racist slurs used in dialogue are startling, they stamp a chilling authenticity on the neo-Nazis. Overall, the politics and the whys-and-wherefores are tackled intelligently without eroding any of the fun of the story. It is also through this that comes some of the more uplifting moments. When Paul is locked up in a cell with a rival gang member, there’s an American History X type moment of camaraderie that brings hope.

There are plenty of nasty moments, but this is tempered by humour in the comradeship, and also through the narration. For example, the neat throwaway line “They had to eat the Hammer Skins because they wouldn’t calm down” made me laugh out loud.

As I was hoping, “Boot Boys of the Wolf Reich” is rounded off by a showdown of violence and gore. As the first half lets us get to know the crew, this is monstrous carnage we can invest in, and certainly makes the most of the concept with some well-written cinematic flourishes.

A nice touch for the music fans, as well as the in-story references, is that each chapter starts with an appropriate lyric. Some of these are from my favourite Oi! bands, such as The Business and Cock Sparrer, and its great to see a nod to these often-unsung heroes of punk. And it’s also pleasing that there’s a firm differentiation between traditional skinheads and the sieg-heiling supremacists.

David Agranoff is a succinct storyteller. He paints a clear picture, whether in a concentration camp, ska gig or back street, and transports us there through the characterisation and drama. And if you’re not familiar with – or dislike – the music, then don’t worry. The subcultural garnish brings only colour and life, and you’ve still got a well-paced story and homicidal Nazi werewolves bent on world domination to entertain you.

Oi! Oi!

Review – “The Black Land” by MJ Wesolowski

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After a few days of June sunshine spent in pub beer gardens, it was a grey and rainy afternoon, so I thought some old-school terror would be the perfect way to while away a couple of hours. This downloaded novella from Blood Bound Books proved to be just the thing with its baleful castle, ghosts in wolfskins and a splendid descent into madness for all those unfortunate enough to be involved.Black LandWe meet Martin Walker, an American self-made tycoon who owns the exclusive Gateway Resorts. He arrives in North-East England with his wife and two young children in tow, intent on acquiring the remote island of Blamenholm to add to his luxurious list of locations. But the bleak slab of rock is also home to a forbidding and long-abandoned castle that was once garrisoned by invading Norsemen. And it appears that these “Children of Odin” – psychotic wolfskin-wearing warriors high on hallucinogens and bloodlust – are still very much there in spirit.

The tale begins with a brilliant Hammeresque feel as the family visit the storm-lashed rock. I was completely drawn into the malevolent atmosphere as they enter the twisted keep of the castle, a building apparently designed to keep something in as well as out. Not to mention a vast, diabolical trap looming in the shadowed hall that chills the family – and us – right from the start. And that’s before we even know what’s lurking in the castle’s dungeon, about which their English guide Saul is terribly grave but teasingly vague.

They return to a rented mill in the coastal countryside, and things start to go wrong pretty quick. His wife Martha and the kids start to have dark thoughts as nasty ghosts rise from their past, and everything becomes drenched in the same unease that bled from the castle. The rooms plunge cold, things go missing, internal voices start to whisper. Their young son Chad claims to have seen wolves, and pawprints surround the sodden mud around Martha’s car, all of which cements the tone for a genuinely scary ride.

I really enjoyed this novella. The characters are well rounded, filled out deftly with back story as the tale progresses. Although the stubborn, success-driven businessman Martin is not always the most likeable character, we still invest, and soon realise his behaviour – and increasing rage – isn’t entirely in his hands.

While there’s a few familiar tropes, there are some ghastly flourishes of fresh imagination and attention to detail, and I was drawn into world of Blamenholm and the Walker family. I also enjoyed the author’s use of digital technology (such as smart phones) to bridge the gap between the archaic and the contemporary. This particular ancient evil sure can adapt with the times.

What’s also cleverly done is that the family seem trapped, somehow unable to pinpoint and discuss the creepy events with the expected rationality. This creates a slick aura of otherworldliness as the wicked powers do their thing, racheting up the fear.

Ah yes, the fear. What I loved most of all about “The Black Land” is the chills. MJ Wesolowski creates menace through suggestion and a superb malignant presence. This is “bump in the night” horror rather than graphic, and all the better for it. I was startled by the movement of one of our cats in the room, and the rain and wind blowing through the branches of a tree outside my window kept making me glance up uneasily from the page. Creating such edginess on the part of the reader is no mean feat, and is of course the essence of any quality horror story.

I also liked the author’s voice. There is no fixed POV, which is unusual nowadays, but used to good effect here. It gives the whole thing a classical feel and provides sinister narrated observations of which our protagonists are unaware. The prose is also very descriptive – which isn’t usually my thing – and although I found it slightly off-putting at first, I soon settled in. Stick with it, stalwart reader, because this style brings evocation and grim atmosphere by the bucketload.

The conclusion also delivers. The final few chapters tie up all the loose ends, some of which I’d forgotten about, and there are a few surprises as everything descends into nightmare. My anticipation was stoked throughout the first half, and rewarded by a noisy showdown of subterranean, primordial dread.

I will definitely be checking out more of MJ Wesolowski. “The Black Land” is great value for money at 111 pages – available in print and download – so if you fancy a seamless meld of classic and modern horror, give it a whirl. Just don’t read it alone on a rainy night. Actually, do read it like that. Because hey, we’re all a bit tweaked in the head and that’s exactly why we love this kind of thing.

Review – “Home and Hearth” by Angela Slatter

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I hadn’t read any Angela Slatter before this, but I certainly will again. Volume XI in the reliable Spectral Press chapbook series, “Home and Hearth” is one of those short stories that sticks.H&HWe meet Caroline, a single mother welcoming home her teenaged son Simon. He’s been in custody for the duration of a deeply unpleasant trial, and despite him not facing sentence, Caroline finds it difficult to put the tough times behind them. She wants to want him back and be a good mother, but the ghost of Simon’s actions – and indeed her own – will not be silenced.

Overall, I found this quite a wrenching piece. It’s exquisitely told, with keen attention to detail, especially regarding the sinister awkwardness of Simon’s return to “home and hearth”. The characters are convincing and Caroline’s sense of shame – amplified when forced out in public to buy groceries – also makes us squirm beneath the pity and curious distaste of others. We’re under the microscope with her, but at the same time, aren’t quite sure what dark secrets she might also harbour. These are deftly woven in through back story, and when presented alongside moments of familiar domesticity, it could be happening to any of us.

Caroline’s torn sense of right and wrong carries this tale, along with the sense of innocence lost. Of course any parent wants to protect their child, but what if such maternal instinct may have terrible consequences for others? Caroline has to reconcile loyalty, love, guilt and responsibility as the plot glides effortlessly to a gut-punch conclusion.

Many horror stories conclude with either triumph or a gleeful descent into bleak. But like many of my favourites, this doesn’t fit into either camp. It’s poignant, brutal and concrete – the way it needed to be – and I couldn’t help but be satisfied despite the heartache.

I enjoyed “Home and Hearth” enough to read it twice, and found that it rewarded the extra time with a new experience of grim hindsight. This chapbook certainly does the Spectral brand and chapbook series proud, delivering the kind of quality that makes me renew a subscription without hesitation.

H.R. Giger: 5 February 1940 – 12 May 2014

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I was saddened to learn that Swiss artist, sculptor and set designer Hans Rudolf Giger has passed away due to injuries from falling down the stairs at his home. He was 74 years old.

HR Giger

Famous for biomechanical vistas and surrealist sexual nightmares, I became familiar – like many others – via his iconic design of the alien creature from Ridley Scott’s 1979 film. It’s safe to say that the whole mythos, of which I’m an enormous fan, would never have been so powerful without his vision.

Personal favourites are tough to choose from a man with such a rich back catalogue, as I discovered when pondering a Giger tattoo. Whittling it down to a couple, I love Satan I: one of his enigmatic but religiously themed peices that graced the cover of a Celtic Frost album. Anti-establishment? Profane? Let all be the judge.

Giger Favourites

I’m also particularly fond of his haunting homage to Böcklin’s “Isle of the Dead” which captured my morbid imagination as a kid. The menacing calm and alluring darkness always draws me back, and it has since overlooked my writing desk for the last 15 years, testament to his ability to inspire.

His work not only speaks to visual artists, but also writers, musicians and countless others. Rarely is someone so missed in such a range of fields, and he leaves an amazing legacy. Not to mention the coolest pub in the the entire world (The Museum, Gruyères, Switzerland)

Giger Bar

This is a sad day for the world of the macabre and surreal, and my thoughts go out to his family and friends.

RIP.