Review: “Devil’s Highway” by Simon Bestwick (The Black Road: Book 2)


Simon Bestwick’s “Hell’s Ditch” – a convincing and exciting vision of post-nuclear Britain – was one of my favourite reads of last year.

I wondered where he would go from there, especially as this is not only the ‘difficult sequel’ but only the second of a four-part series from Snowbooks. It turns out that for this instalment of the Black Road Quartet, he’s decided to whiten everyone’s knuckles with an extraordinary and relentless blast that throws post-apocalypse, violent military thriller and supernatural sf/horror into the cauldron and leaves it all to boil over.devils-highway-coverOne of the remarkable things about this novel is that it seems to work as a standalone. It’s almost a year since I read the first book, and wondered if I should dip in and refresh, but there was no need. Of course my memory was jogged by the familiar characters and milieu, but Simon Bestwick ensures that things fall neatly into place on their own. That said, I’d still advise reading “Hell’s Ditch” first because it too is an excellent book (my full review here) and also because it will ensure maximum enjoyment from this. Both you and the author deserve that.

But, anyway. Dust has almost settled on the rebel uprising and showdown of the first book. The Reapers, a brutal militia led by Commander Tereus Winterborn, still rule with an iron fist over a beleaguered population, but the rebels have made gains over the harsh winter. Winterborn is attempting to locate their central base – an old fort built into a cliff-side above a system of caves out in the sprawling wasteland -and it’s not just their stronghold he wants. He’s obsessed with bringing the resistance’s poster-girl Helen Damnation to a ghastly end. But at the same time, something is stirring from the ruins at an abandoned base that saw terrifying cosmic experiments, and it becomes clear that guns and knives won’t stop what is being unleashed.

Right from the start of “Devil’s Highway”, we know it’s all about kick off. Like a Mad Max version of the build up to the battle of Helm’s Deep, the author masterfully raises the tension, so it’s a genuinely difficult book to put down before it has even really got going.

After a bloody rebel attack on a Reaper convoy, Winterborn and the psychopathic Colonel Jarrett start closing in on their base. With the help of Dr Kellett, they use a creature of his laboratory tinkering called the Catchman. Sporting glass eyes, claws and a vast, toothsome grin, the Catchman is part mechanical and part flesh: a custom-built hound on the scent. It’s a glorious concept and flawlessly described as the fury of the flesh combines with mechanical calm – the “machine” vs “red brain” – and a far more interesting way to instigate a stalk than an actual hound or simple manhunt. There’s also great attention to detail out in the windswept wastes of the post-nuclear midlands, and I enjoyed the glimpses of rustic life such as the boat people who live in the marshes, unaware of what terrors are moving in their midst.

This hill-climb is made all the more ominous by the Genetic Renewal Division, or “Jennywrens” for short; Winterborn’s merciless extermination squads. They’re chilling enough as individuals or patrols, and readers of “Hell’s Ditch” will be familiar with their barbaric antics, so when a veritable army of them hoves into view on the shattered horizon, the threat is quite exquisite.

After some good old fashioned skulduggery, the tipping point arrives, and from then on the pace and intensity of this novel rarely ebbs until its deeply satisfying conclusion. We are treated to page after page of exploding brickwork, pounding blood, screaming engines, tinkling shells and the rending of flesh, and the action is so clear and succinct – with just the right level of military and technical detail – that it doesn’t outstay its welcome. In fact, it’s never less than addictive. “Hell’s Ditch” was the early stages of the uprising. “Devil’s Highway” is all-out war.

The noise is tempered in the second half of the novel with some very pleasing flashbacks to fill in back story of several characters. These episodes of relative calm allow the reader to catch their breath and gather, but also bring energy of a different kind as humanity, romance, friendship, betrayal and all manner of internal struggles balance the hellish battle that hammers on in the main thread.

Characterisation was a strong point of the first instalment, as it is of any Simon Bestwick tale, and the characters I’d grown to love have all evolved after the long winter since we last met them.

Helen Damnation, the biggest thorn in both Winterborn and Jarret’s sides, is still haunted by her dead family via the phenomenon known as “ghost-lighting”. We learn about her as a teenager during the early days of the Jennywren cleansing and just how vicious they can be. But then so can she. It’s great to read of her formative years and how she ended up with the rebels, and also explains exactly why she’s such a force of nature.

“The things she’s seen and done and felt are old shrapnel: lodged deep, imperfectly healed around, locked where they can’t cause pain except when the wind blows cold”

The last surviving Grendelwolf, Gevaudan Shoal, is back with a flourish. Born of Dr Kellett’s nasty science, almost indestructible and designed to kill, his dry wit, love of music, weary amiability and massive heart are always a pleasure. As are his furious episodes of slaughter on the battlefield. He’s become very close to Helen, which just makes his polar nature more interesting; he’s a ruthless killer and yet such a sweetheart. This is epitomised by a nice moment when he averts his gaze because Helen is changing her clothes while the stains of his last Reaper bloodbath have barely dried on his claws. He’s a very sage man, and although we get a few snippets of his back story, plenty of mystery is maintained. Which is just the way the privately dignified Gevaudan would like it.

Young Danny Morwyn has morphed from nervous newbie to hardened soldier, and Allanah Vale – the resistance veteran who was tortured by Jarrow – is no less damaged, but muscled rather than shrinking, and consumed with the fire of vengeance.

Darrow, Wakefield, Flaps, and the other minor characters are fully fleshed, and we feel for them after only the briefest introduction, such is the author’s talent for investment. Scopes – a near-silent and skinny sharpshooter – is one such character I fell for, despite her lack of speech and relatively short screen time. There’s a poignancy about the younger fighters, all feisty, innocent and afraid. But it’s a different and darker kind of fear for the veterans, because they know the true nature of what’s coming for them.

I really like Zaq, a straight talking and fierce gunsmith who lurks by furnace-light in the fort’s armoury. She scares pretty much everybody, which leads to some splendid and wry dialogue with Gevaudan. The women in this world are just as physically strong and frontline as the men, not because of politics or authorial agenda, but simply because this post-apocalyptic wasteland and its denizens has no concern for gender.

And then there’s the Reapers, of course. Tereus Winterborn – a man who manages to be consumed with rage and utterly calm at the same time – is as vicious, petulant and elegant as ever: all the things an ultra-creepy fascist dictator should be. He still elicits a degree of sympathy, thanks to more fascinating history reveals, and it makes us wonder if he could ever have been anything else? I was riveted by his metamorphosis from child into the monster we see before us now, and we learn why he’s so full of obsessive rage towards Helen. Many of the characters have a nemesis, some of whom are unaware of that fact, and this is put to good use. It’s all about those key moments in life, those forks in the road where people can go either way and be derailed by the subtlest nudge. A strong theme in this book, it shows the enormous influence we have on others whether we realise it or not, and whether we even want – or accept – that responsibility.

Things are never quite black and white with Simon Bestwick, and although there is an undisguised contempt for the Reapers and their vile regime – and rightly so – he doesn’t blame the trapped youths sucked into their ranks to be spat out as cannon fodder. We see the point of view of angry and terrified teenagers such as a young Jennywren called Walters, thrown in at the deep end and under fire of Normandy beach landing proportions. As they cower beneath the onslaught, you really get the miserable horror of being sent to die by the machine. There is also one death scene that I expected to be a satiating revenge kill, which instead turned out to be strangely elegiac. But then, just as the lines between good and evil start to blur, the Jennywrens will beat some children to death with iron bars, and give us a stark reminder of what we were about to pity. I love this toying, and Simon Bestwick is very good at it. Even the amphetamine-popping Jarrow – Allanah’s old torturer –  who is some kind of heinous combination of Josef Mengele and Pinhead when it comes to inventive and ice-cold distribution of pain, has her demons and frailties, and worries about coming apart as she’s tormented by her ghost-lighting family.

Nevertheless, we root for the rebels and their inspiring solidarity in battle, so of course there’s heartbreak and heroism, but I found it refreshing that there’s never a moment of dumb gung-ho. The cruelty of war is laid bare, and the ever-wise Gevaudan Shoal sums it up best as he surveys the scene of a massacred Jennywren patrol:

“Next to a battle lost,” he muttered, “the saddest sight is a battle won.”

As I mentioned earlier, there’s a strong Mad Max feel about this book which was absent from “Hell’s Ditch”. Rather than an urban setting, this is the barren wastelands. It’s centred around a heavily armed stronghold, and fills spare moments with high-octane driving and convoy assaults. I loved the action sequences where engine oil joins the arterial spray as pimped-up cruisers flip and shatter in flame, and there’s also a splendid vehicle called the Battletruck that made this Fury Road devotee grin like a War Boy.

The military angle is convincing and much research has clearly been done regarding weaponry and mechanics, aiding the realism and also presenting some raw sniper warfare scenes. With regards to strategy, I like the way it tackles the responsibility of leadership and command, summed up by this powerful thought from someone with a conscience returning to the front line.

“So used to barking orders for others to run and shoot he’d nearly forgotten how it was. Half-scared. Half-glad. At least in that kind of fighting it was simpler; just his life lost if he fucked up.”

The structure is in the form of short chapters, each with a military-esque designation of place, sector, date and time. This is appropriately cinematic, suits the tone of the story to a tee, and is also a neat way of letting us keep track of so many locales and characters as it jumps around.

There’s some exhilarating stalk and kill scenes, and the story gets very tense as it careers into a muscular finale that finally lets the fireworks fizzle out before braining you with pathos. There’s genuine poignancy in this novel, and the intimate relationships that form are brittle. It actually made me tear up, twice towards the end, and not with annoying schmaltz but simple and honest human feelings.

But overall, what an incredible ride this is. The dystopian fire that “Hell’s Ditch” stoked explodes with “Devil’s Highway” using a cast of fully-forged characters to drag us into an epic and imaginative action sequel where nobody touches the brakes, but still makes time to give your heart a good squeeze amid the blood and thunder. It might have been my imagination, but I’m sure my ears were whistling by the end.

The potent conclusion perfectly winds up this part of the story, setting up Book 3 with just the right measure of resolution and anticipation. With the Black Road Quartet now half complete, the bar is set impressively high, but Simon Bestwick gives us no reason to think that the rest of this tour-de-force in progress will be anything less than superb.

Highly recommended.

*Visit the Black Road website here for information on the series, background, character profiles and more.

Review – “Hell’s Ditch” by Simon Bestwick


2015 was bang on for apocalyptic fiction – my favourite kind of horror – and this novel from Snowbooks was the last I read. With a pitch-perfect dystopia, plenty of violent action, and a raft of absorbing characters, it was one of my top reads of the year and ensured it finished on a thoughtful and explosive high.Hell's DitchThe setting of “Hell’s Ditch” is the north of England, 20 years after some kind of holocaust. Civilisation has grown from the ashes but poverty is rife, life expectancy is low, and the country is ruled by a brutal dictatorship. Using a highly trained militia known as the Reapers, they favour public executions for insubordination, genetic experimentation, and use firepower and fear to control.

Naturally, not everyone does as they’re told. There are warrior tribes out in the wastelands who answer to nobody, and also pockets of urban resistance operating in the cities, sick of the Reapers living well as everybody else suffers in a misery of disease and violence. These rebels are grievously short on numbers, weapons and opportunity, but when a presumed-dead heroic figure of the rebellion called Helen Damnation reappears, she brings fresh hope. Especially as she might be able to enlist the help of the hardest man on the planet.

Gevaudan Shoal is a Grendelwolf, and the last of his kind. A huge and modified human being, he was created to be a machine of war with immunity to pain, extraordinary self-healing powers, and an alarming capacity for killing. Helen wants to use both old grudges and morality to entice him from the hermit’s life he’s embraced and help fight the Reapers.

I just fell into this perfectly-paced and very well written book. Only a few pages in, we find Helen Damnation with a young rookie called Danny being pursued through the shanties and grim city streets. This is high-octane writing that Simon Bestwick does so well, and it’s testimony to his subtle skills of characterisation that I invested so immediately.

In fact, it’s the characters that really hold this great story together. From the main players to the bit parts, they’re complicated and realistic with their individual hopes, beefs and baggage. Helen Damnation is deeply damaged after losing her family and being buried in a mass grave, driven by her goals at the expense of rationality. Danny is a cocky but likeable young lad thrown in at the deep end, in possession of both courage yet a sensitive heart. Unlike some of the older characters, he doesn’t mourn for the old world as he knows nothing else. Other resistance characters include Helen’s experienced mentor Darrow, who brings a jaded wisdom, and Alannah, an emotionally-scarred woman who was tortured by the Reapers and for whom Danny begins to develop feelings.

But the real jewel in the resistance’s crown – and indeed the whole book, for me – is Gevaudan Shoal. Living alone in a derelict district named Deadsbury, the only survivor of his synthetic species is a glorious character. He’s seen pure hell and slaughtered countless people because of what he is, but he has principles, a nobility and stoical dignity. Hilariously droll at times, he’s also fond of manners that seem quaint in such a gritty world and is capable of touching humanity. It’s impossible not to root for him, and his character also paves the way for some satisfying righteous violence when he tunes into “the fury”. This resembles the rampage setting on a video game in which his already devastating killing powers are cranked up to nitro-boost levels. What I also love about Shoal is that despite having the most reasons to be insane, he’s actually one of more level headed and pragmatic of the bunch. Brilliant.

But it’s not all one sided, and we get to know the enemies of the resistance too. We follow Mordake, a chain-smoking scientist who works for the Reapers to create some kind of techno-paranormal super weapon. Named Project Tindalos and shrouded in ominous, Lovecraftian mystery, it’s linked to “ghostlighting” – a phenomenon in which people are visited by members of their dead friends or family. A stressed and desperate man, Mordake’s cosmic experiment is driven by the desire to bring his wife back from the dead, rather than any actual financial reward or allegiance to the Reapers. He’s an intense character who plays with our sympathies, keeps us on our toes, and is also the canvas for a scene of memorably macabre horror.

We also meet Jarrett, a brutal and dedicated Reaper officer determined to bring her nemesis, Helen Damnation, to justice. This is partly due to the threat that Helen and her comrades pose, but Jarrett is also fearful of the repercussions from her boss if she fails. Yes, it wouldn’t be a proper ruling militia without somebody chilling at the helm, and this role is more than filled by Commander Tereus Winterborn.

“His face was smooth and pale, with a red Cupid’s-bow mouth. On another man, it would’ve been called effeminate; on a girl, beautiful. On Winterborn it was neither.”

He’ll stop at nothing for absolute power and Project Tindalos might be his chance to achieve it. I’m not going to say anything else about the man who never blinks, because you’ll have more fun meeting him and his bottled fury yourself. I’ll just leave with you this.

“Winterborn sounded amused, even flirty. He was, Mordake knew, never more dangerous.”

As a reader, we fall on the side of the resistance, but it’s not a simple matter of good versus evil. Everybody’s flawed and afraid of something, and there are moments when sympathies wander and boundaries blur, touching on the importance of perspective, guilt and obedience in any war.

As tensions between the factions escalate and the threat of Project Tindalos gathers steam, the second half of the book takes us on a breathless subterranean adventure. There are some savage and immersive battle scenes as it throws the wastelanders, rebels, Reapers and other surprise elements I won’t spoil into the mix together. We see loyalties and feelings torn, and plenty of adrenaline. In fact, one particularly taut pursuit and fight made me shudder in relief when it was over. The showdown of the novel itself certainly delivers as the whole thing explodes into an epic sf/monster horror, but it never loses its maturity and message.

I applaud Simon’s vision. It’s a menacing and bleak world, made tangible by flourishes and attention to detail. For example, regional language has evolved convincingly through the circumstances of the apocalypse, and the use of old weaponry and cobbled-together technology gives it all a pleasing cyberpunk garnish.

I enjoyed watching the characters evolve, particularly Danny, and we cheer him every step of his journey. Gevaudan Shoal brings fragility despite his immense powers, and point of view is used to great effect in dialogue. Don’t get too comfortable, however, because there are poignant deaths and some incredible sacrifices to be made.

But despite all the heartbreak and bloodshed, there is always hope in both the spirit of the resistance and in people’s capacity to care. The elements of love, humour and friendship make us believe that some things are worth fighting for. And in this book, those fights are exhilarating.

“Hell’s Ditch” is the first in a series called “The Black Road”. It stands alone as a novel, so don’t worry that it might only be a chapter without any resolution: you don’t need to invest in the series. But I bloody well am, and I think you will too. And if you should desire a cliffhanger, there’s the prologue for Book 2 at the end which is a teaser of the best kind.

I highly recommend Simon Bestwick’s energetic, hellish vision of the future. It’s a rollercoaster of emotion with tangible folk, rumbles galore, and is very easy to invest. Like Adam Nevill’s apocalyptic “Lost Girl” released a few months ago, it can be read as a gruesome thriller but also enjoyed for its thoughtful layers and complex moral core, and I can’t wait for the next instalment.

Review – “The Condemned” by Simon Bestwick


It was about 5 years ago when I first read a story by Simon Bestwick, and at the time I had no idea what I was in for. That story was “The Narrows”, a truly immersive experience with genuine chills and aching pathos, so the bar was set absurdly high from day one. But over the last few years of reading his fiction, I’ve discovered that this wasn’t a chance one-off and this exceptional collection of six novellas from Gray Friar Press proves that he’s one of the strongest voices in contemporary British horror.The CondemnedFirst up, “Dark Earth” tackles the brutality of the First World War, colloquially regaled by Private Bill Sadler who’s under court martial for desertion. This grim and bloody period of history is compounded by the infestation of no man’s land with mud-dwelling, toothy worm-like monsters that devour and possess the frontline soldiers, and possibly have influence even further up the ranks. I was completely absorbed into the death and desperation, and believable characters inject real humanity into the story. It’s also pleasing – and respectful – that the monstrous elements don’t detract from the real horror of trench warfare, instead combining the two to create a powerful and action-packed adventure that forms a sterling start to the book.

Next up is the aforementioned “The Narrows”. Gripping from the off, it’s the present tense account of Paul, a secondary school teacher during a nuclear holocaust. Having survived the initial blast, he somewhat unwillingly leads a small group of surviving children and fellow staff underground to avoid the radioactive fallout. They find refuge in a network of subterranean canals and caverns known as the Narrows, but something malevolent seems to be down there with them. Or is it the actual tunnels themselves? Or even a creeping madness from the radiation? A deeply moving piece, we feel our protagonist’s pain, knowing that his girlfriend has inevitably perished in the blast, as have the others’ families and loved ones, and that combines with the relentless claustrophobia to form a very memorable experience. It cranks up the hopelessness of their situation, turning down the lights until there’s nothing left and you have no choice but to join them in the descent. A superbly evocative piece and a deserved addition to one of Ellen Datlow’s best-of horror anthologies.

Following this classic is “A Kiss of Old Thorns” which introduces Andrew, a young man out of his depth and on the run with a tough bunch of bank robbers. After a car accident on an isolated road, they seek sanctuary in the beachside home of an old hermit who fashions wreaths from thorns in order to keep some kind of supernatural evil at bay. A tight story peopled by some believable and nasty characters, there’s plenty of menace from both the baleful presence and the thugs themselves, and I was very much along for the ride.

“The Model” sees Ella – a cash-strapped student in Salford – answering a call to be a life model. But rather than an art class, she’s unnerved to discover it’s one hulking, almost-unseen man in a quiet empty building that also seems haunted by strange wraith-like presences. After repeated visits, she becomes increasingly ill and afraid, but is drawn by the money and more importantly, some kind of sinister hold that the artist seems to possess over her. She is unable to resist his call, even after a suspicious death, which is made more chilling by her being quite a sensible girl. While the finale is appropriately bleak, it is somewhat less concrete than I would’ve liked, but there’s tremendous sense of place, as always, and the story oozes a grim inevitability.

Despite not thinking that “The Narrows” could be topped, I found “The School House” to be The Condemned‘s crowning glory, blindsiding me with incredible emotional and physical clout. We are introduced to Danny, a man who works at a psychiatric home and is plunged into the past after a childhood friend is committed for burning down their old school. Danny soon starts to have nightmares that resurrect suppressed memories of bullying and violence, and he begins to wonder if he’s losing his sanity. I don’t want to give too much away, but with its themes of control, power and broken minds, this story blew me away. There are some real surprises and twists in store – both brutal and genuinely heartbreaking – proving that this author is an intelligent, reflective writer at the very top of his game. This is a horribly unputdownable piece of work, full of dextrous literary tricks and tragic, terrifying portrayals of both mental illness and our darkest natures. Brace yourself and be damned.

Finally, the scene is one of urban deprivation for “Sleep Now in the Fire”. Our unwitting hero is Sean, an ordinary man visiting a block of flats in a sinkhole estate to look for his missing brother. He bumps into a surprisingly pleasant young woman, but this reassurance is soon soured by the appearance of a local nasty piece of work who might be behind his brother’s disappearance. After his car is stolen, Sean finds himself trapped in the squalid streets and beset by some taloned vampiric creatures called the Blueboys. This piece begins brilliantly with a palpable sense of threat, plenty of twisting action, and the author builds you up and knocks you down emotionally in subtle ways. It’s not without flaws, however. I found the political metaphors a bit clunky and the potential romance angle didn’t quite work for me. The science of the Blueboys seemed a bit complicated and took some explaining, and occasional segments of dialogue are a bit cheesy, robbing the grittiness of the outset: is this meant to be social realism or just fun? But these gripes are not so important in such a rollercoaster of a tale, and the scene is set for a showdown of fireworks and blood. There’s a soul-restoring fightback of good versus evil, and an epilogue that concludes both the story and the collection itself on a refreshingly positive note.

I very much enjoyed The Condemned. With brief and revealing story notes, there’s not a bad tale to be found, and this deep but never turgid book is more than worth the cover price for “The Narrows” and “The School House” alone. Simon Bestwick’s prose is sharp and the investable protagonists bring life and humanity to every piece. He can turn his hand to all elements of modern horror fiction whether eerie or shocking, supernatural or earthly, and even when he just sets out to entertain, thoughts are always provoked.

If you’re familiar with this author, then you can look forward to enjoying some of his finest work. If not, then The Condemned is a grand place to start. Rarely is the macabre so satisfying.

Tide of Souls – Simon Bestwick


A recent addition to Abaddon’s Tomes of the Dead line, I expected this to be a zombie horror-thriller. And while indeed it is, there’s far more to Simon’s novel than necrotic innards and masticated brains.

tide of souls

Britain is being consumed by floods, and as the terrified population attempt to climb away from the creeping waters to safety, it becomes clear that drowning or starvation are the least of their worries. The murky depths are home to an army of green-eyed undead. Control and hope is soon lost, the semi-devoured victims rising from where they fall to replenish the ranks of their slayers.

The story follows the plight of three characters. The first is Katya Wencewska, an educated and tough Polish immigrant whom we meet imprisoned in the Manchester brothel where she is forced to work as a sex slave. The pace begins at a breathless rate, as Katya breaks out of her flooded vice cell to the rooftops to fight off the watery horde.

Robbie McTarn is an ex-soldier, steeped in alcohol and post-traumatic-stress, who finds himself called back into service to embark on a dangerous mission across the bleak, drowned Lancashire countryside. His orders are to find Ben Stiles, a brilliant but damaged scientist who may have some answers regarding the rotting scourge that is consuming the world.

These are no ordinary zombies. I’ve seen genre fiction in which the dead are nothing but a brainless, relentless eating machine. There are also ones that display cunning and intelligence. This, paradoxically, can sometimes make it less scary; you can’t plot or scheme against something that has no capability to learn or any sense of self-preservation. Well, Simon’s undead fall somewhere between the two with a pleasing twist, and the results are fascinating.

The back stories of our protagonists, and the way their lives become entwined, are delivered in snippets with the skill of a practiced writer. The characters themselves are believable, each displaying a realistic voice of experience (the novel is presented as three 1st person accounts) and empathy is never a problem.

Tide of Souls is refreshingly unpredictable, and also quick to resolve threads before they drag on past their welcome; some writers misjudge a reader’s patience with suspense, but here, the timing is always spot on.

This is also an incredibly visual book, packed with images both haunting and loud. To present one example, at the outset of McTarn’s tale, we join a group of military as they watch handheld footage of some soldiers investigating an office block that are beset by the horde. The experience made me feel as though somebody had triggered a strobe-light in my brain, and the memory of this scene is almost as though I’ve actually seen the horrific video myself, bringing similarly unpleasant moments in Aliens and Event Horizon to mind. Excellent stuff.

So any gripes? There’s a military commanding officer who’s a dick, which made me think yeah, yeah, yeah, but as it works so well here, maybe it is the fault of lesser writers for making this a cliché. It did jar that it comes as a shock to one character when he discovers that infection is spread via the undead’s bite. As this story is set in our world, one could presume that their entertainment media is just as full of zombie fiction as ours, so wouldn’t they just assume that if you get bitten, you’re screwed? I’ll concede that while this is a tricky one, it’s an issue that I wish more horror writers would address.

But these are the only complaints, and I had to be pedantic to find them. This is a powerful, entertaining novel written in crisp, addictive prose. The first two segments brim with action – brawls upon precarious boats, melees involving some serious military hardware (which are startling in their realism) and an immense bodycount – while the third favours a creepy rather than explosive tone. The scientist’s account takes us to a very different place, offering some degree of explanation, pathos by the barrel, and ties up this memorable and grisly package.

Based upon Tide of Souls and also Simon’s collection Pictures of the Dark, his name has joined the ranks of those whose future fiction I shall purchase without hesitation.

Simon Bestwick

Abaddon Books

Review – “Pictures Of The Dark” by Simon Bestwick


“There are dark places everywhere…” begins the back cover and if you want some inside your head, then this collection is a good place to of the darkI had read Mr Bestwick’s acclaimed apocalypse novella “The Narrows” last year, so my hopes were high, and I was more than happy. This a real mixed bag of atmospheric scenarios – historical, apocalyptic, urban, remote, supernatural – and something for everyone. Well, okay, not everyone.

The excellent opener “Love Amongst the Bones” is a tale about awakening sexuality and necrophilia, but the writing is so masterful and elegant that the subject matter, bizarrely, doesn’t seem offensive at all. The characters are strong, giving the impression that these are people we’ve actually met.

This is one of the most notable things about the author’s writing. He infuses his characters with such tremendous humanity that when coupled with a strong social awareness, the intrusion of nightmare becomes a personal experience to the reader. For example, “Going Under, Flying High” begins with a couple’s pleasantly bland domestic routine before the man receives a telephone call that seems to be from his long-dead wife. As the tale descends quickly into horror, we share his confusion, understand his torn loyalties. These are ordinary folks, living ordinary lives and it could almost be happening to us.

Some of the tales are very bleak, “Touch the Dark” being an exercise in social and personal misery. It features a troubled man who moves to a threadbare apartment block that is plagued by suicides and slowly starts to realise that there might be more to the deaths than simple deprivation. The depressing “Close my Eyes” is about dementia and the tragic decline of old-age and draws us into the heartbreaking plight of a man watching his father’s mind deteriorate before his eyes. It concludes with a genuine shock that sinks the mood yet another notch.

There are stories with an immense sense of place such as the haunting “From Those Dark Waters, Where the Lost Bones Lie”. Here, a divorced loner sunbathing beside a reservoir witnesses a troubling chain of events involving a stranger and his children. There’s a nightmarish quality to the experience, where the innocent seems sinister and wrong, even if we can’t quite pin down exactly what the problem might be.

Other stories worthy of particular mention include “Starky’s Town”, a cracking urban jaunt that actually breathes fresh life into the zombie genre – not an easy task – and can be read purely for the ride or analysed for social metaphor. These stories often have deeper layers, but they’re never rammed down your throat nor dampen the entertainment value, and I was grinning by the end. Another that made me smile is “Drop Dead Gorgeous”: an instantly engaging tale told from the point of view of a jaded barman in a singles club and the sad and predatory people he meets. There’s real substance shrouded in this short fix of supernatural entertainment.

The perfect antidote to such fun is “The Slashed Menagerie”, a definite favourite, although it seems wrong to use such a positive word. It’s a horrible story in which privelege breeds the abuse of power, and we encounter such vulgar, sociopathic cruelty that it leaves a lingering bitter taste. I won’t even tell you what it’s actually about because I wouldn’t want to spoil the horrific realisation. This exposes another of the author’s talents. You often don’t have any idea what lurks around the corner (you may believe you do, but you don’t) and it’s best kept that way. A scene is introduced – sometimes a genre staple that fosters a deceptively reassuring familiarity –  then bang. There’s even a couple of vampire tales, but I wouldn’t dream of telling you which ones lest I ruin the surprise.

Despite the dark flavour of much of this book, the author also has a sense of humour. “Welcome to Mengele’s”, a story about lust, greed and celebrity, opens with a blunt scenario of bestiality, necro-porn and surgically-enhanced corpses that was impossible to turn away from. At least I hope it was supposed to be funny, because if not, then it would appear that I need more help than the author. But when you can write like this man, you can get away with anything.

Another strong favourite is “To Walk in Midnight’s Realm”. Containing subtle shades of “The Narrows”, the mountainous Welsh countryside is the setting for a solidly plotted horror adventure that features love, loss, the walking dead and an intriguing take on the afterlife. A tale to savour for both its pathos and its gruesome action, and one that I will read again.

The last story “When the West Wind Blows” brings the proceedings to a close with aplomb. I love apocalypse fiction and enjoyed the downward spiral of civilsation into chaos as a man attempts to protect his wife’s grave from unnamed, hellish scavengers.

I highly recommend “Pictures of the Dark”. The prose is sharp and the author certainly isn’t afraid to tackle taboo subjects head on. This is a very adult book, but the horrors are intelligent, sewn into the fabric of the tales and drawing you deeper into the plight of the oft-unfortunate protagonists. There are tropes, but no cliché. There are startling twists, but none contrived. Simon Bestwick really knows how to finish a short story, and I never once felt cheated. Sometimes shocked or sad, sometimes amused, other times profoundly disturbed, but always satisfied.

Gray Friar Press

Simon Bestwick