Book Review: Babylon Terminal by Greg F. Gifune

Babylon Terminal
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (September 28, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Buckle up for a wild ride through the twisted corridors of the mind in Greg F. Gifune’s Babylon Terminal. In this gripping tale, Gifune masterfully constructs a world that is equal parts haunting and exhilarating, where darkness reigns supreme and hope flickers like a distant flame.

I found this to be a very unusual Gifune novel because his work is typically very grounded in the real world—sure, he often includes supernatural elements and cosmic horror, but Gifune’s work is mostly set in our world and his protagonists are people who could live down the street from you. Not so here. Set in a city that seemingly exists in the realm of dreams, Babylon Terminal introduces us to a cast of characters navigating a landscape of nightmares and violence. At the heart of the story is Monk, a brooding and formidable member of the Dreamcatchers, tasked with tracking down those who dare to try to escape their nocturnal society. When Monk’s wife, Julia, becomes a runaway, he is thrust into a perilous journey to try to recover Julia while confronting his own demons and unraveling the mysteries of their world.

That terse description doesn’t cover the hallucinatory nature of this novel. I would describe this one as a blend of Logan’s Run (or perhaps Blade Runner) and Dark City by way of Mad Max. Questions persist throughout the book about the nature of reality and remain even after reading. What is the city? Where is it? Is there really a promised land that the runners are trying to reach? Are they all dead and in Purgatory or Hell? Are they dreams? Sleepers? Figments of a dying man’s imagination? These questions concern elements and themes that Gifune has touched on in his more grounded works set in our world, but he lets himself have free rein to explore these ideas and many more in Babylon Terminal. If you’ve read a lot of Gifune, as I have, you expect his books to unfold a certain way. That doesn’t happen here, though that doesn’t mean that this was an unwelcome departure, simply that Babylon Terminal is a major shift from what you might have encountered in previous Gifune books.

The strength of Gifune’s storytelling lies in his ability to blend elements of horror, mystery, and psychological drama seamlessly. Each page drips with tension, keeping readers on the edge of their seats as they race alongside Monk through the twisted streets of the world of Babylon Terminal. But amidst the chaos and despair, there are moments of beauty and introspection, as Monk grapples with the nature of love, loss, and the meaning of existence.

In the end, Babylon Terminal is more than just a tale of darkness and despair—it is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of hope, even in the face of violence and oppression. Gifune has crafted a masterful work of fiction that will linger in the minds of readers long after they have turned the final page. So, if you’re ready to embark on a journey into the heart of darkness, look no further than Babylon Terminal. Definitely recommended.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Orphans of Wonderland by Greg F. Gifune

Orphans of Wonderland
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (July 27, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Originally published in 2015 by Samhain Publishing, Orphans of Wonderland was re-released by JournalStone in 2018. The protagonist of Orphans of Wonderland is Joel Walker, a journalist haunted by a dark history. Twenty years prior, he delved into the investigation of a ritual killing, a tale that captivated the masses during the Satanic hysteria of the 1980s. Walker’s pursuit of truth left him shattered, a victim of a nervous breakdown, forcing him into a reclusive, small-town existence. Joel’s life shifts when he receives word that one of his closest friends growing up has been murdered savagely and inexplicably. Reluctantly, as a favor to his friend’s daughter, Joal returns to his hometown and begins investigating. This forces Joel to confront the shadows of his past. It soon becomes clear that Joel’s friend was killed because of a set of unresolved and unexplained circumstances from their childhood. Was Joel’s friend really being haunted by dark, inhuman figures? What really happened to Joel and his friends when they were children? Has the past really come back to haunt them?

In Orphans of Wonderland, the past becomes an inescapable labyrinth, its secrets lurking beneath the surface, waiting to ensnare those who dare to revisit it. Gifune, a maestro of psychological horror, weaves a narrative that transcends the conventional boundaries of the genre, offering readers a haunting exploration of paranoia, madness, and the insidious nature of evil.

The characterization in Orphans of Wonderland is a testament to Gifune’s ability to craft nuanced, multi-dimensional characters. Joel Walker, a man tormented by the ghosts of his past, is a compelling protagonist. His internal struggles, shaped by the trauma of his earlier investigation and whatever happened to him as a child, add layers of complexity to his character. Gifune’s portrayal of Walker’s descent into the murkiness of his own memories is both haunting and evocative.

The atmosphere in Gifune’s novel is a palpable force—an oppressive darkness that pervades every page. Joel is surrounded by people who are either clueless, and thus either unhelpful or in danger themselves, or are actively inimical but holding the answers to the questions that Joel is asking. The backdrop of urban decay, laden with the weight of buried secrets, becomes a character in its own right, its quiet streets concealing horrors that refuse to remain dormant.

Pacing, a critical element in psychological horror, is meticulously calibrated in Orphans of Wonderland. Gifune manipulates the rhythm of the narrative, alternating between introspective moments of dread and explosive revelations. The gradual unfolding of the mystery creates an unsettling tension, holding readers captive until the final revelation.

As the narrative hurtles toward its climax, Gifune skillfully explores the interplay between paranoia, madness, and the nature of evil. Orphans of Wonderland becomes a harrowing exploration of the thin line that separates the rational from the irrational, the real from the imagined. The novel’s denouement is both chilling and satisfying, leaving lingering questions that resonate beyond the final page. While Gifune seems to write only stand-alone novels (as far as I know), I’d actually love to see him revisit this setting and characters. There’s more to be explored here, and, I think, connected up with some of his other novels, including God Machine.

Gifune has many strengths as a writer, but having read much of Gifune’s oeuvre, I want to highlight three that are common throughout his fiction that come together to shine in Orphans of Wonderland. First, Gifune writes groups of old friends very well. While it is easy for a writer to say that a group of characters grew up together and have known each other for decades, that’s very hard to pull off convincingly. Gifune does so with aplomb. Second, he is a master of describing gritty, hyper-realistic, almost noir-ish settings and lives—stories and settings that feel very real—and then injecting elements of supernatural horror in a way that does not unbalance or upset the very real places and people he is writing about. This is harder to do than it seems. Think about the classic horror movie that is ruined the first time that the camera pans over and the monster is revealed to the viewer. And third, Gifune writes a certain type of unreliable narrator extremely well. This can be done cheaply and to ill effect easily, but Gifune takes care to craft protagonists who learn about themselves, the world around them, and their own pasts at the time as the reader. Gifune doesn’t tell his stories via tricksters or liars, he lets his stories unfurl by having his protagonists conduct genuine investigations into their worlds, and when they learn that reality is not what they had imagined, they are as shocked and horrified as we are. We see strong evidence of all three strengths here in Orphans of Wonderland.

Greg F. Gifune’s Orphans of Wonderland transcends the trappings of conventional horror, offering readers a cerebral and atmospheric exploration of the darkness that resides within and without. This is not a tale of gratuitous scares but a haunting journey into the recesses of the human psyche and the evil than some do for power. For those seeking a psychologically rich and thought-provoking horror experience, Orphans of Wonderland offers a descent into the depths of the past that will linger in the reader’s mind long after the shadows dissipate. Definitely recommended.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Children of Chaos by Greg F. Gifune

Children of Chaos
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (May 25, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

In Greg F. Gifune’s Children of Chaos, the past becomes an inescapable specter, haunting the present with its sinister secrets and unrelenting grip. Gifune, a virtuoso of psychological horror, embarks on a mesmerizing journey that traverses the treacherous terrain of guilt, redemption, and the forces that compete for influence within the human soul.

The narrative unfolds against the backdrop of a torrential downpour, as three teenage best friends—Phil, Jamie, and Martin—stumble upon a mysterious stranger cloaked in scars, whose presence catalyzes a chain of violent events that will irrevocably alter their lives. Three decades later, haunted by the memories of that fateful encounter, the trio find themselves ensnared in the suffocating tendrils of their past. By that point, their lives have altered unimaginably from the boys they once were: Jamie has become a Catholic priest; Martin, the victim of severe mental illness, has disappeared somewhere in Mexico to found a frightening cult; and Phil, a divorced alcoholic, who has become a failure as a husband, father, writer, and friend, is called upon to journey to Mexico to find Martin and see if he can be brought back to receive the help that he needs and be reunited with his dying mother. Phil’s journey, both physical and spiritual, and what he finds in Mexico, forms the heart of the novel. It is disturbing and compelling and utterly savage. I enjoyed it immensely and appreciated that it hints at far more about the nature of reality than it explicitly states.

As the narrative unfurls, Gifune deftly explores the interplay between past traumas and present-day turmoil, weaving a tapestry of suspense and introspection. From the seedy streets of Tijuana to the desolate expanse of the Corridor of Demons, the journey becomes a visceral odyssey into the heart of darkness, where salvation hangs precariously in the balance.

Children of Chaos is, of course, Gifune’s take on Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, as he states in his final author’s note, with more than a little of the savage brutality and sheer amount of death from Apocalypse Now. Because this is a Gifune novel, it would likewise not be complete without the meditation on good and evil, and spirituality, free will, and destiny that we have come to expect from so much of Gifune’s work.

Gifune’s masterful storytelling prowess is on full display here. Phil in particular is a troubled soul whose life has not gone as planned. Deeply conflicted, he is torn between wanting to help a childhood friend and needing to preserve his own life and what little wellbeing he has left. We know less about Martin and Jamie, but both have important roles to play in what almost seems like a foreordained drama.

The atmospheric richness of Children of Chaos is a testament to Gifune’s narrative dexterity, as he conjures a world steeped in foreboding and menace. The desolate landscapes of both Tijuana and the Mexican desert serve as a haunting backdrop to the characters’ descent into madness and terror.

Pacing, a crucial element in psychological horror, is expertly calibrated in the novel. Each twist and turn of the plot unfolds with meticulous precision, ratcheting up the tension to a fever pitch as the characters hurtle towards their apparent destiny, an inexorable reckoning. The relentless momentum of the narrative ensures that readers are gripped by an unyielding sense of dread and foreboding for what’s to come.

Greg F. Gifune’s Children of Chaos is a tour de force that has not yet received the attention that it deserves. For aficionados of the genre seeking a gripping and immersive tale, Children of Chaos is an unmissable odyssey into the abyss—an electrifying descent into the heart of darkness that will linger in the reader’s mind long after the final page is turned.

Definitely recommended.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Deep Night by Greg F. Gifune

Deep Night
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (July 13, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Originally published in 2006 as the second novel after Greg F. Gifune’s powerful debut The Bleeding Season, Deep Night was re-released by JournalStone in 2018. It is as chilling and unsettling as The Bleeding Season, a highwater mark indeed. In Deep Night, the tale begins innocuously enough with a group of old friends vacationing in the remote woods of northern Maine. However, what unfolds is far from the idyllic getaway they envisioned. A chance encounter with a blood-stained woman introduces an ancient and malevolent presence, setting in motion a series of events that will irrevocably alter the course of their lives. The narrative seamlessly shifts between the initial time at the cabin and the haunting aftermath, a year later, where the characters grapple with their fragmented memories and an unrelenting evil that refuses to be forgotten.

Gifune’s narrative prowess is on full display as he navigates the temporal intricacies of the plot. The alternating timelines heighten suspense and allow readers to piece together the puzzle of that fateful night alongside the characters. This nuanced approach to storytelling elevates Deep Night beyond mere horror conventions, transforming it into a profound exploration of memory, trauma, and the unreliability of perception.

The characters, particularly Seth Roman and his brother Raymond, are intricately woven into the fabric of the narrative. Gifune deftly explores their vulnerabilities, fears, and the complex dynamics that bind them. Raymond’s childhood night terrors, an enigma that becomes a linchpin in the unfolding horror, add a layer of psychological depth to the narrative. As the characters grapple with their fragmented recollections, the line between reality and nightmare blurs, intensifying the narrative’s psychological impact.

The novel’s atmosphere is an entity unto itself, a palpable force that permeates every page. The desolate woods become a character in their own right, shrouded in an eerie silence that amplifies the sense of isolation and impending doom. Gifune’s evocative prose brings the chilling setting to life, immersing readers in an otherworldly realm where malevolence lurks in the shadows.

Pacing, a crucial element in any horror narrative, is meticulously handled in Deep Night. Gifune masterfully controls the ebb and flow of tension, allowing suspense to mount organically. The gradual escalation of fear mirrors the characters’ descent into an abyss of terror, creating an immersive experience that captivates readers without resorting to gratuitous shocks.

As the narrative hurtles toward its climax, the boundaries between the corporeal and the supernatural blur, and the characters find themselves ensnared in a malevolent force that defies comprehension. Deep Night becomes an exploration of the human soul, a harrowing journey into the darkest recesses of existence, where the quest for survival is intricately entwined with sacrificial love and unwavering faith.

Deep Night transcends the conventional tropes of horror, offering readers a nuanced and thought-provoking exploration of fear, memory, and the human spirit. This is not merely a tale of supernatural horror but a profound narrative that lingers, inviting readers to confront the shadows that lurk within the depths of their own psyches. For those seeking a horror experience that resonates on a psychological level, Deep Night is a haunting odyssey into the heart of darkness. Definitely recommended.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Rogue by Greg F. Gifune

Rogue
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (September 14, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

The veneer of the American Dream—loving spouse, solid job, nice house, comfortable life—fractures catastrophically in Greg F. Gifune’s Rogue, revealing a narrative that intricately weaves psychological unraveling with supernatural horror. Gifune takes readers on a harrowing journey through the life of Cameron Horne, a man whose seemingly idyllic existence spirals into a nightmarish descent. This tightly-woven and unsettling exploration delves into the complexities of identity and the inexorable pull of the unknown.

Cameron Horne starts with what we might assume to be the quintessential American life but the fabric of his reality begins to unravel almost as soon as the novel begins. Gifune crafts a compelling premise here, introducing readers to a protagonist whose descent into darkness becomes an irresistible vortex of mystery and terror. Cameron is a civil servant who monitors registered sex offenders, which brings him into daily contact with some of humanity’s worst on a daily basis. As the narrative progresses, he is beset by increasing bouts of confusion, missing time, and sudden fits of violence. He eventually comes to experience even more disturbing things that deeply upset the fabric of his daily life and cause him to begin to question everything about himself.

As Cameron grapples with bizarre episodes of lost time, horrifying nightmares, and a haunting figure that seems to possess knowledge of the future, the narrative takes on an otherworldly hue. Gifune masterfully blends psychological horror with the supernatural, creating an atmosphere that is both disquieting and captivating. The question of whether Cameron is losing his mind or being stalked by an evil force becomes a central enigma, propelling the plot forward with relentless suspense.

The characterization in Rogue is a testament to Gifune’s narrative prowess. Cameron Horne is more than a mere vessel for the story; he is a complex, multifaceted character whose internal struggles mirror the external horrors he faces. Gifune delves into Cameron’s psyche with nuance, portraying the internal conflict between his mild-mannered facade and the awakening of something primal and malevolent within. Because he experiences missing time, confusion, and uncertainty about what is happening to him—is everything he seems to experience real?—we, like Cameron himself, take a journey to discover the mystery at the heart of Cameron’s increasingly troubling experiences and crumbling persona.

The atmospheric elements of the novel contribute significantly to its impact. Gifune’s ability to evoke a sense of dread is palpable, as shadowy figures, mysterious voices, and haunting visions encroach upon Cameron’s reality. The pacing of Rogue is a finely tuned symphony of tension and revelation. Gifune skillfully tightens the narrative screws, allowing suspense to mount steadily as the protagonist’s descent accelerates. The oscillation between moments of eerie calm and explosive violence adds a dynamic layer to the storytelling, keeping readers on the edge of their seats.

In Rogue, Gifune blends elements of horror, psychological thrillers, and supernatural mystery seamlessly. The novel stands as a testament to his ability to craft narratives that transcend genre boundaries, offering readers a nuanced and chilling exploration of the human psyche under the weight of malevolence. As the layers of Cameron Horne’s unraveling are peeled back, Rogue becomes a haunting odyssey that lingers in the mind, inviting contemplation of the boundaries between sanity and the unknown.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Midnight Gods by Greg F. Gifune

Midnight Gods
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (May 4, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Greg F. Gifune’s Midnight Gods unfolds as a chilling symphony of psychological horror, seamlessly weaving a narrative that resonates with contemporary anxieties and the timeless fears that lurk in the shadows of the human psyche. This short novel of what I might mostly describe as “quiet horror” is a masterclass in atmospheric storytelling, where Gifune’s meticulous prose and skillful plotting create an immersive experience that transcends the boundaries of conventional horror.

At its core, Midnight Gods is a tale of ordinary lives unraveling in the wake of a seemingly innocuous hit-and-run. Emily and Oliver Young, embodying the essence of suburban normalcy, find themselves ensnared in a web of paranoia and dread after a minor car accident in which Emily hits a pedestrian on the way home from a party but doesn’t bother to stop to ensure the man is unharmed. That trigger event begins a downward spiral for the couple that involves strange, unexplained behavior on Emily’s part and increasingly troubling intrusions by strangers into the Youngs’ lives. Gifune introduces readers to a nightmarish figure, a man in a fedora, whose ethereal presence casts a long shadow over the couple’s existence. The initial act, a mere accident compounded by an unethical decision made in a moment of panic, becomes a catalyst for a descent into an unsettling and otherworldly reality.

Gifune’s craftsmanship shines through in the seamless flow of his narrative. Gifune navigates the progression of paranoia within Emily and Oliver with skill and verve, allowing the reader to witness the transformation of ordinary lives into a harrowing journey through the unknown. The novella unfolds with an atmospheric finesse that captures the claustrophobia of the couple’s darkened house, where shadows and the ever-lurking man in a fedora become co-conspirators in the couple’s descent into madness. Gifune expertly balances the line between the tangible and the intangible, blurring the boundaries of reality and imagination. The result is a narrative that grips readers in a vise of psychological tension, mirroring the characters’ unraveling sanity.

The characters, particularly Emily and Oliver, serve as conduits for Gifune’s exploration of existential fear. As their personalities warp and their dreams become increasingly vivid and troubling, the reader is thrust into an immersive experience of psychological horror. Gifune delves into the nuances of their evolving relationship, creating characters whose struggles with the unknown mirror the broader fears embedded in the societal fabric.

Midnight Gods is a testament to Gifune’s ability to evoke fear without relying on gratuitous violence or explicit gore. The horror is subtle, creeping into the narrative like a shiver down the spine, leaving a lasting impression on the reader’s psyche. The mysterious man in the fedora becomes a symbolic embodiment of the fears that pervade the collective consciousness, transcending the confines of the characters’ individual experiences.

In Midnight Gods, Gifune invites readers to confront the intangible fears that lurk beneath the surface of everyday life. The novella serves as a reflection on the human condition, a metaphorical journey through the collective anxieties of contemporary society. As the characters grapple with their personal terrors, readers are compelled to confront the broader implications of fear, both manufactured and real, that permeate the world.

Midnight Gods stands as a testament to the enduring power of horror as a genre that can explore the depths of the human psyche and confront the existential uncertainties that define our existence. Greg F. Gifune’s narrative skill, combined with his ability to evoke a sense of dread, makes this novella a compelling and thought-provoking addition to the realm of psychological horror. As the story concludes with a chilling twist, readers are left with a lingering unease, a testament to the enduring impact of Gifune’s storytelling mastery.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Top 10 Best Reads of 2023

I began this tradition last year, so I’m going to continue it. I continue to read something like 150 books per year, mostly older stuff–I rarely find myself reading stuff that’s literally published in the year in which I’m reading it–and I read broadly. While the books I encounter in a given year are idiosyncratic, I know what I like and because of the sheer breadth of my reading material I come across, I know what a great book is. Two of these (the two Stephen King Dark Tower books) were re-reads, while the rest were all new to me. One of them (Sabrina) was a graphic novel and the rest were all pure prose. Two of them (Wolf’s Hour and Knifepoint) were short story collections while all the rest were novels.

Here were the ten best books I read this past year in alphabetical order by title (and I will admit that forcing myself to limit the list to a strict ten–no honorable mentions here–it was painful):

Chasing the Boogeyman by Richard Chizmar: On the surface, this is a story about a young man, interested in becoming a horror writer, dealing with the rise of a serial killer in his hometown in Maryland. But it’s much more than that; it’s almost a work of meta-fiction, blending fiction and autobiography and true crime. In some ways, this intentional mixing and playing with fact and fiction is what the film Blair Witch Project did during its (highly successful) viral marketing campaign that confused some viewers, who wondered if what they were watching was a true story.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa: A graphic novel that is based on/inspired by the Netflix television series. I enjoyed the show a lot (though it sometimes got more than a little silly, especially as the show went on), but this takes all the chilling elements from the show and dials them up to 11. This is about truly grotesque Satan-worshipping, cannibalistic witches and demons. Madame Satan, one of the antagonists, is especially creepy. Really good.

The Drawing of the Three (Dark Tower 2) by Stephen King: I began my long-anticipated re-read of King’s Dark Tower series so that I could finally, once and for all, finish it, and was reminded of just how good King’s characterization is. You do need to read The Gunslinger first (see below) but this is a great story about people from our world being yanked out of their places and times to go on an epic quest that may well cost them their lives.

The Drums of Chaos by Richard L. Tierney: I had always heard of the “Simon of Gitta” stories, which combine Lovecraftian concepts with pulpy action, and are set in the ancient world in/around the time of Christ. This one is a novel using Simon (a sorcerer/ex-gladiator) and some other Tierney characters, including time traveler John Taggart (from Tierney’s The Winds of Zarr, which I haven’t yet read), and it’s set in the last couple weeks of Jesus’ life. Doctrinaire Christians would probably consider this one blasphemous beyond measure, but it’s a fascinating and highly entertaining story involving multiple factions of Lovecraftian entities, aliens, sorcerous cabals, time travelers, ancient alien artifacts, and many more elements in a similar vein.

Gollitok by Andrew Najberg: Post-nuclear war horror novel mostly set on a remote island in the Adriatic that was the site of a long-abandoned political prison. A group of bureaucrats and soldiers are sent to the island to investigate strange occurrences. They are, of course, very much in over their heads from the beginning. I would like to see more of this world.

The Gunslinger (Dark Tower 1) by Stephen King: The one that started it all. I’ve now read (and own) both the original version and the updated one that brings it in line with some additional references developed after the first edition. King develops a really strong quasi-post-apocalyptic world that has “moved on.” Time is out of whack, human civilization has crumbled except for a final few outposts on the fringes of what had been civilization, and demons and strangeness abound. Still probably my overall favorite book of the entire series. If they had all been of the caliber of the first two Dark Tower books, this would have been a true masterpiece for the ages.

Knifepoint Horror: The Transcripts, Volume 1 by Soren Narnia: If you’ve listened to Narnia’s podcast, you already know how good these stories are, but if not you’re in for a treat. Most of these are stand-alone tales of creeping dread told in the first person. They’re really enjoyable because Narnia is a master of atmosphere and raw, understated detail. I found myself deeply unsettled by most of these stories.

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy: I had seen the film (which, as it turns out, is remarkably faithful to the book), but never read any of McCarthy’s work. His death inspired me to finally pick this one up and boy, am I glad I did. It’s a thriller/crime novel/lengthy chase sequence set in 1980 on the Texas border about a man who happens upon the aftermath of a drug deal gone bad and who foolishly takes a duffel bag filled with a couple million dollars in cash. The cartel involved sends out a killer/force of nature to apprehend him. It’s also got a layer of the story told by an aging sheriff who is witnessing his community change dramatically because of the drug war. Amazing writing. Don’t let the fact that it’s a little stylized with no quotation marks used. That will be weird for a couple pages and then it will work just fine.

The Still Place by Greg F. Gifune and Sandy DeLuca: I have been a big fan of Greg Gifune’s for many years, but this was my first reading of a Gifune-co-authored piece. It’s a wonderful story about a young woman artist who wins a fellowship in a rundown coastal New England town (think: Innsmouth) sponsored by an artist colony there. Things go badly, of course, but this is a wonderfully evocative story that resonated strongly with me (I know someone very much like the protagonist). Also, this is the first time I have ever read a description of the creation of visual art in a compelling way. Really strong writing here.

The Wolf’s Hour by Robert McCammon: Robert McCammon is a wonderful author whose back catalogue I am making my way through. As part of that, I read this collection, all stories about a man named Michael Gallatin who is recruited by a British intelligence organization to conduct sabotage and conduct other espionage actions against the Nazis during WWII. The conceit is that Gallatin is a werewolf. This is not just a series of non-stop action scenes with a werewolf slaughtering Nazis, which would have been fun but of limited enduring value, it is a genuinely tense series of great suspense stories.

Please let me know if you’ve read any of these or are inspired to pick any of them up.

Book Review: God Machine by Greg F. Gifune

God Machine
Greg F. Gifune
Cemetery Dance Publications (December 2023)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Greg F. Gifune’s God Machine is a haunting and atmospheric exploration of personal and cosmic horror that lingers in the mind long after the final page. Set against the backdrop of a decaying New England town, the narrative unfolds with a sense of foreboding and existential dread, immersing readers in a world where the boundaries between the known and the unknowable blur.

The plot follows protagonist Chris Tallo, a former cop who is now a motel security guard whose life has been on a downward spiral after his daughter’s death in Iraq. Chris has struggled to cope with this loss, and that trauma has forced Chris to grapple with mental illness and alcohol abuse. (Like so many of Gifune’s protagonists, Chris has had a hard life and has not always sought the best coping mechanisms for dealing with unresolved trauma.) The book kicks off with a terrible new trauma that Chris experiences: a young woman, probably a sex worker, checks in late one night and then kills herself in the room in an especially gruesome way. No one, least of all Chris, can make sense of what happened. He personalizes the case—obsesses over it actually—especially since the young woman was the same age as his daughter would have been and begins investigating it on his own. Despite being repeatedly warned off from pursuing his investigation along the way, Chris finds that the young woman had gotten caught up with a group of very, very bad people. And that’s when Chris uncovers a malevolent force known as the God Machine. Gifune’s narrative masterfully weaves together elements of psychological horror and supernatural intrigue, keeping readers on the edge of their seats as they navigate the labyrinthine secrets of the town.

Gifune’s prose is evocative and atmospheric, creating a vivid sense of place that enhances the overall eerie ambiance of the story. The decaying town itself becomes a character, with its dilapidated buildings and whispered secrets contributing to the oppressive atmosphere that permeates every chapter.

The characters in God Machine are intricately crafted, including, most importantly, Chris, each haunted by personal demons and grappling with the inexorable pull of forces beyond their control. Chris’s emotional journey is particularly compelling, as he confronts not only the horrors of the God Machine and those surrounding it but also the shadows of his own past. The supporting cast adds depth to the narrative, with each character contributing to the overall sense of unease and impending doom. To say that Chris must dig deep into the seedy underbelly of his community doesn’t really do the book justice.

One of the novel’s strengths lies in Gifune’s ability to merge the cosmic and the intimate. The God Machine, an incomprehensible device (entity?), serves as a backdrop for the more personal horrors faced by the characters. This dual narrative approach adds layers of complexity to the story, creating a multifaceted and deeply resonant experience. I would have liked to see more of the God Machine itself; what we see is intriguing, but because it only enters the book at the climax, it comes across as a bit of a MacGuffin, but it’s nevertheless compelling.

As the tale unfolds, Gifune’s exploration of existential themes becomes increasingly pronounced. The narrative delves into the nature of belief, loss, grief, fragility, mortality, and the terrifying prospect of confronting the unknown. God Machine’s theological underpinnings and meditations on both grief and failed coping mechanisms for trauma elevate it beyond conventional horror, inviting readers to contemplate the profound implications of cosmic forces on the human psyche.

God Machine is a chilling and thought-provoking work of cosmic horror blended with the personal. With its richly developed characters and evocative prose—Gifune’s trademarks—he delivers a tale that resonates on both visceral and intellectual levels. For those seeking a psychological and atmospheric exploration of cosmic terror, God Machine is a captivating and haunting journey into the heart of the unknown. Definitely recommended.

This review first appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Smoke, In Crimson by Greg F. Gifune

Smoke, In Crimson
Greg F. Gifune
Cemetery Dance Publications (November 10, 2023)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Greg F. Gifune’s Smoke, In Crimson is a mesmerizing descent into the abyss by a man named Deacon, who is forced to venture where the shadows of addiction, remorse, and supernatural malevolence converge. This dark odyssey transcends conventional horror, intertwining psychological depth with cosmic terror to create an unsettling exploration of love, loss, and the macabre.

Deacon is recalled to his hometown, a small beach community, by Fay Dillon’s father after she has disappeared. To say that Fay is Deacon’s ex-girlfriend would be to do their past relationship an injustice. Fay is the great love of Deacon’s life, though they have been apart for several years at the opening of the novel. Fay, you see, helped initiate Deacon onto dark paths of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and much, much worse, and it took Deacon years to wean himself away from Fay’s influence. But now that she’s gone missing, all of that comes rushing back with a vengeance.

Deacon, a man haunted by a tumultuous past and ensnared by addictions that have left his life in ruins, stands as a compelling protagonist. Gifune delves into the intricacies of Deacon’s psyche, painting a portrait of a lost soul adrift in a sea of despair. The novel’s exploration of addiction, both to substances and to the enigmatic Fay Dillon, adds layers of complexity to Deacon’s character, making him a conduit for the deeper horrors that lurk within the narrative. This is not purely a work of psychological horror, though it is that as well; like most of Gifune’s work, the reader comes to the dawning realization that something supernatural is afoot here, and when the nature of that supernatural menace is revealed, it’s as rewarding as it is unexpected. Gifune masterfully weaves the threads of Deacon’s history with Fay, a darkly seductive figure, into the fabric of the narrative.

This is a novel about addiction: to substances, and Deacon and Fay surely are prisoners of their addictions to drugs and alcohol, as well as addictions to people—Deacon remains addicted to Fay, though he had tried to convince himself that he had broken free of her. Many of us have probably had a Fay in our lives at some point: a person we can’t seem to shake because of the hold they have over us, but who isn’t good for us. Here we see the dangers and harm that relationships like that can bring.

As the story unfurls, Deacon’s journey becomes a harrowing exploration of self-discovery and confronting the darkest aspects of his own nature. The revelation of Fay’s true identity and the inexorable link between past and present propel the narrative toward a climax that is both shocking and inevitable. Gifune’s skill in building tension and sustaining a sense of dread culminates in a denouement that leaves a lasting impact. The narrative’s setting, spanning from the bleak landscapes of Boston’s seamy underside to the haunting cottage on the dunes, serves as a visceral backdrop for the unfolding horrors. Gifune’s descriptive prowess creates an immersive atmosphere, drawing readers into the depraved realms of violence and supernatural malevolence. The author’s ability to evoke a sense of place enhances the overall intensity of the narrative. This book brought me back to the 1990s, and I mean that in a good way. It’s full of the brooding horror, rain, darkened alleys, squalor, blood, and angst that I came to love from that era, and dearly miss. So thank you, Greg.

Smoke, In Crimson is a tapestry of personal horror that captivates with its richly developed characters, evocative prose, and a narrative that defies genre conventions. Greg F. Gifune invites readers to traverse the harrowing landscapes of addiction, love, and, ultimately, supernatural horror, crafting a tale that resonates on a visceral and emotional level. This is not merely a horror story; it is a haunting exploration of the human condition in the face of unimaginable darkness.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Book Review: Bridge of Souls by Greg F. Gifune and Sandy DeLuca

Bridge of Souls
Greg F. Gifune and Sandy DeLuca
JournalStone Publishing (August 19, 2022)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Bridge of Souls by Greg F. Gifune and Sandy DeLuca is an eerie and thought-provoking masterpiece that blurs the lines between horror and reality. This gripping novel takes readers on a haunting journey into the dark and mysterious world that begins at Matheson Manor, a nursing home where the elderly residents are tormented by unexplainable and terrifying sights and sounds of strange figures who visit them in the night.

We follow three main characters: Magdalena, a single mother and caretaker at Matheson Manor who has befriended several of the patients who have witnessed strange goings-on; George, a recently retired widower, whose mother has just died after recording voices in the night; and Winston, a loner whose mother still lives at Matheson Manor. Their paths converge as each attempts to figure out what is really going on, when the story becomes an exploration of their shared quest for truth and understanding.

Gifune and DeLuca masterfully craft a narrative that is equal parts chilling and engrossing. From the outset, the sense of foreboding is palpable, drawing you into a world where the boundaries between dreams, insanity, and reality become blurred. Are elderly dementia patients simply imagining strange encounters? The mysterious recordings left behind by George’s mother add an additional layer of intrigue to the story. The sense of unease and curiosity builds as the characters attempt to decipher the cryptic messages, and the revelations that emerge are both shocking and thought-provoking.

The story is relentlessly atmospheric, creating an eerie and unsettling backdrop that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Tensions ratchet up when Magdalena, George, and Winston themselves start seeing and experiencing events they cannot easily explain. The characters in Bridge of Souls are richly developed, each grappling with their own demons and haunted pasts. One of the strengths of this novel is its ability to delve into the psychological and emotional aspects of horror through these characters. The authors deftly explore themes of loss, grief, and the fragility of human existence. The nightmares and hauntings that torment the characters are not just external terrors but reflections of their inner turmoil, adding depth and complexity to the narrative.

As the story unfolds, reality itself becomes a shifting and elusive concept. Gifune and DeLuca skillfully play with perception and the boundaries of what can be trusted, leaving readers questioning the nature of existence and the true meaning of the haunting phenomena.

Bridge of Souls is a haunting and intellectually stimulating read that lingers in the mind long after the final page is turned. Bridge of Souls is a mindf***. There is no other way to describe it. How could it not be, involving themes of insanity, death, the possibility of life after death, and the fears of helplessness and loss in old age? Greg F. Gifune and Sandy DeLuca have crafted a mesmerizing tale that transcends traditional horror, offering a deep and introspective exploration of the human condition. If you crave a novel that challenges your perception of reality while delivering spine-tingling chills, this book is a must-read. Prepare to be enthralled, unsettled, and captivated by the enigmatic world of Bridge of Souls. Definitely recommended.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.