Graphic Content: Whisper of the Woods by Ennun Ana Iurov

 

There is a movie titled Don’t Go Into the Woods, which is also sound advice. In fact, many horror movies and stories are built around the premise of a character going somewhere they weren’t supposed to go, seemingly as an object lesson to not stray from the proper, well-lit path. Not going into the woods is, in fact, a time-honored tradition dating all the way back to Hansel and Gretel (though one could argue whether the children had any choice in the matter). Continuing that tradition of staying very far away from the woods by telling a very basic story is the short graphic novel Whisper of the Woods by Ennun Ana Iurov. 

Adam’s friend Vlad has disappeared. He went to Romania and no one has seen or heard from him, so Adam tries to track him down, venturing not only to a foreign land but to Romania’s most haunted forest, the Hoia Baciu. It is in this forest that the iele roam this forest looking for victims. Vlad might have been a victim of the iele, and Adam, who ventures into the woods, might be next.

Iurov, as both author and illustrator, has created a dark, little fairy tale that follows the basic premise of staying away from haunted places (an idea which frankly would have ended a lot of horror movies before they could get a body count) while also playing on the trope of the visitor to a foreign land or village that ignores the multiple warnings, from the townsfolk to the supernatural seeming omens, to leave. The story is rather basic, and would be rather uninspired if written out in text form, but it does allow Iurov to showcase gorgeous artwork that looks almost like hundred-year-old woodcuts. The barebones story and the artistic choices, like showing the differences of night and day by having vibrant colors during the day and stark black and white scenes at night make the book feel like a beautifully rendered children’s book. It’s a children’s book that’s not necessarily for children (for example, the nudity) but it might scratch a nostalgic itch for readers who long ago discovered they liked being scared all the way back in elementary school.

 

Graphic Content: Phantom Road Vol. 1 by Jeff Lemire and Gabriel Hernández Walta

 

Jeff Lemire likes to be weird, and the graphic novel medium is the perfect genre to explore that weirdness. Lemire typically doesn’t tell a brief but powerful story; rather, he slowly introduces spooky elements and lets his readers bask in the uncertainty and their own fear. This time avoiding black barns, Lemire takes to the open road and the worlds where those roads lead in his newest series Phantom Road.

Volume 1 of Phantom Road introduces its main characters. Dom is a long-haul trucker who drives so he doesn’t have to think about the mess his life has become. He comes across a young woman named Birdie as she crawls from the wreckage of an accident. Among that wreckage is a strange artifact that attaches itself to both Birdie and Dom. Now, the two are not only thrust together but they must transport this artifact across America and through a world that is full of monsters.

The tagline of this book is “Mad Max: Fury Road meets The Sandman,” and its aesthetic blends both fictional universes. Gabriel Hernández Walta’s art adds the Mad Max element, and not just when he designs the desolate desert scenery, both in the real world and the other world. Dom’s appearance, especially when wielding a crowbar, is just one leather/armor cosplay combo away from Mad Max’s signature look. Walta also adds the Sandman elements that inform the design of the monsters, or lack of designs. Their faceless, vaguely humanoid forms are off-putting and alien enough to make readers uneasy, and uneasiness is where writer Lemire likes to leave his readers.

Much like Gideon Falls, Lemire begins this story with less information and more atmosphere. Even the truck stop with the far-from-lovable bear mascot adds to the unreal setting of the book. This first volume should leave readers wondering how and why the artifact is leading Dom and Birdie on a quest but intrigued enough to read further volumes and find the story breadcrumbs Lemire will leave.

New Arrival: Daughters of Block Island by Christa Carmen

 The gothic tradition might be just another subgenre of horror, but it might also be the subgenre that helped horror as a whole gain a foothold in the American zeitgeist. There are many horror fans who might remember the time they read Stephen King when they were “way too young,” but there are perhaps many others whose first entry into horror was Frankenstein or Wuthering Heights. For those fans whose minds jump to gloomy castles and stormy nights when it comes to horror, Christa Carmen’s book The Daughters of Block Island is here to give gothic horror the Scream treatment.

One of the first things this book does is remind you of its roots. The story begins with Blake Bronson, a gothic book lover and recovering addict searching for her birth mother on the mysterious Block Island. Unfortunately, she doesn’t survive the experience and she’s found murdered in a clawfoot tub. Receiving a mysterious letter in the mail from Blake, a sister she didn’t know she had, Thalia Mills also returns to Block Island to find out if Blake really was her sister and who may have murdered Blake to hide some deeply buried secrets.

For those who feel like this plot is somewhat familiar, then congratulations! You are the intended audience. This book, from the tone to the metafictional asides, is designed to tickle the pleasure centers of those who love gothic novels and love finding Easter eggs about graphic novels. Just like how the movie Scream and its many sequels dissected the horror genre, Block Island dissects the gothic tale and its many conventions, creating a gothic (naturally) tale that is more fun than frightening. It’s ultimately a lighter read for gothic fans who might enjoy the Gothic trappings in a story but maybe not the more archaic language that can be as dense and impenetrable as the fog around the island.

Graphic Content: Breath of Shadows by Rich Douek and Alex Cormack

 

Scott McAdams famously said in his book Understanding Comics that graphic novels were a medium, not a genre. He furthers this distinction by reminding readers that the graphic novel is simply a different medium, like books and television, to tell a story. That said, when graphic novels are used to tell horror stories, there must be two elements considered to fully utilize the graphic medium: the story and the pictures that tell the story. One such example of this is Rich Douek and Alex Cormack’s Breath of Shadows.

Shadows takes place in the 1960’s and Jimmy Meadows seems to have it all. His band The Shades have achieved international stardom, and their latest album just went gold, but Jimmy has a powerful addiction that threatens to ruin his and his bandmates' careers. With his bandmates fed up and Jimmy wanting to live for something other than his next fix, he and his crew travel with a group of explorers into the jungles and lost temples of South America to discover a cure for Jimmy’s addiction. This is definitely a story where the proposed cure could potentially turn out to be worse than the disease.

Much like their previous collaborations Sea of Sorrows and the award-winning Road of Bones, this book shows both writer and artist pooling their talents to create something horrifyingly harmonious. Writer Douek does not portray Jimmy and the other members of his party as likable people. They all have an assortment of addictions and agendas that turn out to be quite self-destructive. That said, readers aren’t really meant to like these people; it’s much more fun to watch a group of jerks walk slowly and steadily into a trap before seeing their horror as they realize that the trap has snapped shut. Artist Cormack shows an affinity for drawing skin-crawling horrors, an adjective that is all too appropriate. The visceral and disconcerting artwork just might have you scratching at your skin as you try to convince yourself there is nothing crawling on or beneath your skin. Douek and Cormack have once again created something more frightening than the sum of its parts and Shadows is recommended for horror lovers who don’t mind squirming in their seats.

Graphic Content: Lamentation by Cullen Bunn and Arjuna Sisini

 One of my favorite writers of horror comics is Cullen Bunn. He’s written for superheroes like the X-Men and Deadpool, but I discovered his work on Harrow County, a book full of folk horror and gruesome haints that happens to be one of my favorite graphic novels. I have checked out his other horror titles and there hasn’t, in my mind, been one that rivals Harrow County. However, Bunn is guaranteed to never be boring or rest on his folk horror laurels. As a writer, he’s always experimenting with horror and graphic storytelling, and one of his more experimental titles is the book Lamentation, illustrated by Arjuna Susini.

Lamentation invites readers to the Requiem Theater, where rehearsals are underway for a performance of Radize’s Lament, a three-act tale of Gothic horror that follows three sisters who seek refuge in a shadowy castle. It could also be Jenifer’s big break, considering she just got the role without even having to audition, but this play is more than just a story of gloomy castles and stormy nights. The story seems to be constantly changing, the director has few answers for Jenifer, and reality itself feels a little suspect. As opening night approaches, the shadow of Radize’s Lament threatens to swallow all involved.

Many have compared Bunn’s story to In the Mouth of Madness and its metafictive approach certainly makes such a comparison apt. Lamentation, however, sticks to a parallel narrative structuring that has readers moving from the story in the play to the story of the performers, seeing the story and getting glimpses behind the curtain. The narrative switches quickly from play with its Gothic spires and haunting figures to performers at a seemingly regular theater, but Susini keeps a consistent quality in both worlds, especially as the boundaries between those worlds fray. Much like Madness, the narrative makes the reader see the horror of being in a story where one can’t control the outcome because the story is already written. The premise alone could trip up readers who aren’t paying close attention, but Bunn is like Willy Wonka on the boat ride, perfectly content to let a few people fall off the boat if the rest of the passengers are terrified.

 

Have You Read This? Silent Key by Laurel Hightower

 

When it comes to combining genres, horror, like chocolate, goes with everything (if you are allergic to chocolate or simply don’t like chocolate, please insert your favorite food into this analogy). Like chocolate, when horror is drizzled onto a story, it becomes something delicious. Drizzle some horror on a western, and you get something like Alex Grecian’s Red Rabbit, drizzle it on comedy, and you get just about any work from Grady Hendrix. There are plenty of examples of genre mashups involving horror, but one that isn’t as prevalent is the action/adventure thriller (think if Stephen King wrote a story with James Patterson or C. J. Box). Laurel Hightower, however, has given readers a near-perfect blend of action/adventure and horror with her pulpy delicious tale Silent Key.

This tale features former Detective Cam Ambrose, who recently lost her husband Tony and discovered he was having an affair. Fearing those responsible may be coming after her and her family, including her young daughter Sammie and her brother/protector Dimi, she heads to Texas to her Uncle Bert’s place. What was an escape from New York turns out to be even more dangerous as there’s something haunting Bert’s place, something Sammie can see, but something that Cam will barely see coming. To save herself and her family, Cam must find out what is haunting them and what secrets her husband was keeping from her.

It might be an oversimplification to say one simply drizzles horror into another genre when sometimes it requires a balance. Too much of one genre creates a constant shifting in tone and atmosphere that dilutes the final product. Hightower, however, has found the proper balance: a suspense-driven thriller that also utilizes haunted house tropes that will genuinely frighten readers. These kinds of thrillers tend to be full of plot elements and characters that propel the narrative at the risk of losing readers, but Hightower maintains the story’s focus throughout, even creating a potential story universe that can be explored in later books. This is why horror is drizzled into these stories and not poured. Like any good chef, Hightower shows the importance of just the right blend of ingredients.

Have You Read This? A Light Most Hateful by Hailey Piper

 

The drive-in is a vanishing part of the cultural landscape, which is rather sad considering the myriad and delightful horrors that once graced their screens. Many people have fond memories of the drive-in, even those who haven’t watched horror movies, but for horror fans, the drive-in conjures thoughts of monsters from the stars like the ones from Joe Lansdale’s magnum opus The Drive-In. It’s fitting, then, that Hailey Piper begins her latest book A Light Most Hateful at a drive-in on the night of a reality-rending storm, but Piper also takes the concept to some original and terrifying places.

This journey into the frightfully fantastic begins in the small town of Chapel Hill, Pennsylvania where Olivia lives after running away from home. She has managed to eke out a life while she deals with small-town boredom and an unrequited crush on her best friend Sunflower. Then a summer storm shows up, bringing more than just thunder and lightning. This storm brings with it the power to bend the will of the people of Chapel Hill to an otherworldly intelligence, even as it transforms the landscape. Olivia now tries to survive the night and rescue Sunflower before the storm and the being it serves wipes Chapel Hill off the map.

This tale’s beginning in the drive-in and what happens to people after the storm approaches makes it feel like a by-the-book but still enjoyable monster movie that would entertain the late night drive-in crowd, but Piper has always excelled at taking her fiction in new and exciting directions that subvert her audience’s expectations. Rather than a simple tale of running and more running from a mob of brainwashed humanity, Piper has crafted a tale that explores the power and limits of friendship, exploring both the bonds that strengthen us and those that hold us back. Without revealing too much of the twist that brilliantly transforms the book as much as an unnatural storm, Piper also explores concepts of identity and the connective threads that are so tenuous yet somehow manage to hold us together. Come for the pseudo-zombies, but stay for the high-concept, mind-bending story.

Graphic Content: Dead Mall by Adam Cesare and David Stoll

 For many adults, the mall was a distinct part of their childhood, whether as a hangout, a place to eat, or the place to get the latest Third Eye Blind CD or Stephen King novel. But the mall has fallen on hard times. More and more of these monuments of consumerism have become empty, derelict, and simply waiting on nature or a well-placed wrecking ball to end its misery. Such a structure makes it the perfect place where something malevolent can haunt and can hunt souls who simply want their heart’s desire. The Penn Mills Galleria from Adam Cesare’s and David Stoll’s Dead Mall is such a place.

The galleria has long been abandoned and is about to be demolished. Before the wrecking ball wipes it off the face of the earth, five teens decide to break in and see the empty stores before they’re gone forever. The galleria might have been dormant, but it’s still hungry for souls. These five teens must resist the siren call of the mall if they are to survive the night. The mall promises to give you just the product to fill the hole inside you, but that price will be very high indeed.

People might remember Adam Cesare as the twisted mind behind Clown in a Cornfield and its sequel, and he definitely brings that madcap kind of horror to Dead Mall, where the story is told by the titular mall who is not sorry that it must consume its patrons like they were Auntie Anne’s pretzels. Like in Cornfield, he takes the trouble of creating fleshed-out teen characters with their own wants and desires, then pushes them into the wood chipper–the chipper in this case being a mall that transforms its victims based on where they decide to shop within the mall (“shop” might be a misnomer since no money’s exchanged, but the mall’s victims pay the price with their humanity).

Stoll’s illustrations bring the mall’s victims to life in grisly detail, adding a touch of irony to their designs, such as a 50’s looking housewife who seems to have a doughy face (HALF HER FACE appears made out of dough). Stoll, however, shows some real cosmic horror chops as the teens descend into the mall’s depths and see all its fleshy insides and Cthulhu-inspired decor. Fans of the Hellraiser movie series (especially part 3, which had a man shoot razor-sharp CDs at people) will love the artwork here.

Overall, the book is great for fans of Cesare’s writing and of gutbucket body horror that skews ironic.

 

Graphic Content: Let Me Out by Emmit Nahil and George Williams

 

Some of you might be too young to remember the Satanic Panic, even if you are living through a rebranding of it as drag show banning and “parental choice.” Anything that seemed to deviate from traditional Christian values was branded as “Satanic.” Everything from Dungeons and Dragons to He-Man was labeled as being an instrument of the Dark Lord that would bring more wayward souls under his sway and thus destroy Western civilization. What was really going on is that it was used to stigmatize anyone the religious right saw as different, including those in the LGBTQ community. That is the horror, other than the actual demon, that is behind the story in Let Me Out, from writer Emmit Nahil and illustrator George Williams. (spoilers ahead!)

It’s 1979 and the devil is loose in the New Jersey suburbs, at least that’s what FBI agent Garrett and New Jersey Sheriff Mullen want you to believe. When a pastor’s wife is discovered brutally murdered, the two men concoct a story involving ritual sacrifice that covers up their involvement in the crime and of an overarching conspiracy. They’ve even found four scapegoats (Terri, Mitch, Lupe, and Jackson) that are considered outcasts. These four friends are soon running for their lives, but they soon get help from an unlikely source. All it might cost them is their souls.

George Williams’s illustrations don’t denote a gritty realism that most associate with horror comics, but his characters are always expressive and his depictions of violence are quite visceral. He also makes sure to illustrate the various ‘70s styles and anachronisms, like tape recorders and chain smoking in public offices, that immerses the reader in that decade. When the demon finally appears, the more cartoony art style takes away some of its sharper edges. It’s a demon but it’s actually a demon readers can root for.

That fact is also helped along by Nahil’s story which focuses on the teens caught up in this conspiracy. They come from different walks of life, whether it’s being the children of immigrants or being LGBTQ. The dialogue and interactions between this group is endearing in that they always stand up for each other and will carry them after they literally get beat down. When the demon finally makes its move, he almost becomes like a fifth member.

My only issue with the story is its ending and how abrupt it is. It seemed like there could have been more closure, but it might also be Nahil’s point. Perhaps even the devil himself is unable to completely save those LGBTQ kids who are encountering prejudice and violence in the past and in the present.

Recommended for patrons who love horror, LGBTQ stories, and the devil (or stories about the devil).

 

Graphic Content: Playthings by Jon Clark and Travis Williamson

 

Many of us grew up with toys. Toys of all shapes and sizes, from games to dolls, have provided a great deal of our childhood memories. But like clowns and restaurants featuring animatronic mascots, toys that were created with the singular intent of providing joy to children become twisted when portrayed within the horror genre. Imagine Toy Story and Joe Hill’s N0S4A2 had a horrifying baby that lived in the tunnels beneath Fantasyland in Walt Disney World and you might come up with the elevator pitch for Playthings, a comic series created by writer and colorist Jon Clark and illustrator Travis Williamson.

The story begins with Alison Hart waking up in a brightly colored room surrounded by toys that seem to be moving on their own. She’s also tied to a chair and appears to have plastic hands, but that’s not even the worst thing that’s happening to her. Her daughter is missing, taken into this warped wonderland by one of these toys and she will do anything to get her daughter back, even things that she once thought were unthinkable.

Clark’s story might bring up thoughts of Child’s Play and its killer doll Chucky, especially how one doll in particular loves to attack its victims legs, but it differentiates itself through its setting and its protagonist. Alison is not initially portrayed as a good mother, or at least it seems she’s an indifferent one. It isn’t until her daughter is taken that her protective nature emerges. Then she begins her descent into a demented playhouse that is more terrifying than anything Alice ever encountered in Wonderland.

This psychedelic trip that would give Liam Neeson second thoughts is gloriously rendered thanks to Williamson’s illustrations, along with Clark’s choice of colors. Williamson has made the interesting decision of leaving a more cartoonish aspect to his character design (something akin to Image’s The Maxx series for those comic fans with long memories). The people populating this universe don’t look too different from the toys that are supposed to shock when they start coming to life. This aesthetic choice makes the book look less like a bad touch of Christmas magic and more a questioning of reality, leaving the reader constantly guessing as to what’s going on.

Playthings is currently on Hoopla but I hope it gets its own trade paperback very soon.