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.