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.

Graphic Content: Hauthology by Jeremy Haun

 When the pandemic hit, many people suddenly had a lot of free time on their hands. Some people baked

bread, some people caught up on all the Netflix and Hulu shows they never had time to finish, and some just squeezed themselves into a fetal position to futilely escape the crushing sense of existential dread. Writer and artist Jeremy Haun, creator of the body horror series The Beauty, took a different approach. He created a very unique collection of short graphic stories and collected them in the book Haunthology.

Haunthology is a large collection of very short stories. Many of these reflect the horrors of isolation, brief snippets of people suffocating under the weight of existential worry. Others are stories about haunted houses and horrifying curses that are lodged like a stinger in your mind before Haun delivers another one. Each story is its own little monster that’s guaranteed to burrow under your skin.

Haun is well-known in horror circles for The Beauty as well as The Red Mother, but he’s really flexing his creative muscles here. Some might think that writing super short stories is simpler than longer works when, in fact, the opposite is true. In a very limited amount of space and time, the author/artist (Haun is doing double duty here) must incorporate the setting, the characters, and the conflict, before delivering the climax that gives a tale its emotional punch. Each of these stories are great examples of how to create a short short story and should be read by those who want some prime examples of saying a lot with very little.

Graphic Content: Boys' Weekend by Mattie Lubchansky

 

One of the sad facts about growing up is growing away from what you once knew, perhaps even loved. That especially includes friendships, Where you once thought that your best friend would be a part of your life forever, now you find you both have drifted away from each other. The truly sad thing is that the blame does not rest on the shoulders of one person. People, as they grow, get new interests, gain new ways to think about the world, or they might even decide what they once appeared as wasn’t really them. This conflict between drifting apart and staying together, along with a strange cult, is what turns the bachelor party in Mattie Lubchansky’s Boys’ Weekend a literal bachelor party from Hell (or at least Hell adjacent).

Newly-out trans art assistant Sammie is living their best life in New York until their best friend Adam asks Sammie to be the “best man” for his wedding. Sammie meets up with Adam’s groomsmen at El Campo, a bizarre mix of Las Vegas and Atlantis that has few rules since they are in international waters. Not only does Samme have to endure the awkward situations that the other men subject them to, but there’s apparently a cult that has no compunctions about human sacrifice or summoning their god to this realm.

Lubchansky’s artstyle, and the book’s overall tone, isn’t for those looking for a straight-laced Lovecraftian nightmare; those that are would be missing the point. Many of the book’s terrors come from Sammie trying their best to fit in and be subsequently rejected, all while supposed “nice guy” Adam lets it happen. The conflict with the cult is actually secondary to Sammie’s conflict with Adam’s passive-aggressive friends and Sammie’s own desire to live as they want. The book even ends on a touching note that no amount of sea water could drown and should resonate for those, trans and not trans, who are not allowed to live as their authentic selves.

Have You Read This? Those We Drown by Amy Goldsmith

There are those that love the sea for the same reasons that many fear it, and many have written stories about it: the sheer expanse of it as well as the accompanying mystery. There might be joy found riding jet skis atop its surface and beauty seen only by diving down beneath its surface, but there are plenty of places that sunlight doesn’t touch. And that’s not even getting to what happens when you're left out at sea with no solid, familiar ground to be seen. That intrinsic terror one feels is what drives Amy Goldsmith’s young adult horror debut Those We Drown.

 

The story is told through the eyes of Liv, a girl who is going to spend a semester at sea with her best friend Will. The trip starts going wrong when Liv and Will have a big fight, and then Will suddenly disappears. Most of the other kids are not interested in Liv and the crew of the ship isn’t talking. Soon more people start disappearing and Liv not only has to find her best friend but to get help from someone not possibly involved in making sure those people stay lost.

The premise of this novel is intriguing because there’s a lot of horror to be squeezed out of isolation and Goldsmith does a great job of making Liv seem isolated. Not only because many of the people on the cruise don’t believe her wild stories but because she feels so out of place among kids whose parents are in a totally different tax bracket than hers. Liv is a whirlwind of emotions, flitting from reassured to panicked to self-conscious, but it doesn’t make her unlikable; it just makes her a more relatable heroine. There are many undersea horrors, along with the secrets the ships’ crew are keeping, but Goldsmith has created a story for young adults that’s perfect to devour while sitting in a deck chair on a presumably safe cruise ship.

Graphic Content: Love Everlasting written by Tom King and drawn by Elsa Charretier

 

Romance comics are often maligned for being not only formulaic but even misogynistic. The overall message of many of these comics is that the female protagonist in them must always find a man in order to achieve happiness. This is the hell in which protagonist Joan continuously finds herself, forced to constantly rediscover her one true love in Volume 1 of Love Everlasting. This book, written by Tom King and drawn by Elsa Charretier, is a surprisingly brutal, fantastical sendup of the trite romantic formula.
There are many different stories in this book, but they all star Joan, a woman who is constantly forced to find true love, whether it’s as a maid who works in her paramour’s house, a secretary with feelings for her dreamy boss, or a young woman who is trying to decide if settling down with her boyfriend is in her future. Joan has gone through multiple iterations of the same story, and no matter how many times she tries to escape, she is always killed and forced to repeat another doomed romance. 
This rom-com mashup of Quantum Leap and Groundhog Day gets a lot of miles out of the premise because it tells each of these stories with tongue firmly in cheek. Charretier’s artwork mimics the style of many of these comics, whether she’s incorporating more retro styles of clothing into her drawings or rendering these scenes in a completely different artistic style. She only ruins the illusion when Joan herself tries to fight back and is bloodily dispatched. 
King’s writing perfectly mimics the tone and dialogue of romance comics until they don’t. In these stories, Joan seems to be a willing, or at least unaware, participant until she receives a nagging sense that none of this is real (what it is, however, is still uncertain, meaning there will hopefully be more to this series). Fans of dark humor, violent shootouts, and mind-bending sci-fi concepts should immerse themselves in Joan’s stories as she tries to escape them.

Have You Read This? Always Listen to Her Hurt by Kenzie Jennings

 

There’s a lot of aspects about an author’s life that seep into their fiction, but it’s often that writer’s home that seems to leave the biggest footprint. Some of the more well-known examples of this are the creepy hamlets of Stephen King’s Maine or the crime-riddled backwoods of Chris Offutt’s crime fiction. Kenzie Jennings might be adding Florida to the list of literary locations explored on the printed page with her short story collection Always Listen to Her Hurt. 
Many of the stories from this collection hail from the Sunshine State, particularly those that look beneath the seedy, sweltering underbelly of Florida’s thriving tourism industry. These tales include the story of a harried mother at Walt Disney World or a woman whose vacation destination is a little more out-of-the-way, learning with frightening consequences why some beware of what some locals call “a local thing.” There’s one tale that’s even a revenge fantasy of obnoxious tourists getting their comeuppance from assassins whose specialty is dealing with unwanted guests. 
However, the stories in this collection aren’t all gleefully wicked gorefests. Jennings offers an explanation about all the stories here, but the horror becomes all too real when she explains how some writings are more biographical. These works are typically shorter, but they also offer some revealing glances at true emotional pain. Some might call it jarring, but the purpose of a collection is often to introduce readers to a writer’s overall body of work. What this collection does is show Jennings at her most creative and her most confessional.