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[BEST & WORST ’12] Top 10 Horror Novels of the Year!

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First off, I’m not sure I’m completely comfortable labeling the following novels “the best of 2012”. When compiling a list of top 10 horror films of the year, it’s easy to narrow the selection group down to 50 or so candidates. Not so with horror novels. In the wake of the e-reader, the number of horror fiction titles released each year has swelled into the thousands. And while most of those novels aren’t necessarily good, there are dozens that are. Considering the varying marketing and distribution methods, it’s literally impossible to catch up with all the greatness out there.

But in my defense, I am a voracious reader, and a longtime fan of horror fiction. If anything, let the following 10 entries serve as a list of humble recommendations from a man who has sampled the goods in 2012. I’m certain many of our readers have read more books than I have, and better books than I have. And I’d especially like to thank you guys, the readers who read and discuss the book and comic reviews. Drop your favorite fiction titles of the year in the comments if you get a chance. It’s gift card season and daddy needs a new pair of hardbounds.

Mr. Disgusting (Best/Worst) | Evan Dickson (Best/Worst) | David Harley (Best/Worst) | Lonmonster (Best/Worst) | Corey Mitchell (Best of Fest) | Supporting Staff (Best & Worst) | Ryan Daley (Best Novels)
Posters (Best/Worst) | Trailers (Best/Worst)

10. 14, by Peter Clines (May 7; Permuted Press)

Like a cross between The Burbs and an episode of Scooby Doo, Clines’ dialogue-driven tale follows the exploits of a handful of building residents investigating the mysterious happenings in their inner-city highrise. Flirty neighbors and mutant cockroaches abound in 14, resulting in a novel that’s more suspense than horror––at least until it’s Lovecraftian closing act. This is the book that Dean Koontz’s 77 Shadow Street wanted to be.

9. Zombie, by J.R. Angelella (June 5; Soho Press)

This coming of age tale doesn’t really qualify as horror, but the genre roots run so deep, it’s begging for a spot. Angelella’s story of a nerdy teenager using his love of zombie films to cope with an increasingly depressing reality manages to tap into the collective subconscious of horror geeks worldwide. An impressive debut.

8. Them or Us, by David Moody (November 8, 2011; Thomas Dunne Books)

I realize this was released in hardbound late last year, but what the hell, I‘m including it anyway. A genuine internet success story, Moody’s apocalyptic Hater series is addictively bleak, and while the trilogy as a whole may have its flaws, Them or Us wraps everything up in a satisfyingly gruesome bow.

7. Kill You Twice, by Chelsea Cain (August 7; Minotaur Books)

Cain is one of those authors who can really get your stomach churning, but the fourth entry in her Sheridan/Lowell series, The Night Season, was disappointingly tame. Fans will be pleased to know that she brings her gory “A” game back to Kill You Twice.

6. Penpal, by Dathan Auerbach (July 11; 1000Vultures)

When considering our place in this world, our memory is one of the greatest tools we have. But as Dathan Auerbach so eloquently reminds us in his riveting debut novel, memory is not to be trusted. In a series of six vignettes, an unreliable narrator reflects on the mysterious memories of his childhood, and with each passing page, a bigger, more harrowing picture is revealed. Auerbach manages to turn passive childhood memories–– like walkie-talkie friends and balloon penpals––into the stuff of godawful nightmares. This one sneaks up on you.

5. This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It!, by David Wong (October 2; Thomas Dunne Books)

I liked John Dies at the End. I really did. But This Book is Full of Spiders is such a vast improvement, it’s not even funny. Or rather, it’s very funny. Far funnier than John Dies at the End could ever hope to be. The continuing adventures of John and David––two hardcore slackers occasionally pressed to investigate inter-dimensional breaches in their unnamed hometown––hit action-packed heights as the duo fights a full-on zombie outbreak following an infestation of mutant spiders the size of beer-cans. It’s hard to explain. Just read the book.

4. Pines, by Blake Crouch (August 21; Thomas & Mercer)

This trippy, mind-bone of a novel reads like an episode of the Twilight Zone set in Twin Peaks, presumably directed by a wicker man. After a head-thumping car accident, a Secret Service agent wakes in Wayward Pines, Idaho, without a car, I.D., or a phone. And while Wayward Pines is quaint and inviting on the surface, something mysterious is lurking beneath the plastic smiles and dodged questions. Pines cruises with the breathless power of forward momentum, the story seams bulging with the agonizing futility of a bad dream. The final chapters are guaranteed to punch you in the throat.

3. The Twelve, by Justin Cronin (October 16; Ballantine Books)

While 2010’s insanely popular The Passage wasn’t loved by all, it’s impossible to deny Justin Cronin’s ability to tell a good story. Yes, this is a series about vampires, but not the bullshit glittery kind. Cronin’s vamps are feral, predatory monsters that have forced humanity to near extinction. The Twelve follows several surviving characters from The Passage as they attempt to fight back against the “infected”. More than anything else, Cronin is a spinner of yarns, a teller of tales, an author who isn’t afraid to back-burner his primary plot in order to fill in some character details. And even his minor tangents, like one involving a midday massacre at a picnic, are as enrapturing as any good campfire story. By deliberately doling out his narrative, expanding his already expansive chronology, and introducing a host of new characters, Cronin reminds us that he is crafting something truly epic here.

2. The Last Final Girl, by Stephen Graham Jones (September 16; Lazy Fascist Press)

Reading Jones’ post-modern take on the American slasher film is like watching a really clever horror movie. And I mean that as the best possible compliment. His novel, about the hometown return of a once-vanquished slasher villain, both milks and mocks the subgenre––while simultaneously bear-hugging it close. When Billie Jean––a mindless killer in a Michael Jackson mask––threatens to crash the Homecoming Dance with a host of murders, the catty nominees for homecoming queen are forced to step up and determine once and for all….who will be the last Final Girl? Jones has got an eye for even the most subtle of horror film cliches, and his clever winks at slasher tropes will leave genre fans cackling with knowing glee.

1. Little Star, by John Ajvide Lindqvist (October 2; Thomas Dunne Books)

While it’s true that I’m a sucker for any Carrie-esqe tale about empowered outcasts, there’s no denying the lasting impact of Little Star. Lindqvist’s story––about an abandoned infant raised to become a star on the Swedish version of American Idol––pulls off a mind-blowing twist at the end of the first act before mounting a slow-burn build to a magnificently violent crescendo. Shocking, ambiguous and haunting, this is the stuff that great horror fiction is made of. Each novel from Lindquist (Let Me In) has been better than the last. This is his best yet.

Best Anthology:
A Book of Horrors, ed. Stephen Jones (September 18; St. Martin’s Griffin)

Editor Stephen Jones takes a break from his occasionally stuffy Mammoth Book of New Horror series to helm this gloriously diverse anthology. Lacking an overall theme, each new tale comes as a somewhat startling surprise. Including heavy hitters like Stephen King, John Ajvide Lindqvist, Brian Hodge, and Michael Marshall Smith, this one is a veritable treasure trove of exceeded expectations.

Most Disappointing Follow Up:
Home, by Matthew Costello (October 30; Thomas Dunne Books)

Last year’s Vacation, the first entry in Costello’s not-quite-zombies apocalypse series, was a textbook example of pacing done right. That thing moved. His sequel is the complete opposite, a downright drag. Self-reflection dominates, while action and plotting are a mere afterthought. Good luck staying awake during this one.

Best Picture Book:
Prometheus: The Art of the Film (June 12; Titan Books)

There are movie tie-ins and then there are movie tie-ins, and this gloriously lavish coffee table book belongs in the latter category. Rich in photos and behind-the-scenes mythology, this is one well-conceived piece of work from “visual companion” specialist Mark Salisbury.

Scariest Non-Horror:
Stay Awake, by Dan Chaon (February 7; Ballantine Books)

Dan Chaon is not a horror writer, but a few of the stories in his anthology rank among the most haunting I’ve ever read. Horror fans need to check out “The Bees“, “I Wake Up“, and “Slowly We Open Our Eyes“. You can thank me later.

Worst cover:
Hexcommunicated, by Rafael Chandler (July 12, 2012; CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform)

My apologies to Rafael Chandler, a solid writer and a hell of a role-playing game designer (Dread, Spite), but the cover of his vampire-action novel is silly as shit. I feel guilty picking on something self-published, but not since 50 Shades of Grey have Americans been so embarrassed to be seen reading a book on public transit.

Finally, I’d like to offer my abject apologies to the dozens of sweet-ass books I desperately wanted to read, but somehow missed. Here are a few:

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn
The Haunted, Bentley Little
Nocturnal, Scott Sigler
Haunt, Laura Lee Bahr
The Devil in Silver, Victor LaValle
The Hollow City, Dan Wells

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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