In the murky London gloom, a knife-wielding gentleman named Jack prowls the midnight streets with his faithful watchdog Snuff – gathering together the grisly ingredients they will need for an upcoming ancient and unearthly rite. For soon after the death of the moon, black magic will summon the Elder Gods back into the world. And all manner of Players, both human and undead, are preparing to participate.
Some have come to open the gates. Some have come to slam them shut.
And now the dread night approaches – so let the Game begin.
Author: Roger Zelazny Illustrator: Gahan Wilson Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Gaslamp Publisher: Avon Books Publication Date: September 1, 1994 Pages: 280
October 26th
A short, quiet chapter. Nobody’s out and about, all taking a last breath before the big event. Snuff does his rounds but finds nothing untoward and does normal doggie things for a bit, before realising he is being followed.
He tracks sneakily backwards and disturbs a big loping dog. The dog says it is new to the area, just looking for a place to lay its head and asks Snuff questions about the big event.
Snuff answers cautiously and when they part the big dog calls after Snuff by name, something Snuff never gave him. Is this a new player? Or a new familiar of an old player? Time’s getting short if we are to find out.
Another chapter that made me want to rush ahead and see what happens. Reading it like this has been a real pleasure, but I’m also missing the other real pleasure of devouring a wonderful book in one great gulp. That’ll be next year’s Halloween day for me I think.
Boo-graphy: William Meikle is a Scottish writer, now living in Canada, with more than thirty novels published in the genre press and over 300 short story credits in thirteen countries.
He has books available from a variety of publishers including Dark Regions Press, Crossroad Press and Severed Press, and his work has appeared in a number of professional anthologies and magazines.
He lives in Newfoundland with whales, bald eagles and icebergs for company.
When he’s not writing he drinks beer, plays guitar, and dreams of fortune and glory.
The Green & the Black — A small group of industrial archaeologists head into the center of Newfoundland, investigating a rumor of a lost prospecting team of Irish miners in the late Nineteenth century.
They find the remains of a mining operation, and a journal and papers detailing the extent of the miners’ activities. But there is something else on the site, something older than the miners, as old as the rock itself.
Soon the archaeologists are coming under assault, from a strange infection that spreads like wildfire through mind and body, one that doctors seem powerless to define let alone control.
The survivors only have one option. They must return to the mine, and face what waits for them, down in the deep dark places, where the green meets the black.
For those of y’all who don’t know, Ramsey is one of my most favorite authors. And I’m not just saying that because he will be looking at this post when it goes live. When I began The Gal in the Blue Mask all those years ago, there were two big time authors that I wanted to have on my blog – Kevin J. Anderson and Ramsey. Kevin has been on the blog twice, and as of today, so has Ramsey. If I never post ever again it won’t matter because I have connected with the two people that I have always thought were the most amazing authors ever. Cloud 9. Every time. And I thought y’all should know.
Meghan: Hey, Ramsey! Welcome back to our annual Halloween Extravaganza. What is your favorite part of Halloween?
Ramsey: I have to say it has no great significance as a festival in Britain. There were attempts a few years back to situate it as an alternative Autumn event to Guy Fawkes Night, since it was felt there were too many accidents at private firework displays on 5 November. When I was a child it wasn’t celebrated locally at all, and so my only sense of it was through fiction—specifically, some of the great tales of Ray Bradbury. Ray made October uniquely his, both capturing its flavours and adding individual ones of his own. While you can read them at any time, they have a particular relevance to Halloween, and so I’ll name them as my favourite aspect thereof.
Meghan: What is your favorite Halloween tradition?
Ramsey: Alas, for reasons outlined above, I have none. Oddly enough, I’ve often been at World Fantasy Conventions in America over the season, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen signs of the celebrations. Ah, hang on—in Baltimore in 1980 all the check-in staff at the Park Plaza were dressed as witches and pumpkins and the like. I think it was a pumpkin who proved loath to let Steve King have his room because he presented not a credit card (he had none in those days) but cash.
Meghan: If Halloween is your favorite holiday (or even second favorite holiday), why?
Ramsey: It isn’t, sorry. It still hardly exists here. Christmas and Guy Fawkes have always been mine.
Meghan: What are you superstitious about?
Ramsey: Not much. My mother was both a Roman Catholic and highly superstitious—salt over the shoulder, don’t walk under ladders, look for luck if a black cat crosses your path (although an exactly opposite superstition also exists) and much more—all of which biases me towards rationality. However, for more years than I can remember I’ve found myself glancing at clocks to see that they’re showing 7.47, so often that the digits have acquired an ominous significance. Could they refer to an aeroplane, or a time of the morning, or both? Perhaps both will coincide one day, and I’ll know their significance at last. Let’s hope they prove to have been worth waiting for.
Meghan: What/who is your favorite horror monster or villain?
Ramsey: Monster—the greatest of them all, the original King Kong. Surely no artificial creature has more personality or unites horror and pathos more fully, even Karloff’s creature in the James Whale films. Villain—Niall McGinnis’s Karswell in Night of the Demon, among the most fully characterised adversaries in my experience of cinema, especially in the longer edit of the film (which, despite a still persistent legend, was never released theatrically in Britain—we had the shortened and reshaped version just as you did). He’s among the many reasons why the Tourneur is my favourite horror film.
Meghan: Which unsolved murder fascinates you the most?
Ramsey: None. It’s not a fascination I’d indulge. The nearest I’d come is a presumably vain desire to learn why an old friend of ours was murdered years ago—John Roles, the fanzine editor and Liverpool bookseller. He was strangled to death by a postcard collector who wanted cards John wouldn’t part with. The killer—Andrew John Swift, apparently a charity worker—then set the premises on fire. When Swift was brought to trial, the defence maintained that John had been a recluse with few if any friends. If I’d been there I would have done my best to put the record straight, but I only read a transcript afterwards. During the trial it was said that it was likely nobody would know why Swift had committed his atrocity. The rest of us who care deserve to know.
Meghan: Which urban legend scares you the most?
Ramsey: That vaccination gives you a contagious vaccine disease. That wearing a mask doesn’t help protect anyone but makes you ill. That the pandemic has been produced by conspirators.
Meghan: Who is your favorite serial killer and why?
Ramsey: I have none. They’re a contemptible and pathetic bunch. Those I’ve portrayed in fiction tend to be inadequates who commit murder in order to impose their own view of themselves on the world. If your question covers fictitious figures, I hope it would let in Louis D’Ascoyne Mazzini, irresistibly charming and yet utterly sociopathic, incomparably played by Dennis Price.
Meghan: How old were you when you saw your first horror movie? How old were you when you read your first horror book?
Ramsey: Psycho when I was fourteen, and it was quite a baptism. I should explain that in those days almost all horror films had an X certificate in Britain, which barred anyone apparently under sixteen from watching them. I found the cellar sequence in particular breathlessly nightmarish. Now that I knew I could bluff my way into X showings, I devoted years to catching up all over Merseyside.
The book was 50 Years of Ghost Stories, borrowed from the local library when I was six. Various tales from it haunted my nights. Edith Wharton’s “Afterward” did, but the greatest source of dread was M. R. James’s “The Residence at Whitminster”—the hand that gropes out of the drawer, the gigantic insect in the dark. When the terror faded a little I wanted to repeat the experience or find more tales that had a like effect. I’d say that’s what separates the horror aficionado from other folk.
Meghan: Which horror novel unsettled you the most?
Ramsey: I’ll invoke my capacious definition of horror and name Samuel Beckett’s L’Innomable, as terrifying at novel length as his monologue for Billie Whitelaw, Not I (accept no substitutes). Outside the field, as a teenager—the season when a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of suicide—I was profoundly disturbed by The Heart of the Matter, one of many reasons why Graham Greene remains a firm favourite. I was younger when several short stories hit me hard—Villy Sørensen’s “Child’s Play”, Angus Wilson’s “Raspberry Jam”, Charles Beaumont’s “Miss Gentilbelle”. It occurs to me that all three deal with the mutilation of the helpless.
Meghan: Which horror movie scarred you for life?
Ramsey: None, but I think the one that dug deepest into me—to the extent that at several points I considered leaving the cinema if the scene went on much longer—was Fire Walk With Me. Lynch is the only director whose work I frequently find terrifying on a level I’d call visceral.
Meghan: What is your favorite Halloween-themed song?
Meghan: Thanks again for stopping by. It is ALWAYS a pleasure and you are welcome back any time. Before you go, what are your go-to Halloween movies and books?
Ramsey: I’m fond of John Carpenter’s Halloween—a slasher film that feels as if it could have been produced by Val Lewton. In prose, I have a special affection for Mildred Clingerman’s short story The Word, partly because (since Halloween was virtually unknown in Britain in the fifties, when I read it) decades passed before its point caught up with me. As with W. F. Harvey’s August Heat and Nabokov’s The Vane Sisters, that’s a particular kind of retrospective pleasure. It has only just occurred to me that both the latter tales feature an unaware (not unreliable in the conventional sense) narrator, the kind I tried to portray in “The Words That Count”.
Boo-graphy: Ramsey Campbell is a British writer considered by a number of critics to be one of the great masters of horror fiction. T.E.D. Klein has written that “Campbell reigns supreme in the field today,” while S.T. Joshi has said that “future generations will regard him as the leading horror writer of our generation, every bit the equal of Lovecraft or Blackwood.”
The Wise Men — Patrick Semple’s aunt Thelma Turnbill was a successful artist whose late work turned towards the occult. While staying with her in his teens he found evidence that she used to visit magical sites. As an adult he discovers her journal of her explorations, and his teenage son Roy becomes fascinated too. His experiences at the sites scare Patrick away from them, but Roy carries on the search, together with his new girlfriend. Can Patrick convince his son that his increasingly terrible suspicions are real, or will what they’ve helped to rouse take a new hold on the world?
The Three Birds of Daoloth 1: The Searching Dead — Dominic Sheldrake has never forgotten his childhood in fifties Liverpool or the talk an old boy of his grammar school gave about the First World War. When his history teacher took the class on a field trip to France it promised to be an adventure, not the first of a series of glimpses of what lay in wait for the world. Soon Dominic would learn that a neighbour was involved in practices far older and darker than spiritualism, and stumble on a secret journal that hinted at the occult nature of the universe. How could he and his friends Roberta and Jim stop what was growing under a church in the midst of the results of the blitz? Dominic used to write tales of their exploits, but what they face now could reduce any adult to less than a child…
The Three Birds of Daoloth 2: Born to the Dark — “There’s a place past all the stars that’s so dark you have to make your eyes light up to see,” Toby said. “There’s a creature that lives in the dark, only maybe the dark’s what he is. Or maybe the dark is his mouth that’s like a black hole or what black holes are trying to be. Maybe they’re just thoughts he has, bits of the universe he’s thinking about. And he’s so big and hungry, if you even think about him too much he’ll get hold of you with one of them and carry you off into the dark . . .”
More than thirty years have passed since the events of The Searching Dead. Now married with a young son, Dominic Sheldrake believes that he and his family are free of the occult influence of Christian Noble. Although Toby is experiencing nocturnal seizures and strange dreams, Dominic and Claudine have found a facility that deals with children suffering from his condition, which appears to be growing widespread. Are their visions simply dreams, or truths few people dare envisage? How may Christian Noble be affecting the world now, and how has his daughter grown up? Soon Dominic will have to confront the figures from his past once more and call on his old friends for aid against forces that may overwhelm them all. As he learns the truth behind Toby’s experiences, not just his family is threatened but his assumptions about the world . . .
The Three Birds of Daoloth 3: The Way of the Worm — More than thirty years have passed since the events of Born to the Dark. Christian Noble is almost a century old, but his and his family’s influence over the world is stronger than ever. The latest version of their occult church counts Dominic Sheldrake’s son and the young man’s wife among its members, and their little daughter too. Dominic will do anything he can to break its influence over them, and his old friends Jim and Bobby come to his aid. None of them realise what they will be up against – the Nobles transformed into the monstrousness they have invoked, and the inhuman future they may have made inevitable . . .
Somebody’s Voice — Alex Grand is a successful crime novelist until his latest book is condemned for appropriating the experience of victims of abuse. In a bid to rescue his reputation he ghostwrites a memoir of abuse on behalf of a survivor, Carl Batchelor. Carl’s account proves to be less than entirely reliable; someone is alive who shouldn’t be. As Alex investigates the background of Carl’s accusations his grasp of the truth of the book and of his own involvement begins to crumble. When he has to testify in a court case brought about by Carl’s memoir, this may be one step too far for his insecure mind…
Ramsey Campbell, Certainly — Ramsey Campbell, Certainlycollects the crop of the author’s columns and essays from the last twenty years. Censorship is confronted, whether in Charles Platt’s notorious novel or a disciplinary memoir. Standards of horror are upheld, and the uncanny is acclaimed. Fun is had with uproarious films, and the mating of comedy and horror is celebrated. A novel favoured by discussion groups is skewered, and a supposed satire of horror is satirised. M.R. James is defended against accusations of plagiarism, and the importance of his style is demonstrated. Lovecraft’s prose is appreciated at length, as are several of his greatest tales. Other builders of the great tradition are discussed – Machen, Blackwood, Hodgson – and inspired toilers in the pulps are given their considerable due – Leiber, Wellman, St Clair. Nor are living talents left out: you’ll find Niveau, Lansdale, Atkins, Bestwick and many another. Horror comics are examined and enjoyed, and so is the macabre in music. The most substantial pieces let the author’s late parents speak for themselves through their correspondence, in which August Derleth plays a part, and present a history of the Liverpool Science Fiction Group with copious excerpts from the minutes of their fannish meetings. Does this book have something for everyone? Look for yourself!
Limericks of the Alarming & Phantasmal — Ever mischievous, Ramsey Campbell has delighted his fans—and certainly the team here at PS Towers—by regaling them with a staggering ability to limmer (or whatever the verb might be for producing small five-line rhymes designed to amuse and promote groans). Able to create these mini poem-ettes at the drop of a hat (or even a cleaver), it didn’t take much to persuade him to fill an entire book and, furthermore, for us to approach the equally prolific Pete Von Sholly to come up with some illustrations to boot.
The Village Killings & Other Novellas — The Village Killings and Other Novellas is a companion to the two-volume Ramsey Campbell retrospective Phantasmagorical Stories, also published by PS. Needing Ghosts is one of Campbell’s most nightmarish comedies of paranoia, a journey through a world where nothing can be trusted to be what it seems. In The Pretence an ordinary family comes to realise that a profound unnoticed change has overtaken the world—perhaps a kind of apocalypse. The Booking takes us to a bookshop that may extend to the limits of imagination, but why do books and the booksellers never leave the shop for long? The Enigma of the Flat Policeman uses one of the author’s early stories as a lens to examine his life at the time it was produced—his haunted adolescence and his determination to write. Written specially for this volume, The Village Killings sends a detective novelist to investigate a situation you might find in a whodunit and challenges the reader to get there first. It’s a highly personal take on the Agatha Christie tradition, which it finds less cosy than it’s often said to be. Spanning more than thirty years, the collection displays Campbell’s range, from the uncanny to the psychological, the disturbing to the comical.
In the murky London gloom, a knife-wielding gentleman named Jack prowls the midnight streets with his faithful watchdog Snuff – gathering together the grisly ingredients they will need for an upcoming ancient and unearthly rite. For soon after the death of the moon, black magic will summon the Elder Gods back into the world. And all manner of Players, both human and undead, are preparing to participate.
Some have come to open the gates. Some have come to slam them shut.
And now the dread night approaches – so let the Game begin.
Author: Roger Zelazny Illustrator: Gahan Wilson Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Gaslamp Publisher: Avon Books Publication Date: September 1, 1994 Pages: 280
October 25th
Jill and Greymalk come to Jack’s place to clear up; an excuse for Jill and Jack to share some more of his sherry. Graymalk has a revelation to start the day. The police have taken note of last night’s burning…but only because they have found the charred remains of Owen, the druid in a fourth basket, whereas our heroes only burned three. Someone has taken the opportunity to remove another player. At the same time, the druid’s magic sickle has disappeared.
The druid’s familiar, Cheeter the squirrel, is distraught, for the druid had it under a spell, having stolen its shadow and ‘intuition’ in order to ensure its loyalty. Snuff and Graymalk break into the druid’s house, confirm that the sickle is missing then discover that the squirrel’s shadow is trapped in a magical spell painted on the wall, held in place by seven silver nails.
Snuff once again shows his mettle and, slowly but surely, draws the nails out with his teeth. Graymalk explains what needs to be done with the nails for the return of the squirrel’s shadow; this is what she learned from the old cat in the Dreamlands.
Cheeter, shadow restored, leaves the game and returns to the woods.
A lovely chapter this one; it shows us again how Snuff and Graymalk have bonded, despite being on ‘opposite sides’, and shows us the loyalty between familiars is just as strong, if not stronger, than their loyalty to their masters. Zelazny deliberately keeping the touch light today, to bring us down from the pyrotechnics of the night before.
Snuff now suspects that there might be a ‘secret’ player, one who is always throwing off his calculations. The plot has thickened. Again.
Boo-graphy: William Meikle is a Scottish writer, now living in Canada, with more than thirty novels published in the genre press and over 300 short story credits in thirteen countries.
He has books available from a variety of publishers including Dark Regions Press, Crossroad Press and Severed Press, and his work has appeared in a number of professional anthologies and magazines.
He lives in Newfoundland with whales, bald eagles and icebergs for company.
When he’s not writing he drinks beer, plays guitar, and dreams of fortune and glory.
The Green & the Black — A small group of industrial archaeologists head into the center of Newfoundland, investigating a rumor of a lost prospecting team of Irish miners in the late Nineteenth century.
They find the remains of a mining operation, and a journal and papers detailing the extent of the miners’ activities. But there is something else on the site, something older than the miners, as old as the rock itself.
Soon the archaeologists are coming under assault, from a strange infection that spreads like wildfire through mind and body, one that doctors seem powerless to define let alone control.
The survivors only have one option. They must return to the mine, and face what waits for them, down in the deep dark places, where the green meets the black.
There aren’t many things as singularly attached to Halloween as a jack-o’-lantern. At no other time of year do we shove a lit candle into a hollowed-out vegetable decorated with a ghoulish face. How did we ever start such a bizarre ritual?
As with most of our traditions, the jack-o’-lantern tradition came to us via immigrants. The Jack in jack-o’-lantern comes from an Irish folktale about a character named Stingy Jack. Jack invites the Devil to have a drink. True to his name, Jack has no money, and convinces the Devil to turn himself into a coin so Jack can pay for the drinks. Then Jack adds insult to injury by keeping the Devil Coin in his pocket beside a silver cross, which keeps the Devil from changing back from hard currency to the Prince of Darkness. Jack finally frees the Devil in return for the Devil promising to leave Jack alone for a year and to lay no claim upon his soul should he expire.
Apparently, Irish myth paints the Devil as a moron, because the next year, Jack tricks him again, trapping him in a tree by carving a cross into the trunk. This time, Jack extorts ten Satan-free years from the Devil in return for releasing him.
Alas, Jack dies before the ten years are up. St. Peter locks the pearly gates and won’t let such a trickster into Heaven. The Devil can’t claim his soul, so he sends Jack off to wander the night for eternity with a glowing coal to light his way. Jack stuffs it in a hollowed-out turnip to keep from burning his hands. The Irish called this ghostly figure “Jack of the Lantern,” which morphed into “Jack O’Lantern.”
People began to carve scary faces in turnips and place them by windows and doors to frighten off old Stingy Jack and any other unhappy haunters that might be walking the streets. The innovative British used beets. In either case, it sounds like kids making an excuse not to eat the awful things. Mid-19th century Irish immigrants introduced the tradition to America, and were no doubt overjoyed to find larger, pre-hollowed American pumpkins could take the turnip’s place.
In recent years, the jack-o-lantern has evolved at the hands of the gifted from the simple three triangle and a toothy grin face to feats of artwork almost too beautiful for roving teenagers to smash. Almost. There are even serious carving competitions held around the country each fall.
So that’s where we got the tradition of setting pumpkins ablaze for Halloween. Aren’t you glad that tradition took hold instead of the one where a matchmaking cook buries a ring in her mashed potatoes on Halloween night, hoping to bring true love to the diner who found it?
The Portal — Three hundred years ago, on an isolated island in Long Island Sound, Satan tried to open a doorway to Hell. Now he’s returned to finish the task.
A black speedboat arrives at the small island community of Stone Harbor. Its mysterious passenger, Joey Oates, inspires terror by his very presence. He’s Satan incarnate, back to complete a ritual left unfinished three hundred years ago. A lost talisman called the Portal can open a doorway for the demons of Hell to enter our world. Oates plans to find the Portal, and finish unlocking it.
Former lovers Scott Tackett, family hardware store owner, and Allie Layton, flamed-out Hollywood actress, are about to reconnect after years apart, until they discover the evil growing in town. Only they can stop Oates’s awful plan and save the world from the living nightmares standing ready to crawl out of Hell.
Mammoth Island — As paleontologist Grant Coleman waits to board a plane for a much-needed Hawaiian vacation, thugs knock him out and kidnap him. He awakens on a cargo aircraft in flight to find he’s an unwilling member of an expedition to a secret Arctic location called Mammoth Island.
Unscrupulous fossil dealer Angelo Destro has assembled the expedition to steal the fruits of a Russian oligarch’s labors The oligarch’s scientists have resurrected extinct wooly mammoths at the island’s laboratory. But from the moment the plane lands, the plan goes to pieces. The lab’s scientists are missing, the compound is a shamble, and it looks like something enormous has crushed the perimeter fence.
Even worse, Destro isn’t the only one after this prehistoric prize. Before Grant and the others solve the destroyed lab’s mysteries, Russian soldiers arrive. Destro’s group is forced to flee into the surrounding forests, where killer mammoths lurk, ready to hunt more human prey.
Trapped between the twin tips of Russian bayonets and mammoth tusks, who among them will survive and escape Mammoth Island?
Lambs Among Wolves — Evil may soon consume mankind, if the demons have their way.
After the death of her father, young Cyndi Fisher travels to Paris to meet the grandfather she never knew. That man turns out to be Father Jack Cahill, a renegade exorcist who was unaware he’d fathered a child before taking his vows.
Cyndi is soon drawn into Father Jack’s world, where demons from Hell are possessing humans and robbing Europe’s churches of sacred relics. From the cathedrals of Paris, through the graveyards of France, and into the sewers of Rome, they confront the possessed, battle risen corpses, and fight gang members sent to stop them.
They uncover a plot to set Satan free upon the Earth, but stopping it seems impossible. Demons are always one step ahead of them, and each manifestation is more powerful than the last. Stopping Satan’s return will take courage and faith. Will an aged priest and an agnostic teen have enough of either?
In the murky London gloom, a knife-wielding gentleman named Jack prowls the midnight streets with his faithful watchdog Snuff – gathering together the grisly ingredients they will need for an upcoming ancient and unearthly rite. For soon after the death of the moon, black magic will summon the Elder Gods back into the world. And all manner of Players, both human and undead, are preparing to participate.
Some have come to open the gates. Some have come to slam them shut.
And now the dread night approaches – so let the Game begin.
Author: Roger Zelazny Illustrator: Gahan Wilson Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Gaslamp Publisher: Avon Books Publication Date: September 1, 1994 Pages: 280
October 24th
An action packed chapter today. Our heroes discover, thanks to Jill’s warding spells, that several of the familiars have visited the house in their absence in the city, one of them a loping wolf-thing that Talbot insists wasn’t him.
After Snuff does his rounds to make sure everyone knows the vivisectionists didn’t get him, someone, Snuff suspects the Vicar again, lays a spell on Jack’s house, a booming thunder and lightning storm of a kind, but only on the inside. The ‘things’ in the mirror, in the steamer trunk, in the attic and in the basement, all different, all dangerous, all get loose at the same time. Jack and Snuff have a battle on their hands.
The slithering things slither. Jack tries to round them up with magic while Snuff shows his mettle, dealing with the thing from the steamer trunk before holding off the thing from the attic long enough for Jack to get to work on it with his blade. The thing from the basement arrives, intending on getting at Snuff. Jack dispatches it easily.
We learn in passing that Jack is indeed under a curse and the blade is a focus of that, but that he is also a magic user in his own right, and possessor of at least two wands of power, one of which is one of the game’s major artifacts.
We also learn that the ‘things’ weren’t actually part of the game, but were intended as insurance to cover Jack and Snuff’s tracks should they need to escape after the big night. That insurance policy is now revoked.
The things are all eventually dispatched after a wonderfully described battle in the house. Jill and Graymalk arrive to see what all the fuss has been about and they have a very domestic pot of tea in the carnage after the battle.
At the close of day they get rid of the remains of the things by filling the druid’s wicker baskets with the offal, hoisting them up a big oak tree and setting it alight, a bonfire for Halloween, and a very pretty sight.
A lot of what Zelazny does well today. Fast paced, action packed but you always know where all the participants are and what they’re doing due to his descriptive skills, and he still manages to slide some pertinent information in among the mayhem. Technically, he’s brilliant, and also too good to let you notice while you’re barreling along caught up in the plot.
We got another lovely, gruesome Wilson illo too today, of the thing from the steamer trunk, coming apart where Snuff has been at it. Wonderful stuff.
Boo-graphy: William Meikle is a Scottish writer, now living in Canada, with more than thirty novels published in the genre press and over 300 short story credits in thirteen countries.
He has books available from a variety of publishers including Dark Regions Press, Crossroad Press and Severed Press, and his work has appeared in a number of professional anthologies and magazines.
He lives in Newfoundland with whales, bald eagles and icebergs for company.
When he’s not writing he drinks beer, plays guitar, and dreams of fortune and glory.
The Green & the Black — A small group of industrial archaeologists head into the center of Newfoundland, investigating a rumor of a lost prospecting team of Irish miners in the late Nineteenth century.
They find the remains of a mining operation, and a journal and papers detailing the extent of the miners’ activities. But there is something else on the site, something older than the miners, as old as the rock itself.
Soon the archaeologists are coming under assault, from a strange infection that spreads like wildfire through mind and body, one that doctors seem powerless to define let alone control.
The survivors only have one option. They must return to the mine, and face what waits for them, down in the deep dark places, where the green meets the black.
Meghan's House of Books 