This review might be best suited for readers my age, who look back fondly on the original golden age of horror fiction, and who are so overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and crafters of this new golden age, that they don’t know who to start with or where to begin. Start here.

Bottom line — people are still reading books and buying books, but they have less money to spend and are being more selective and conservative about how many they buy, and where they buy them.

I wanted to stay on until this year to give Shane, John, and Lisa (who are taking over both KillerCon and the awards) time to hit the ground running. But my speech for this year’s J. F. Gonzalez Lifetime Achievement Award…

It’s funny, satirical, and full-throatedly feminist, and plays brilliantly with the slasher tropes as inventively as Stephen Graham Jones and Bryan Smith.

There’s a massive black bear lurking about. He dug up the yellowjacket next in our side yard (right next to the propane tank). Bears, raccons, weasel, skunks, and wolverines will do this to get to the grubs and larvae in the nest, which are good — if somewhat disgusting — sources of protein.

Had they written this in the 90s, and were it a full-length novel, rather than a novella, it would have been part of the Dell/Abyss line — it’s that bizarre and transgressive.

No, I’m not dead yet.

The story and history of modern Black Horror Fiction is not mine to tell, but it’s one I was lucky and privileged enough to see happen in real time, and be there on the ground as it occurred.

Like Melanie and Steve Tem — the genre’s masters of couples collaboration — Sandy DeLuca and Greg Gifune overcome those challenges for this

This was a game changer — a book that combined Lee’s gift for wondrously detailed and vile descriptions with Ketchum’s absolute unflinching emotional ruthlessness.

The accounts themselves are gathered from a host of sources — first-person, interviews, folklore, newspaper archives, and more.

Pretty much on the road non-stop this month, so apologies for the light content this past week. That pace will continue in the weeks ahead, and into next

I read so much of them that about 20 years ago, Wrath James White pointed out to me that my work had two ‘tells’ (indicators that I did indeed write it)…

The vine itself hasn’t been trimmed in probably fifteen years, and has become a wild and feral thing, like some sort of dessert dispensing Triffid.

Sadly, when Necro’s David G. Barnett passed away unexpectedly after being hit by a driver going the wrong way on a Florida highway, his publishing line went with him. Evil Cookie and various other publishers have…

…with rare exception — The X-Files, for example, which does it right, at least for the first few seasons, by leaning hard into the HORROR of such a situation.

…that feels most like Bishop herself, including its gruesome ending involving mariticide and human-serpent hybrid babies).

So I drove them to the gunsmith, and the mischievous part of me was kind of hoping I’d get pulled over so that when the cop asked, “Are there any weapons in the vehicle” I could grin and wink and say “Check the back.”

It’s a remarkable evolution to traditional horror, and she makes that passage seamlessly. I can’t wait for the mainstream horror audience to discover this jewel.

…a deeply creepy, masterfully suspenseful horror novella that starts as a crime thriller and then turns into a ghost story, before ultimately…