Twentieth Anniversary Screening, Jeff Strand

Sometimes, you browse Amazon, Good Reads, or Youtube videos looking for a new read. A title, cover, or description catches your attention, but you vacillate, unsure if it’s for you. You check reviews, careful to avoid spoilers if your interest is really piqued. Eventually, you decide, what the hell, and buy the book in question. Sometimes, you wish you could go back and never click the ‘buy’ button. Other times, you find a true gem that provides everything you were looking for. Twentieth Anniversary Screening, I’m happy to say, is the latter.

The story is simple. The ultra-low budget, early 90’s slasher flick, The Roofer, has a very limited run in its theatrical release. At one particular theater, a tragic incident occurs during a screening. The film is pulled, naturally, and has very vocal critics condemning the movie for the violence it inspired. Twenty years later, the owner of the theater where the incident occurred is in need of cash for the failing business. He decides to screen The Roofer on the twentieth anniversary of the film’s release. Let’s just say, things don’t go well.

That description may seem a bit lackluster, but this novella is anything but. The story is presented as an in-depth article on a horror movie website, including a synopsis of The Roofer, and interview excerpts with the film’s director and the theater owner. The tone is perfect, rife with dry, sarcastic, snarky humor that feels natural, not forced. It works because it’s subtle, not obvious. The pacing is brisk. There’s a turn of events I didn’t see coming, always a pleasant surprise. The synopsis of The Roofer is hilarious, and had me wishing the schlockfest actually existed, the sort of thing you’d find buried in the horror category on Tubi.

I really enjoyed this author’s voice. In my previous review, for Witching Hour Theatre, I mentioned how much I disliked the flat, leaden prose. Screening is the antithesis. These two books remind me of when I first tried drinking gin. The first time, I bought Beefeater. I mixed a cocktail. I sipped, and thought to myself, why in the hell would anybody drink gin? This is fucking awful. I dumped the bottle. Flash forward a few years to my second attempt, with Tanqueray. Ah, this is why people enjoy gin. The clumsy metaphor is an attempt to illustrate that some author’s voices or prose is like cheap liquor; it’s harsh and unpleasant to imbibe, and you never finish it, whereas others are smooth and enjoyable and leave you wanting more. I read this in about three to three-and-a-half hours, and had several laugh out loud moments. In fact, when I started it, I was in a public place, and had to suppress my guffaws so people didn’t think I was crazy. I had to set my Kindle down a couple of times, the humor was so unexpected.

I buy ebooks, in part due to space issues, but also the lower cost. However, if I read an ebook and really like it, I’ll buy a physical copy, too. It’s sort of my stamp of approval. Needless to say, Twentieth Anniversary Screening is on my short list of books to buy, along with two other Strand novels that caught my eye.

I know I’ll be revisiting this book, it’s one of my new favorites that I highly recommend. A great option if you’re looking for a quick read, or a humorous one, and I think fans of classic slasher flicks will get a kick out of it, too.

Witching Hour Theatre, Jonathan Janz

Larry Wilson is a single, middle-aged man who enjoys going to the movies. He particularly enjoys heading to the theater on Friday nights, when the local movie house runs a horror movie triple bill, starting at midnight. He’s smitten with the concessions clerk, a woman named Nichole, and awkwardly attempts to flirt. Before and during the movies, a handful of people act obnoxiously. People leave little by little, until Larry is the only patron left, and he realizes something is very, very wrong.

I won’t mince words. This book, a novelette, was awful. I won’t be reading this author again, and I don’t recommend this first effort to anyone. The premise sounded interesting, but before diving into the story, there was an author’s introduction, where Janz talks briefly of his writer heroes and inspirations, among them Richard Matheson and Richard Laymon, among others. And once the story actually begins, you see those influences.

Larry Wilson is a loser; awkward, and an outsider since childhood. I couldn’t stand him. During a fight in first grade, he bit his opponent. Apparently, that followed him for the rest of his school years, ostracized right through high school. I call bullshit. Because he was teased after the biting incident, you see, he became timid, then he was bullied even more, in all the clichéd bully ways. How tiresome. He’s overlooked and treated poorly at work, too, just because.

I was reminded of Duel here, an overly long Matheson story I read once and will never set eyes on again (I dig Hell House, though). Like Duel, it’s saturated with uninteresting internal thoughts, told in a dry, dragging, and distant manner. I’ve blocked most of Duel from my memory, I can’t recall if the character in the book was as impotent as the film version’s. Larry Wilson gives off the same vibe. The writing wasn’t engaging, and focused on minutiae; Larry “munching his popcorn,” and sipping his root beer or lemonade (he would buy the “Date Pack” of concessions, even though he was alone), and his feelings of inadequacy. I didn’t care about Larry, I didn’t feel sorry for him, I didn’t root for him. Honestly, I wished the asshole would have been the first person killed off, because that’s what’s going on during the screenings.

Despite being so short, the story felt excruciatingly slow, and I started skimming in the third chapter. Things eventually go from dull and disengaging, to laughably bad horror, I’m guessing in the Richard Laymon vein. I don’t read Laymon, Keene, Ketchum and the like, not my bag, although I did read one Graham Masterton book, and a William W Johnstone; both were terrible, but at least Johnstone’s had a batshit insane, make you laugh quality. But I digress.

Somebody is stealthily picking off the moviegoers. I couldn’t tell you who, or what, because I don’t think the author knew. It’s never explained. And the villains (there are two), are silly as hell, and not the least bit scary, much like the snake-cat thing in the Masterton book I read. This book completely harshed my reading mood, especially after enjoying my two previous reads, Curse of the Reaper (which I recommend, even though I have a few issues with the ending), and Twentieth Anniversary Screening, a book I loved. Reaper has a strong psychological horror element, and gives the reader food for thought. The fast-paced Twentieth Anniversary is hilarious in its snark, and had me wishing the no-budget, grade-Z flick, The Roofer, actually existed. Both books had me thinking I was on a good track, then I read Witching Hour Theatre. The e-book was only 99¢, but I’m still ticked off I spent the money.

Fortunately, I have a number of other books waiting in the wings, mainly cursed film and retro slasher. It’s going to be an interesting summer.

Two reviews; a cop thriller & a police procedural

First up is The Second Deadly Sin by Lawrence Sanders, from 1977. This is a cop procedural. New York artist Victor Maitland is murdered in his grubby studio shortly after making some rough sketches of a new model. The cops don’t consider it a priority (seriously? A guy stabbed in the back multiple times?). Anyway, the victim has a relative who’s a state congressman or something who puts the pressure on. The commissioner asks recently retired chief of police Edward X. Delaney to investigate, with some help from a detective, Sgt. Boone. Boone is on shaky ground, since he’s started hitting the bottle hard, and is in danger of being fired.

The two start investigating, which mainly consists of interviews. The suspects are Maitland’s wife and college age son, an ex-lover, a lawyer, the gallery owner/agent, his sister, and elderly mother, who live together upstate. Interview upon interview ensues, along with a lot of thinking, eating of sandwiches, and drinking of highballs by Edward X. Delaney.

This book is too long by half. No, really, it’s almost 450 pages, and would have worked better if it were two hundred less . A lot could have been cut; the sandwiches (and other meals), the cocktails, Boone’s two episodes of falling off the wagon, and Delaney’s step-daughters who weren’t important to the plot at all, even in the step-daughters in danger incident early on. They were so unimportant, they were shunted off to summer camp, and I completely forgot about it. Then again, it took me five weeks to read this thing.

Delaney as a character was obnoxious, in attitude, and self-importance. His attire is as pretentious as the X in his name. One of the most laughable aspects to this was the reaction to Maitland’s paintings. He painted nudes, you see, always female nudes. And Delaney was just wowed by them, even the rough sketches. The subjects were so juicy, ripe, and bursting. That was how every goddamn painting was described, even the secret stash he and Boone found late in the book. They were so dazzled, they couldn’t think. The ripeness, juiciness, and bursting was so overwhelming, don’t you know? Excuse me, Mr. Sanders, you’re an author, how about trying words like, sensuous, voluptuous, earthy, wanton, erotic, lascivious, cyprian, libertine, libidinous. I mention this because at other times, he uses archaic terms for other things. He could use a thesaurus in those instances, but all he could do to describe female nudes are the above mentioned words often used to describe fruit. The fuck outta here.

The ending, in addition from suffering from cop-talks-too-much, was asinine in that Edward X. Delaney, paragon of police work and morality, essentially talks the culprit into taking a header out of an open window. Sure, he saved the taxpayers the cost of a trial and incarceration, but drop the ‘I’m on the moral high ground’ act, hypocrite. I hated this book.

The Headsman, by James Neal Harvey, was published in 1990, and was a much quicker reader than the execrable Sanders’ book. Set in a small town in New York, it’s a murder mystery. A murder occurs early on, reminiscent of a previous murder decades earlier, that also ties in with an urban legend going back to the town’s founding in the early 18th century. The settlers brought an executioner with them, it seems, and the method of punishment was decapitation by a headsman. Which seems more 14th century to me, but, whatever.

The recently appointed (much to the consternation of some of his subordinates) chief of police, Jud MacElroy realizes they don’t have the resources to investigate the new killing, so he calls in the state police, who send an investigator and his lackey. The chief follows some of his own hunches, leads, and whatnot. Jud’s girlfriend, Sally, works for the local paper. Ambitious, she’s thrilled when she’s assigned to cover the case. Of course, she knows if it bleeds, it leads, and that sensationalism sells. She really plays up the headsman legend in her coverage. There’s also a woman in town who suffers from visions, always negative, and she ‘sees’ the murders being committed.

I finished this in a few days, although I was starting to flag at about 85%. That often happens though, I start to lose interest two-thirds, or three-quarters of the way through a lot of books. Anyway, the pace was fairly decent, and I really didn’t know who the killer was. There were a few possibles, but they were subtly obvious red herrings, if that makes sense. There was one part, close to the end, when I knew why the headsman couldn’t be stopped when confronted (SPOILER: he was shot multiple times, but it didn’t faze him. Because he’s wearing a bulletproof vest, I said to myself. Confirmed during the big reveal.) There were a number of teenagers in this (seniors) and their dialogue and thoughts felt legitimate, like real teens. There was also a sprinkling of small town secrets (affairs, mostly), and politics. I skipped over a detailed scene of Jud and Sally getting intimate, I just didn’t care.

The culprit, however, felt a bit of a cheat. Sure, the character had been in two previous scenes, but was easily forgettable. And I had a hard time believing they could accomplish what they did. Oh, and the psychic? She was completely unnecessary to the story, and frankly, was annoying in several parts. I get it; she’s cursed with second sight, it takes a toll physically and emotionally, she hides it, she has no friends, it screws up romantic relationships. But her contribution to the resolution of the story could have been replaced with something else. And intrepid reporter Sally, hungry to make a name for herself, put herself in danger purely out of blind ambition. I did like Jud, though, and I laughed a few times when reading about the high schoolers. Still, the way it played out, killed the momentum. I originally had this at a three star read, but that ending makes me reconsider. I’ll let it stand, for what I liked, the fairly quick pace, and the fact I finished it in a few days.