This
Horror Writers Association's anthology is more diverse than its
title implies. Not every story has a psycho. A few don't even
broach the subject. Still, with rare exception, the stories range
the gamut from enjoyable to highly enjoyable.¨
¨
* Autopsy Room Four, by Stephen King.
A man thought dead, but
actually paralyzed and conscious, is prepared for an autopsy. An
old plotline, which King acknowledges by alluding to the similar
Alfred Hitchcock TV episode. King adds some cute, albeit minor,
variations. It's still a story of will they or won't they cut?
* Haunted, by Charles Grant.
A poetic tale of a bum with a mission.
Grant effectively toys with our preconceptions, repeatedly
altering our expectations (is the bum good or evil, dangerous or
vulnerable, crazy or sane?), until the final twist, which is both
surprising yet logical within its context.¨
* Out There in the Darkness, by Ed Gorman.
Four suburban yuppies
turn vigilante, with unexpected consequences. The ethnic
distribution of characters is prominently and self-consciously
PC, down to such minor details as a police phone being answered
by a black voice. Still, this tight, atmospheric novella
moves
briskly, successfully balancing supernatural and superstition.
Are street criminals demons or do they merely appear so through
the prism of suburbanite fear? Crisp dialogue and a good read.
* Please Help Me, by Richard Christian Matheson.
The last
minute stream of consciousness of a man about to be killed by¨
gangstas. No story, just a short-short without surprise or
twist. Packs a minor emotional punch, but forgettable.
* The Lesser of Two Evils, by Denise M. Bruchman.
A supernatural
battle between Jack the Ripper's spirit, the killer he possesses, and an ancient gypsy woman. Their metaphysical duel is
absorbing and well-handled, but the outcome and details are not
unexpected.
* Point of Intersection, by Dominick Cancilla.
A science fiction tale
of a time traveler seeking vengeance. Lean, fast-paced, and full of unexpected twists. Highly satisfying.
* Doctor, Lawyer, Kansas City Chief, by Brent Monahan.
A former
football star/TV sportscaster is framed in a murderous conspiracy. Sounds like OJ, but more original than that. We never know
where the story's going till we get there, and Monahan maintains
our interest throughout. Good repartee between patient and
psychiatrist leads to a surprise ending.
* Grandpa's Head, by Lawrence Watt-Evans.
A poignant opening,
preparing grandpa for a nursing home, followed by a quick succession
of shocks. Understated dialogue is both funny and unsettling, and the pace never slackens.
* Lonelyhearts, by Esther M. Friesner.
A stock broker slaughters
women. Shades of American Psycho
and a bit wordy (one
pitfall of first person narratives is their tendency to ramble),
but Friesner's increasingly chilly story ends in a black comic
twist reminiscent of TV's Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Cute and
unexpected.
* Lighting the Corpses, by Del Stone Jr.
A supernatural take on the cycle of child abuse. From innocent to
serial killer to evil spirit. Nice metaphors. Moments of insight,
but also moments of cliché.
* Echoes, by Cindie Geddes.
A psychological take on the
cycle
of child abuse. A soap opera star imagines seeing her former
abuser everywhere. She defends herself and her daughter, with
surprising results. Very satisfying.¨
* Lifeline, by Yvonne Navarro.
A supernatural tale of a
serial killer/witch who escapes police by exchanging bodies with
her grandmother. Not immediately apparent why she chooses
the body
of a sickly 91-year-old. On speculation some possibilities
arise, but this subtle story requires some thought.¨
* Blameless, by David Niall Wilson.
A mother's adultery
leads to
hallucinations. Her attempts to eradicate evidence of her affair
are reminiscent of
Bradbury's "Fruit at
the Bottom of the Bowl."
A tense and gripping tale, though the surprise ending is a bit of
a leap.¨
* Deep Down There, by Clark Perry.
Two men share a secret about
a high school chum's death. The cave scenes are effectively
claustrophobic and the novella builds suspense with its nicely
detailed subtext. But maybe too many details, as they don't all
connect and the ending falls short of the buildup. But perhaps
it's Perry's intention to be subtle; I'm left wondering, are the
subterranean creatures supernatural, or of the minister's own
guilty mind? Then again, I'm not certain if I'm supposed to be
left wondering.¨
* Knacker Man, by Richard Parks.
Title refers to a schizophrenic Jack the Ripper's occupation (buying and selling livestock
carrion) thirty years after his Whitechapel heyday. Parks's
British period dialects sound right. His story is thoughtful and
intriguing, with an original twist ending.¨
* So You Wanna Be a Hitman, by Gary Jonas.
This short noir crime thriller effectively captures lowlife
attitudes and dialogue, but it's nothing we haven't seen before.
Entertaining but clichéd.¨
* The Rug, by Edo van Belkom.
An old woman hides her murder
victims under a hungry rug. An absurdist tale reminiscent of
TV's Tales From the Darkside. Slight, but comical and fun.¨
* Interview With a Psycho, by Billie Sue Mosiman.
An aging
backwoods psycho relates his life story to a young writer. A
tense tale, but its evocative period and locale descriptions are
marred by a blooper. The year is 1965, the psycho is 81. So how
is it that when he killed at age 32, his victim was driving a
1950 DeSoto? Also, the ending (and answer to the question: will
he or won't he kill the writer?) is not entirely unexpected.¨
* Icewall, by William D. Gagliani.
Two men isolated in an antarctic
weather station. One goes crazy, the other one... Story and
characterization are both enjoyable, but most interesting are
Gagliani's details about polar conditions, which easily rival "To Build a Fire."¨
* A Southern Night, by Jane Yolen.
A very short-short, apparently inspired by Susan Smith, but don't ask me what it was about
or what the ending meant. Confused and pointless.¨
* The Forgiven, by Stephen M. Rainey.
A psycho seeks God by demanding love and forgiveness from his victims. The Christian
literalism is intriguing, threading theological waters reminis¨cent of Blatty's
Ninth Configuration, but the (arguably
necessary) sadism is still distasteful.¨
* Safe, by Gary A. Braunbeck.
A bittersweet novella detailing a
teenager's mass murder spree, from frustrated working class
motivations, to clinical shot-by-shot recounting, to long-term repercussions.
The dating is ambiguous and doesn't accord with the
ages of some characters. A second spree occurs 35 years after
the first (placing it in the 2030s?) yet the story contains no
confirming futuristic details. Braunbeck's poetic philosophizing
on the endlessness of violence indicates that his temporal ambiguity
might be
intentional. This ambitious tale aims high and delivers.
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