Belzebuth [movie review]

No dejes de razar — don’t stop praying

No dejes de razar — don’t stop praying

If you’re on Shudder, you might want to check out a couple of their newest offerings. I watched three over the weekend and I’m beginning this week’s movie reviews with my favorite of the three, Belzebuth.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a sucker for a good exorcism flick—for obvious reasons—and Belzebuth hit all the sweet spots for me. It is a movie that could have easily descended into a gratuitous gore-fest. Instead, director Emilio Portes shows a restrained hand toward the violence to shift the focus to the actual story and the backstory of the characters, which is full of twists, some of which are surprising—not necessarily in the ohgod-wtf-did-i-just-see/jaw-dropping-scene-like-Hereditary (and those of you that saw the movie know what I’m talking about), but more in line with Cool!-That-was-neat-and-nicely-done!

And I’ll take nicely done any day of the week, because Portes took a tired trope and gave it the human aspect that is often forgotten in horror films. I’ve always argued that one of the aspects of writing that makes Stephen King’s books so enjoyable to people who don’t normally consume horror is the way in which he writes characters that are both relatable and sympathetic. Guillermo del Toro also knows how to draw the viewer into his stories through the characters. Both King and del Toro take the time to make the reader/viewer care so that when the bad things start to happen, we’re sucked into the story and rooting for the good guys.

Portes has achieved the same effect with Belzebuth, and he’s done it with an excellent cast that begins with Joaquín Cosío as officer Emmanuel Ritter (and for those of you that keep asking me what actor should play Los Nefilim’s Guillermo, I can tell you that I’ve finally found him). Cosío is perfect as the loving father turned ruthless investigator.

The story begins in Mexico but reaches across the border into America and Cosío reflects both worlds in his language and his knowledge of how the two cultures intersect … or don’t. When the paranormal forensics investigator, Ivan Franco (Tate Ellington), wants to know why the police never searched for missing children in a certain town, Ritter very matter-of-factly explains that it is a narco town and not even the police will go there.

As a secular protagonist sucked into a supernatural war, Cosío gives the viewer the perfect shift from disbelief into belief, and he morphs from the angelic protector into the tough cop and an antagonist with a magnificent performance. Ellington is often overshadowed by Cosío’s gravitas; although to be fair, Ellington’s character is in the role of the outsider looking in. José Sefami as Demetrio, on the other hand, is a veteran actor, and he is the perfect sidekick for Cosío’s Ritter. Unfortunately, Demetrio is usually fending off the brass for Ritter, so it’s not until Tobin Bell shows up as the rogue priest Vasilio Canetti that Cosío’s Ritter gets another actor who can play off Cosío’s strengths. The two compliment one another with excellent performances.

Portes helps all of this along with just the right camera angles and lighting to offset his actors and their performances. The script gives the audience slower moments that enable us to care about Ritter and his companions without wallowing in melodrama. I was invested the characters and definitely rooting for them.

There is violence. The opening scene in the nursery is made more horrific because you CAN’T see what’s happening. Portes delivers the horror through the screams and faces of those helpless to stop the carnage, yet he’s also careful and doesn’t drag out these scenes to the point of absurdity. If you want a good example of excellent pacing in a horror film, Belzebuth succeeds beautifully.

The review at Bloody Disgusting has a few mild spoilers, but Dax gives a good overview of the film’s strengths and weaknesses. I agree with everything but the rating.

Four skulls out of five. Highly recommended.

A snippet from A SONG WITH TEETH

All I have for you this week is a snippet from my current work-in-progress, A Song with Teeth, the third Los Nefilim novel. This comes from the first page and may or may not make it through the final edit:

“I will tell you a story,” the Nazi murmurs in his captive’s ear. “About two brothers …”

He pauses and stares outside the window, seemingly lost in the thread of his thoughts. For several minutes, the only noise is the susurrations of snow, whispering across the glass.

From somewhere within the great house, a door is shut, rousing the Nazi from his dream. He shakes his head and smiles a terrible smile full of bitterness and teeth—such long teeth he has …

The captive shivers.

The Nazi’s lips widens and now he grins. “A story about two brothers under night and fog …”

CODENAME: NIGHTINGALE
30 December 1943
Mauthausen Concentration camp

Prologue

They call him the Nightingale. It is his codename and it follows him into the camps.

In the beginning days of the conflict, the Nightingale is a new member of Los Nefilim, not yet tested. His handler is known as the Violinist. They barely had time to know one another before the war came, but when it did, the Violinist gave the Nightingale the most precious of gifts: his trust.

The other members of Los Nefilim call the Violinist a fool for assigning his MACHIAVELLI line in Paris to the Nightingale, but the Violinist is an old nefil of rank—none dare do more than grumble. The Nightingale is entrusted with composing songs, the first notes designed to be the Morse code that will convey messages to the Resistance. As his music is played on German radios, the Nightingale slowly earns Los Nefilim’s respect.

When the MACHIAVELLI line is compromised by outside sources, the Violinist manages to send a message. It comes too late for the Nightingale to evade the Gestapo, but the Violinist’s instructions are clear: Hold out for forty-eight hours, then tell them what they want to know. If they take you to the camps, find the Spaniards. You are one of us. We will watch for you.

And that’s the work-in-progress. I have a lot more and this is heavily edited, but it gives you an idea of how the third book begins. All of this might stay, or it might change drastically in the final edits.

Hagazussa [movie reivew]

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One of Shudder’s newest entries, Hagazussa, is written and directed by Lukas Feigelfeld. The poster claims it is “A SPOOKY, SPELLBINDING AUDIOVISUAL SYMPHONY” and “MIND-BLOWINGLY CREEPY.” Reading those blurbs now, I realize that neither mention the story, which is probably apropos, because while the quotes aren’t lying to you, the movie is spooky and creepy, any evidence of a story is almost nonexistent.

You will find spoilers in this review, so if you’re one of those NEVER SHOW ME SPOILERS people, turn back now. That’s all the warning you’ll get, so off we go …

Set in the fifteenth century, the film focuses on a mother and daughter that live in a remote cabin outside of the village. In the opening sequence, Martha takes Albrun sledding, but she never moves close to the other mothers, and Albrun, for her part, reaches the top of the hill to find all the other children are gone. So the idea that even among others, they are alone is very nicely handled.

After a long spooky walk through the woods, they arrive home from the sledding trip. That same evening, three villagers turn up outside their cabin. The men are wearing animal heads for some bizarre reason that is never quite explained. They bang on the door and circle the cabin threateningly while accusing Martha of being a witch. Then they go away and that’s that. Seriously. They’re never seen or referenced again.

Shortly thereafter, Albrun’s mother suffers from a strange disease. The doctor and a nun come to the cabin, examine the mother, and then they leave the child, Albrun, to take care of her. It seemed … odd to me that they would leave such a small child with a desperately ill mother, but hey, maybe it’s a cultural thing, so I let it slide. Later, Albrun awakens to find her mother gone. She leaves the cabin and follows her mother’s trail to find Martha has died in a bog with snakes crawling over her body.

Then the film flashes forward fifteen years to Albrun living alone in the same cabin with her infant daughter. No explanation is given for the infant’s presence. We never see or hear about the child’s father, but Albrun is a good and patient mother, except for those times when she leaves the infant alone for hours and hours, because who does that?

Anyway, a village woman named Swinda seemingly befriends Albrun, only to betray her and facilitate her rape by another villager. Let me pause here to state that nothing in this film is graphic, nor does that hurt the movie. Aleksandra Cwen, as the adult Albrun, reflects the horror of the act with her expressions.

However, this is where Hagazussa seemed to lose me. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of seeing rape being used a character device to bring out the evil in a woman. In Hagazussa, the act is given double duty to show us first Swinda’s wickedness and then as the reason for Albrun’s decline into madness, or witchcraft, or something.

Needless to say, now that she’s been raped, all of Albrun’s evil inclinations are released. She takes her revenge, not with nefarious witchcraft, but by placing a dead rat in the village water supply, which, as it turns out, is actually more effective. When the villagers, including the wicked Swinda, die, Albrun wanders into the woods, eats a mushroom, and falls into madness, or witchcraft, or something, we’re never exactly sure.

And that fairly sums up Hagazussa in its entirety. Stunning cinematography of the Alps and its dense forests—lots and lots of haunted views of the Alps. Long, long atmospheric shots ... loooonng atmospheric shots of adult Albrun standing, sitting, walking, leaving her infant daughter alone in a crib for hours and hours and hours at a time (seriously, who does that?), Albrun having a sensual moment beside her goat (don't ask), Albrun going mad in the woods … you get the picture.

The imagery is meant to evoke Gothic dread, including a scene with a priest in the church’s ossuary, and while all of these moments perform a slow-burn of creepiness, the tension never quite results in any type of cathartic release for the viewer. Each scene seems meticulously designed to move toward that magical moment when all the pieces fall into place, but the puzzle remains broken right until the end.

It would have been great if all that atmosphere had added up to a plot of some substance. As it is, it's more of a character study (and I don't mind those), but Hazazussa went on far longer than it needed to and quite often felt like a series of haunting shorts without ever reaching any form of cohesion.

Rating: YMMV (i.e. give it a view, your mileage may vary)

A Lush and Seething Hell [book review]

Horror is many different things to different people. What scares one person isn’t the same as what frightens another. For me, the best horror is a deep examination of our negative emotions; those thoughts and fears that disquiet in the depth of the night: moments left undone, words unsaid, the strange, the weird, the obscene brought to light. Done well, it is a cerebral exploration of the darkness that lies within everyone.

If that is your vibe, too, then here are two stories done exceptionally well and collected in a single volume entitled A Lush and Seething Hell by John Hornor Jacobs:

The first story
The Sea Dreams it is the Sky

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I read this story as Word document last year. It immediately reminded me of the Jorge Luis Borges story, “The Gospel According to Mark,” which I read many years ago. Stylistically, both works begin in the most mundane of ways and make a slow, steady progression, first into the surreal and then into horror. Jacobs takes the unsettling imagery of a country at war with itself and gives us, what I like to call, Borges meets Lovecraft.

Refugees from the fictional Latin American country of Magera chance upon one another in their self-imposed exile in Málaga, Spain. One is the poet, Rafael Avendaño, and the other is a teacher, Isabel, who is our narrator. Avendaño is thought by most to be dead, murdered by the fascists who now rule Magera, but instead, he escaped with his life, but not with his art. Since his exile in Spain, he no longer writes poetry.

Isabel, on the other hand, doesn’t approach her friendship with Avendaño with any sense of reverence. She finds his poetry to be misogynistic and puerile, nor does she teach his works in her classes. He invites her to a movie. She goes. Their strange friendship begins.

When Avendaño leaves Spain to return to Magera, he gives Isabel the key to his apartment and asks her to look after his place. There, she finds a book authored by Avendaño entitled Below, Between, Beneath, and Beyond. Here, she finds the story of Avendaño’s days before, during, and after the fascist takeover of Magera, where Avendaño is required to translate a book, Opusculus Noctis, which he titles A Little Night Work.

As she reads Avendaño’s autobiography and discovers his notes on A Little Night Work, Isabel decides to return to Magera to find Avendaño. Here, their stories converge, and the Lovecraftian aspects of the story emerge in full bloom.

Lovecraftian stories can be hit or miss for me, primarily because the endings can swerve into the obscure with the ending so ambiguous or arcane that the reader is left foundering for a solid landing. Jacobs avoids that pitfall here. He keeps the narrative tight, and as the story seeps into the surreal, leading the reader to a logical ending that seems neither too real, nor too opaque.

It’s a hard balance to write, but Jacobs handles it like a virtuoso, drawing the reader into his world and unveiling the strange, the weird, the obscene, to bring the true horror of evil into the light. This is the kind of dark fiction I love to read, and I offer it to you, highly recommended.

The Second story
MY HEART STRUCK SORROW

My Heart Struck Sorrow is my favorite of the two. While Lovecraftian stories have their allure, southern stories with the devil are some of my personal favorites. Primarily because the devil and his kin are often stand-ins for those aforementioned emotions. Stories that entwine music and madness are also some of my favorites, so with My Heart Struck Sorrow, I got the best of both worlds.

This is one of those stories that the less you know going in will enhance how the story works for you, so I’ll only give a very basic overview of the plot.

Cromwell is a music librarian in the Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. His wife and son have recently died, leaving Cromwell in a state of grief even as he returns to work. There, he finds that the grandniece of Harlan Parker has died and bequeathed their rather massive collection to the Library of Congress.

A war hero, Harlan Parker once worked for the Library of Congress, travelling across the south to collect and index folk music on a commission of ethnomusicology, but something strange happened during Parker’s travels, causing him to abandon the commission and simply disappear into his sister’s Springfield home, where he remained until the end of his days.

Cromwell and his co-worker, Hattie, go to the Parker estate to catalog and preserve the estate’s records. In doing so, they find a secret room, because all horror stories should have at least one secret room, and in this small chamber Cromwell and Hattie find acetates of folk music that Parker recorded during his travels, along with Parker’s diary from the late thirties.

Soon Cromwell is immersed in Parker’s writings and infatuation with a song known interchangeably as “Stagolee,” “Stackalee,” or “Stagger Lee.” As Cromwell listens to the recordings Parker created and follows the events within the journal, he is led into Parker’s increasingly bizarre adventures in the rural south, which at times, seems to mirror Hell itself.

Yet, in the end, Jacobs loops the story back to Cromwell, and the two seemingly divergent trajectories are brought together in a startling conclusion that is both poignant and horrific in its intensity. My Heart Struck Sorrow moves like a song with the refrain of “Stagger Lee” as the backbeat, a thumping baseline of desire for power, for revenge, and finally, as the music winds down, for remorse unanswered by forgiveness.

While I enjoy and admire many writers, it’s rare I stand in awe of another contemporary author’s work, but this is one of those times. If you love horror and genuinely excellent storytelling, you should enter A Lush and Seething Hell. You won’t regret the trip.

Tell the Devil I said hello.

The Silence: a review from the deaf perspective

This isn’t going to be a long review, because I wasn’t able to get far into the movie. Two things I want to get out of the way up front are: first, I love Tim Lebbon’s books, and second, in terms of plot and cinematography, The Silence might very well be an excellent movie. I don’t know, because I wasn’t able to get past the “deaf” character’s actions. In other words, this review is about how poor representation ruined what might have otherwise been a good movie for me.

The_Silence_2019_film_poster.jpg

Nor is this review an attack on Ms. Kiernan Shipka or her talents as an actor. Ms. Shipka seemed to do well with the material she was given; however, it appears she wasn’t given much. I understand that she learned ASL for the role, but as I’ve stated in other posts, there is much more to being deaf than knowing sign language.

As with all my other posts from the deaf perspective, I also want to point out that this review is written from my perspective as a deaf person, which can and will differ greatly from those of the Deaf community, or from people with a different type of hearing loss. In other words, your mileage may vary, which is fine.

Viewing the movie as someone who loves horror films, I can say that my gripe with The Silence began before Shipka’s character, Ally, ever hit the screen. I’ve spoken of this particular issue in novels, and it’s no less annoying in a movie: the need to leap too fast into the action without any attempt to cultivate tension. The opening scene could have been a claustrophobic buildup of horror. Instead, it was delivered like an awkward prologue that was over so quickly, it felt like an aside.

Then we meet Ally, who tells us how smart she is because she learned to lip-read so fast after her accident … and I flinched, because that is not how it works. Even so, I gave the film a few more minutes, because I wanted to see how the story would explain that particular skill.

Essentially, Ally’s backstory is this: she was in a car accident with her grandparents three years earlier. Due to the traumatic head injury inflicted during the accident, Ally was rendered completely deaf. In addition to recovering from whatever other brain trauma she might have endured during the accident, Ally is now perfectly healthy, except she is deaf. In three years, she has learned ASL and how to lip-read and moves through the hearing world without the annoying dizziness, vertigo, or tinnitus that burdens the rest of us.

At no point are we led to believe that Ally moves in anything other than a world of silence. She doesn’t wear either hearing aids or a cochlear implant. This tells me, as a deaf person, that her hearing is completely gone, and due to whatever injury she sustained, assistive listening devices do not help her.

Within the first five minutes with Ally, we see her taunted from behind by a group of her high school classmates, who are actually acting like they’re twelve. That was just weird.

Immediately after Ally is taunted by her classmates, she walks down the middle of a street…

—let me pause here to say that deaf people, who can’t hear cars coming NEVER walk down the middle of any street without constantly looking over their shoulders—

…her boyfriend approaches her from behind and puts his hands over her eyes.

And I almost shut the movie down then, because that is the most horrible thing you can do to a deaf person: sneak up on them from behind. Seriously, you scare the crap out of deaf people when you do that. It’s horrible. Don’t do it. Ever.

But this is Ally’s boyfriend, who will soon be getting his drivers’ license, and Ally informs him that her parents will probably never let her drive because she’s deaf …

Dear Ally’s parents and the producers of this movie,

Deaf people drive all the time and we’re probably safer drivers than hearing people, because we are paying attention with our eyes.

Thank you,
Me

Then Ally arrives home and my nitpicking reaches monumental levels. The usual systems designed to help deaf people pinpoint noise (for example: doorbells, phones, fire alarms, or loud noises) are large bulky boxes that indicate why a light is flashing. They could have been there in the background and I just missed them, but after going to all the other lengths to show Ally’s deafness, the director doesn’t bother to show us that her home is equipped for a deaf person.

Ally’s family uses pidgin sign language to communicate. As a family having to adjust to a late-deafened child, it’s possible they’re doing the best they can. They also make asides that Ally can’t hear, and although unkind, I found this plausible as well.

Still, it bothered me that Ally follows conversations with ease. Even with lip-reading and signing, most deaf people are moving on a delay and the faster the topics change, the more frustrating communication becomes for the individual. Also, to lip-read with Ally’s accuracy, one needs to have some residual hearing.

Later that evening, Dad comes into her room and at one point, they forget to sign, but Ally has no trouble following the sudden topic shift, and that was it for me. I’d watched about all of the movie I could watch, because I realized from that point forward I would be doing nothing but critiquing Ally.

Those critiques turned into my biggest issue with The Silence. Whereas A Quiet Place presented a moment of ableism in the lack of captioning during the spoken parts between hearing characters, The Silence is the ableist viewpoint on full display. At no point did I believe that Ally was actually deaf, and if you can’t make me believe in your characters, then I’ll never buy into your story, no matter how good the film.


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Frohock has intricately woven a unique reinterpretation of history. Eloquent prose accompanies a lyrical theme amid prewar tensions, enriching this imaginative historical fantasy. –starred review, Publishers Weekly

Where Oblivion Lives is available at Scuppernong Books | HarperCollins | IndieBound. You can find links to Amazon and B&N at the HarperCollins link. If you're an audiobook fan, we've got you covered: the audiobook is narrated by the talented Vikas Adam and is available from Audible.

A few people have asked if you have to read the novellas first in order to enjoy Where Oblivion Lives. The answer is no, BUT if you want to read them, you can find the Los Nefilim omnibus at HarperCollins, as well as links to the individual novellas right here.

random notes: the differences between horror, dark fantasy, and the grimdark

This is one of those posts. You know, the ones I write so I can just post a link rather than say the same thing over and over again and again and again ... ad nauseam.

My opinion will probably change at some point, because I'm flexible like that, but for now I'm venturing into the grimdark/horror arena for a reason. Yes, yes, I know all about Warhammer 40K "In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war ..." so if you comment about Warhammer 40K, I'm going to assume you just shot down to the comments to tell me about Warhammer 40K without reading the actual post.

I'm not trying to invalidate the Warhammer 40K definition. "In the grim darkness of the far future ..." was the beginning. Anyone who says that the grimdark was born of this statement isn't wrong; however, while Warhammer 40K might be the root of the grimdark phenomenon, the branches of that vine have extended to encompass a lot of things outside of Warhammer 40K, and so here we all are ...

What follows is my personal definition. If you need something that cites several articles, look anywhere but here, because I don't have time to chase citations right now. The quick and dirty way I differentiate horror, dark fantasy, and grimdark is simply this:

Horror is a story where the protagonist is helpless in the face of a supernatural threat. It is an ordinary person against a much more powerful supernatural adversary. The protagonist seeks to destroy the supernatural threat in order to save themselves or others, but only when they are forced into a confrontation. The horror elements in the story are culled from the protagonist's increasing helplessness in the face of overwhelming odds. 

Dark fantasy is similar to horror in that it is a story where the protagonist is helpless in the face of a supernatural threat. In some cases a dark fantasy protagonist also has supernatural powers; however the individual is still against a much more powerful supernatural adversary. The protagonist seeks to destroy the supernatural threat in order to save themselves or others. Unlike horror, dark fantasy tends to have a thread of hope running through the story. While at times being helpless, the protagonist generally wins in the end; although the cost (loss of friends/family or even their own innocence) will be great.

Grimdark is a story where the protagonist faces a supernatural threat, but s/he isn't helpless against their adversary. Rather than run from the supernatural threat, the grimdark protagonist actively seeks to subvert or control it. In grimdark, the characters exhibit amoral [read: darker] tendencies, which replace the element of helplessness as the primary focus of the dread/horror.

There are supernatural elements in all three, but they are utilized in very different ways. What separates them is the protagonist and how that individual deals with the supernatural threat.

If you've got a different definition, drop it in the comments. I'm always open to consider other viewpoints, but for now, that's how I'm defining the two.

Off the Grid ... How it works

I will put a link to this post in the sidebar for future reference. This FAQ may change given the popularity (or lack thereof) of this series, my life, my writing commitments, etc.

The series will officially kick off in March 2016. A few people have already expressed an interest in writing for Off the Grid, or have pitched an idea to me. This is great, and I'm glad I've got so much excitement about the series.

I'm doing this because I know a lot of super authors who have received very little recognition for some really great series and stories. I've heard our online chatter called a feedback loop, and I can't think of a more appropriate description. When an author's work doesn't make it into that loop, then s/he is washed under the tide.

In order to combat the feedback loop, I'm giving authors, reviewers, and fans some space on my blog.

If you have a question that is not covered below, drop it in the comments, and I will incorporate it into the FAQ.

FAQ

What is Off the Grid? Generally speaking in any given year, the SFF/horror community is filled with publications. As time goes on, the community tends to get into a feedback loop where only six or seven books are discussed. Off the Grid is my attempt to level the playing field a bit, but also to give folks a chance to discuss other forms of fiction such as novellas, novelettes, short stories, and poems.

When will it run? Off the Grid will run every Wednesday for as long as I have a post for that Wednesday slot, until I run out of time to manage it, or people lose interest, whichever of these things comes first.

What kind of works can we talk about? Stories should be traditionally published. If the story/poem is online (ie Tor.com, Lightspeed, etc.), then provide the link and I will post the link along with your review. I will allocate one Wednesday a month to a self-published work. Since everything is shiny-new right now, we'll see how that goes.

What if I know the person whose story I'm writing about? Feedback loops online are usually perpetrated by big name authors who know one another and recommend one another's works to others. There is really nothing wrong with this as long you're talking about a quality story. With social media and the tight circles online, it's inevitable that we'll sometimes want to talk about a friend's book, or someone who is published by the same publisher. I suggest full disclosure in these circumstances.

Do I have to be an author or reviewer? For now, I'm going to say no. (Remember: shiny-new.) This is a community project, so I would like to invite the genre community to be involved. However, any submissions should use proper grammar should be pitched like any other submission.

Wait. I have to pitch my idea? Yes. This prevents overlap of two or three people writing about the same book, and also gives me time to look at the book in order to decide whether it's a good fit for the series. I have final say on all pitches, because it's my blog.

What kinds of stories can I talk about? The series will encompass: novels, novellas, novelettes, short stories, or poems. Keep it genre: science fiction, fantasy, horror, magical realism, etc.

Does the story have to be published in the current year? No. The item should be something that is getting very little online discussion and/or promotion; however if you've just discovered a previously published author and want to gush about one of their work(s) that garnered very little attention, then come and gush.

Does it have to be written in a specific format? Guest posts can be a formal review or a more lighthearted post about what you liked/disliked about the item, or why we should check out this particular author. I will ask that the post be at least 500 words.

If you want to contribute a guest post to Off the Grid, contact me. Tell me the name of the story and a little about yourself (if you have a blog, if you don't, if you are either traditionally published or self-published, because this will enable me to link back to your blog). In other words, pitch your idea to me, and I'll let you know if I have an opening.

Shadow of the Vampire--another spoilerific movie review (#SFWApro)

When I wrote my review of Snowpiecer, Kate Elliott made an interesting comment. She said, "Most of my trouble with this film as I watched it came about because I went in with expectations that it was going to be a science fiction film about what it would be like to live on Earth after the world froze, and it is actually (as you so carefully discuss here) an entirely different film."

I experienced the same feeling with Shadow of the Vampire. I initially went into the film with the mindset that the movie was horror (thank you, Netflix, for that erroneous marketing) ...

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News about Manifesto: UF (#SFWApro)

Yesterday I received an email from Stacey Turner, Owner and Managing Editor of Angelic Knight Press. Angelic Knight Press is being acquired by a larger publisher and some titles from will not be carried over into the new imprint--Manifesto: UF is one of those titles. On December 1, 2014, Stacey will be removing Manifesto: UF from online distributors. All of this is normal and good and as it should be.

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Review Roundup for The Broken Road (#SFWApro)

October is the time for scary stories, and I do prefer writing creepy stories so I scheduled The Broken Road to publish in October for that reason. Lynn summed the effect up very nicely when she said The Broken Road contains "Nothing bloodthirsty or dripping in gore – just plain goosebump-invoking chilling."

I've also been kind of pleasantly surprised that several folks have tagged the novella as science fiction as well. So if you're still on the fence about whether or not you would like to read The Broken Road, here is a quick review round-up for you so you can see what others are saying:

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