Review Category: Books

With a mission statement to take the genre’s core virtues and alloy them with inclusivity, positivity and diversity, editor Oliver Brackenbury has assembled a collection of short stories and articles under the banner of New Edge Sword and Sorcery. When Issue Zero was released towards the end of 2022, Brackenbury whetted appetites and opened eyes to intriguing possibilities; a Kickstarter project followed, and now, a year later, Issues One and Two are available.

Brackenbury was modest about Issue Zero when referring to it as a labour of love, as the quality of fiction and fact shone through, and this next pair of publications built on that solid foundation to provide something unique and special. There are thrills aplenty, the magic is suitably dark and sinister, while the protagonists all operate on the borders of society – everything that makes the genre great – but there’s a variety and depth to the stories that push at boundaries and challenge expectations. This new edge shines, honed by passion and talent. Issue One also contains a new Elric story from Michael Moorcock; Brackenbury has stated that working with Moorcock was a wholly positive experience, and it’s great to see ventures like this being supported by such a well-known author.

The artwork is of a high standard throughout, each capturing the essence of the writing it accompanies. The non-fiction consists of a range of interviews, reviews, and fascinating retrospectives of the genre’s pioneers and future creatives that will encourage readers to seek out more. Within these pages, Brackenbury and the writers have shown how the genre can move forward while still being respectful of those who have gone before and, combined with the quality of writing, New Edge Sword and Sorcery is a fantastic success. With further issues already in the works, it looks set to blaze a new trail; more details can be found on the website at newedgeswordandsorcery.com

People of a certain age – or those who discovered the series via the sadly missed Network DVD release – will recall the anthology show Beasts fondly. A series of six separate stories written by the legendary Nigel Kneale (Quatermass) have stuck in the memories of many, and Andrew Screen’s weighty book is the first and certainly most comprehensive writing on the 1976 series that’s ever been attempted.

As well as an overview of each of the episodes (and a bonus Kneale story that appeared in the series Against the Crowd, a tale often considered a prelude to Beasts), each chapter goes into great detail about the themes of the stories. How the subjects said something about our fears and where the country was at the time. Despite the contemporary settings, the stories bear the hallmarks of folk horror, which we feel helps them still resonate so powerfully today. In the examination of The Dummy, Screen considers the actors who are known for playing monsters since the episode follows an unfortunate chap who is haunted by the creature he has played on screen.

The two episodes everyone remembers are During Barty’s Party and Baby, but Screen’s dissection of the series shows that the others also have a lot going for them as well. Each chapter is meticulously researched and, given Screen’s access to archive material, utterly fascinating.

If you haven’t seen the series, don’t let that put you off delving into The Book of Beasts, but be aware many of the show’s surprises will be revealed. However, you’ll certainly want to track down a copy of the now out-of-print DVD straight after you read it.

THE BOOK OF BEASTS is available from Headpress.com

The third collection of the work of the supremely talented (and lovely) Graham Humphreys comes a few years after Hung, Drawn and Executed in 2019. The fact that he’s amassed such a wealth of commissions since that release is a testament to both his gift and the demand in which he finds himself.

Filmmaker/musician Rob Zombie provides the foreword, and he sings the praises of the great poster and magazine cover artists of the past as a way of celebrating the majesty of Graham’s work. Zombie has used him for both his Rob Zombie Presents series of vinyl releases of cult soundtracks and for his recent movie The Munsters.

Many of the new artworks that are included in this volume were painted during the Covid time and cover a varied amount of properties. The book is presented in sections from home entertainment (which include recently announced titles such as 88 Film’s upcoming Blu-ray of Jess Franco’s Count Dracula), private commissions (including Graham’s awesome STARBURST cover for 476 – very limited copies left here), vinyl, and posters amongst others. Even though Humphreys’ has a distinct style, it’s amazing to see the differences between some of the works. The art for The House on the Edge of the Park, for example, is quite understated compared to the shocking nature of the movie.

For every image reproduced, Graham reveals a little about the process. He also goes through his technique in a step-by-step method of creating the cover of the 4K release of Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust. At a base level, it’s just amazing to be able to study Humphreys’ work at our leisure and the paintings are stunningly recreated. In a break from the recent images, Graham reminisces about his start in the business, namely The Evil Dead poster and how Joan Crawford influenced him.

On every page turn, Nightmare on One Sheet is always compelling and is a perfect way to appreciate the output of arguably the UK’s greatest poster artist.

NIGHTMARE ON ONE SHEET: THE HORROR ART OF GRAHAM HUMPHREYS is out now from Korero Press.

 

by Martin Unsworth

Proclaiming any certain year the greatest for film releases is a dicey prospect. Everyone, of course, will have their own opinion and preferences. Author Robert Sellers (Hellraisers: The Life and Inebriated Times of Burton, Harris, O’Toole and Reed) sets his sights on 1971 and in his assessment of some of the cinematic highlights does indeed provide a good argument for his selection.

A quick glance at some of the films included reveals a varied and impressive array of movies in massively contrasting genres. Some of the big hitters – A Clockwork Orange, Dirty Harry, The Devils, Get Carter, Straw Dogs, and The French Connection – contrast greatly with fare such as Bedknobs and Broomsticks, Fiddler on the Roof, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. There are also some foreign releases that are usually left out of yearly appraisals, like W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism and A Touch of Zen.

Sellers presents the films in chronological order, so we can see how 1971 at the pictures would have panned out. This isn’t a review book or full of synopsis. There is a mix of behind-the-scenes info and input from various people who had worked on the films, including some fun anecdotes. The write-ups are not overblown; they’re more easily digestible but no less informative and entertaining. We were particularly happy to see the ethereal Let’s Scare Jessica to Death as a highlighted film.

Obviously, there were more than 100 films released that year, and Sellers manages to include a bonus selection of titles that didn’t quite make the cut for the main list but are notable. He also throws in some of what most people would call ‘downright stinkers’, but we call limited appeal classics. Think Al Adamson’s Dracula vs Frankenstein and The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant.

While 1971 might not be definitively the greatest year of cinema, Sellers puts a good case forward with the selection of movies highlighted in this enjoyable read.

1971: 100 Films from Cinema’s Greatest Year is out now. 

 

by Paul Mount

In 1972, Piccolo Books (an imprint of Pan Books in the UK) issued a slim paperback volume (just over 100 pages) entitled The Making of Doctor Who, co-written by scriptwriter Malcolm Hulke and series script editor Terrance Dicks. The book was an extraordinary gateway back to what felt like a dim and distant past (bearing in mind that the show was yet to reach its tenth anniversary) and was the first book to consider the history of the programme and how it came to the screen. The following year, the BBC released its glossy 10th Anniversary Special magazine, and for years, the two publications became the go-to Bibles for fans interested in the history of Doctor Who. But even so, the origins of the series were still something of a mystery; despite Malcolm Hulke’s best endeavours to identify who actually created the series, the best he could manage for The Making of Doctor Who was “the idea came from two men working at the British Broadcasting Corporation – Sydney Newman and Donald Wilson.” The intervening years – and endless exhaustive hours spent digging deep into the dustiest corners of the BBC’s written archive (now located at Caversham) by determined journalists and enthusiasts – have told us that the story is much more convoluted, involving far more than just “two men working at the British Broadcasting Corporation.” Pull to Open, Paul Hayes’ latest extraordinary book (and follow-up to The Long Game, his stunning chronicle of how the show was resurrected in the 21st century), takes us on a journey back in time to the very first stirrings of the BBC’s vague interest in mining the science fiction genre for TV ‘content’ (as it’s referred to these days) to the stumbling steps that turned the embryonic idea of a new Saturday evening family serial into a television legend that has endured for sixty years.

It’s a wonderful story, but not just because it’s about Doctor Who at its rawest; it’s irresistible for anyone interested in the ‘early’ days of television and how shows were created, commissioned and made back in the 1960s when the medium was finding its feet, testing its boundaries and willing to take the sort of risks unthinkable to narrow-minded modern day TV commissioners. Pull To Open is a book that collates already-discovered information about the origins of Doctor Who – Hayes readily admits that much of the legwork has been done by those who preceded him – but puts it into a proper historical context that, together with much newly-discovered material and with full reference to documents preserved in the BBC archive, creates an enthralling narrative that, despite the fact that we all know its outcome, is often a thrill-ride in and of itself. As Doctor Who began to take shape in 1963, the stumbling blocks that fell in its way before it arrived on screen in November 1963 almost led to its cancellation before its birth and even shortly after it arrived on screen.

The story of Doctor Who begins in April 1962, when Eric Maschwitz, the Assistant and Adviser to the Controller of Programmes at BBC Television, commissioned a report about the viability of ‘literary science fiction and its relevance to BBC television drama’ from Alice Frick and Donald Bull. Such is Hayes’ thoroughness he proceeds to give us potted biographies of Maschwitz, Frick, and Bull, whose connection to Doctor Who goes no further than a four-page report submitted sometime later. But this report is inarguably the ‘seed’ that would, via circuitous circumstance, lead to new BBC Head of Drama Sydney Newman encouraging the commissioning of a family-audience science fiction adventure the following year. What’s clear from Pull To Open is that whilst it’s impossible to pin down an actual single creator of the series (and we’re told that Malcolm Hulke’s attempts to find out back in 1972 are surprisingly determined), the show was very much committee-driven, different aspects of its format springing from the imaginations of a number of creatives tasked with hammering out the idea once it was finally on the drawing board.

Pull To Open is another formidable work of long-form investigative journalism. Paul Hayes has crafted a wonderfully readable time capsule of a TV era long gone; his cast of characters is vividly brought back to life (every major player gets their own brief and illuminating bio), and literally no stone has been left unturned as he attempts – and succeeds – in pulling together all the disparate strands of the story of how Doctor Who made its bumpy way to the screen alongside its place on an ever-changing world stage. What emerges is also a story of creative determination in the face of considerable corporate resistance – there were those at the BBC who firmly believed that  Doctor Who was an expensive waste of time and resources or beyond the technical ability of the Corporation at the time. Hayes has turned what could be dry, arid stuff into a real and engrossing page-turner; this isn’t a ‘pretty pictures’ book by any means, but an impressively detailed and intricate examination of the culture of British TV and its players in the early 1960s as much as it’s about how Doctor Who came into being. Pull To Open is a brilliant and important book, surely the last word in research into the dim and distant days before Doctor Who lit up our lives, a fitting tribute not only to the show itself but also to those whose perseverance made it happen. Books about the history of British TV in general and Doctor Who in particular don’t get much more essential than this one.

Pull To Open is available now from Ten Acre Films Books.

 

by Martin Unsworth

We’re used to seeing films being shot on video (albeit digitally) these days. As such, there’s not as much stigma toward these low-budget movies anymore from horror fans. Vincent A. Albarano’s book takes us back to a time when the murky images of these pioneer filmmakers were treated quite differently.

In his introduction, Albarano takes us through the history of these shoestring productions and contextualises them with the contemporary climate. He guides us through the major players on the scene and credits the fanzine publications that gave the films some much-needed exposure to be eager horror fans.

Taking an academic approach to films, the author treats films such as Devil Dolls, Video Violence, Splatter Farm, and Alien Beasts, as well as the work of Todd Cook, Carl J. Sukenick, and the like, with the same respect as you would a Swedish arthouse movie. It’s an intelligent approach that keeps things engaging but doesn’t get stuffy or too impenetrable.

Albarano’s book is a fascinating and enlightening look at the heyday of this much-maligned form of filmmaking. It’s an honest assessment of the subgenre that doesn’t merely fawn over the titles and perpetrators or revel in the depravity of some of the films. It’s great to see these SOV gaining some attention, regardless of their quality or artistic merit. It’s a brilliant text that any fan of indie exploitation will love.

Aesthetic Deviations: A Critical View of American Shot-On-Video Horror, 1984-1994 is available from Headpress. 

 

by Paul Mount

Lovers of slow-paced, measured Gothic mysteries will be the most appreciative audience for E Saxey’s Unquiet. This is an absorbing and occasionally demanding novel that will transport readers back to a world of creaking Victorian-era townhouses, buttoned-up familial relationships and forbidden, simmering passions laced with a vague hint of the other-worldly.

We’re in London in 1893, and Judith Sachs is living alone in the family home in the aftermath of the tragic death of her sister’s fiancé Sam, who drowned a year earlier. Her sister Ruth, her mother, and Sam’s brother Toby are in Italy, and Judith is left to wander the house with only her off-hand maid Lucy for occasional company. One bitter winter evening, out in the garden, Sam reappears, dishevelled and amnesiac, and Judith determines to help him recover his memory before telling her sister that her betrothed has returned. But Sam’s memory remains stubbornly elusive, and as the days wear on, Judith is forced to confront the reality of her own previously smothered feelings for Sam as her investigations into his fate – and his missing year – open up a series of increasingly confounding mysteries.

Unquiet is a richly atmospheric, beautifully written period piece that is both an exploration of stuffy Victorian morality and forbidden desires and an eerie Gothic mystery that never quite pins its colours to its mast and invites readers to draw its own conclusions. Judith is a deep and complex character, a classic unreliable narrator whose story is tainted by her own grief and her unspoken fantasies as she tries to come to terms with a tragedy that has torn her family apart, a story without an ending. It’s a book blessed with a deftly drawn cast of intriguing characters, many of whom have their own stories to tell and their own secrets to keep, and slowly, Judith finds herself uncovering often unpalatable truths not only about herself but also about those around her.

Perfect reading for early autumn evenings, Unquiet is a vivid and immersive psychological mystery that gently unfolds, told by a writer who demonstrates a very special affinity for the genre, delivering a haunting and disquieting story that challenges and intrigues in equal measure. Impressive stuff.

UNQUIET is available now from Titan Books

by Paul Mount

David Tennant’s first tenure as the Doctor raced breathlessly to its finish line in a series of ‘special’ episodes aired intermittently during 2009. They were a bit of a mixed bunch, to be honest – Easter’s Planet of the Dead was a heady, if vacuous, romp and the actual two-part finale, The End of Time, airing over the Festive period,  suggested that showrunner Russell T Davies was starting to run out of creative steam. But the winter special ‘The Waters of Mars’ was a doozy, a classic not only of the ‘new’ series but also of Doctor Who in general. Phil Ford, who co-wrote the script with Davies, has now turned the story into a thrilling, high-octane sci-fi adventure as one of the latest of the BBC’s reinvigorated Target Books imprint. It’s unlikely that these new books will have the same impact on readers today as the original run did on heritage fans back in the 1970s, but it’s heartening to see the spirit of the range kept alive in what now appears to be an annual selection of adaptations of episodes from the canon of the 21st-century series.

Anxious to escape the ending of his ‘song’, as predicted in previous episodes, the Tenth Doctor is on the run. He lands on Mars in the year 2059 and finds the hostile red planet home to a research facility called Bowie Base One, run by the no-nonsense Commander Adelaide Brooke and her likeable team. But the Doctor knows the future all too well, and he realises that the base and its crew are soon doomed to die in a catastrophic nuclear explosion that wipes out their base; their legend passes into history, and their deaths are ‘a fixed point in time’, important moments in history that cannot be undone. When the crew starts to become infected by The Flood, a long-dormant subterranean sentient Martian water virus that turns its ‘victims’ into water-gushing zombies, the Doctor realises that there’s nothing he can do to save the Base and its occupants – until he decides that, as the Last of the Time Lords, perhaps he is the only one who can exert a terrible and dangerous mastery over the laws of Time itself.

The Waters of Mars is a proper, adult science fiction story (or at least as close to adult as Doctor Who can ever really be allowed to get), with only the cute robot Gadget acting as a fillip for a younger audience. Ford has grasped the prose mettle and turned the script into an urgent, dramatic and often quite unsettling little novel, emphasising the remorseless nature of the Flood and its determination to make its way to Earth – a world abundant in water and ripe for occupation by the Flood – and he brings the supporting characters, especially Brooke, to life vividly by subtle use of flashbacks. One chapter, recounting the exploits of a young Adelaide caught in the middle of the Dalek invasion that concluded Season Four the year before, is particularly thrilling and inventive. Ford captures perfectly the genuine sense of threat engendered so well on TV by the Doctor, who, towards the end of the story, considers himself the ‘Time Lord Victorious’, who believes he has a right to change the flow of time because he can. Writing with economy and subtlety, Ford manages to turn a spectacular TV episode into a hugely readable novel in its own right, reminding the reader of the horror visualised on screen whilst remembering that he’s telling the story in a different format that often requires different skills. The Waters of Mars is a breathlessly exciting book with plenty of surprises, even for those who are already extremely familiar with its TV incarnation. Another bullseye for the new Target range.