Fuckin' Fantastic Fiction

 

Elizabeth, one of the greatest horror novels ever written, is on nobody's '100 Best Horror Books' list, but I don't care.  I recommend it -- and all the books below -- with no reservations.

 

Don't expect lists of 'Guilty Pleasures' from me because 'Guilty Pleasures' are for withering dickweeds who spent their youth listening to priests spouting bullshit while copping illegal reach-arounds. 

 

The authors of all these books are not household names, but they're welcome in my house any time.

These authors can write. By Christ, they can write! 

 

These masterpieces explore evil and chaos and anarchy, and smell of truth. 

All these books influenced me greatly, and reminded me that the greatest storytelling comes from unique voices, voices that aren't afraid to speak, aren't afraid to tell.

 

 

I love these books. I treasure them. I'm grateful for their existence.

 They're the work of brave people, of shameless adventurers of the soul.

They push established boundaries, they shun convention. 

 

Embrace them as I have.

You won't be sorry.

Not Happy

I'm not The Happy Man tonight. I'm "The Ecstatic Man".

After years of searching, it arrived in a yellow, padded envelope this afternoon.
Yes, folks, The Happy Man hardcover. The 1st Edition, for Pete's Sake!

Isn't it stunning?

I already raved about the paperback in a previous blog, "The Inside Scoop on Happiness", which you can find at:

http://phantomofpulp.blogspot.com/2009/01/inside-scoop-on-happiness.html

...so I'm not going to go all redundant on you here.
This is Eric C. Higgs, the author of what I consider to be one of the most underrated American novels of the 20th century. His pic, which I have never seen before, is to be found inside the book's rear dust jacket.

He looks amiable, but not overly so (which is consistent with the character of his book).

The Happy Man -- in hardcover (St. Martin's Press, '85), and in paperback (Paperjacks,'86) -- has been MIA for well over two decades; that's a long time for a classic to be ignored by publishers.

Surely it's time for a relaunch!

Perhaps Leisure's Dan D'Auria, who has a bloodhound's nose for quality meat, could be convinced to repackage and republish this sardonic slice of evil and ship it out into the cruel world once more.

If that fails, perhaps Gauntlet Press or Cemetery Dance? I'm confident The Happy Man will find himself a warm, wet publishing place eventually.

The St. Martin's Press jacket copy is a persuasive piece of macabre marketing:

The back jacket offers this compelling sinew from the novel (I have desaturated it for easier reading):

The striking jacket illustration is credited to Sam Salant.

For comparative purposes, I leave you with a late night re-run of the Paperjacks paperback:
Buon appetito!

The Inside Scoop On Happiness

I wasn't a happy camper until I got my hands on "The Happy Man".

After reading a glowing Fangoria review, I set out to snag myself a copy. Unfortunately, its publisher, Paperjacks (long defunct), did a miserable job of distributing the book, so it dropped out of sight. Years went by. Lives changed. TV shows got axed. Nightmares of not ever reading "The Happy Man" plagued me. The book was making me very un-happy.

A chance encounter on-line pointed me to a seller who was holding a mint condition copy. After paying them close to what Paperjacks probably paid Eric C. Higgs to write the damn thing, I became the proud owner of a minor horror classic.

The book hooked me instantly with this: "The Marshes rotted in their house two full days before they were discovered by a delivery man from Sparklett's."

I never looked back. Sick humor and ghastly horror. Perfect.

"The Happy Man" of the title finds a grotesque brand of happiness when he is plunged into a strange, suburban world of perversion, mutilation and murder.

Eric C. Higgs might well be the unsung Albert Camus of horror. His trim little novel, which is perfect at 166 pages, is a masterpiece of humor, horror, subtlety and menace.

Originally published by St. Martin's Press in '85 (hardback, I presume), the Paperjacks edition is April, '86.

It's not speculating too wildly to say that the book's terrible cover may have contributed to its market demise.

Dropping the "C" from his name, Eric Higgs' returned in '87 with "Doppelganger". A St. Martin's Press paperback, it has a stronger supernatural slant and opens with a smart quote from von Schiller: "What the inner voice says will not disappoint the hoping soul."

Higgs' opening paragraph is funny and horrible at the same time: "The shove sent Mr. Sam tripping backward, arms flailing wildly. His ankles hit against the service island's curb and he started going down, right between the pumps for unleaded and unleaded supreme..."

"Doppelganger" was never going to rise to the level of brilliance accorded "The Happy Man", but it's not too shabby, either. Grisly. Grotesque. Odd. It's all that and more.

Where is Eric Higgs now? I don't know. Was he sent to Coventry by his competition? Did he retire with the non-profits of his only two horror novels?

This inquiring mind would like to know.

There is a fresh simplicity in Mr. Higgs' language, a sense that there's no disconnect between what he's thinking and what he's writing. He's giving us the bloodied truth. That makes him important.

I'm very happy that I discovered Eric C. Higgs , but his long absence from the genre is starting to chip away at my happiness.