Skulls in Short Dresses

Is anybody over twelve actually scared of skulls? Do you wake up screaming when a skull appears in your dreams?

Do disembodied skulls prevent you from getting on with your life?

If they do, you should pull your head in and seek professional guidance.

I can see the appeal of heads half stripped of flesh so that the skull peaks through. I can even get behind the concept of maggots meeting in the eye socket of a skull. Or an eel slithering out of a socket after it's feasted on some month old brains.

But a skull atop the body of a girl with smooth, slender thighs? Clutching a doll?

It's not scary.

It's just silly.

Rick Hautala's Nightstone (Zebra Books, '86) is a haunted house tale in which a wooden doll is featured and an old stone holds a mystery. There is a little girl (Beth) and there is death (somebody's head is going to become a skull at some point), but nothing about this cover feels enticing as horror. As erotica, perhaps. The girl is none too subtly lifting her dress to suggest what it is covering. But as she does this, you look up and see a skull. It's the polar opposite of planets lined up. One element cancels out the other.

I bought every Rick Hautala book for many years. I stopped, eventually, but I lined his publisher's pockets for a decent spell. I purchased Nightstone because it was Mr. Hautala's latest. It's a very good good. Mr. H tells a mean story and doesn't skimp on characterization or atmosphere.

As you can see, writer Rick Hautala is more than an empty skull.

 I wonder what he thought of this crazy cover? If he ever reads this, I'd love to know. I do suspect that the book might have sold well because of the cover. Might have attracted some new readers.

My scan doesn't reveal it, but the skull becomes a girl's face if you tilt it and a half girl/half skull if you tilt it further. Obviously, Zebra was enthusiastic about some new printing technology, so Nightstone was chosen to showcase it. The skull-loving editors at Zebra must have been beating their meat over this cover. It's everything they loved, but with an "exciting" new dimension. How much spunk was spilled in the art department when this came back from the printers?

I've been singing Zebra's praises for a couple of years on this blog. I love their old covers. They're silly and not terribly scary, but scary's not everything. Scary can be trumped by bizarre, "weird", and surreal. But the Nightstone cover fails for me because it's too gimmicky. The silvery skull just doesn't sit well on the little girl's shoulders.

 If you've never read anything by Mr. H., give Moondeath (Zebra, '80) a shot. It's a ripper.

A recent novella I enjoyed immensely is 'Reunion' from PS Publications.

Anyway, gotta go. Slowly. A skull's chasing me.

The Subversive World of Ruby Jean Jensen

Kinko, Kinko, The Kid-Loving Clown
If the kids just love me back I'll never never a frown

-- Sung by Dr. Demento
Music and Lyrics: William Frenzer; 1979

Ruby Jean Jensen's first novel, The House That Samael Built, was published in 1974. Her last, Night Thunder, was published in 1995. She established a unique genre niche with her 30 or so novels.

I confess to not being being there when Ms. Jensen's career began. She was initially published by Warner Books (as was Richard Laymon), moved to Major Books, Manor Books (the home of Pierce Nace's Eat Them Alive), Leisure Books, Tor, then finally Zebra Books, where she resided longest.

If you like the "Living Doll" episode of The Twilight Zone (and who doesn't?), you may like Ms. Jensen's work. Her style is a cross between Rod Serling, Virginia Andrews, and John Saul. Her stories are populated with evil dolls, creepy and psychologically violated children, twisted figures of authority, and ancient curses.

Below all that, a deeply subversive current runs, and that is the key to her unique oeuvre.

The back cover blurbs for her stories read like they were being directed at young adult readers. In fact, she may have been one of the very first genre writers to write Young Adult Fiction (as we know it today) without stating it so boldly.

I always found myself hypnotized by descriptions of the content like this:

"The closer they got to the cabin, the less friendly Mr. Walker's smile became."

I love that.

It shares a tone with Dr. Demento's classic Kinko The Clown, a twisted ode to John Wayne Gacy.

Her mouth even had a tiny round hole so she could eat and breathe.

Something about that is discomforting.

Then:

If she could have seen her little doll's legs kick, she would have been frightened.

Very evocative.

The troubling tone of Ms. Jensen's work has always held great appeal to me, as have the strange, fairy tale-like covers of the publisher.

For mine, Ms. Jensen's work personified Zebra's "house style". Although other authors such as William Johnstone and Stephen Gresham were synonymous with Zebra, none were as distinct.

She is rarely mentioned by industry stalwarts, she doesn't get Stephen King cover raves, and she is sometimes dismissed by "serious" commentators on the genre.

Personally, I find her to be highly underrated and a well kept, "dirty secret" (in a good way).

Unfortunately, the cover artists of these books were never credited, so I'm unable to sling praise at them.

No other horror publisher imitated them. Most were probably off somewhere feeling superior.

The blood-stained pillow in this illustration is a ravishing touch, and an enticing invitation for the unsuspecting reader.

Thankfully, I'm not the only one who has a soft, moist spot for Ms. Jensen (pictured below with a canine accomplice).

A fellow named Aaron K. Thompson has put a small site together to honor her fine work. It's at:

http://www.geocities.com/rubyfan/

A native of southwest Missouri, she began her career writing Gothic romance novels with a supernatural bent.

Another Apostle of Pulp is in our midst.

If you have a free moment, please add this lovely lady to the National Treasure list.

We have to sit on Kinkos lap there's never any chairs
Kinko likes to tickle us and give us funny stares.

--Dr. Demento

Judge Them By Their Covers

Never judge a book by its cover. Bullshit!

I read Hallahan's "Keeper of the Children" after I'd read "Misfire", a terrific novel about the US government's failure to adequately equip the military. No doubt about it, the "Keeper..." artwork is top notch and highly evocative. It is also misleading artwork, suggesting a novel about killer toys. For me, it recalls some of the bizarre Zebra Books artwork from the 80's, which I adore, although it's slightly more polished.

"Keeper Of The Children" is a must-read for anyone who appreciates a yarn well spun.
Alabama-born writer Michael McDowell died of AIDS in 1999, and his death was a terrible loss to literature.

One of the most underrated writers of his generation, most of his novels are now out of print. Avon published first edition paperbacks of his work beginning with "The Amulet" and concluding with "Blackwater", a mini-series of six connected novels. Not only did Stephen King cite McDowell for greatness in his "Danse Macabre", he followed McDowell's lead when he released "The Green Mile" in series form.
The Boston-set "Katie" focuses on the homicidal rampage of a young woman who kills her mother's customers with a hammer. It is exquisitely grotesque and odd, and elevated to art by McDowell's amazing facility with language. What a rotten, awful thing that he is no longer with us.

Avon's marketing line, "Katie never killed with kindness", perfectly captures the macabre, darkly humorous tone of McDowell's language.

No writer personifies "pulp fiction" more than Guy N. Smith, the legendary storyteller from Shropshire, England, whose "Night of the Crabs", "The Slime Beast", and "The Sucking Pit" are unequaled for sheer, bloody brilliance.

With almost 100 horror novels to his revered name, Smith is a one-man horror industry.

The setting for "Manitou Doll" (Hamlyn Paperbacks; '81) is a mysterious fairground, that becomes an arena for rape, dismemberment, and mass murder.

Smith writes with the confidence of a man who doesn't give a fuck whether he offends you, scares the shit out of you, or rattles your sensitivities. What he does care about is keeping your eyes riveted to that page.

I intend to write a lot more about Smith. For now, track down a copy of "Manitou Doll". It's as good as its gleefully fiendish cover.

Few writers create unease with the subtlety of TM Wright, whose "A Manhattan Ghost Story" (Tor; '84) sent Hollywood producers into a flurry. They shelled out $2 million for the rights and paid Sharon Stone $6 million to star in it; Sharon got paid, the movie didn't get made (not yet, anyway).

Set in Manhattan, it's the tale of a parallel society of the dead, and a man who infiltrates its corners.

The back jacket of the Tor paperback establishes the novel's tone succinctly:

"They're waiting for you. Around that dusky corner, beyond that unlit window, in the next office you visit.

"You're alive, aren't you?

"They want revenge for that. And they'll get it."

My initial encounter with Wright was "Strange Seed" (Everest House; '78), the first of a mind-bending series about a race of humans who are, literally, the children of Mother Earth. In "Danse Macabre", Stephen King identified the book as one of his favorites of all time.

Wright has a unique, powerful voice, and the ability to create a rhythm with language that remains in the psyche like a tattoo.