Shame on me, whose first thought upon hearing that this menopause-themed horror anthology was, “I wonder why they didn’t release this during Women in Horror Month?” First, September is National Menopause Awareness Month, but second, Bodies quickly proves that one need not possess a uterus or be in the throes of an urgently declining hormone level to appreciate the varying degrees of body horror its tales offer. Editor Nicole M. Wolverton notes in her Foreword, “Everything to do with ovaries and uteruses (and their by-products) is fraught in some way, whether you own them or used to own them or are supposed to own them or perhaps were never really meant to own them,” and she’s spot on, but even if your experience with female reproductive organs has been limited to cheerleading from the sidelines, you’re certain to find a gem or two in Bodies to appreciate. Not all of the stories worked for me, but the highlights beamed so brightly, the collection is well worth a closer look.

Fans of gruesome history will immediately feel at home in Marsheila Rockwell’s “It Will Have Blood, They Say” and its sympathetic portrayal of Erzebet—Elizabeth Bathory, the noblewoman turned Hungarian serial killer. The story vacillates between the present-day narrative of a “middle-aged archeologist and historian who has…been excavating the grounds of Castle Csejte in Slovakia” and entries from the discovered diary written by the infamous woman with a kill count of nearly 650. As it turns out, ol’ Erze’s disturbing ritual of bathing in the blood of her victims was motivated by a quandary many married women of a certain age might recognize. Spouses with wandering eyes might want to read carefully…and take heed.

“Becoming” by Ali Seay is rooted more firmly in a contemporary setting, and anyone who has experienced the terror of seeing their body act in a way that is out of their control will appreciate it. When Ruby first learns that her hormones have waded waist-deep into perimenopause, she experiences a range of emotions, none of them positive. “‘I’m becoming something new,’ she breathed as anxiety crawled through her. ‘I’m fine. I’m good. I’m worthy,’” she insists to herself. Trapped under the oppressive weight of hot flashes, she decides to fight fire with fire. Anyone who has issues with excoriation, regardless of gender, will identify with Ruby on a whole other level. The tale scared the bejesus out of me.

I enjoyed the anthology’s closing tale by Max Turner so much, I read it multiple times. When a friend of mine had the final surgery to complete his multi-year process of matching his outside body with his correct gender, he tried to convey to me the immense importance of the act. Being cis-gender, I thought I understood him, but truth be told, I knew I couldn’t truly comprehend the level of terror one must feel being trapped in the wrong body. Turner’s story, and the visceral horror it conveys, clarifies it. In “This is Yours,” Sam, a transman, endures surgery to remove internal reproductive organs only to have a sinister organization later force them back inside him. If you already harbor a slight distrust of the government or an inkling of white coat syndrome, this will push you over the edge.
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The brightest star in Bodies for me is “Here There Are Dragons” by Megan M. Davies-Ostrom, a quickly moving narrative that’s part fantasy folklore, part woman warrior manifesto about a society where women, once they’ve completed menopause, are exiled to the forest “to feed the dragons.” I can’t shower enough praise on what Davies-Ostrom conjures here; it is worth buying the anthology for this tale alone. “Here” is a smart social commentary on men’s ability to procreate, and therefore, have worth, long into their twilight years while women are discarded as soon as they exhibit signs of the aging process. The author turns this discrepancy on its head, theorizing instead that with the cessation of menstruation comes a building of power, that women become stronger and therefore, more dangerous, and that is why they are put out to pasture. “Fifty-one years. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye!” rallies the narrator. “[and] I don’t intend to let them have me without a fight.” The ending of the tale is so gorgeous, so empowering in its lovely irony, that I dare anyone to read it without chills running through their skin. If “women’s magic is in our blood,” Bodies Full of Burning encapsulates that power and puts it on display, in all of its many forms, for the world to see.


Trigger warnings provided by the editor: abuse (physical, mental, and domestic), anxiety, cancer, loss of a child, loss of a parent, transphobia

Comic-books are a medium, not a genre; they can tell any story and suit any palate. You want horror? I've got bottles of the stuff. Welcome to 'Splashes of Darkness.' ​

Peter Pan is a vivid, exotic-looking blend, artfully layered in a jaw-droppingly large glass, crammed full of fruity bits, gaudy sparklers and some viciously spiky umbrellas. This isn't some alcopop spritzed up for wide-eyed freshers with deep pockets, though - there's some serious, dark alchemical shit going on it there. The flavours wash over you in waves. There's sweetness for sure, but swirls of biting cruelty and horror too. Consume with care, and take your time.
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Don’t even think about skipping this one. I know you’re rolling your eyes and muttering about ‘kids stuff’ but don’t be fooled. This is a labor of love that truly deserves your attention. The whole tale was written & illustrated by Regis Loisel – a multiple award-winning comics creator – between 1990 and 2004. Bizarrely, despite it’s universal acclaim for artistry and incisive themes, it has never been previously published in the UK. Soaring Penguin Press have done a spectacular job collecting together and translating the full run of this Peter Pan prequel, and it needs to go on your wishlist now.

It's clear from the first panel that Loisel has no interest in giving us a white-washed narrative: ‘London… cold, hunger and misery merge to set the scene…’ It’s a Dickensian nightmare. The houses are cramped, the streets are full of cynical, selfish people and all is awash in the ordure of poverty. Whilst it’s clear that they all suffer together, there is precious little sense of community. The Londoners prey upon each other like rats in a cobble-stoned coffin. The single factor connecting the adult world and that of the young is a gnawing hunger to escape.

So, we come to Peter, a ragged child holding forth to a group of orphans in a tiny yard. When we first meet him, his only magic lies in his words, transporting the children with marvelous stories of far away places and warming their hearts with the ‘words of tenderness’ he claims his mother whispers to him. (That damned harpy!) His struggle to maintain innocence in a tawdry world is heart-breaking, and renders the book firmly in the arena of adult reading, for reasons we’ll explore later. Loisel does an excellent job of portraying the darkness and terror of the adult world from a prepubescent perspective, in imagery, language and inference – laying down the psychological tracks that lead to Peter’s perpetual childhood in Neverland.
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This is not a world for children.

​If there is one thing that Peter Pan represents, it’s the joy of unfettered imagination, and Neverland fits him like a glove. I was surprised by how much I dreaded this flight to Barrie's fanciful realm after the revelations of the opening volume – and the tonal shift is pretty sudden – but it doesn’t take Loisel long to find his balance. His artwork is always high quality, but the flames of his creativity burn brightest in 

​The character design is fabulous throughout: from Hook’s haggard and be-stubbled face to Peter’s gap-toothed grin, while the Lost Boys have never looked wilder. The pirates’ attempts to steal the fairy treasure (and latterly exact revenge on poor Peter) is perhaps the one weak point of the story. It suffers from the same malaise as Barrie’s original: outlandish ploys and schoolboy tactics. That said, Hook is a formidable, terrifying bully when roused, representing as he does all Adults in his grasping nature and cruel injustices. If this is a children’s story, then it’s the kind they tell each other in private: full of brutality, boobs and bloody excess.
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Loisel builds ambiguity in at ground level, with parallels and analogues connecting London to that blissful island paradise - not least of which are the fantastical tales told to Peter by Mr Kundal, his mentor and closest friend. The tension between reality and the imagination is the very backbone of the story, and is personified in the Peter/Pan dichotomy. (Pan exists already, you see; he's a separate being, plucked from the world’s imagination, leading the fairy folk.) It is only in the second half of the book that Peter and he become ‘one’, and in doing so, cement Peter’s position with the Neverlanders.

The constant gravitational pull towards the adult world (most clearly embodied by the saucy sirens of both worlds but also, more subtly, by chains of guilt and responsibility) sets up an internal conflict that lends Peter a real pathos in the midst of his cocky charm. Of course, it is in the denial of the ‘dirty’ Adult that Peter Pan derives his greatest power: the boy who never grew up. It comes with a terrible price though - forgetfulness - allowing some particularly chilling events to occur.

​What many readers will find astonishing is Loisel’s inclusion of a Jack the Ripper sub-plot, back in London. It is akin to the Tales of the Black Freighter sections of Watchmen in its apparent irrelevance, yet essential thematic link. I have theories about the psychological depths of this book that I could just go on and on about, but that’s a conversation for another day. Perhaps when you’ve bought it and soaked it all up yourselves, you’ll post a comment or two below and we can explore it further.

You must track it down, though.
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This is one of those rare books that gives you more and more every time you read it, whether it’s in the spectacular detail of the artwork or fresh insights to the story, theme or meaning. The artwork is sumptuous, the drama intense and the emotional punches are near-crippling. How many comics can delve into gnaw-knuckle nastiness one minute then move you to tears the next? Precious blooming few, and that’s a fact! 

​I’ll state it clearly one more time though – this book is not for children. On first flick through I thought it was deemed ‘adult’ because of the copious boobs on display, but that’s really not the case. Whilst the sirens (read mermaids) have a sexual nature to them, there is nothing that they actually do which is overt enough to be unsuitable for children. It is the emotional trauma of Peter’s abusive mother that I would protect my daughter from; the salty language used by adults and children alike; the pants-wetting terrors of night-time London; and the horrible lengths to which Tinkerbell goes in her jealousy. I dare say the tick-tock croc would give her nightmares too, but I don’t want to put you off too much. Just be careful where you leave it, eh? 

Is it a perfect book? Not quite. Ambiguity makes for a more interesting and interactive read, but it also stops it from ever being wholly satisfying. Critical questions of plot and moral character are tossed into the air without ever quite landing, and remain so, no matter how much you grasp. I suppose that’s Peter Pan all over though: a crowing, glorious, bloodthirsty little bastard; hovering just out of reach. Tormenting the grown-ups… forever.

‘May your madness be joyful! Forget all to live.’

​Written and illustrated by Régis Loisel
Published by Soaring Penguin
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Out of print, but second-hand copies are available on eBay etc.


Reading experience: 5/5
Reviewer: Dion Winton-Polak
Review originally written for Geek Syndicate.

In a follow up to his horror-heavy Whiskey and Other Unusual Ghosts, S.L. Edwards offers seventeen stories of monster, dystopian, spectral, and political weird fiction tinged with cerebral fantasy and Lovecraftian allegory in The Death of an Author. Seven of the tales are original to the collection, and whether you fancy creature creep-fests or contemporary satire, you’re certain to find a dark ditty to enjoy among them.

In a reprint from Unleashed: Monsters vs Zombies, vol II, “Allister’s Garden” incorporates classic monster tropes in a fresh way that will please fans of both Gothic and post-apocalyptic literature. After a zombie invasion has decimated much of the human population, Joseph is caught in an abandoned department store, then trapped by an unusual savior: the beautiful but deadly Allister. She’s survived the swarms of the ravenous undead because she herself is not of the living; she’s a vampire, and soon, “she is his protector, his captor. Occasionally, his lover.” Allister brings home other humans, but they are for sustenance, not companionship, until one day, her hunt’s bounty is simply placed alive in a cell, leaving Joseph to wonder, has Allister saved another human, or is she simply savoring her next meal?
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Two other standouts that may not have fit comfortably in a traditional horror collection shine especially brightly here. In “I Keep It in a Little Box,” consumed with despair, Tom jumps off a cliff; when he awakens, he’s in a strange land of water and dragons. When he recounts his story to one of the creatures, he is given the opportunity to rid the whole world of misery, forcing Tom to consider what he has lost in the choice to take his life. For anyone who has ever been consumed by depression or anxiety, this smart tale will prove visceral and bittersweet. In “Standing There,” a work of flash fiction, a resident of a housing development under construction stumbles across a spectre on his back patio. This two-page piece is a ghost story that is lifted to brilliance in its final two sentences where Edwards paints the most terrifying image in the whole book.

A number of the entries in the author’s Miskatonic and Madness section follow Edwards’ Lovecraftian politician, Robert March, but readers need not be a fan of the Mythos to appreciate the slyly metaphorical but terrifying storylines. In “The Cthulhu Candidate,” Jenn Maknken is a star reporter who loathes election season, and she’s tasked with interviewing Marsh, a congressman from an influential family in the Innsmouth area of Massachusetts. When Marsh reveals on live television his platform in the race to achieve the American presidency, the viewer screams cannot be contained. “The Ambassador in Yellow” begins with “Elena Carter believes her president is the greatest man who’s ever lived.” What follows is a disturbing [and sadly, accurate] allegory of a president whose true alliance lies with a nefarious foreign power and whose press secretary is Stockholm syndrome-level loyal. If you’re one of the remaining blind supporters of the United States’ 45th leader, you will embrace the wickedness of Marsh’s cabinet and conspirators with open arms; if you’re not, you may walk away from Edwards’ rendition with a case of PTSD.

Horror writers have killed off victims in just about every way possible, and I thought I had read it all in my literary wanderings, but “A Slower Way of Starving” proved me wrong. In this dystopian story, original to the collection and hands-down, my favorite of the seventeen, the Eating Disease is a pandemic that causes its afflicted to become so mad with hunger, they choke to death or rupture their digestive tracts as they shovel food ferociously into their mouths and throats in a futile attempt to seek relief from an insatiable appetite. For protagonist Carrie, working at a pizza delivery restaurant becomes a particularly grotesque—and perilous—occupation. This story is a gruesome joyride from beginning to end, crammed with government sinisterism and body horror.
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What sets The Death of an Author apart from many other single-author horror collections is that its content runs the gamut of speculative fiction: Edwards’ range is represented well. Another thing of note is the author’s decision to follow each story with an explanation of what inspired it and his own notes on its characters, themes, and journey. It is a nice touch that adds another level of intimacy to an already well-crafted and unusual body of work. No matter where on the dark fiction spectrum your heart lies, you’re certain to find something that will woo you from S.L. Edwards.

In his second short story collection, S. L. Edwards offers tales of fantasy and horror, all-too human and all-too terrifying. In this volume, you'll find stories of vampires lording over the zombie apocalypse, gunslingers fighting their way through haunted mining towns, dragons at the end of the world, and the death of an author.


At the intersection of pulp horror, weird fiction, and a general love for fantasy, The Death of An Author is a kinetic collection, with offerings both for those who enjoyed Whiskey and Other Unusual Ghosts and for new readers as well. 

 It is a pleasure to welcome back William Simmons after a very long hiatus. Thirteen years ago Simmons, a successful horror writer and editor, suddenly disappeared from the scene due to health problems and other personal reasons. The present book,aptly entitled We Feed the Dark, a mix of old and new material, represents his long awaited return.

The opening story “ A Fabulous, Former Darkness” is a puzzling , perceptive piece of truth which sounds like fiction ( or is it the  other way around?) addressing some facts from the author’s own life. The narration connects, in a full circle, with the last tale “ Feed the Dark” where the main character is actually Simmons fighting against his personal demons embodied in the Night Man, whose arrival is feared yet awaited for the definitive showdown against the ENEMY, that is The Dark. So, this collection is also a kind of exorcism, which hopefully will allow the author to leave behind his bad times and his dark memories in order to fully return to his normal life and his work.


Bookended by the above stories, the volume assembles a bunch of good tales such as  the fascinating but disquieting “ The Dead Boy in the Wall”, the creepy “The Right Size” , describing an annual family reunion where a certain jacket will fit only the unlucky person whose destiny is set, “ The Woman Beneath” a sad story where a woman is used and cheated,  “ Little Plastic Men” featuring a a Ken doll becoming both  the witness of a marriage’s breakup and a tool of vengeance and the disturbing “ Telling Stories in the Dark” portraying a man who must keep telling stories to his kids to save them by the dangers lurking in the dark.

Sometimes the real horror is our inability to maintain good human relationships, first of all inside our families, as shown in the gloomy “ Echoes” and “ Naughty, You?”

The volume also includes a couple of old stories which obtained Honourable Mentions in some Year’s Best collections: “They Never Come Back” a  tense, excellent tale describing a family’s breakdown after the death of a son, with a terrifying ending in a cemetery, and “The Wind When It Comes”, a tale of desperation revolving around an old couple with little left to tell each other, living an empty life in the middle of nowhere.
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Now that Simmons is back, we are looking forward to more of his new stories.

TW/CW: Teen pregnancy, childbirth, animal killings, self-harm, alcohol abuse, cult, gaslighting, pedophilia, blood, death, child death, drowning, rape, attempted forcing of medication, torture, hallucination, brainwash, body horror, non-consensual medical experimentation, and suicide.

Vern, a fifteen-year-old intersex Black girl with albinism, escapes to the woods fleeing the religious compound that she has grown up in called The Blessed Acres of Cain (also known as Cain Land.) Married against her will to the older reverend Sherman and seven months pregnant, Vern seeks freedom from the only home she has ever known. Shortly after entering the woods, Vern goes into labor giving birth to twin baby boys, Howling and Feral, while also being pursued by an entity called The Fiend who is employed by those at Cain Land.

Living in the woods, Vern, and Feral all flourish in their environment. The boys are precocious and adapt to new situations quickly. Still being hunted by the fiend after all the years, Vern never feels that she and her tiny sons are entirely safe in their forest home. Her body begins to change in frightening ways, leading her to take the boys and seek help from the outside world.

And her newfound family of Gogo and Bridget, Vern, and her children all thrive and flourish. Vern is free to test the limits imposed by the new changes to her body, while she and the boys are being cared for. Despite believing that she has long defeated The Fiend, Vern learns that Cain Land will not give up pursuing her and seeking to bring her back to their cult by any means necessary.

Sorrowland was a deeply engrossing read that tackles topics relevant today: disability, LGBTQIA rights, sexuality, motherhood, race, history, cults, and religion. 

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, however, the end of the book did feel like it was rushing toward a conclusion that does not feel like it fits the rest of the story. That being said, it is one of my top reads of 2021.

4/5 Stars
Thank you to #NetGalley and Farrar, Straus, and Giroux for providing me with a review copy of this novel. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

Brandi Guarino is a voracious reader and has a To Be Read list that never ends. She is passionate and committed to championing the work of independent writers and publishers in horror, science fiction, and fantasy. She is on Twitter at @bgbibliophile and Instagram at www.instagram.com/brandi_the_bibliophile.

I met Cthulhu in college.
 
In one night, I discovered his true identity, opened a portal to another dimension, banished him there, and thwarted a doomsday cult. None of this was covered during First Year orientation, but I managed. Now I must awaken him from his eternal slumber to undo a cosmic cataclysm while avoiding the prophecy foretelling my failure and the end of humanity.


Nothing in Amanda's life has ever been normal, but her college boyfriend, Ryley, was paranormal. Fifteen years after banishing him to his city beneath the waves, she needs to evoke dark magic to dispel the mounting chaos pervading the world, twisting events and people beyond madness.


Now the stars are right.


Amanda must summon Ry and save the world. But at what cost?


Cthulhu: A Love Story is a contemporary take on the Lovecraftian Mythos filled with chaos worshipping cultists, dark rituals, and cosmic horror.

Congratulations! You've Accidentally Summoned A World-Ending Monster. What Now?  by Duncan P. Bradshaw or as it will be known for the purpoises of this review (hey if The Bradshaw can wordplay in this book, then I'm gonna wordplay, what ya gonna do sue me?) CYASAWEMWN, sod it even that's too much from now on it's going to be referred to as What Now?  It is the latest comedy horror novel from the, in my honest opinion, the greatest living exponent of horror-comedy in fiction; your opinion may differ, but this is my space and, I can do what I want here.  


From the man that brought you Mr Sucky, Cannibal Nuns from Outer Space, and Don't Smell the Flowers! They Only Want To Steal Your Bones, (Jesus is this a trend? Is he going to release each new book with an even longer title?) is not just another horror-comedy; oh no, that would be too simple for Duncan.  What Now? is also a chose your own adventure, now kids, some of you might be too young to remember what those were. They were books spilt up randomly, with one true path through the book, and you had to find that path by making decisions after each chapter that took you to a different chapter. They were all the craze back in the good old days when computer games came on tapes and took hours to load; trust me, they were great, we had loads of fun with them.  


I have a habit of trying to ape Mr Badshaws' writing style when I review his books, but let us be honest here, I', a lot funnier in my head than I am in real life. (editor: as shown by this review so far). So with this in mind, I have decided to steal his whole concept and use a Chose Your Own Review style of review.  ​

Or if you would rather read the full, finely crafted review, that may just change the way you look at the world, that might just cure baldness, and if reports are too believed make you irresistible to others thanks to its sheer awesomsauceness then continue reading....

(note: GNoH does not guarantee that any of these will happen, and is not responsible for any side effects you may encounter from reading this review)

When a random game of Scrabble unleashes a hellbent demonic force who only wants to destroy our world, after a couple of failed attempts, it is up to Ian, an employee of The Margaret Thatcher Burger Bar, where you can get such culinary delights as Belgrano Bites, with Reagan Ranch or Gorbachev Ketchup and Monique a failed anti-capitalist suicide bomber, as well as a motley crew of the most unexpected heroes ever to grace the page of a book to save the world from the wrath of QZXPRYCATJ, I shall type that name only once, as much like The Candyman repeating the name will bring forth the demon to destroy the world.  Now I am sure you are thinking, "OK, I know what this book is going to be like, but hold off because that doesn't even come close to the mind-bending, sidesplitting and nausea-inducing insanity held within the pages of this novel.  

The chapter that you are led to after the introduction to this book where we are introduced to the leading players of the story will probably give you a better insight into the overall feel of the book, but be warned, Bradshaw doesn't hold back; you know all those "urban myths" ( I put that in inverted commas, as one of the local burger joints was shit down for this very reason), of special sauces, and other uses for burger buns, well he puts all of these into the narrative in full, unfiltered descriptive passages.  I don't think I'll ever look at brown sauce again.  Some of you might be thinking that this is just schoolboy humour, and while it is, Bradshaw has such a strong comedic voice and such an incredible eye for surrealist satire that yes, you will cringe at what you read, but you will be captivated by the sheer bravado and hilarity that ensues.  

With horror-comedy novels, it is a hard line to walk to ensure that the reader isn't just faced with gag after gag; there needs to be an exciting story holding everything together, with characters that you might not care for, but you want to spend time with at the very least.  Thankfully Bradshaw has ensured that this is the case, so much so that while you can "finish" this story very quickly, if you make the required decisions at the key points, you will, even if you finish it early, make use of the "Sliding Doors" options that Bradshaw includes at various points within the branch points of the story.  

Some of the branches might not make sense at the time of reading, such as the branch that enters a pub from hell, but don't worry these vignettes, or side stories, or whatever you want to call them, are hilarious and don't detract you from the unbridled sense of joy you will get from reading this bonkers story.  

My relationship with Bradshaw's writing has been an odd one, and one based solely on me not getting it. While I enjoyed the first book of his that I read, I had problems with it in my first encounter. In retrospect, the issues weren't with the book itself, but with me just not understanding what he was trying to do.  My relationship with his books has had a quantum shift (does that mean huge or small), over the years, to the point when he announces a new project, I beg and bother him to the point of annoyance to get my hands on an early copy.  

In every review since Mr Sucky, I have probably said that his writing and gift for comedy gets better with each book, it's almost becoming a cliche, and Jimmy hates cliches, but this is probably my favourite book of his.  Please don't hate me, Mr Sucky, and I adore the concept of a serial killer possessing a vacuum cleaner, as well as invisible attack dinosaurs, but there is a, I won't say maturing, as that doesn't suit Bradshaw, of his writing style, over the books he has published.  Like a stand-up comedian, he has refined his novels' comic timing and punchlines to a point where they hit the bullseye dead centre every time, and his ability to create a narrative framework on which to hang the frivolity is stronger than ever.  

What Now is an outrageously sublime experience. It's inappropriate, preposterous, and bizarre, everything and more you could ever want in a novel like this.  

Note to the author; your next book better involve the Neo-Noir Insect society.  I demand more spider detective!!!!

Comic-books are a medium, not a genre; they can tell any story and suit any palate. You want horror? I've got bottles of the stuff. Welcome to 'Splashes of Darkness.' ​

There's a neon concoction lying on the bar, strangely unattended. It's alluring but...dangerous somehow. Smoke flows gently down the sides. You approach it cautiously, squinting as you get closer. You can't even begin to guess at the contents, but the smell's so potent the room starts to spin. Round and round it goes, like a record. The needle drops. Guitars howl a warning – or is that encouragment? Raygun Roads is the punk-galactic gargle blaster of comics. Part satire, part existential horror, part social commentary and part world-rattling rant, this is one drink you won’t easily forget.
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I agreed to read and review Raygun Roads without knowing a thing about it, and I’m glad as hell that I did. If I’d seen panels or read the blurb in advance, I’m pretty sure I would have passed out of hand. Punk band superheroes, you say? Psychedelic imagery and fluorescent colours throughout? Yech! Let’s just say on my first flick through, I really didn’t think it’d be my cup of tea. Shows how wrong you can be, I guess. As with so many other hidden gems scattered in the long grass of indie comics, Raygun Roads kicks arse. Owen Michael Johnson is a truly great writer. It may not be the prettiest book you read this year, but it’ll light a fire under you in a way that very few comics manage to achieve. This isn’t just another *cape brawl or feeble excuse to perv over the female form; this book actually means something.

​The structural conceit is that of a vinyl record, with story segments forming the songs. Raygun Roads is the singer with the Kittlebach Pirates, a raucous punk band tearing up the music scene in some other reality. Essentially, this is her album. She’s everything the aged establishment despises – an encapsulation of defiant youth – but as the needle drops and the story begins, a world mourns her passing. It’s a vivid and fascinating opening, smashing home the importance of the character before we find out why. The identity of the mourners, and the treasured paraphernalia surrounding Raygun in her coffin, speak volumes about her artistic lineage and the values of the creative team. The end blurs into the beginning as we flip from side A to side B, to side A, to side B – and this is a concept I find utterly thrilling. The comic is designed to be experienced over and over again, allowing layers of meaning to accrete over time. It doesn’t just say it’s a music album, it functions like one. It’s a veritable mind worm.

​The full title of the comic is Raygun Roads and the Infinity Loop Death-trap of Ulysses Pomp. (I know!) Pomp is the villain of the piece: an all-purpose representative of capitalist oppression, spitting out platitudes and withering scorn in equal measure as he farms the energies of his slaves. Vince Paradise seems doomed to become one of those slaves. He is our Everyman character, a familiar figure we can empathise with. When we meet him he’s just a kid at the job centre desperately trying not to be ground down by the system. He wants to be creative, inspirational, but the only jobs available are mind-numbing and mechanical. He’s an insignificant speck to the careers advisor, but given the chance he might just become the saviour of the world. Raygun Roads and The Kittlebach Pirates burst across realities to give him that chance. From here on in it’s a hell-for-leather ride through the cobwebs of the mind in order to defeat Ulysses Pomp and ultimately fulfil Vince’s potential. Along the way they’ll fight alcopop zombies, face their darkest fears and find a way to transform the nature of the generic office prawn. (Just… go with it.) 

​The artwork is, as I’ve indicated, pretty ugly – but it’s ugly with a purpose. It’s meant to shock, it’s supposed to be extreme. Punk art is confrontational by nature, and if it doesn’t shake you up it’s simply not doing its job. Indio does it in spades, in a pistol-paced parade of psychedelic scenes, screaming with satire and anarchic outrage. He has a verve and an energy that leaves the reader speechless. Breathless, even. There’s a feast of detail within, referencing all sorts of rebellious pop culture iconography, from 1984 and A Clockwork Orange, to The Bash Street Kids and The Banana Splits. It’s art that keeps on giving, much like Kevin O’Neill’s work on The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Part of the joy of the experience is in spotting new details and wrinkles of meaning-by-association every time you read it. It’s bright and bold, rude, raucous and endlessly inventive stuff. Sometimes the art seems to overpower the script, which was problematic for me. Although I ‘got it’ first time round, it took a second and a third read through to take it all in. The satire is laid on so thickly, the metaphors so extreme, that they overwhelm the senses. How can you take in tricky concepts and sly humour when your eyes are being blasted by an orgy of neon nightmares? It’s excessive, true, but in a way that leaves your brain fizzing for more, rather than turning away in disgust. You want to understand it.

​So, what does it all mean? Well, that’ll vary from reader to reader, but here’s some of what I took from it. It’s not just a **story, it’s an allegory. The comic talks directly to us, with Vince as our avatar. In the context of the story Raygun is a free thinker and a rebel, railing against the tyranny of The Man, the apathy of the abused masses. But think about the title. What do the words Raygun Roads mean to you? Symbolically, I see her as a road-map, showing us the way to a brighter future. Gleaming, optimistic and exciting. It’s a place where opportunities are expanded, not crushed. Raygun is a saviour in the best tradition – by inspiring us to save ourselves. The book shows us a way of looking at ourselves, and at the world around us. It’s empowerment driven by fury, creativity cracking the cage around it, it’s life in all its vibrant and defiant glory. Confused by the narrative? Join the club. Wondering what the bleeding hell is going on as you turn from page to page?

​We all live in Vince’s world. Every day we ***witness the mundane apocalypse of individuality. To paraphrase the comic, it’s up to us to harness the metaphor and do something about it. Owen Michael Johnson is doing his part. What about you?

Written by Owen Michael Johnson
Illustrated by Indio
Published by Changeling Studios
Read it here. Now. For free! With a soundtrack and everything. 
(Don’t forget to flip from Side A to Side B)


Reading experience: 5/5
Reviewer: Dion Winton-Polak