Everyone reads for different reasons. At least, I gather that's the case from various articles, blog posts and comments online. And, you know, there's no real right way or wrong way to approach these things. Some want to get lost in rich and detailed worlds, some want to meet 'likeable' characters (I have my own opinions on this one, but that's a different conversation), some are looking for 'beautiful' prose and some approach their reading from an intellectual direction. And there are many other things people look for in their fiction, and almost infinite varieties and combinations of all of these. Personally, I tend to read for an emotional response and I find I'm looking for that more and more as I get older. That's not to say I can't appreciate those other ways I've mentioned, or others I haven't, but they're not necessary for me to enjoy something. I do tend to find, though, that a story which hits me in a way that actually makes me feel something is one I will rate far above others. Like I say, it's a personal thing. Doesn't really matter what emotion I get and it can range from the thrill of excitement to feeling crushing dread, and the entire spectrum in-between and around. But more and more, I'm drawn to those stories that push my buttons and make me feel sad. And not just in a 'oh, that's a little sad'; I'm talking deep, heartbreaking gut-punch emotion. The kind of thing that makes you tear up and stays with you for days, if not longer.

Just over a year and a go I came across the initial publication from a fledgling small press publisher, April Moon Books, called “The Dark Rites of Cthulhu”. This was a really quite delicious themed anthology centred on the use of dark grimoires, incantations and sorcery throughout H.P. Lovecraft’s work. This book was then swiftly followed by a series of short story collections called Short Sharp Shocks and a novella, Black Star Black Sun by writer Rich Hawkins. To say that I was bowled over by the quality and variety of work being published would be an understatement. Here was a publisher producing consistently entertaining and varied books that covered all the styles that I love in speculative fiction: Science Fiction, Weird Fiction, Lovecraftian and Horror. So, when April Moon Books announced it was re-uniting with editor Brian M. Sammons to do another anthology called “Flesh Like Smoke” you can probably imagine that my expectations were pretty high. Would it be case of lighting striking twice?

So, okay...yes, this novel came out in 2010. I appreciate I'm woefully behind on Adam Nevill's work, but in my defence, I have bought every single release thus far. I made a promise to myself at the end of last year that I would get myself up to speed with Adam's books this year. At the moment, I'm not doing terribly great, but two out of six (so far) ain't too bad. I'm also reading it as part of a personal project, whereby I bought about thirty-odd books relating to the haunted house theme. The reason being, that I plan on writing one myself at some point and it occurred to me that I hadn't read any of the generally held classics of the genre. So, I rectified that, and also bought a few that were relative unknowns (along with one or two that will probably be a bit lacking). Again, I'm falling behind on this but I plan to push on and some of these will appear as reviews on this here site (assuming people actually follow a particular reviewer's reviews and articles).

If there's one thing I love in fiction, it's a sense of cosmic horror. If there's another, it's the folly of humankind's scientific endeavours and the chaos and monsters they create; think Frankenstein, think H. G. Wells, think Quatermass and all the other wonderful films of the 50s and 60s. And Willie Meikle's recent novel The Dunfield Terror has these elements in spades.

 Don’t Read is the story of Chris, a lorry driver who is working on a horror novel. He’s completely unimpressed with the horror books he’s read in the past and decides to set out on his own to make a horror book that is more terrifying and disgusting than any that’s come before it. Here’s the thing though. He’s writing the book for himself, not for anyone else. Hence the name “Don’t Read” written on the book’s cover.

The book opens with Chris visiting a diner for a late night snack. The on-duty manager working that night is a man named Stephen (With a PH, not a V) and Stephen is a prick. He sends one of his employees, a girl named Haley, to take out the trash while the other employee, Sara, takes care of her one and only customer.

A work that is so much of its genre, it is like a crystallisation of its most salient characteristics, Manana could almost be read as a template for how one constructs gritty, violent crime drama. Simultaneously its greatest strength and weakness; for those who enjoy such fare, there will likely be little better; the book is vibrant, fast paced, explicitly bleak, violent; deliciously nihilistic and amoral. There is no finger wagging judgement here; no divine or poetic justice for characters that behave in less than savoury ways (which is to say, all of them). This is an almost documentary examination of one man's descent into criminal culture's depths, beginning with a well drawn and compelling take on a classic situation:

Christopher Saint Booth tells it like he sees it.

Okay, the problem I have with reviewing books is that I prefer to go over review material 3 times before making a comment. The 1st because it is always new to me, the 2nd is because I am now familiar with the material and can better assess without the shock of the new, by the 3rd. I know exactly what to expect, so can then cast more critical eyes over it and draw a better conclusion. I usually review movies and this process although time consuming is far faster with a movie than a book review. Reading the same book 3 times can be gruelling, but in this case I found it necessary as I was fairly much undecided as to the approach here.