Beau Johnson’s fifth Bishop Rider collection closes of the series with another brutal slab of grimy shorts that are as uncompromising as his antihero’s goal.

Beau Johnson’s Bishop Rider stories have never been for the faint of heart. Considering Rider’s sole purpose in life is to bring pain and suffering to the rapists, the paedophiles, and the smut-peddlers of his fictional world, that’s a good thing. In this final collection, Johnson brings Rider’s journey to an end, and he does it in typical fashion: with a collection of extremely brutal shorts that get straight to business and beat you down with short, sharp prose that doesn’t shy away from the bloody bits.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Rider, he’s the kind of vigilante that would work perfectly in a Punisher comic. Given that this is the final book in the series (as things stand), it’s fair to assume you’re familiar with the character, though. And of course, there’s a big clue in the name alone. Old Man Rider is a fantastic homage to Marvel’s Old Man Logan and Old Man Punisher stories.

But this is a review about Old Man Rider, so let’s stick to that. Like the other Rider books, this one features a series of shorts that fall into an easy rhythm to follow. The stories cut straight to the action and create a pastiche of revenge kills that paint a bigger picture.

Like all the great revengers, Rider is working his way through an ever-growing list of bad guys who need killing. Typically, this doesn’t come in blaze of glory-style fights but sees Rider laying traps for his victims before cornering them at home, in their basements, and in their rat-warren hideouts.

From there, things get violent, very violent. The kills run the gamut of brutal executions, and as the bad guys burn, bleed and lose extremities, Johnson makes sure we smell the concrete, the blood, and the oily smoke. He doesn’t let us turn away from the horrible things that Rider does to these bad guys, but he’s got this great knack of framing it in a way that doesn’t feel overdone.

Given the fact there are so many kills coming in such rapid succession, you’d think some kill fatigue would set in. Fortunately, it doesn’t. That’s to do with the way Johnson keeps his prose punchy and plain. He doesn’t linger. Like Rider (and Rider’s extended team), he gets in, commits to the kill, and gets out. It’s great stuff.

If you’re wondering why I’ve kept some of the other characters vague, it’s because I don’t want to spoil things for people still working their way through the stories. One thing has to be discussed, though: this is Old Man Rider, and as such, we’re at the end of the tale.

By this stage of the story, Rider’s been around a while. He’s a veteran. He’s wounded, and he’s starting to realise that nothing will ever be enough. With that in mind, Johnson puts a bigger play in motion. Others who follow his lead, accomplices who take the mantle, an apprentice in the son of the man who killed his mother and sister, and a great sense of resolution that leaves you knowing you've experienced something epic by the end.

That’s not easy to achieve with stories like these, and it’s a commendable achievement. In short, long-time readers will be thrilled with the ending and sense of closure they receive. If you’ve enjoyed the others, pick this up.

Misery and Other Lines By CC Adams

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Sinister Horror Company (14 Oct. 2022)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 258 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1912578387
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1912578382

​A book review by Kev Harrison 
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Horror does not have to be scary. As a horror writer and reader, I will die on this hill. And yet, there are some working within the genre who can’t seem to help scaring the living daylights out of you with every release. One such individual is CC Adams. I still think back to when I first read his novella, But Worse Will Come: a nuanced, heavily character-driven story in essence, and yet some of the set pieces there were terrifying. Similarly with his novelette, Forfeit Tissue. I forbid anyone to read the scene in the tube carriage and not find themselves squirming in their seat with pure, unadulterated terror. I’m pleased to say that Misery and Other Lines continues this trend.
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Aside from scaring the bejeezus out of his readers, there is another vein which runs through Adams’ body of work, and that is the city of London. A proud native of the UK capital, Adams has spoken in numerous venues about the way in which London is very much a character for him in his horror stories. Always aiming—and to my mind succeeding—to present a realistic impression of the city, with Misery and Other Lines, his latest, coming 14 October from The Sinister Horror Company, he steps this up a notch.

The book is a mosaic novel, set on a single Hallowe’en night in the capital. Each chapter sub-titled with the transport link in use and the start and end point of the characters’ journey. Like all the best mosaic novels, each story stands comfortably on its own, but when fused together, we get a sense of a whole which is greater than the sum of its parts. Small details a reader may pay only scant attention to in the early chapters echo back towards the latter stages. Once you realise there is this interconnectedness, you’re suddenly analysis every element in forensic detail. This only serves to increase the thrill and the fear factor, especially when reaching the climactic, penultimate tale.

When reading the book, I wondered if there was more for me to take from it, as someone who has spent significant time in London. Certainly, the portrayal of the capital bears all the hallmarks of someone who knows the city intimately, feeding into the reality of the situations presented. But such is the living, breathing nature of the capital in this agglomeration of stories that I feel anyone would feel immersed in that world, regardless of whether they have a casual familiarity with London or have never so much as set foot in the place.

The only people I can imagine being unhappy with Misery and Other Lines are the London Tourism Authority, who may not want Adams scaring their potential customers away.

As mentioned above, I’ve read a number of Adams’ releases prior to this: two novellas and one novelette. It’s a testament to his growth as a writer that, even though each of those would make a great addition to any horror library, this felt like a step forward. Something more accomplished, controlled. Deftly wielding all of his writing powers and sculpting them into a cohesive whole.

So, check your tickets at the barrier, mind the gap as you board, and enjoy the ride.

Joshua Millican is certainly no stranger to the world of horror, having been involved in the scene in a journalistic capacity since 2011. He even spent a stint working as editor-in-chief of Dread Central, so he knows his stuff. With that in mind, it’s no surprise his debut novel is a wild ride through the bowels of Vegas that hits enough references to keep the most stalwart horror fan happy.

Deeper Than Hell is, first and foremost, one hell of a story. Essentially the story of a down and out heroin user on a quest to find the meaning of life, this horrific adventure into the sewers and catacombs beneath Las Vegas sees Millican take readers on a journey that’s as creative as it is reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno and Journey to the Centre of the Earth.

Where the canonical classic sees the poet writing himself into a journey through the nine layers of hell with Virgil, though, Deeper Than Hell sees its heroin addict protagonist Sonny travelling into the darkest recesses beneath Las Vegas with his dead conspiracy theorist buddy Drew. And make no mistake, Drew spits ‘truths’ like a character from the Illuminatus Trilogy.

Yeah, there’s a lot to unpack there, but if that little summary doesn’t get you going, then this isn’t the book for you. Of course, this relationship is fraught with tension as Millican does a fine job planting enough questions to leave the reader wondering whether Drew’s intentions are noble. That, in turn adds to the conflicts that run through the foundations of this vivid tale.

The journey begins after disgruntled dealers come for Drew and Sonny, and as the pair descends into the sublevels of humanity, their quest is akin to what you might get if Clive Barker wrote Journey to the Centre of the Earth. As Sonny goes deeper and deeper into the cavernous expanses below Vegas and Drew fades in and out of the story, he faces trash-monsters, human horrors, and spiritual challenges. Ultimately, Sonny is forced to look deep into himself if he wishes to survive the journey, and it’s the human heart beating in this quest that makes it so engaging.

Throughout the narrative, Drew’s penchant for sharing stories about the dangers the two confront, the sub-human groups they discover, and the prospect of finding greater treasures if they just go deeper into the sewers – and themselves – add character to a tale that’s a welcome addition to the genre.

Of course, it would be remiss of me not to point out that I experienced this story on Audible. Produced by Encyclopocalypse, the audiobook is of terrific quality. The first-person prose provides the perfect leap-pad for Adam Blanford to characterise Sonny – and everyone else – with a range of voices that immerse the reader into the labyrinthine tunnels that Sonny and Drew travel through.

As a result, the Deeper Than Hell audiobook makes for a thrilling way to consume Millican’s debut novel.
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Highly recommended.

​Drugs. Delirium. Damnation.

When rock-bottom is just the beginning, you’re bound to end up Deeper Than Hell. Fever dreams and conspiracy theories collide in an epic nightmare inspired by William S. Burroughs and Clive Barker. Follow a modern-day Dante and Virgil on a vision quest from the streets of Las Vegas, past subterranean cults and feral colonies, past the military facilities at Wonderland, past any semblance of sanity. There’s life underground! 

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The Furies by John Connolly  

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Hodder & Stoughton (4 Aug. 2022)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 480 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1529391741
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1529391749

A Book Review by Tony Jones

Charlie Parker is one of the great recurring literary characters of modern-day fiction (forget limiting him to genres) and his reappearance is matched only by a very select few, an illustrious list which features Harry Bosch, John Rebus, Matthew Shardlake and Kurt Wallander (sadly, no longer with us) amongst my all-time favourites. The longevity of the private detective who operates out of Portland (Maine, USA) who first appeared in 1999 with Every Dead Thing shows no sign of abating, as the series takes a break from its major story-arcs and takes the reader down entertaining and eventful sideroads. Ninety-five percent of those who read book twenty, The Furies, will undoubtedly have read its nineteen predecessors and will have the patience to let John Connolly get back to the big picture stuff whenever he is good and ready (but soon please John).

The Furies is a highly entertaining comfort read for those familiar with Charlie Parker, but there are better starting points for the newbie reader. If you want help with this, then check out my 2021 article Surviving the Lockdowns with Charlie Parker, Rating and Ranking the John Connolly Series which goes all the way up to book eighteen The Dirty South.

https://gingernutsofhorror.com/features/surviving-the-lockdowns-with-charlie-parker-rating-and-ranking-the-john-connolly-series

Ginger Nuts of Horror also reviewed book nineteen, The Nameless Ones, which was another change of pace which starred the two pivotal support characters Angel and Lewis, whilst Parker took a backseat. The review can be read here:

https://www.gingernutsofhorror.com/fiction-reviews/the-nameless-ones-by-john-connolly-book-review

Considering book eighteen The Dirty South was a prequel of sorts we have to jump back to seventeen A Book of Bones to get to the nitty-gritty of the long story arcs and if you do not find this long wait too frustrating then The Furies keeps the series ticking over in a steady holding pattern without doing anything new. It contains two novellas The Sisters Strange and The Furies which were written in the Covid-19 era, with the virus playing a larger part in the second of the two stories.

The Sisters Strange was originally released online in small sections during the early stages of Covid-19 and has since been rewritten and greatly expanded upon for this book. The stories nicely complement each other but given the choice I much preferred The Furies mainly because Charlie Parker has a much more proactive role in this story and does what he does best with menace and melancholy. In The Sisters Strange he is absent from a fair bit of the story before circumstances coincidentally pull him into the inner circle of the plot. The stories are also interconnected by the dodgy hotel the Braycott Arms and its manager Bobby Wadlin who rarely seems to leave the premise and is aware that a sizeable number of his clientele are criminals. Although neither of the stories develop the long story arcs they both have very heavy supernatural overtones which are crucial to their plots, a factor which regular readers will realise has become more pronounced as the series has developed.

Structurally both stories are relatively similar with two major plotlines which eventually connect, with Parker investigating a case which later links to the parallel story strand. As I said earlier, Parker had more to do in The Furies, which probably made it the stronger piece, however, The Sisters Strange had the best villain in the otherworldly coin collector Kepler, who oozed menace. Charlie Parker is presented in the first person in both stories (everybody else is in the third person) which was an interesting switch, as the main character has not been written in the “I” tense for a decent number of books.

Coming in at 469 pages, with The Sisters Strange the slightly longer of the two novellas you could argue that they edge towards being short novels rather than novellas. The story (which does not initially involve Parker) revolves around a murdered coin collector, who was killed by being forced to swallow his own coin collection. This had an almost-supernatural vibe (but it can be tricky to tell sometimes) which develops into a search for a particular coin, which some extremely dangerous individuals might also be searching for. Meanwhile, Parker is alerted to the fact that Raum Buker, a criminal who he has rumbled with in the past, has returned to Portland and has reconnected with two sisters (surname Strange) whom he had been previously involved with. It was very obvious the stories were connected and I found the coin part significantly more intriguing than the soap opera around the Strange Sisters and Raum Buker. In hindsight I do not think Parker had enough to do in this story, but it remained an enjoyable read and considering it was converted from an internet piece was skilfully converted into something meatier.

In the second novella The Furies Parker engages in protecting two women who are under threat, as Portland begins to shutdown under the grip of Covid-19. One of the female case threads seemed slightly unnecessary (woman in an abusive relationship) and had nothing to do with the bigger picture of the novella. The other which featured the vindictive local Mafia who have exceptionally long memories and significant more threat as Parker takes on a case which they might have their fingers in. The widow of an ex-mobster (who turned snake and was also a killer) is being extorted for the return of mementos connected to her dead child. The story is also seen from the point of view of the extortioners who realise that by stealing the baby teeth and locks of hair of a dead child, something else might have awakened. This story was a great read with Parker at his menacing best, with the threat of violence never more than a moment away.
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Long term fans of the series will be pleased to hear that popular characters the Fulci Brothers feature in both stories and that Angel and Louis have a part in The Furies also. However, if you are looking for clues about Parker’s ghost daughter or any of the other supernatural revelations from A Book of Bones or earlier you will be disappointed. As Connolly had been working on a sequel to The Book of Lost Things, which might be his next publication, there might not be another Charlie Parker book until 2024 and if so I hope it returns to some of the story-arcs which left the tongues of the long-term readers hanging out.
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Tony Jones

When one of the two short stories in this volume from Kevin Lucia includes praise from Mercedes M. Yardley, author of Darling which I recently read, reviewed, and enjoyed, you know you have a fairly decent seal of approval for your next read.

I love reading short stories, and not just because they are short and easy to fit into a busy life, but because there is often a freedom you don’t necessarily get with a novel that allows you to play around with structure and rhythm and not worry so much about the conventions that people expect with longer form stories and films.
That’s not trying to sound pretentious, but it is sometimes just cool to be told a story, something you might hear around a campfire without context or explanation, just a tale to hear and revel in. It is often more about the writing on the page and the images created than the story itself.

Mystery Road and the “bonus” A Night at Old Webb did exactly this for me. Two short stories about Kevin Ellison and his experiences as a young man and growing into an adult. In Mystery Road he stumbles across a hidden track that leads him down a path that explores the past and affects his relationships in the future, while, in Old Webb, a slightly older Kevin recalls his experiences with an equally mysterious girl who creates a deep impression on him that lasts long into adulthood.

When you read these shorts, I suspect you will figure out where each tale is going before you reach the end but, as I said, it isn’t necessarily about the story itself, but the emotions that the telling of that tale provokes. While the stories may not “surprise” you, that is not what they are about, it’s what’s going on “between the lines” which is important.

Both Mystery Road and Old Webb revolve around themes of coming of age and growing up, of learning who you are and what you want to be. They provoke feelings of nostalgia for the past and explore the power of relationships. There is raw emotion at work here and both stories, despite their brevity, encompass feelings of wonder, confusion, love, and sadness all beautifully portrayed on the page. I can’t help but feel that Kevin Lucia has drawn heavily from his own past, and that lends credence and heft to the impact of these tales.

However short they may be, I enjoyed both stories and would recommend to anyone who enjoys a good tale, well told. I couldn’t help feeling that these were stories I could easily imagine characters in a scene from a Stephen King novel sitting around and recounting to each other while snowed in at an abandoned ski-lodge or on a camping trip that was soon to go horribly wrong.

Short, sweet, and definitely recommended.

Have you ever wondered what goes through the mind of an actor who, after playing a role in a long-running franchise for decades, finds themselves replaced by a younger performer for the reboot? Robert Englund was very positive about Jackie Earle Haley in the run-up to 2010’s A Nightmare on Elm Street, but he’s a gentleman and a class act. What if he’d been prone to resentment and bitterness, seeing himself as being tossed away after years of hard work and dedication?


Or worse, what if Freddy had decided to take matters into his own hands to ensure his new movie lives up to his standards?


This is essentially the idea behind Curse of the Reaper, the debut novel from screenwriter Brian McAuley. Veteran character actor Howard Browning has been doing the convention circuit for years now, living off sales of merch for the long-running Reaper franchise, in which he played the titular harvest-themed slasher villain. If Jason Voorhees were an undead farmer with Freddy Kruger’s penchant for quips and Pinhead’s love of chains, then he’d be the Reaper. He’s an 80’s horror icon, beloved by fans.


But the year is 2005, and you know what that means. It’s the era of Platinum Dunes and Rob Zombie, of CGI and pretty young things making the move from TV to film, banking on easy money from recognisable IPs. It’s the era of remakes, remakes everywhere.


Rather than bring Howard back for the role he originated, the studio wants to replace him with up-and-coming James Dean wannabe Trevor Mane, a rising star whose struggles with addiction threaten to derail his career before he can peak. Naturally Howard isn’t pleased… and neither, it would seem, is the Reaper – Howard begins to experience hallucinations and loss of control, believing that the Reaper is acting through him, threatening to go on a murder spree if he isn’t allowed his rightful place in the movie.


The two stars find themselves at odds, vying for the role and fighting hard not to succumb to their demons. But harvest time is coming, and there will be blood…


The first thing that struck me about Curse is how easy a read it is. The pages practically turn themselves; in fact, I devoured about 75% of the book in one sitting. It’s so simply, economically written, without ever sacrificing imagery or emotional impact. McAuley simply knows the value of writing a nice clear sentence without reaching for the thesaurus every five minutes.


I wonder if this comes from his screenwriting experience; as a screenwriter myself,
I know how important it is to be visual while staying concise, to avoid any fancy tricks that take the reader out of the story. His industry knowledge serves him well here too, as Howard navigates the pitfalls of film-making and studio politics. They do say you should write what you know! Punctuating the parts of the story with excerpts from the Reaper movies is a neat device, showing us the development of the character while giving us a knowing nod and a wink as if to say “those Friday the 13th movies sure get wacky but that’s why we love em, right?”.


When Howard began to experience his hallucinations and it’s revealed he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I inwardly groaned and braced myself. There’s a thread of ablism that runs through horror, embodied in a trope that I like to call Mentally Ill People Are Dangerous And Will Kill You.  It feels like there’s a difference between ‘this person’s sanity is on the verge of unravelling and they don’t know what’s real or not’ and ‘this very real mental condition is causing them to kill and maim’ – it’s especially galling when it’s a ‘split personality’ thing, because Dissociative Identity Disorder is something lots of people struggle with without murdering anyone at all.  I don’t have DID, but as a mentally ill person myself, seeing it as a vehicle for horror tends to make me a bit uncomfortable.


As a result, I spent much of the book desperately looking for clues that the Reaper is in fact a supernatural entity, given life by Howard’s devotion and the fans’ adoration. I’m happy to say plenty of clues were forthcoming, and while there’s enough ambiguity to suggest that Howard has simply become unhinged and is struggling to control his own identity, towards the end there’s ample evidence to support my preferred theory.


Howard himself is an interesting and fun character to follow, despite being a stuffy and pretentious type whose inner monologue would quickly get an ‘OK Boomer’ from any teens reading. You can’t help but like him and feel for him; his passion for the role and for the art of acting is clear, and you really do root for him as he struggles against the Reaper’s dark impulses.


He has more in common with his young nemesis Trevor than he realises at first, as we find out when Trevor becomes a perspective character, a move that pleasantly surprised me. Switching between the two foils is a great move and allows a greater understanding of the Reaper-as-inner-demon motif through Trevor’s struggle with addiction. Howard and Trevor are fighting the same fight, only their opponents differ (or do they?). It makes the ending (which I obviously won’t spoil here) all the more tragic.


I do wish Joan and Sophie could have had more active roles in the story, but a third perspective would maybe have complicated things a little too much. We do dip into their heads a couple of times, and it’s very effective when we do. There are a few lovely quiet character moments with them, like the origin of Trevor and Sophie’s pet name ‘honeybee’ (a name which to me evokes Candyman but is entirely unrelated). Moments like that make the characters wholly human, so we worry all the more when they’re in danger. The body count is surprisingly low for much of the story, but when it does ramp up then some of the characters’ tragic ends really hit home. Personally I think one of them deserved better, but that’s veering into Spoilertown and let’s not visit there today!


Curse of the Reaper is a great story well-told, zipping along at breakneck speed towards the inevitable tragic ending. It’s almost laugh-at-loud funny at times, especially in its loving digs at the state of horror films in the 2000s, but not at the expense of genuine human emotion. It doesn’t handle Howard’s mental illness disrespectfully, and though I would have liked a more explicitly supernatural explanation, it didn’t come across as exploitative.


I’d definitely recommend giving Curse of the Reaper a read, especially if you’re a slasher fan and enjoy meta-horror books like We Are All Completely Fine by Daryl Gregory and Grady Hendrix’s The Final Girl Support Group. This’d fit quite comfortably on the shelf beside them.

Garth Jones’ Cheapa Skips – The Feel Bad Sessions reads like Palahniuk and Bukowski sat around drinking Aussie lager, watched Wake in Fright, and decided to collab on the most transgressive collection of Ozploitation stories they could manage.

One of the greatest things about the world of indie literature is its capacity for variety and scope. Like indie music, the trappings of storefront acceptability are lost, and creators are free to…create. For readers, that’s a good thing. Right now, indie fiction is alive with diverse voices delving into their own cultures and delivering transgressive content that refuses to be homogenous or pigeon-holed. Garth Jones is one of those creators.

As a first introduction to his work, this collection is a solid representation of the DIY ethos germane to indie fiction and an engaging collection of tales that occasionally borders on the violent fringes of anarchic horror, frequently revels in the freedom offered by grindhouse Ozploitation like Dead End Drive-In or Turkey Run, and most importantly, always throws a two-finger salute and a robust ‘Get nicked, cobs’ to authority.

The collection’s opening story wouldn’t be out of place in a literary collection of modern short stories. It never really verges into the blatant trappings of genre. What it does very well, though, is plant the reader in small town Australia, play up the nepotism and corruption of our most nefarious politicians, and champion the importance of the pub. It’s great stuff.

From there, you’ve got stories that feature the cashed-up working-class figures who benefitted from the mining boom facing off against the old money remnants of the past during an apocalyptic lockdown, drone-users witnessing savage attacks, criticisms of the internet reliant culture we live in, and a s**t-tonne more transgressive fiction.

All of this is delivered with a level of cynicism that should make even the most jaded reader happy. The rapid-fire critique of the world comes in a voice of pure pissed-up Ocker. There’s a lot of ‘fucken’ (no ‘ing’ here thanks,) and enough colloquialism to make damn sure you know where this is set.
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In all, if you like your Ozploitation, this is one to snatch up as soon as you can. I certainly can’t wait to see what’s next from Jones. It feels like he’s only gonna get better.

Purchase a copy direct from Garth by clicking here ​

First, I'd like to say that it's been quite some time since I've tackled writing a review and I want to thank Jim and my GNoH family for keeping the fire going so I can sit these old bones down beside it and feel like I've never wandered away.


John Langan's most recent collection is, as usual, cause for celebration. Langan has a magical way of  maintaining a theme with his collection, be it intentional or not. With this one the threading theme seems to be one that is bolstered by the Autobiographies mentioned in the title. Every tale included here involves some degree of recollection. Some sad or remorseful revisitations to past evens and people and often the echoes and ripple effects they have left on current lives and events.


The collection opens with the story, “Kore” which details a family hosting a Halloween haunted house tour for neighborhood children, one that allows them to create their own haunted legend to build the walk around. But what happens when the build is too sturdy. I actually first read this story years ago when it was part of Shock Totem's Halloween special issue. It was my first encounter with Langan's work and the one that kept me buying his books ever since.


“Homemade Monsters” is a story of wanting and making due, of bravery and bullying, and maybe, a monster. Absolutely brilliant.


“The Open Mouth Of Charybdis” concerns a small family with a missing child. And through recollection, we find out the strange details behind his excision from the family's memory.


The title story is an invigorating tale of lore and magic, of duty and lineage and of God-eating giants. A masterwork painted in tears and pride for family and the love and oft time resentment that goes with it.


“Anchor” is splendid and powerful. I can't even begin to dissect this for you. Just trust me, this might be the best and most important tale in the book. And that is saying a lot.


“The Supplement” deals with the cannibalistic consequences of grief and regret and pining for what is gone. Starkly beautiful and heart-wrenching.


“Mirror Fishing” is a strange and surreal story about a young fellow introduced to the titular activity and the dark motive behind that introduction. Ancient entities and self-serving trickery. This is a Bradbury tale with brass knuckles.


To say I enjoyed this collection would be an understatement. I adored it. I loved it. And as a writer myself I was inspired by it. I think that is maybe the highest praise I can give something. It made me want to write better.
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Langan is a fantastic author,  and one who knows just how to squeeze your heart enough to make you feel it but keep you alive for the next book he offers.

​John Boden lives with his beautiful wife and two sons, in a house sweetly haunted by the ghost of a beautician named, Darlene..

He likes collecting lots of things and won't usually shut up about it.

His writing is fairly well received and has been called unique of style.

His work has been published in the form of stories in several anthologies and as novellas.

He plays well with others as is evidenced by collaborative works with Mercedes M. Yardley, Bracken MacLeod, Kurt Newton, Brian Rosenberger, Chad Lutzke and Robert Ford.
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He's easy to track down either on Facebook or Twitter (JohnBoden1970)