DOOM CABARET BY JOHN MCNEE: BOOK REVIEW

Some of you reading this will have had the pleasure of meeting John McNee in the flesh, always well presented with a fine line in velvet smoking jackets and cravats, topped off with a quiet lilting Scottish brogue. You would be forgiven if you thought he was the perfect Scottish gentleman, not that I am saying he isn't, I am just trying to forwarn you with that old adage of looks can be very deceiving. Please don't go into this book with any preconceptions based on how John carries himself. This book will mess you up, mess up, some more, then spit you out at the end desperate to read some more of John's darkly twisted collection of salacious short stories.  

In an era where a lot of horror is either becoming somewhat sanitised or shifting to the more ethereal metaphorical realms of literary horror, it's a pleasant surprise, to come across a book that isn't ashamed to hark back to the more extreme era of horror fiction. That's not to say that Doom Cabaret doesn't have literary merit, McNee's lyrical and poetic prose acts as a framework from which he can hang the visceral terror that lies at the heart of each of these delectable tales.  

McNee never shies away from tackling some intense and possibly shocking themes, with subject matters that would have been in the hands of a lesser author, or even one who was not as clued in on how to use them effectively and acceptably. That they could easily be construed as simple voyeuristic, all shock and no substance type stories, the type of story that became the bane of this brand of sexually empowered horror back in the 80s, some of you may make comparisons between the themes and the execution of some of the stories here to a well-known horror author. Still, I feel that to do this is to do a great disservice to the quality of McNee's writing and narrative voice. While there are undoubtedly similar thematic elements to some of the stories, McNee's powerful voice and stylistic flair make these comparisons somewhat pointless.  

The eight stories presented here all share a common sense of measured brutality, from the hypnotic and compelling opening story Bebbel, set in a deeply disturbing cabaret act, where McNee delivers a beautifully macabre and disturbing vision of pain and mortality. The tight prose and masterful descriptive passages will keep you quite literally on tenterhooks as he draws a razor blade slowly by deliciously across your nerves.  

In Dead Deanna, McNee shows us that yes love is eternal even if you never wanted it to be in the first place with this claustrophobic tale of romantic revenge. This is a grimy tale that captures the sleazy side of sexual obsession with a no holds bar narrative that will leave you feeling that you get what you deserve, and praying that true love doesn't live on in the afterlife.  

Man Holding Razor Blade, has a similar feel to a well-known horror story about a man with a hook for a hand, with its almost dreamlike descent into madness and despair. A harrowing tale of a woman trying to escape the nightmares of an abusive relationship mixed with a chilling tale of an urban boogyman. McNee never pulls any punches in this heartbreaking tale, powerful and thought-provoking; this is a story that will make you angry, at the horrors portrayed.  

If you thought that the horrors couldn't get any worse, then you better strap yourself in for Slaughterhouse Sweetheart. This is genuinely one of the most disturbing stories I have ever consumed, all puns fully intended. Horror is known for breaking through the constraints of decency, staring straight into the face of subjects customarily considered as being anathema to regular society. An epicurean nightmare of the horrors of privilege and power over those deemed less worthy than others. This will turn your stomach inside out with its ghoulish (or is that goulash) twisted Willy Wonka vision of turning life into the most basic of commodities.  

Skunk Jr is the most basic of the stories on offer here, a hunt for missing motorists turns into a fight for survival against a monster who thinks he isn't a monster. This is a fast-paced barbarous story which reveals the true horrors of what's in store for our heroes with an inhuman relish.

The Lullaby Man is probably the least in your face tale of the collection, but don't rest on your laurels or stop for a breath here. This wouldn't be one of John's stories if it didn't mess you up at least a little bit. A story about confronting and overcoming your childhood fears, which perfectly captures a sense of disorientation and terror.  

Repulsive Glamour could almost be read as a companion piece to Bebbel, and it undoubtedly shares a similar theme of body modifications and depravity of the human condition. McNee is in full-on mode here with this tale of power struggles in a, for want of better words a nightclub coven. The measured and intensively depraved build-up to the conclusion of the story is only bettered by his glorious descriptions of devastation and debauchery as the power struggle comes to a bloody head. 

Like a nasty evil Russian doll Midnight at the Doom Cabaret, is a multilayered story of stories within stories within stories. This wonderfully crafted final story is a perfect finish to a significant and at times exhausting collection of elegantly constructed extreme horror.  

Doom Cabaret, might not be suited for everyone; certainly, those who prefer their horror to be on the quieter side might find this to be a bit too ghastly and gruesome for them, but I urge you give this book a go. McNee has a fiendishly fine eye for detail and an excellent voice for storytelling. You can almost hear his diabolical laughter every time you turn the page of this hellish but ultimately excellent collection of short stories. ​

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