Author: ST King
The Gravekeeper, do you remember him? — the cackling, shabby, dirty-looking guy. I have some great memories of him as a kid: traveling across town to visit my grandmother, eating fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cheese, and macaroni (because there was more cheddar than pasta) — pulling weeds from around the hedges, chasing hens around the backyard. My grandmother was the closest family member to me who knew the thrills of cable TV. It was a twenty-five-minute drive to her modest country home in North Jacksonville: across an overpass and through a cemetery a few blocks from her front door. I didn’t like sleeping at my grandmother’s house, for obvious reasons; in the dark, I was always reminded of the cemetery.
Even worse was the Grave Keeper. I first saw him on TV Guide (did I give away my age?) with his toothy grin, daring me to meet him in the dead of night. So when Sunday laziness set in and my parents chatted with my grandmother over tea and biscuits, I went to her room and met the Grave Keeper for the first time.
Tales Most Strange, by Jeremy Hayes, reminded me of The Grave Keeper: the camera weaved between the creaking front door of his house, as I descended a shadowy staircase and dashed toward a grave of corpses, while the ghoul himself greeted me with hysterical laughter.
I haven’t slept in days because of Tomb Guardian.
It took me all of adolescence to work up the courage to see The Gravekeepers again. But I did. I devoured the dark comedy like candy.
In my opinion, the formula of black comedy is quite simple: simple plot development, unexpected ending, and then the well-deserved punishment. At least in my opinion, we saw a similar scenario in “The Strangest Story”. It is refreshing to see it appear again.
I think, though, that one problem with black comedy, at least in anthology form (via comics, essays, or late-night cable TV sitcoms), is that the plots are too simplistic. It relies less on actual storytelling and more on diving headfirst into each story’s twist ending. As a result, the stories quickly lose their freshness – even with new characters, new plots, or new situations. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why Tales from the Crypt has so many guest stars – because if the cast had the same faces, the show would have died in its first season.
The weakness of The Strangest Stories is the lack of diversity, a susceptibility to black comedy, both in voice and point of view. Every voice sounds the same: be it a spineless troubled teenage boy or a businesswoman, the sole survivor of a plane crash in the desert. The ventriloquist in Tossing and the middle-aged writer in Writer’s Block think and hang out in the same pair of loafers, with the same fears. Coupled with the fact that the stories often refer to each other’s places and events, and somehow originate from the same unnamed “big city,” each story, while cute at first, has the same vibe and feel. You turn the page to the next story; yet the rhythm doesn’t change.
Now, proportion!
I think the only way to fairly judge an anthology is to rate each story in it individually and then take the average. The average you get should be a good representation of what a reader would experience when reading each story in the anthology.
I firmly believe that the true value of a good story lies entirely in its ending. In fact, I’ve built my career on it. A twist, an unexpected event, anything that the reader didn’t see coming, will leave them in awe and ensure they’ll be talking about the story for years to come.
Excerpted from Writers Block (less than 3.5/5).
“Writer’s Block” is one of the better stories in this collection. It’s about a writer with writer’s block, of course (or at least he often feels that way, doesn’t he?). It’s supernatural in nature. The story raises questions that many of us storytellers have pondered for millennia: Is writer’s block real? If so, where is it? Is it the writer’s problem — or something else entirely? Hayes handles the subject in plain, crisp prose; the ending is a peak of black comedy. These stories are great for sparking leisure reading. Not a lot of stories, but enough to keep you interested.
Other people sitting in the passenger seat:
Throwing Sounds (Rating 4/5).
In front of St. Peter’s Gate (less than rated 3.5/5).
Beggar’s Will (Rating: 3.5/5)
First, let me say that I felt an immediate wave of fear when I discovered the horrifying truth about the floor we were standing on. It felt so flat that I nearly tripped and fell as I crouched down to inspect it more closely. I gasped for air, but that didn’t seem to scare Sebastian, as he had discovered the same thing as me.
Excerpted from “Fake Tomb” (rating 3/5).
“The Fake Grave,” like much of the book, is stuck in the middle. These stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. But there’s nothing new to offer; the prose is as tight and flat as before; but there’s something missing from the storytelling. In fact, many of these stories read like an interview with someone on the five o’clock news; perhaps the events that preceded them were shocking or compelling in their own right. But there’s a lack of a reporter or eyewitness voice that moves the audience, that connects with an interesting or novel perspective.
Some others, drooping in the middle:
Weeping Willow (rating less than 3/5).
Mars 4, Can You Hear Me? (Rating 3/5).
Moonlight Shooting (Rating 3/5)
Everywhere, people disappear, never to be found again. This monster, Erwin Baardwik, leaves a trail of death wherever he goes. Now he’s in Vandenbourg, and I need to find him before he chooses his next victim. I just hope I’m not too late.
Excerpted from One Less Hunter (rated less than 2.5/5).
This phrase, in addition to any of the places mentioned before, the name, the new place, the Vandenberg—more or less, is the theme of page after page of novels that were written and loved before this review was published. It’s not just horror fiction, it permeates dark fantasy, crime fiction, thrillers, and dramas. I’m talking about clichés; it’s one of the unfortunate burdens that anchor these bottom-dwellers to the dark and rocky sediments, weighing them down into the watery abyss.
The lower creatures, however, have their mouths developed to the bottom of their bodies, because they can only eat from the bottom of the sea:
Jungle Johnny (rated less than 2.5/5).
My Haunted Room (Rated 2.5/5).
The Forgotten Soldier (rated less than 2.5/5).
I should make it clear: for those who miss the guilty pleasure of black comedy (perhaps younger than my Sega Genesis), this book may offer you (albeit to a lesser degree) something structurally different and even at least temporarily refreshing. There are jokes in the book, of course, and there are occasional laughs. I would be lying if I said I didn’t laugh at least a few times while reading this little book. However, once you’ve read a few stories, you’ll most likely become very familiar with the formula that dictates the prose. The “twist” of each ending will start to jump out before you get there. Once you get there, there’s nothing left to look forward to.
Order yours here.
Final Rating:3/5
About the Author: ST King is an aspiring novelist with a penchant for darkness and an insatiable thirst for fantasy. Currently, he works as a mental health counselor, helping people purge their closets of darkness – although he admits he thinks it’s more fun to put it back in.
