Death Troopers by Joe Schreiber (Star Wars zombie horror)

Trig Longo is a barely teenaged Cimarosan grifter imprisoned along with the rest of his family aboard the Imperial prison ship Purge, which is also home to five hundred other murderers, thieves, and rebel insurgents. En route to the detention moon, the Purge breaks down, its engines coming to a standstill.

The discovery of a seemingly abandoned Star Destroyer results in a scouting party being enlisted to search for salvageable repair parts. Only half return, and by the time they realize what they've brought back with them, it is too late: death is aboard the Purge — and it's contagious.

Before long, Dr. Zahara Cody and her 21B droid are dealing with over a dozen dead and a nearly 100 percent infection rate. Before long, only six of the living remain, surrounded by innumerable rank corpses.

But of course, these aren't your average dead bodies. These are the kind who make like Lazarus and get up and walk. And they're really, really hungry.

When I saw Death Troopers, my first thought was, "Wow, not even Star Wars can avoid jumping on the zombie bandwagon." And then I knew I had to read it. The cover image of a decapitated stormtrooper's bloody head hanging on a hook was simply too gruesome to resist.

I've always thought of Star Wars as relatively "clean" entertainment, so this addition of undead horror to the franchise was intriguing and exciting in its opening of a new world of potential storylines. Death Troopers is eerie from the beginning, and author Joe Schreiber (Chasing the Dead) uses his experience in the thriller genre to craft some genuinely scary scenes. The book doesn't really get moving for a while, but the surprise appearance of a pair of familiar faces one-third of the way in is a pleasing distraction.

Audiobook reader Sean Kenin adds to the gruesome nature of the disease by kindly providing appropriately wet coughs for the infected. Some poor choices, however, make the audiobook less than it could be. One is having Kenin describe a character's action (sighs, deep breaths, etc.) and then redundantly perform them. Another is just nit-picking, but I found it difficult to believe that a lab described in the text as "dead" and "abandoned" would require the use of mad scientist bubbling chemical sound effects.

The conceit of having the chapter titles screamed in a kind of electronic filtered echo starts out as a nicely disturbing counterpoint to the text but becomes laughable after only a few occurrences. (There are around forty chapters.) Death Troopers is in fact only the second time that I've felt an audio version detracted in some ways from the story. (See my review of Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven.) The crunching, slushy sound effects of a body being torn apart are quite nice, however, and the experience as a whole was altogether entertaining.

Deadman's Road by Joe R. Lansdale (Reverend Jedidiah Mercer collection)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2010. Reprinted with permission.

This collection from "champion mojo storyteller" Joe R. Lansdale gathers all his stories to date featuring his cult-favorite character Reverend Jedidiah Mercer, including the complete novel featuring his debut appearance, Dead in the West. This limited edition hardcover from Subterranean Press also offers evocative cover art from Timothy Truman and over 20 interior illustrations by Glenn Chadbourne.

Dead in the West was, to my knowledge, the first zombie Western. Lansdale wrote it back in 1986 as a tribute to the kind of entertainment he grew up enjoying, like EC Comics and cross-genre B-movies like Billy the Kid Versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter (both real movies, I assure you).

Reverend Jedidiah Mercer is a man of God ... sort of. He hasn't exactly been following the straight and narrow path lately, spending a good portion of his collection on whiskey. But arriving in Mud Creek changes things a bit. After an unmistakable sign from above, in addition to some soul searching of his own, the Reverend decides to get back on the right track the next Saturday, when he'll be hosting a tent revival -- if he can resist the temptations coming his way.

But what's a man supposed to do when that's the week the dead start rising from their graves? Kick some undead hind-tail, that's what! Dead in the West takes no time in getting started: the first death occurs on the fourth page. From there on, we are treated to a thorough character study combined with a thrill ride. Why the dead chose this week to resurrect themselves, and what kind of unsavory temptations may get in the way of the Reverend's redemption, are just two of the questions answered in this exciting short novel with more than its fair share of cowboys smashing brains.

This cross of horror and Western does justice to both. And yet, Dead in the West remains purely a Lansdalean effort, with the same level of horror, humor, and down-home realism that has made him so popular among other writers as well as his rabid cult of fans (in particular, his ability to frighten and amuse simultaneously while delivering folksy homilies).

Also included in Deadman's Road are two stories, the titular "Deadman's Road" and "The Gentlemen's Hotel," previously collected in The Shadows, Kith & Kin), the previously uncollected "The Crawling Sky" (from the terrific anthology Son of Retro Pulp Tales), and a brand-new short, "The Dark Down There."

"Deadman's Road" has Reverend Mercer confronting a ghoul, and "The Gentleman's Hotel" involves werewolves. "The Crawling Sky" concerns a caged lunatic, a house with "haints," a magic book, and a man-eating Shmoo. "The Dark Down There" finds the Reverend meeting up with an obese woman named Flower and a mine that is loaded with silver and populated by kobolds (goblins). Jedidiah and Flower form a partnership since fear is unlikely to overtake both of them at the same time, and go up to the mine to see what they can see. The story ends on a high point, an unexpected result in these stories.

Mercer is a wholly original character with his own set of rules. He's not always nice, but he doesn't put up with nonsense (threaten to kill him and he'll not wait for you to follow through before acting in self-defense), and he often makes a lot of sense. These stories are some of the best work the weird Western genre has to offer, and it's good to see them all collected in a single volume with Deadman's Road.

Feed by Seanan McGuire writing as Mira Grant (zombie thriller, Newsflesh trilogy)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2010. Reprinted with permission.

In 2014, the Kellis-Amberlee virus — the one that cured cancer and the common cold, then combined and mutated and now turns its dead infected into zombies — spread quickly throughout Santa Cruz, California, along with the rest of the world, killing 32% of the population the first summer and resulting in the "Rising" of shuffling undead that have dominated for the last 25 years. Now in 2039, inseparable sibling duo Georgia and Shaun Mason spend their days tooling around the area in a "traveling blog center," a former news van outfitted with state of the art electronics (camera feeds, wireless tower, backup storage).

They operate After the End Times, one of the most popular news and entertainment sites — traditional media proved to be unreliable during the Rising, so people turned to blogs for their news — and keep an eye out for signs of viral amplification. ("Amplification" because everyone is infected but most are still dormant or of a lesser grade, like Georgia's own retinal Kellis-Amberlee, which results in always-dilated pupils, necessitating her wearing sunglasses all the time, and guaranteeing that any retinal scan comes up positive for viral amplification.)

The bloggers are divided into five camps: the Newsies, who report the unvarnished truth; the [Jon] Stewarts, who are more commentators than reporters; the [Steve] Irwins, who court danger for vicarious thrills; the Aunties, responsible for soothing recipes, remembrances, etc; and the Fictionals, who provide a steady diet of escapism. The Masons' immediate crew (not counting their associates in other areas) is equipped with three of these: Georgia is a Newsie, Shaun is an Irwin, and their tech manager, Georgiette "Buffy" Meissonier ("I'm cute, blonde, and living in a world full of zombies. What do you think I should call myself?"), is a Fictional.

(The reasoning behind Georgia and Buffy's similar given names is purely due to George Romero's becoming a figure of hero worship after the "rules" given in his movies turned out to be incredibly useful in a real-life world of zombies. I assume Shaun is just named after this one.)

Things get very interesting when Georgia, Shaun, and Buffy are tapped to cover the presidential campaign of Senator Peter Ryman first-hand, accompanying him as part of his personal press corps. When some zombies get past the security at a rally of Ryman supporters, and later when the senator's ranch is terrorized and family members die, signs point to sabotage and then conspiracy. Some unexpected people are behind it all, and Georgia spearheads the investigation in spite of the potential danger of doing so.

Author Mira Grant (the open pseudonym of writer/musician Seanan McGuire, author of the October Daye urban fantasy series of novels) starts Feed (the first novel in the her Newsflesh trilogy) off in just the right way for a novel based in action: with a chase that culminates in an airborne motorcycle and the driver's realization that dying on impact would be one of the better case scenarios.

Grant ends every chapter with blog posts from the various characters (primarily Georgia's Images May Disturb You and Shaun's Hail to the King), showing the different sides of the characters in a way that is more effective than simply adding information into the narrative, forwarding the story at the same time.

Considering its primarily subject matter, Feed is surprisingly low on grue, at least early on. Grant focuses more on the imminent danger to her characters, and a certain level of tension pervades throughout the proceedings; you never know when the next attack is going to take place. The author folds in the futuristic aspects of the story seamlessly, blending the sci-fi, horror, and mystery with real skill, and Feed manages to be a satire of news organizations, the government, and the human race in general — with pithy dark humor laced throughout and unforgettable characters.

Feed is one of those rare books that has a little something for everyone. Even people who've never read a zombie novel — even who think they wouldn't like zombie novels in general — will find something to like here. There's political machinations, good character development, well-drawn relationships, behind-the-scenes conspiracy, action, murder, love, technology, suspense, and some very surprising choices for a genre novel, not to mention the all-too-rare focus on modern methods of communication — something that has still not really been absorbed by most current fiction.

Newsie Georgia is the ideal choice for narrator; she is grounded, focused on the facts, but sensitive enough to ensure that the emotions resonate. Irwin Shaun or Fictional Buffy would be more likely to taint the tale with opinion or digression (as we find out during the couple of chapters Shaun narrates). Similarly, the narrators of the audiobook of Feed suit their characters, with Paula Christensen performing Georgia and the other characters in her chapters with skill and sympathy. Conversely, Jesse Bernstein, who sounds a bit too much like David Sedaris to be in this book, doesn't seem up to the demands of his roles and actually detracts from the text instead of enhancing it.

So learning that Shaun in fact does preside over the sequel (once Blackout, now Deadline) was a disappointment to say the least. But that's judging a book unread. Lastly, I must give kudos to Orbit cover designer Lauren Panepinto for capturing the novel's concept and feel excellently, including the pun in the title. (For those who don't get it, "feed" refers to both zombies and blogs.) Feed is terrific entertainment, likely to be remembered as the one that put zombies over for the previously uninitiated.

Dead Men Kill by L. Ron Hubbard (unabridged zombie thriller audio book)

L. Ron Hubbard is probably best known as the founder of Scientology and creator of Dianetics. These days, his name is largely connected with the antics of the some of the more "outspoken" members of the religion, overshadowing the fact that the man really knew how to tell an entertaining story. All 150 of the stories Hubbard wrote for the pulp magazines of the 1930s and '40s are being rereleased in paperback and audio under the evocative title Stories from the Golden Age.

The recordings I've tried so far are just terrific. They are a professionally produced combination of traditional narrated audiobooks (with narration deftly handled by R.F. Daley) and old-time radio, with skilled actors playing the characters (often multiple roles) and genre-specific music and sound effects rounding out the experience.

"I have come to kill you, Gordon."

So says a voice reminiscent of the grave, as its fingers wrap around Gordon's throat and slowly take his life. Detective Sergeant Terry Lane arrives on the scene and notes the similarity with another recent murder. All the evidence points to a no-longer-assailant, and Lane's fears are confirmed when he uncovers the suspect's empty coffin and has to fight off a trio of expressionless figures with only his fists.

For a while, Lane has only questions, like how do a letter from "Loup-Garou," a Haitian pharmacy bill, and the mysterious Dr. Leroux tie in to the murders? The primary targets seem to be rich and influential businessmen, but if Lane doesn't find out who's responsible and stop the culprit, the next zombie will be him.

Matt Scott turns in a solid performance as the ultranoble Lane, and John Mariano plays the mad scientist with relish (complete with a selection of diabolical laughs). But the real star of the Dead Men Kill audiobook is narrator R.F. Daley.

Author L. Ron Hubbard's prose is heavy on description, and Daley is more than up to the task. His voice is perfect for pulp fiction, and he adds just the right touch of emphasis (along with the occasional wink where appropriate) without drawing attention away from the story.

Dead Men Kill is the only zombie horror story Hubbard wrote, and the author succeeds by presenting this questionable subject in a realistic manner. He doesn't try to overexplain, but simply focuses on keeping up the story's quick pace (so we don't think about it too much). Its focus on the Haitian voodoo aspects should appeal to fans of more recent takes on the same subject, such as Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's novel Cemetery Dance.

Cemetery Dance by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (unabridged audio book read by Rene Auberjonois)

Respected New York Times journalist William Smithback Jr., best known for his exposés, has been murdered. His wife Nora Kelly, archeologist with the Museum of Natural History, was brutally attacked as the killer left. But this is an open and shut case. The perpetrator, the couple's neighbor Colin Fearing, was identified by five witnesses and was captured clearly on security cameras. There's only one problem: Colin Fearing's death certificate was signed ten days ago.

When voodoo artifacts are found at the scene, the press cries "Zombie!" And when DNA testing confirms that the killer was indeed Fearing, things start to get really strange. Is there really some form of zombi voodoo involved, or is the solution as simple as a local multimillionaire paying for a hit on Smithback, the reporter who smeared his name? And what does a well-hidden Manhattan commune (connected by Smithback in the press to animal sacrifices) have to do with it all?

Both angles are thoroughly investigated by FBI Special Agent Aloysius X.L. Pendergast and New York police lieutenant Vincent D'Agosta (the heroes of several of authors Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's previous novels), with the added incentive that Smithback was a friend of theirs and accompanied them on previous cases. But you can be sure that the authors will not let us off with an easy answer.

Cemetery Dance is my first of the Preston/Child collaborations. I had previously enjoyed Preston's solo novel The Codex (one of the best books I read in 2008), and it's great to learn that he and Child work together equally well. Readers interested in voodoo and other similar practices will find a lot of good information here, as Pendergast's mentor arrives and acts as a veritable encyclopedia on the various forms, specifically obeah.

But Cemetery Dance is not all talk. There is plenty of action, and no character is ever truly safe. One particular highlight is a chase through a large museum storage room housing dozens of plastic-covered whale skeletons. And Preston and Child manage to leaven the intensity inherent in a murder being investigated by the friends of the deceased by including some slower scenes delving into D'Agosta's other personal struggles, particularly his relationship with fellow cop Laura Hayward. In the process, this makes him much more fully developed than the sometimes chimerical Pendergast. (A Sherlock Holmes type, Pendergast is prone to unconventional methods of investigation, often leaving D'Agosta to clean up the mess, and D'Agosta is getting a little tired of this role.)

The authors' highly descriptive style immerses the reader in a richly drawn, though unfamiliar, world. And their intelligent approach appeals to more literate readers while their plot operates solidly within the confines of the thriller genre. This includes, of course, a number of cliches that must be expected, if not necessarily welcomed, such as how, no matter what information is needed, Pendergast magically seems to have access to it. (Perhaps Cemetery Dance will boost sales of the works of Wade Davis, whom Pendergast references by name.)

In addition to D'Agosta and the fascinating Pendergast (though flawed, surely one of fiction's great idiosyncratic investigators), Cemetery Dance is peopled with other terrific characters — people like Bill Smithback, Nora Kelly, and Laura Hayward — who I am eager to encounter again. Luckily, most or all of them are featured in the many previous Preston and Child novels, like The Cabinet of Curiosities (the one I'm most likely to try next).

Actor René Auberjonois — probably best known for his television work on Benson (for which he was Emmy-nominated), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and Boston Legal, as well as in the film version of M*A*S*H — shows off his impressive vocal range in the unabridged reading of Cemetery Dance. Auberjonois makes each character different while retaining a familiar thread throughout (though he doesn't quite achieve the "mellifluous" tone frequently attributed to Pendergast).

Delving into their world for the first time, I did not expect something so akin to a horror novel coming from this duo. But I'm not complaining. Preston and Child walk the line of mainstream thriller and zombie horror deftly in Cemetery Dance, and it makes me wonder if perhaps the zombie subgenre is not as over and done with as it would seem, if such a literate and intelligent plot can be gleaned from it. Maybe more authors need to go back to the original roots of the phenomenon.

History Is Dead edited by Kim Paffenroth (zombie historical fiction)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form in the Spring 2008 issue of Dead Reckonings. Copyright 2008.

Kim Paffenroth is a theologian and a zombie aficionado whose work also includes Gospel of the Living Dead (which won the Bram Stoker Award for nonfiction) and two novels, Dying to Live and its sequel. Wearing the editor's hat this time around, Paffenroth combines the living dead with an entirely different academic discipline to compile a consistently impressive parade of the undead throughout time. Presented in chronological order, the 20 tales in History Is Dead provide individual historical snapshots spanning from prehistory to the close of the 19th century.

Though largely written by up-and-comers (with three authors published for the first time), the quality of the stories in History Is Dead is remarkably high, especially for a micropress anthology. None are truly awful; the worst are merely ineffective. For example, Derek Gunn’s and Joe McKinney’s stories stop just when they get interesting.

The best entries work by combining the expected elements of horror with humor and heart. Among the highlights is the debut of Raoul Wainscoting, as a scourge of "postvitals" invades opening day at the Globe Theatre. Also worth singling out is Jenny Ashford’s story about a vengeful father and a son with his own idea of duty, from which both Rembrandt and posterity benefit.

Leila Eadie deposits an outbreak of the "sickness" into Regency society and juxtaposes the priorities of the time with the actions necessary for survival: to wit, the heroine’s father’s lament that her firearm skills leave her little chance of finding a husband. Rebecca Brock employs well-worn Southern-fiction tropes in a moving story of another woman and her father during Restoration. John Peel cleverly twists the myths surrounding the Lone Ranger with genuine wit, and his story is the most purely fun.

But all of the stories possess considerable intelligence and commendable detail, with their respective periods presented with authenticity. With its fascinating "what if" scenarios that allow for a wide range of speculation, History Is Dead offers a highly coherent anthology-reading experience ... and a cover disturbing enough to be brought out when houseguests overstay their welcome.

Bone Song and Black Blood by John Meaney (Donal Riordan series)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2008–2009. Reprinted with permission.

Bone Song is the first volume of a new series from author John Meaney, a three-time nominee for the British Science Fiction Award. Originally published in the UK in 2007, this review focuses on the 2008 US edition (Meaney gives examples of the extensive rewriting required on his weblog).

Do you feel the song? Do you hear the bones?

Quintember 6607 — Lieutenant Donal Riordan of the Tristopolis police force has just been assigned bodyguard duty by his commissioner: the protection of a true "diva," opera singer Maria daLivnova, because someone has been killing performers and stealing their bodies. (The bones of dead artists allow the possessor to see the world the way the artist did — a prospect that is both irresistible and addictive.)

Tristopolis is truly a "city of the dead." Forty-six hundred years in the future, evidence of mortality is everywhere: "Death" stands in for most common curses ("What the Death?"), with "Thanatos" handy for names taken in vain ("For Thanatos's sake!"). The city's electricity is even produced by the burning of corpses in a "necroflux reactor."

This is not surprising, given the high relative percentage of walking dead in the general population. For example, Laura Steele, the commander of a federal task force investigating an underworld collective, is a zombie who's been unusually successful with her second chance at existence (called "paralife"). Her partner, Xalia, is a wraith whose near-invisiblity hinders her struggle to be treated equally. (Riordan even begins a sexual relationship with Steele, and much is made of their difference in skin temperatures — he practically burns her with his 98.6 degrees, and she is frigid, but only literally.)

The details of Tristopolis are so engagingly described throughout that it scarcely matters that the story isn't strong enough to fill 370 pages. But Meaney keeps the pages turning with action and suspense well delivered within his varied selection of genres: Bone Song should be popular with fans of nearly every genre: from gothic and horror to science fiction and fantasy to crime and mystery. There's even a tragic romance! And he, of course, leaves some loose threads for the expected sequels.

If Meaney is trying to be everything to everyone, he's done a remarkable job. Don't count on predictability, however. Meaney also makes brave, and often surprising, choices with his characters, including one particularly startling event near the end that will likely upset some readers. Bone Song is a flawed but strong beginning to a series that I was hoping would simply get better as it went along.

Unfortunately, its sequel Black Blood (at least the part I was able to get through), was a huge disappointment. (Readers who have not yet read Bone Song should not read any further as the mere act of summarizing the sequel reveals the "particularly startling event" I just mentioned.)

Donal is on the trail of a killer — his own. Alderman Kinley Finross was responsible not only for Donal's death but that of Laura, his love, and now Laura's zombie heart beats inside Donal's chest, keeping him alive (or at least undead, since breathing is now an act of will) until he can locate Finross and get revenge.

I was very excited about Black Blood as it seems even darker than Bone Song, since that was primarily a police procedural in plot, and this one at least starts out as pure vendetta. Sadly, it took me months just to get through the first 50 pages. The combination of dark suspense and gothic horror in Meaney's highly original world was novel enough the first time around to get through the flaws in the story. But this time it felt like the author was more in love with Tristopolis than his character's pursuit. He spends pages just describing what's around his protagonist while he walks from place to place, cracking jokes and only occasionally moving forward with his goal.

Eventually, I simply lost interest — if the author's not interested in seeing justice served, why should I be? However, I did skip ahead to the ending, and those who do make it through Black Blood will be rewarded with a darkly hilarious cliffhanger ending that leads right into the third book (current working title: White Bones).

The Book of Lists: Horror edited by Amy Wallace, Del Howison, and Scott Bradley (introduction by Gahan Wilson)

The Book of Lists began a franchise in 1977 that has lasted over 30 years. It has resulted in a New York Times bestseller, three other general collections, and one each on the 1990s and punk rock. Now they move even further out of the mainstream with The Book of Lists: Horror.

"Trying to prod a thing as elusive, sneaky, and totally out-of-bounds as horror into an informative and highly usable book of lists would seem to be pretty much impossible," states author/illustrator Gahan Wilson (one of the first artists I learned to recognize by style) in his introduction. But it seems that editors Amy Wallace, Del Howison, and Scott Bradley have managed to somehow compile over 400 pages' worth of opinions, recommendations, and commentary into this endlessly fascinating volume. If you're a fan of the genre, The Book of Lists: Horror is a must read; if you're not, it will make you one.

Here's just a sampling of the contents, limited to lists by 15 of my favorite authors (and not necessarily my favorite lists):

• Edward Lee—"Ten Best Horror Movies with Gratuitous Nudity"
  
• Stephen King—"Ten Favorite Horror Novels or Short Stories" (reprinted from The Book of Lists 3)
  
• Bentley Little—"Ten Horror One-Hit Wonders That Everyone Should Read"
  
• Michael Slade—"Horrific Inspirations for His Thirteen Novels"
  
• Jack Ketchum—"Ten Best Horror Novels That Don't Call Themselves Horror Novels"
  
• Robert Bloch—"Ten Favorite Horror-Fantasy Novels (reprinted from The Book of Lists 2)
  
• Poppy Z. Brite—"Top Ten Dine 'N' Die Stories in Horror Fiction"
  
• Mark Justice—"Seven Favorite Horror Stories from the Bloody Pulps"
  
• J.F. Gonzalez—"Top Thirteen Obscure Shockers from the Pulps and Beyond"
  
• T.E.D. Klein—"Twenty-Five Most Familiar Horror Plots" (reprinted from Raising Goosebumps for Fun and Profit)
  
• David T. Wilbanks—"Ten Favorite Dark Works of Classical Music"
  
• Bryan Smith—"Top Ten Horror-Themed Rock 'N' Roll Songs"
  
• Christopher Golden—"Ten Favorite Supernatural TV Series
  
• Steve Niles—"Top Twenty Horror Comic Covers"
  
• Gary A. Braunbeck—"Seven Disparately Horrific Triple Features"

...and that's just scratching the surface. The Book of Lists: Horror took up every free moment I had from the day I got it until ... well, I still refer back to it now and then and expect to keep it on my reference shelf right next to another horror-list classic: Horror: 100 Best Books. In fact, my only real complaint is that there is no comprehensive index or table of contents that would allow the reader to relocate a favorite list. But there are so many terrific takes on the genre included in The Book of Lists: Horror, however, that the search will undoubtedly result in finding something else great in the process.

Books I Couldn't Finish, May 2008

Bloody Season by Loren D. Estleman (read by Norman Dietz) — This book dragged worse than any Western I've tried to plod through. The first chapter chronicled the slowest gunfight ever, with every gunshot followed from its gun to its final resting place. Chapter 2 continued this ridiculousness with several paragraphs detailing all the wounds and their effects for each person. Chapter 3 felt like reading a court transcript with very little editing. Not exactly my idea of gripping reading.

Sin Killer (first book of the four-volume Berrybender Narratives) by Larry McMurtry (read by Henry Strozier) — This attempt to make the frontier funny (sort of a "P.G. Wodehouse goes West") is admirable and very humorous in spots. But eventually, the way McMurtry tries to make every situation ridiculous (with no exceptions) just seemed a bit too silly to me.

World War Z by Max Brooks (read by the author and a full cast) — Blame this one on high expectations. I really thought this full-cast reading of Brooks's "war of the zombies" was going to be the best audiobook of the year. But even performances by Mark Hamill, Carl Reiner, Henry Rollins, and Alan Alda couldn't hide the fact that the story is essentially about as entertaining as the nightly news.

Dead Earth: the Green Dawn by Mark Justice and David T. Wilbanks

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2007. Reprinted with permission.

Mark Justice and David T. Wilbanks were fairly new to the horror scene when they wrote Dead Earth: the Green Dawn, their first published novella. In between the time they wrote it and when it was accepted for publication, however, Justice began the Pod of Horror podcast and brought Wilbanks on as his co-host. The show took off among horror fans, and the pair quickly made names for themselves. Their chemistry on the show was so natural and easy-going that it's no surprise to find that their writing styles mesh well.

The morning sky is green over Serenity, New Mexico, and Deputy Jubal Slate knows that's just wrong. Locals have heard rumblings about a secret government project that has created a gruesome effect: a "dead army" of local residents who get mysteriously ill and soon die ... but get right back up again, with a hunger for human flesh.

Slate (along with his fiancée Fiona, the town pharmacist) appears to be the only hope for Serenity, which is quickly turning into gray-skinned, red-and-yellow-eyed zombies. Armed with a Mossberg and a sharp sense of irony (Slate has seen this kind of thing happen in too many movies), he is more than up to the challenge — even if he knows he might not survive to see another verdant sunrise.

Justice and Wilbanks take this time-tested premise and run with it, offering some twists and surprising emotional depth along the way. In fact, it's in the characters and other details that Dead Earth: the Green Dawn truly shines. The relationships between the characters feel real, and we are given a chance to care about people before they start dying off. Slate, a small-town mama's boy whose boss is also his father figure of choice, is one of the more complex personages I've run across lately. The fact that he appreciates Beethoven makes him just that much easier to admire.

With the exception of one short scene that lacks the confidence of the rest of the book, the duo’s writing is smooth and assured, not at all like the product of most relative beginners. The authors have created a paean to the old pulp-style adventures, only with dead instead of living foes. I would advise readers who wish to retain any suspense regarding the survival of the main character to skip the introduction by Gary A. Braunbeck — though he does seem to know his way around the post-apocalyptic subgenre. Leave his commentary for after, and enjoy the straightforward, cinematic prose style that Justice and Wilbanks offer up in Dead Earth: the Green Dawn. It's good old-fashioned storytelling, the loss of which is often lamented by today’s readers.