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Post by lobolover on Mar 25, 2009 23:21:12 GMT
Mine is Necromancer . Not totally bad, but it's all Ive got, seeing as I dont read things I dont like .
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Post by David A. Riley on Mar 26, 2009 10:16:47 GMT
What a long list this could be...
The worst I have read - or tried to read - recently was Stephen King's Cell. I highlight this because I expect something better from a writer of King's abilities, but despite having two goes at it, starting from the beginning both times (which is once more than I would give most writers, I can tell you) I fell by the 100th page.
I am sure I have tried to read worse, though, particularly in the small press. Something with blood, barbed wire and roses in the title springs to mind, but I am trying, very hard, to blot that from my memory!
David
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Post by mattofthespurs on Mar 26, 2009 11:00:24 GMT
What a long list this could be... The worst I have read - or tried to read - recently was Stephen King's Cell. I highlight this because I expect something better from a writer of King's abilities, but despite having two goes at it, starting from the beginning both times (which is once more than I would give most writers, I can tell you) I fell by the 100th page David Probably just as well you gave up. The ending split the King community enough and created quite the shit storm at the time. Personally I liked it. It was nice to read a fairly uncomplicated (uncomplicated by the Dark Tower at least) straight forward horror yarn. I was beginning to think that King had forgotten how to do straight horror. |
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Post by lobolover on Mar 26, 2009 11:01:54 GMT
Could you please torment yourself just long enough to give us a hint what that is ?  |
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Post by marksamuels on Mar 26, 2009 11:15:10 GMT
In this diabolical autobiography Richard Staines tells us the secrets of his success in horror with such 1970s paperback classics as Psycho Flasher, Whores Die Screaming, The Chopping Centre and Bloodbath for Ethel, and the true life tales behind his black magic non-fiction studies, My Wife was Satan’s Slut, and his British Horror Club Award winner Bestiality in Black Magic.
“Luckily it was a dark night. A bloody dark night by half. Humphrey Crotch stood under a streetlamp. He grinned sardonically as the young woman approached him. Mini-skirt and kinky boots. Blonde hair. She was asking for it. His nicotine stained fingers began to work feverishly at the buttons on the front of his stained and crumpled raincoat…” from Psycho Flasher
“The shopping centre was brand-new. The pride of Peckham High Street. Two levels of shops. Two escalators. One public toilet. It had a Tescos, a WH Smiths, it even had a Midland Bank branch. But right in the middle was Berkin’s Butcher Shop. And Berkin was insane...” from The Chopping Centre
“Whatever you do … buy this book.” Time Out.
“Disgusting. Sick. Horrible.” The Sunday People.
“Staines cannot be removed. He’s part of the fabric of British Horror.” Peckham Post.
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Post by David A. Riley on Mar 26, 2009 11:18:19 GMT
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Post by carolinec on Mar 26, 2009 13:29:35 GMT
Oh dear, I think you've opened up a can of worms here, Lobo!  And I reckon there'll be a queue of Vaulters lining up to buy "Confessions of a Horror Writer" and "Roses of Blood on Barbwire Vines" (the latter probably just for the cover) now!  I'm going to risk my neck here by saying that the worst horror fiction I've ever read was Shaun Hutson. *ducks* I first heard his writing a few years ago when the BBC did a thing called "End of Story" where several writers started a story and there was a competition to see which viewers could write the best ending. I was pleased there was a Horror category, so I waited in anticipation for that start of a story to be read on TV, so that I could see if I got any inspiration and would enter the competition. It was by Hutson and it was absolute crap - just graphic description of pure violence, no subtlety, no writing talent whatsoever. It was at that point when I started to despair of the current state of horror fiction. I've since looked at a few of his books in charity shops - browsing through them to see if they really are that bad. I suppose I shouldn't really make these statements when I haven't read a whole one, but my continuing impression from what little I have read (and I don't think I'd want to bother to read much more) is that they really are that bad. Sorry to Hutson fans here - maybe I'd best leave before I get thrown off ...  BTW the start of a story which did inspire me to write a little supernatural piece was by Sue Townsend - the Adrian Mole writer. I didn't get anywhere in the competiton with it though.  |
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Post by David A. Riley on Mar 26, 2009 14:01:39 GMT
Oh, I doubt it. I hope not. Certainly for Roses. I am not exagerating how bad it is. I took it as one of my holiday books to Bulgaria last year and, tolerant though I am in those circumstances (I even managed to read The Da Vinci Code on holiday, which must go to show how tolerant I am when I'm travelling), but I couldn't read this.
As for Confessions, is that a younger Mark Samuels on the front cover, perhaps using his first ever PC?
David
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Post by Craig Herbertson on Mar 26, 2009 15:23:27 GMT
I even managed to read The Da Vinci Code on holiday, which must go to show how tolerant I am when I'm travelling
That's good going David. I got past the first page in a bookstore while waiting for a plane. How that crap didn't get sued for ripping off Wilson and making a farce out of his brilliant Illuminata series is beyond me.
But I do know what you mean. While on the tour bus for a year in Germany I managed to read Half of the Harry Potter series. They were loaned out on the bus and there was nothing else to read. I thought afterwards that perhaps it's the reflex action of reading that you need- the muscular movement of the eyes and so. It certainly couldn't be anything else.
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Post by David A. Riley on Mar 26, 2009 15:30:06 GMT
It's good to have something like that with you when you're travelling, then you're not worried if you mislay it en route.
Of course, when I'm driving across Europe, the first thing I need when we stop somewhere for the night is a beer. So something taxing is the last thing I want to read after that!
David
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Post by marksamuels on Mar 26, 2009 18:26:55 GMT
Wagon Books, 1968
THE MASTER OF SHUDDERS HAS COME AGAIN!
After the runaway success of Wagon Books first offering from Richard Staines, Bloodbath for Ethel, he returns with his latest novel. We dare you to read Psycho Flasher without a feeling of rising tension.
Major Humphrey Crotch, veteran of the Burma Campaign, exposes himself in public to unsuspecting women on the street. But he has a moral code, and is fighting his own World War.
WORLD WAR 3.
His enemies are loose women. In this permissive age where bra-burning girls profess “free love” and shamelessly wear skirts above the knee, one old soldier fights a rear-guard action in defence of British standards of decency. Humphrey Crotch must fight fire with fire.
But what happens when fire rages out of control, and turns into an inferno? What happens when a man is confronted, not with the shock reaction he expected, but with derisive laughter? The terrifying answer can only be uncovered in Psycho Flasher. This is not just a book to titillate; it is a warning for our times.
“I opened the raincoat and gave her a full flash. The girl looked at my fully exposed manhood, and I felt it stand to attention with military discipline. However, instead of being shocked, she giggled and pointed. A red mist seemed to descend before me, and I recalled the giggle of that evil yellow devil Lieutenant Miso as he had sawed off the little toe of my right foot in the P.O.W. camp…” from Psycho Flasher.
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Post by marksamuels on Mar 26, 2009 18:31:40 GMT
THE MASTER OF SHUDDERS RISES AGAIN
They shouldn’t have let him out of the Yorkshire Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Fifteen people chopped up, turned into saveloys, and then served with chips at a stall in the quiet seaside town of Whitby. The doctors said they’d cured him after only twenty years. They ran their psychological tests and he passed them all with flying colours. No danger to the public, they said. But would you let a hungry cat play in an aviary? Well, would you? If you knew Ron Berkin, you wouldn’t.
So Berkin gets a government hand-out to start up a new business, move south and make his fortune down in Peckham, London. There’s a brand spanking new shopping centre just opened there. It has everything.
EVERYTHING EXCEPT A BUTCHER’S SHOP…
“Berkin’s twitch was getting worse. Whenever someone came into the butcher’s shop he couldn’t help but imagine them slung up on one of the meat-hooks out back. Too many customers had begun to notice his facial tic. Only yesterday Mrs Jones came in for a pound of sausages, looked at him funny, and said she could recommend a good tonic. Berkin took her out back, chopped off her head and sold the rest of her to that coloured doctor’s wife. She said “pork” chops were her husband’s favourite.” from The Chopping Centre
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Post by lobolover on Mar 26, 2009 19:27:56 GMT
Mark, could I have a small request ? Could you put some imput of your own on the overal "quality" of the works you mention ? And David: oh, quite the piss off, wasnt it ?  |
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Post by marksamuels on Mar 29, 2009 0:48:49 GMT
Mark, could I have a small request ? Could you put some imput of your own on the overal "quality" of the works you mention ? And David: oh, quite the piss off, wasnt it ? Lobo, my opinion on all of the Richard Staines books is that they are depraved and the most disgustingly repulsive filth I have ever seen. They should not be read by anyone. Luckily they are exceedingly hard to obtain (most dealers deny their existence). Mark S. |
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Post by allthingshorror on Mar 29, 2009 14:53:08 GMT
Mark, could I have a small request ? Could you put some imput of your own on the overal "quality" of the works you mention ? And David: oh, quite the piss off, wasnt it ? Lobo, my opinion on all of the Richard Staines books is that they are depraved and the most disgustingly repulsive filth I have ever seen. They should not be read by anyone. Luckily they are exceedingly hard to obtain (most dealers deny their existence). Mark S. Got in touch with the British Library and they've never heard of the Author, books or publishing company. You're not pulling our legs here are you Mark, you naughty imp?  |
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