With a dedication to Edgar Allen Poe, The Vengeful Dead knocks politely on the door of classic horror, but once open a fraction, it comes bursting in and wipes its muddy hobnails in places you wish it wouldn’t.
There are eleven stories in this horror anthology, all by the author.
Like Poe, there are some moments of lyricism.
But for the most part, the prose is efficient, functional; it never gets in the way.
Whether it’s the ‘fake-stabbing’ in Snuff (what could possibly go wrong), or messing around with killer clown dolls in Yo-yo, the scenes are well drawn, so that you feel yourself being sucked into the action. The writing takes you so closely into the action, that when the slashing and goring begins, you’ll need to check to see if you have any on your shoes.
The subject matter will not be to everyone’s taste. This is hardcore horror; sickening and visceral. This is slasher territory, with a hook-them-up torture mentality.
In this same tradition, Minster’s character’s are suitably awful; they are murderous, macabre, racist and misogynistic – what better hunting ground for the horrors he conjures.