From the OC Register:
What do you think? Would you pay extra to be waited on hand and foot while you watch Saw XII? Or is the experience something you and your significant other can replicate at home in front of your wide-screen plasma TV and Blu-ray player? Personally, I’d only give Gold Class a shot if I could take off my shoes and pants…and possibly set up a box fan near my feet.
Jeremy Shipp sent me a copy of his new anthology, Sheep and Wolves (I last reviewed Jeremy’s work here). The cover is misleadingly benign. Jeremy loves to gross you out, and he will happily do so if you open this book and read more than the copyright / acknowledgments page. For the most part, the stories are abstract, disjointed, surreal—absurd. It’s part of Raw Dog Screaming’s sinister plot for world domination, one unsuspecting reader at a time. This is not your typical horror, nor is it your typical dark fiction. This is serious mental illness on behalf of Jeremy’s characters: neurosis, hysteria, dementia—rotten people with rotten problems that can only be solved in the most unorthodox ways. People piss themselves, shit themselves, vomit every chance they get. These are physical metaphors for decaying souls trapped in various mutilated worlds. I went down the same road with “Node” (aka: “The Path Between”) and decided it wasn’t something I wanted to repeat. Jeremy, however, has learned to make his characters flourish in the grout. It’s intriguing and it’s disturbing. Overall, Sheep and Wolves left me with an odd taste in my mouth. The whole thing was like a Salad Fingers reel. In fact, I daresay Jeremy Shipp and David Firth should collaborate. It would be one hell of a trip.