by Ben Arzate Lana, a woman possessed by an angel, has been kidnapped by a cult of Satanists who want to exorcise the angel for their own evil purposes. However, her lover Michael has infiltrated the Satanists. With the help of him and her training to use the angel’s power, the two plan to destroy
Welcome back to The Unreprinted, the series in which author Ben Arzate explores the finest and/or most fucked up in forgotten and out-of-print fiction. The title of this one may call to mind the classic Canadian body horror of filmmaker David Cronenberg, but don’t let it fool you. TK Kenyon has crafted something entirely different and
by Ben Arzate Arizona poet Brandon Adamson is the author three prior poetry collections. The Gleaming Crest is his fourth, though technically his first as it’s a re-release of a handmade chapbook created in 1995 when Adamson was still in high school. It’s even designed to resemble the original chapbook with its typewriter font and
by Ben Arzate Ira Rat is a fellow Iowan and a jack-of-all-trades in the arts. Here, I pick his brain to see what he’s all about. A quick disclaimer: I had a story published in his zine Fucked Up Stories to Tell in the Daytime and I’m very grateful he featured it. Ben Arzate: Let’s
By Reverend Bob Turn back. Now move forward. Step into a realm of cosmic slack and arcane power where politicians light each other on fire and zealots buy their own damnation at discount prices. It’s a place where you can reclaim your lost Yeti powers and vanquish the mongrels of reasoning to the abyss of
We’ve had all we could take. They have relied on us for more years than we have left on God’s green earth. And we’re sick to death of their demands, the limitations it puts on our own existence. Because that’s all we’re doing now: merely existing. I can’t remember the last time my husband and
By Bob Freville If you’re new to the Motorist then that title might well bug you the fuck out, but fear not! We can still save your brain before it melts into a gnarly flan and you begin speaking in tongues. That’s right, you don’t need to be some boring troglodyte with an empty head
By Zakary McGaha Disclaimer: This is a title I was given a copy of in exchange for a review by the same publisher who’s putting out a book of mine later; this relationship has no effect on my opinion of Sarah Read’s novel. 4/5 stars. The Bone Weaver’s Orchard felt like a warm, comforting blanket
Review by Ben Arzate [Disclaimer: Golden Rod was published by Cabal Books, which is also publishing a novel by me] Jack, a dishwasher obsessed with tea, has contracted a strange disease which turns his penis a deep yellow. After a stint in the hospital due to an attack by dogs, he decides to burn his
By Bob Freville 1. Kathe Koja Long before modern readers embraced the brutal, gut-churning minimalism of Chuck Palahniuk, Kathe Koja introduced a clipped literary style to speculative fiction that was brusque, brave and fringe before fringe was really a thing. A prominent figure during the 90s genre paperback boom, Koja made a name for herself
