Shivers 36: Madness at the Mall

So we're finally here. The end of our first major series. I've... I don't really know how to do this post, I've been doing this for so long that I guess I've almost developed a dependency on Shivers. It's easy to be funny provided the right material, and I suppose that's really where my initial attachment stemmed from. But then I found the good books, and even despite the bad I sort of grew attached to the series as a whole. I wrote my retrospective on the quality of the average Shivers book on my review of Terror on Tomahawk Island, but that doesn't really capture my feelings toward this series as a whole. So, I guess I'll include an extra conclusion at the end for the whole Shivers lineup.

So this book starts out in with an interesting change: the character has a love interest and a relationship with said interest that goes beyond pitying the protagonist. In the very beginning, and I mean five pages in, main character Frank Chase has a planned date with the pretty Deanna Fields. And it actually happens- yeah, no pesky super strength, overly-sexually active bullies, or getting the role of a beloved dog icon in a play standing in this couple's way.

Unfortunately,  seven pages in Frank has been told that he didn't complete his science project on time and has to get a paper signed by his parents. Thirteen pages in, his mom cancels the date. Fun plot progression, you almost kept my attention. But I guess I'll start over. Much like in the first few books, the Chase family is moving out of their element and to the brutal and unforgiving land of Southern California. There's also some rumor that the local mall at which Frank and Deanna are seeing the movie  for their date is haunted, but that doesn't matter because nothing in this book makes sense at all. Fast-forwarding a little, Frank is now grounded and has to babysit his brother Tom for the night. Sorry I've been going through the plot in such a convoluted way, I've been reading "Homestuck" and I think the storytelling style is growing on me.

Anyway, Tom tells Frank that the mall is haunted because it was built on a pet cemetery. Do those really exist? I've never seen a pet cemetery. I thought Steven King just made it up. Anyway, after the parents leave and Tom stops playing his favorite video game, the nonexistent Animal Pursuit, Frank bribes his brother to go to the movies with him. I feel like if there has been one lesson to take from this series, it's not to play survival-based computer games with "animal" in the title. That, and that there's no need to be scared of ghosts as long as you have the intelligence of a brick.

Fortunately, these characters do, and I kind of like them because they don't react in the ridiculously stupid ways most characters do in the face of the undead. So they bike to the theater, where they meet up with Deanna and see "Revenge of the Savages." I did some searching to see what that's a reference to, and though I didn't find out I can now safely say that it isn't gay porn film Revenge of the Nighthawk.

After the movie is over, the theater starts to shake and everybody immediately sprints toward the exit, including Deanna. Frank leads Tom to the emergency exit, which gives way to a long, dark hallway. As you all know by now, Shivers law dictates that the protagonists must walk down every hallway they come across as long as it's long and dark. Common sense is strictly forbidden. Eventually, they reach the end of the hallway, where they find an unmovable door. So, I guess this begs the question: what happens when an unmovable object meets easily defeated children? The door wins, the door will always win. But bad jokes aside, something extraordinary happens in this scene: I felt empathy for a character. Usually, I feel apathy, or in extreme cases such as Samantha "Spooky's," antipathy. But rarely empathy. Tom starts whining, so Frank says, "We'll get out of here OK, but you have to stop whining. Can you do that?" it's like something I'd have said to one of my siblings when I was a kid. I probably did at some point. You know what, now that I think about it, the whole sibling dynamic is pretty relatable.

So they double back and walk to the emergency exit, which has no handle and says "no access." They then walk down a different, very curvy hallway. That actually sounds terrifying, can you imagine walking down a dimly-lit hallway lined with "no access" doors? I shudder at the thought. Moving on, they eventually find a door... into the mall. I'm not even sure how that's possible, but OK. Anyway, the mall is empty and all the metal doors are down. I actually like the setting, an empty mall is a good place for a spooky story. Well, better than an apple orchard or an arcade in New Jersey, anyway.

Speaking of arcades, all the games in the mall arcade are not only on but seem to be being played. All of a sudden, the metal gates go up. Until they get to the front gate, at which point the gate shuts closed. Ha. Fortunately (and unexpectedly), the protagonists decide to do something genuinely clever: raid the candy store. Oh, and on the way there there's this really cool scene where the kids see a colorful fountain and it's super beautiful so they throw a penny in and the "water" eats clean through it. It's great.

They grab some candy before hearing footsteps from upstairs. They run up the escalator, which speeds up to try to shred their feet, and ends up destroying Tom's shoes. The brothers steal new shoes for Tom when Frank's finger is bitten by something small and furry. They then walk over to the computer store, where Frank dials 9-1-1 and the phone hangs up and the words "9-1-1 can't help you now" repeat on all the computers. This is one of my favorite parts in any Shivers book; It's not super dark, it's not funny, it's just good, old-fashioned scary. This is what Shivers needed more of: tame but frightening scenes.

So Frank sends their dad an email, and here's where the plot gets a little shark-jump-y. A game of Animal Pursuit shows up on the computer screen. It basically portrays the fact that there are a bunch of animals trying to kill them, and shows where the animals are. So, they hatch a plan: Tom will watch the screen and walkie talkie Frank the animals' locations. They do that, then Tom decides that the plot hasn't gotten ridiculous enough and starts moving Frank with the computer. They call 9-1-1, and then they meet up and get locked out of the computer room. They decide to run to the front of the mall. Frank stabs a cat with a pair of scissors, it gets pretty crazy. There's no blood, though.

Eventually, the brothers make it and their dad comes in to save them with a couple of police officers. Frank decides to keep the adventure to himself when he realizes the scissors are covered in blood.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"He was so relieved he wanted to throw up or pee or sleep or something."

Beautiful Imagery:
"Next he felt himself jerked upward as, beneath his feet, clattered hamsters with claws as sharp as knives."

Hip References:
Revenge of the Savages, Revenge of the Nighthawk.

On Pet Cemeteries and Semataries:
I looked it up and they exist, at least in Los Angeles. I feel like I shouldn't be surprised, Los Angeles is pretty weird about pets. You know they have pet hotels here? Also, who wants me to review Steven King's Pet Sematary? That would be fun.

Conclusion: Not the best book in the series, but I like it. Frank's personality is actually pretty unique, he has a deadpan vibe to him and he actually does some pretty clever stuff, I enjoyed reading about him. While the plot does take a serious Lost-esque dive, it is genuinely suspenseful and kinda spooky at times. Of course, the threat gets pretty lame once they figure out it's a bunch of undead animals, but for the majority of the book creepy things happen and the reader has no idea why, and that's just how I like it. Plus, no chapter foreshadowing endings. All told, M.D. Spenser finished off his series with an above average book.

Series Conclusion: Actually, I've been emailing back and forth with my friend Ian and he made some amazing points about the series, which he's also been reading. This is basically what he said, and I agree with it wholeheartedly. This was certainly an interesting series of children's horror books. The majority of book were uneventful and underwhelming, with overly-tame stories and happy endings that bring the books to happily-ever-after conclusions so similar that you can predict them after learning the characters' names. The characters themselves suffer from cardboard-cutout personalities and there are excruciatingly painful chapter endings, and there are precious few books that are actually scary, even by child standards. Yet despite all this, there's something magical about these books. M.D. Spenser was never meant to write children's horror, though he is, at heart, a children's writer. And a journalist. Many of the books seem lazy, most likely because M.D. Spenser hopped on the novel-writing train during the 90's, the golden age of adolescent horror. He saw a fad and decided to take advantage, but he wasn't passionate most of the time. But there are treasures, books like Weirdo Waldo's Wax Museum and A Ghostly Playmate, books that express not only passion but serious morals and lessons and, above all, quality. This series is the oddest children's horror series out there, memorable for short bursts of darkness not befitting of books for kids, strange sexual innuendos, and the occasional moment so well-written and creative that you will rarely find anything like it in any other series in the genre. In conclusion, I wouldn't recommend the series to actual kids, but I'll be damned if it doesn't have its moments, few they may be. Not good, exactly, overall, but certainly memorable.

Shivers 32: Beware the Bog Girl

Well, it's been a week since I reviewed a Shivers book, but from what I can remember, this might just be the weirdest. For one, the main character has quite a few run-ins with a tangible (and dangerous) threat multiple times throughout the book, much like in Shriek Home Chicago and A Ghostly Playmate, which automatically bumps the book up a few notches. Also, because the book takes place on an island right off the coast of South Carolina, the majority of the side characters are black. Overall, I'm pretty sure this book has more people of color than all the other books put together, so that's fun.

This may be the worst character introduction ever, since the book literally opens to Julie (the protagonist) hanging her head out the car window. And then Julie reveals that she's not supposed to, it's just "too fun not to do." Yeah, it's like a freakin' roller coaster. I can tell this character's going to be loads of fun.

So Julie Daniels and her dad, Steve, are going to Mossland Island on some science expedition. At the end of the car ride, Julie sees what she thinks are ghosts in the trees, which is relevant later so remember that. When they finally get to the house they rented, the reader finds out that it's a giant, old mansion. Julie decides to explore, eventually finding a giant bedroom that seemed to belong to a little girl. So, it's pink and has mirrors and tea sets and stuff. Thankfully, the protagonist is the type that makes jokes out loud while she's alone, so reading about her going through the clothes and saying things like, "Oh, let's take the horse and carriage out for a ride" and "This was an adventure already!" is a real treat. Thankfully, there's some ghostly moaning and footprints or something and the protagonist leaves.

I have bad news, you guys: I don't like this protagonist. I have a rule of literature that if a character says the word "neat-o" sincerely more than zero times, he/she automatically sucks. Unfortunately, Julie uses that word at least once, in a non-ironic/sarcastic fashion, so she can't be considered a good character. To prove my point, Julie decides to sleep in the only room in their mansion that has muddy footprints leading up to the window. At this point, she deserves to be haunted, the ghost has literally warned her. As Julie's falling asleep, the ghost tells her to get out and that she can't just waltz in like she owns the place, and Julie dismisses it as a dream. I cannot stress this enough, the signs are in no way subtle, she has had at least three good chances to say, "you know what, this room is haunted, I think I'm gonna sleep in a different one to avoid an angry spirit's retribution."

Here's where it gets good, though. The family goes to town, where Julie meets a girl her age named Lucy. Crazy enough, she's black and also one of the two main characters. Pretty much everyone in this town is black, actually, which is pretty cool considering the fact that nearly every character up to this point in the series was white. But the really crazy part is that these natives aren't just African American; they're Gullah. Apparently, the Gullahs are a group of slave descendants with an English-based language with some African loanwords. Anyway, I looked it up and it turns out that it's a real thing. Huh, I guess Shivers can teach you relevant information. Who knew.

Anyway, Julie and Lucy decide to hang out at the mansion, when Lucy reveals information that comes as quite a shock to the protagonist but no one else: the house is haunted. It turns out that the house was owned by the super-rich Habersham family. The youngest daughter, Eugenie, ruled the house. One day, she threw a fit and ran out into the swamp and was never seen again. Now she's a ghost known as the Bog Girl. That's pretty standard, but you know what isn't? The last line of the back-of-the-book summary is "NEVER WASH YOUR HAIR WITH SWAMP WATER!" which is really bad, even for a Shivers book. Julie decides that she wants to be the one to kill the Bog Girl, and Lucy agrees to take her to the swamp.

Yes, because fighting the Bog Girl at the swamp is a flawless plan that couldn't possibly go wrong. When they get there, a mouth forms in the swamp mud and almost eats Julie. Lucy saves her, and I'm just gonna put it out there that Lucy literally saves her, like, a billion times. You know how I always say that characters are so stupid that they shouldn't survive the process of everyday life, much less whatever they go through in the book? Well, here you go; without Lucy, Julie would be dead at least twelve times.

After they escape, the two girls decide to visit Lucy's aunt, Victoria, who is a medicine woman and old enough to have known Eugenie. Victoria believes them, but says that she can't make a potion or whatever unless she knows what the Bog Girl looks like. How come every time the protagonists consult an adult, they get no help? It's as if conflicts in these books aren't allowed to involve sensible people.

The girls ride their bikes back to the Habersham house, where Julie proposes that they go for a swim. Lucy then rips off her shirt to reveal a bathing suit, which I thought I'd mention because that meant that she had been wearing the swimsuit under her clothes for the whole day on the off-chance that Julie would want to swim.

That night, Julie decides to host a tea party with Eugenie's stuff to lure her out. Lucy and Julie do that, and it works, the Bog Girl breaks in and tries to kill Julie. She looks like the picture on the cover, in case you were curious. Julie decides that there haven't been enough The Wizard of Oz references in this stupid series and splashes water on the evil girl. Her arm melts off, but then she grows a new one so that plan worked out exactly as I expected it to. The Bog Girl tries to choke Julie when- and I promise that this will surprise nobody- Lucy saves her. By taking her tea set hostage. The Bog Girl leaves just in time for Dad to walk in and see the ruined room. He gets pissed, and then Lucy gets pissed because Julie dragged her into all this, and at this point even the other characters hate Julie.

So Julie does what any protagonist would logically do, and tries to take on the antagonist by herself. She insults the Bog Girl before biking away, hoping to dry her out. It works, and the Bog Girl starts to crack. Oh, and then it starts raining. Even nature hates Julie. The Bog Girl shoves Julie to the ground and starts to choke her to death when Lucy hits the Bog Girl and saves Julie's life. But of course, I don't know what I expected.

The two of them go to Aunt Victoria's house, where they go through her potion recipes. There are cures for toothaches, colic, and crying babies (hopefully to make them temporarily stop crying), but no Bog Girl. So, they check the Aunt's journal, where they find a section titled "Tamin' da spirit dat fuh wander," or "Taming the restless spirit." It's so weird, I would think that's racist if I didn't just learn that Gullah is a thing. Anyway, the group finds a Bog Girl trap, and they set it up near the swamp. But because they forgot a key ingredient, which (straight from the book) is "pain," the trap doesn't work. The pair takes Lucy's canoe out to the swamp, a plan that Jonathan Golden rates 11/5.

The Bog Girl climbs up on the canoe, so Lucy, and only Lucy, dries Eugenie up with the canoe motor. They bring their gnarled enemy out to the middle of a road and break her into little pieces. At the end of the summer, Julie and her dad are driving to the airport in the rain when the mud starts to form a shape and Julie yells for her dad to go faster, there's a ghost.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
One "neat-o" is all it took.

Beautiful Imagery:
"The sun was still blazing like a trusty friend."

Hip References:
Gullah

As [sic] as it Gets:
"These antiques are not be disturbed."

Conclusion:
I don't know, I like the fact that they fight the Bog Girl multiple times throughout the book, it helps me develop some sort of feelings for the antagonistic force. The main character was pretty annoying, but it wasn't noticeable enough to noticeably diminish the quality of the overall book. Unlike in most books, quite a bit happens, so that's good. One thing that I love is how Julie points out the ghost in the beginning and end of the book in the same way, it makes it feel connected and... planned, I guess. I can't explain it very well, but I like it. So, all in all, the book is pretty good.

Shivers 35: Terror on Tomahawk Island

Not to be confused with Terror on Troll Mountain, though I can see how one could confuse them seeing as how they are both bad. This book is the average Shivers book, and it contains every fault and as much of the formula as every other generic Shivers book. Ghost Writer, The Mystic's Spell, The Haunting House, and The Forgotten Farmhouse are like the Shivers books, and they have every bad quality this series is, at least on this blog, infamous for. Now don't get me wrong; there are good Shivers books, such as A Ghostly Playmate and Shriek Home Chicago, which are treasures, for Shivers books; but you also have Weirdo Waldo's Wax Museum and Creepy Clothes, which are actually great books for their genre. And then you have your Camp Fear and  The Terrible Terror Book-type books, which not only suffer from classic Shivers flaws but also are abominations.

That being said, a Shivers book can suffer from being written in the same basic way as the majority and still have enough redeeming qualities to save it. The Awful Apple Orchard is a minor step above the average Shivers book because of its ending, which is the best in the series. I think Your Momma's a Werewolf was a pretty good one, and I know it was pretty Shivers-y. To be honest, there weren't many, but it is possible. Hell, Shriek Home Chicago has all the normal faults, and it's one of my favorites. So there are some that transcend their curse, but Terror on Tomahawk Island isn't one of them. This is what inspires this special edition post:

Special Edition: Shivers Recipe Format

Hello, my name is Jonathan Golden, and I'll be instructing you as to how to make your average Shivers book, so one day you can write your own! Pay close attention to the examples, as these are all straight out of Terror on Tomahawk Island.

Step 1:
Make a protagonist, it doesn't matter which gender, as long as he/she is twelve-thirteen.
Ex. "My name is Sean. I'm thirteen."

Step 2:
Create sibling, preferably younger and of the opposite gender, though exceptions are allowed. Then have protagonist insist that sibling is OK.
Ex. "My sister's name is Wendy. She's only twelve. Wendy is OK, for a sister. By "OK" I mean that usually I can put up with her. She's not dumb or anything like that, but she's a girl. And girls can be annoying."
As you can see, the classier the better.

Step 3:
From the first chapter on to the conflict, which should be introduced at least halfway through the book, there should be at least one foreshadowing and/or misleading cliffhanger. Use blatant lies sparingly, as you may be called out.
Ex. Chapter 1: "Just thinking about it now –– how close we both came to being dead –– gives me the shivers*."
Chapter 2: "And that's what nearly got Wendy and me killed."
Chapter 3: "You can bet we wouldn't have said that if we'd known where we were going to be exactly twenty-four hours later!"
Chapter 4: "And we were doomed."
And so on.
*Side note: include the word "shivers" in each book at least five times.

Step 4:
Include uninteresting storyline that really shouldn't take up at least half the book but somehow does. Must be uninteresting.
Ex. Sean and Wendy are staying at Lake Wakanaga on vacation when their parents decide to go shopping, leaving them home alone. The siblings are really bored and discuss activities for a while. They eventually decide to explore the creepy island in the middle of the lake, which makes sense considering all the other fun activities they could be doing. They rent a rowboat from the creepy Mr. Booth and his borderline psychopathic son, who are  infamous for bad-quality rowboats, and paddle out to the island.

Because this book wouldn't be classic Shivers if the protagonists broke their stupid-streak, the siblings then fall asleep, waking up to a storm (which they knew was coming) and a nearly-sunken boat. They row to Tomahawk Island, where they walk on a gravel beach, see a path through the woods, eat some berries, it's pretty boring. Oh, and to put it in perspective, this took up 52 pages. I don't know how, it seems impossible in retrospect considering the amount of detail, but there you are.

Step 5:
Create a conflict. It must be simple. Like, a-story-written-at-a-first-grade-writing-daycamp-that-you-thought-might-be-cool-because-you-like-writing-and-the-girl-you-liked-was-going-but-it-was-actually-excrutiatingly-boring simple. Gosh, this brings back memories. Anyway, it should have so little depth that it's practically see-through, and it should happen in the span of about a day.
Ex. The siblings fall asleep under a tree, woken up shortly after by ghost Indians (Native Americans?) sailing up in canoes. Now, I know what you may be thinking, but get a load of this: "They were going to capture us and torture us and kill us. In an instant, I knew all this was true." A little presumptuous, though, right? Usually, when I see Native Americans, I don't assume that they want to torture and kill me, because I'm white so in this country that's basically a death sentence.

The Native Americans disappear, covertly capturing Wendy while Sean isn't looking. Sean decides to follow them down the forest trail before coming to their camp. He sees Wendy in a cage and comes up with a genius plan: poke her. She screams, revealing Sean's presence. Please read Step 6 before proceeding.

The Native Americans hold Sean upside down and pull him so that his arm is cut by the inside of the cage. So... I guess they did want to torture them. Look, I get it, I've read The Son, but I feel like this is just a little racist. Two books with Native Americans and the first is straight out of The Lone Ranger while the second is a barbaric group. Anyway, they eventually throw Sean into the cage, where he chews through the wood (I'm serious, this happens, read the book if you don't believe me).

It works. The siblings sneak to the beach, where they plug up a hole in their boat with bubblegum and row to safety.

Step 6:
Have at least one of the two major characters make staggeringly stupid decisions.

Step 7:
The ending must be tacky. The tackier, the better, and it's fine if it makes no sense.
Ex. the Native Americans are all watching them from the beach, saluting them as they leave.

Step 8 (Optional):
Mention that there was some myth about it all along.
Ex. They say that the Wakanaga Indians were either slaughtered there and returning for revenge, or were kind to the settlers and just want to visit. It shouldn't be that hard to verify one of them.

Hope you enjoyed our Shivers creation guide! Use caution, as being too good or bad of a writer defies the purpose of being a Shivers author; and remember, it's not about quality, it's about including the negatives.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"I thought about Clint Eastwood. Clint, I knew, would follow the trail."

Beautiful Imagery:
"The knot was just as tight as it had been. They must have tied it in some secret Indian way or something like that."

Hip References:
Clint Eastwood, Native Americans.

Oh, I Get it, Irony:
The white people stole their land, so the Indians get their ghostly revenge by locking a couple of kids in a crappy wooden cage. Very clever, M.D. Spenser

Conclusion:
I guess this post served as a retrospective on the series more than anything else, but I was trying to prove a point: this book is bad, but it's also as bad as many other books in the series because they all share many of the same qualities, and they're generally bad qualities. This book, along with all the others like it, seemed forced, because I don't think M.D. Spenser wrote this because he wanted to, he did it because it was his job. So, in conclusion, I didn't like it.

Shivers 34: Weirdo Waldo's Wax Museum

"You called for me, Mr. Paradise Press Editor?"
"Please, call me Johnny; Mr. Paradise Press Editor was my father. Anyway, I have a suggestion for your next big book, Spenser."
"I'm all ears, sir!"
"Great. Remember that crazy masterpiece, Creepy Clothes?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Well, it was perfect! We need even more of those!"
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, sir. I wasn't exactly sober when I wrote that, and I did get in a bit of trouble for such adult themes..."
"Perfect, I love it! The ratings were through the roof, and-"
"What ratings?"
"Through the roof! So write a dark book on pain and torture and human nature, add some sexual themes, and voilá! The perfect book."
"It's so crazy, it just might work!"

When I read, I fold the page corners of pages that strike me as really joke-worthy. I folded thirteen pages, which is actually a new record. That being said, it's not a bad book; on the contrary, I love it. Not only is it undeniably brutal, but it has a story that I genuinely liked. It's one of those stories that starts at an intense moment near the end before starting over and working its way there. It all starts as Billy and his family are trapped in a large prison cell with hot wax dripping from the ceiling. This may seem crazy, but I actually wanted to find out how they got there. Maybe that would have changed had I known the main characters at the time, but I really was a little curious.

Anyway, the mom character, whom we'll just call "Mom" for simplicity's sake, is cradling Crissy, Billy's six-year-old sister, and Dad is going insane in the corner, attempting to make a key out of wax. Then it goes back to the beginning, where Billy describes his family. This is gold, by the way, because Billy is the single most holier-than-thou human being who has ever narrated a story. Normally it would be excruciating, but much like Paul Alberti from Shriek Home Chicago, it's just too amusing to be obnoxious. This is one of those Shivers reviews that writes itself.

Billy's dad is cheap. We know this because he says it over and over again in many different ways. Sometimes it's just "We wouldn't be in this mess if he weren't so cheap." Sometimes he uses little anecdotes, "He's always going around the house turning off lights," or he'll give an example, "I say, trying to study in the dim light of one of the 60-watt light bulbs he buys in bulk because they're way cheaper that way." And to finish it all off he says, "that's how cheap my old man is." Subtlety is not M.D. Spenser's strong point.

Because of Dad's cheapness, Billy has to wear cheap clothing. As he says, "I'm the No Name-Brand kid." I can actually relate to this, so that's fun. I mean, I didn't not wear name-brands because my parents wouldn't buy them for me, I didn't wear name-brands because I didn't want to. I hate spending extra money on clothes; why not spend it on something important, like video games or inflatable women? Here's a little Jonathan trivia for you: As a kid, 50% of my shirts had classic rock bands on them, and the other 50% were either bought with coupons, were presents, or were "cute" shirts my mom thought I would like. Not that I cared; I loved my classic rock shirts. Now that I think about it, I guess my indifference was a blessing for my parents, because my sister easily bought enough for the both of us.

Now I see why people come to this site: to see me talk about my personal life. You're welcome, audience. Getting back to the book, here's one of my marked phrases: when people make fun of Billy for his clothes, he says "'What are you looking at, morons?' I snarled. 'You guys are so stupid you think two plus two equals your IQ.'
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's stupid people. My dad's a tightwad, but he ain't raising no fools."

He's gonna get shanked. I hope he gets shanked. But it gets even better, "Ugly people turn me off, too. That's because I'm pretty good looking, myself. Before bed, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, turning my head from side to side trying to figure out which is my best profile. Left. Right. Front. Even from behind, I'm pretty darn handsome." Does this character ever stop getting relatable? Seriously, though, how can reading about someone this vain not be fun?

Another example: "So we're always riding around in some second-hand heap Dad picked up at Charlie Ryan's World of Pre-Owned Autos. Crissy and me, we call it Cheapo Charlie's World of Rust Buckets." Ha ha, ha ha ha, ha. Ha ha ha. So not only is our protagonist intelligent and attractive, he also has an amazing sense of humor. Stellar.

I just realized that I spent six paragraphs on the characters, which is more than M.D. Spenser does in most of his books.

The plot progresses when Dad announces that the family has been invited to go to Mad Mac's History in Wax Museum, which isn't even the name from the title so I'm still baffled that such a large continuity error could occur. One other thing I like to laugh at is that M.D. Spenser uses fake brands to illustrate how cheap Dad is. Crissy plays with Darbies, Billy plays on a Game Guy, etc. And how about this little dialogue treat here: "'Hey, Prissy, your Doll's shedding,' I say, holding up a long strand of white plastic hair, 'What's she got –– bald dolly disease?'
'No, she's pretty,' Crissy replies.
'Pretty dumb or pretty stupid?'"

Oh, and here's M.D. Spenser's attempt at song lyrics: "I gotta can of tuna. It's shaped just like a balloona. I took it to Palona. To eat with my balogna." Balloona? And just to top it off, Billy listens to this on his "WalkKid." Eventually, they get to Mad Mac's, where the other goers are introduced, "There's Father and Son Jockheads. They wear numbered jerseys so they can remember their IQs."

"And The Nerdroids. Are horn-rimmed glasses hereditary? And The Cretins. Lots of in-breeding going on in that family." Wow. "And The Church Mice. They look meek as heck. The mother carries a thick leather book under her arm, and the father uses a crutch. Oh, and best of all, The Prepmeister Clan. Proof that money can't buy brains." Here's the thing: each character completely conforms to his/her role as part of whatever group he/she is in and, for the most part, shows no other personality, but that's marginally better than the usual plot-device character so I love it, and it also makes the dialogue very amusing. 

Anyway, the group is greeted by a man in a black hood whose face is covered up. The death-like guide asks them to follow him when the preppy kid makes a snappy comment. The guide reacts by revealing information about him, like that his name is Huntington Snider the Second and that he gets poor grades, but it doesn't matter because his father will just buy his way into a good college. Wait... Huntington Snider the Second? Congrats, M.D. Spenser, you succeeded in making the name most fitting for "a Prepmeister."

The guide calls the Jockhead son a big baby before continuing with the tour. As they walk, one member of each group says something stereotypical, which includes my favorite line from any book ever, "I hear his little sister whisper, 'Mommy, are these heathens?'

The look of disgust on the mother's face answers the question before the words leave her lips, 'Yes, dear.'"

Mommy, are these heathens? I'm not joking, this is the most serious I've ever been in my life; This one phrase excuses the entire existence of The Terrible Terror Book. Not Camp Fear; which just may be impossible, but The Terrible Terror Book is up there for worst Shivers books and you just completely made up for it and then some. This whole book is a work of art.

In the first room, which has nothing in it but the smell of something dead, one of the church mouse kids makes a fart joke, which was actually pretty good considering that it followed the statement where the guide describes the awful smell as "the purest essence of mankind." In one of the best moments of Shivers history, the guide says, "I imagine you picked that from the many hours you spend in those Internet chat rooms you're so fond of, Jeremiah. Not the one called X-dreams, of course, where you pass yourself off as someone much older and more experienced than you are. Or many of the others where you assume adult identities long after you parents have fallen asleep." This is literally the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. Did... did M.D. Spenser just suggest that this super religious kid watches porn while his parents are asleep? I can't believe... I'm so happy. The mom responds by hitting him with The Bible while calling him a "filthy boy," which is probably another uncomfortable reminder of the pornography.

Speaking of X-dreams.com, the website doesn't exist, but Xdreams.com does, and it's actually about decoding dreams. Strange, that domain name has so much potential. After that drama, the tour guide begins talking about how mankind loves public punishment and torture, and then he gives examples of torture. He says that what separates mankind from animals isn't our superior brains, thumbs, tools, ability to raise crops, etc., but our cruelty toward each other. Not that I haven't heard all this before, but it's still a pretty interesting theme for M.D. Spenser to be playing with. Especially, you know, because he's a children's author. 

After this speech, the guide starts a conflict between the fathers who went to college and the "cretin" redneck guy. He then leads the group into a dark room where images of men being beaten, bombed buildings, riots, dead bodies, etc. begin flashing on the walls. I thought that was bad enough, until this description showed up: "Blacks killing whites. Browns killing blacks. Red killing brown. Brown killing yellow. Yellow killing black. White killing black, brown, red, yellow. On and on. Over and over." Public torture, heathens, pornography, and racial violence, what doesn't this book have?

Eventually, the video ends, and someone cracks another joke, because "nothing is so bad you can't cure it with a joke." The guide then shows a sculpture of wax people huddled against a wall while wax men shot them. Oh, so he's one of those "tortured artist" types. Then the guide screws with people some more before bringing them to an exhibit with one caveman murdering another. Everybody's having a good laugh looking at the invention of murder when a bright light flashes and the Merlins, a.k.a cretins, disappear.

Next, they go to an exhibit where a wax man is being pulled apart on one of those limb-stretching torture racks. Is this OK for a children's book? It must at least be a stretch. 

There's also a man being whipped and a man sleeping under a bed of spikes, and we find out that it's the Spanish Inquisition. After a brief history lesson and a couple jokes, the hooded man reveals someone getting burned at the stake for heresy, and the church mouse father responds with "the wicked get what they deserve... burn now, or burn later." I'm going to be mad if he doesn't burn, now, because that genuinely made me angry, as I'm sure it's intended to. Then the guide exposes Crissy's love of playing with fire for no reason and the Nedleys, the nerdy family, disappear in a flash.

They then walk into the French Revolution, where the Sniders, the rich family, go missing. Then a slave trade castle, where Bobby notices that one of the slave's eyes are moving, which the guide dismisses as robotic eyes. Robotic eyes. There is then a debate about religion, and I think M.D. Spenser's either a closet Atheist or just really into his characters, because he not only raises some good points about religion but has the religious father respond the way someone like him would; it's amazing, colorful, fantastic, god I love this book. At this point, the athletes are gone, they disappeared in the middle of the slave trade castle.

The group is then brought to an exhibit with religious murders throughout time. Honestly, M.D. Spenser, I agree with you about all the pain and suffering religion has caused, but this is some seriously risky stuff you're dealing with here. Bobby eventually makes contact with a wax Palestinian girl who is throwing a rock at a Jewish soldier (way to include current events, Spenser). The Farrises, the religious family, then disappear, so the final family makes their way to a wax concentration camp, where there's this really cool scene where the guide tells the story of how Dad's father was a soldier who found a concentration camp and how it influenced him and it was completely unnecessary, but it added to the depth of the story. It's something like that that I feel has been missing from other Shivers books.

Oh, and then Bobby recognizes one of the tour-takers in one of the wax prisoners, so he tries to alert his family but there's a flash and they're in the dungeon, being rained on by hot wax. Bobby soon figures out that the dungeon itself is wax, which is kind of lazy but whatever, and breaks through the bars before breaking the wax on his body and saving his family. He then goes off alone to save the others, and the whole party meets in the lobby. The fathers and mothers are easily defeated by the guide's wax powers, which really shouldn't happen because as superpowers go, the ability to shoot wax is pretty weak.

Crissy ends up defeating the guide by lighting him on fire. Apparently, he melts, because he's wax, and so does the entire building. Two years later, all the families are on vacation together, and have been doing it every year since they escaped. Bobby says that humans aren't unique in their cruelty, but their compassion and kindness, and they all live happily ever after, sitting around a candle shaped like a hooded figure.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:

"Any better than this? I think. Eating spinach for breakfast is better than this."

Beautiful Imagery:

"She's a short little butterball. Six years old and already growing her third chin. She thinks sugar is one of the major food groups."

Hip References:

Of course, who doesn't remember playing Smokemon on their Game Guy or listening to some tunes on their WalkKid.

If Every Other Family Had a Role...:

What would our protagonists be? The dad's a rocket scientist and the mom used to be a model, by the way. Maybe they would be the tools?

Conclusion:

This is the only Shivers book that I would want to read a full-length novel of. The characters defied expectations (which doesn't say a lot, but still), I enjoyed the jokes and even laughed at a couple, the narrator was enjoyable, and it's one of the most well-written of the series, maybe even the most well-written, partly because it doesn't have annoying and excessive chapter-ending cliffhangers or ridiculous synonyms. I'm not sure it works well as a children's book, it might have been better as a tween or teen book because it has some pretty dark themes, though M.D. Spenser handled them very well. This might be my favorite so far because I think this is the kind of book that M.D. Spenser enjoys writing most of all, it felt like he was in his element, and I think he put much more effort into this book than any of the others because of it. Great job, M.D. Spenser, please write more stuff like this.

Shivers 33: The Forgotten Farmhouse

I'm back in California and have never been happier. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to skip Shivers #32 until my new copy arrives. It's a shame, really, because I didn't dislike that one. This book, however, is a different story.

One of the many things that really bugs me about this book is that the vast majority of sentences are written in an extremely simple way. It's as if M.D. Spenser was trying to have the text flow as un-smoothly as possible, and the dialogue is exactly the same, it's awful. Straight from the book: "'This is great, isn't it?' I said.
'Yes,' Ana said, 'I'm looking forward to getting to that rough ground ahead.'
'I am, too,' I said.
Maybe I wouldn't have said that if I'd known just how rough the ground was going to be.
We came out of the woods and crossed over the ridge. Now we started heading down the slope."

I thought this was annoying. I was reading this book and got annoyed. I don't like it when books do this. Nobody likes it when books do this. "This is annoying me," I said aloud.

To be fair, it gets better after the first quarter of the book, but there are still plenty of overly-basic sentences throughout. Despite being obnoxious, it really does take away from the plot, because it means there is very little detail and the characters don't have much of a personality.

It all starts when thirteen-year-old Nico and his twelve-year-old sister Ana are getting ready for a horse-trek adventure in the mountains, which is where you ride horses for a few days. Ana has black hair and is described as "so cute." Nico also has black hair... I think. The protagonist doesn't really describe himself. Oh, and another thing that bothers me: Each chapter is literally- and I made sure this was accurate- an average of two-four pages long. There is an overwhelming amount of two-page chapters whose sole purpose is to let the reader know that this book has a conflict. Anyway, the group eventually gets to a very rough, rocky part of the mountains, at which point their guide totally ditches them and they fall behind the rest of the group to help a girl with her horse. Eventually, they lose the girl too, so it's just the two of them.

At this point, you may have realized that even though the main character has little-to-no personality, he is unique in his lack of common sense. Here's another example: the siblings stumble upon a line of trees. Despite extremely heavy fog, they eventually find a creepy path into the woods. They follow it.

Here are a number of reasons going into the forest is a bad idea:
1. Extremely heavy fog
2. They're alone
3. It's a path into the woods
4. The horses are reluctant
5. It's a path into the woods

Oh, and it's almost night-time, too. They gallop through the forest while the fog gets steadily thicker until they can't see a thing. Eventually, the characters realize that they're on different horses than before. You can read that again if you have to. You know what, I'll be nice and simplify it for you: They are riding small, black horses, and then they are riding large, white horses. OK, I can dig that, just as long as something credible comes next.

I'd like to take a second to express something else that bothers me- I'm sorry, I know I'm complaining a lot, but this book really does have a lot of issues- the two main characters are just blank slates. It's bizarre... Nico the Narrator insists that his sister has a logical, organized, strong personality for so long that you actually end up almost believing it, and maybe she does and I just don't see it, but I just don't see it. Ana will perform simple actions and Nico will think things like "classic Ana," or "just like Ana, being so strong, organized, and logical." When Ana remounts the weird other-horses by climbing on a boulder, Nico says "leave it to her!" as if that required more than a functional brain to come up with. I'm pretty sure he worships her. And even on the off-chance that I'm being too hard on poor M.D. Spenser and this girl really does show a consistent and unique personality throughout the beginning of book, she completely loses it as soon as their horses change when she starts whining about how scared she is and rarely picks up her strength, logic, and organization again.

OK, I'm sorry, I'll try to stop venting about this book now. To be fair, this is a book review site, hence the title "Gnarly Book Reviews," but I guess I shouldn't be so hard on the children's horror books because I'm pretty sure that makes me a bad person. Honestly, I really do like Shivers as a whole, I think it's reasonably well-written and M.D. Spenser certainly has potential, and many of the criticisms are just for joke purposes, but sometimes I find it hard not to complain, because the flaws are often endlessly recurring. But I promise, from now on, only plot.

Nico and Ana hitch a ride on their mysterious new steeds to a farmhouse and barn, where they get off the horses, knock on the door, and are nearly shot with a shotgun. The siblings, being strong, organized, and logical, promptly fall down the stairs on top of each other while the shooter misses yet again. He's, like, two feet away, so with aim like that I'm not surprised he's dead.  Oh, spoiler, he's dead.

The two kids are saved by the shooter's wife, Mary, who says that they should at least get to know them before ruthlessly murdering them out of sheer hatred for those who killed Mary's family. The shooter, a middle-aged man named Bob whose face is half blown off, agrees before his dead cat attacks Nico. Nico and Ana walk into the house and notice that the back of Mary's head is blown off. Despite Mary's arguments, Bob decides that even though these children have nothing to do with their murder, they're going to have to die, and then he invites his kids, Daniel and Sara, to do it. Damn, this book is legitimately disturbing.

But wait, there's even more to make this book traumatizing. Both kids are around twenty, half of Daniel's neck is missing so as a result he has no throat and can only make grunting noises, and Sara can do nothing but slowly walk because the top of her head was blasted off so she has no brain. Oh, but check this out: Bob hands the gun to Daniel, who can't take it because his head flops forward onto his chest, so his mom starts crying. It's actually pretty shocking.

Nico and Ana take this as an excuse to attempt an escape. At this point the siblings deserve to die, there's no excuse for bad manners. Nico runs into the forest for a while before he notices that his sister didn't make it out. He... I mean, it wouldn't... it's his sister, I just feel like maybe he should've realized this as they left the house. When Nico gets back to the farmhouse, he looks through a window and sees Bob pointing his shotgun directly at Ana's face. He seems ready to kill her, but first he has to make sure to yell the right amount of threats so she knows well ahead of time how ready he is.

Eventually, Nico gets bored and decides to go check out the ghost horses. He leads them to the front yard and gets knocked down and sat on by Daniel. Just imagine how gross it would be to be held down by a psychotic young adult with half a neck. Ew. Anyway, Nico gets dragged inside the house, where he learns that Ana decided to escape while Nico was attacked. You know what bothers me about these people above all? They're uncoordinated.  Fortunately, Nico comes up with a plan to intimidate the dad. It works, and he keeps pushing Bob back so that he can grab the shotgun, and ends up going all the way around the room so that the dad grabs the gun again. Even when victory is literally within his grasp, he fails, and I honestly don't understand how he fails so effectively but there you go.

All of a sudden, Ana has the ingenious plan to ride her horse through the door. Nico hops on back, and the two of them ride out of the forest and into a friendly family, where they happily contact their mom while the dead family is forever stuck in a hell-like purgatory.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"'And I think we should follow this riverbed downstream,' she said. Ana would have been great in the old pioneer days."

Beautiful Imagery:
"My heart stopped, and so did my brain. I couldn't think of anything I could do to save Ana."

Hip References:
Riding horses.

This Is Biologically Impossible, but That's OK Because This Book Is About Ghost Farmers:
The daughter has no brain, but she can walk. Crazy.

Conclusion: I have to give M.D. Spenser props on one thing: he really did attempt to stick to the genre. Many of his books veer off from being horror and instead become adventure-ish, but this one was full-on horror. That being said, problems such as the annoyingly short chapters, simple sentences, and weak characters took away from the experience. The experience itself was a bit too gruesome for the intended audience, in my opinion, so I didn't love the wanna-be slasher vibe. The plot is like some kind of childish combination of House of 1000 Corpses and Silent Hill (the movie, not video game) that was actually a little scary, so I'll give M.D. Spenser props on that, but ended up giving me a feeling that it could have been done better. I could very well be being too hard on it, but I just didn't like it as a book. That being said, I suppose it's not bad for its genre.

Shivers 31: Shriek Home Chicago

This is Shriek Home Chicago, otherwise known as, and it says this on the back of the book, "Terror on Troll Mountain II." Now, I was dreading this since the moment I discovered this book, but- and I really can't believe I'm saying this- Shriek Home Chicago is really good. I'm serious. I apparently hated the first book, but this one is not bad, because M.D. Spenser took one look at Terror on Troll Mountain and said, "Well, screw this." This book is so over-the-top and ridiculous that it's hugely entertaining. This book does not take itself seriously at all, and is written with a level of head-shake-inspiring corniness that only Shivers could pull off, and- for the first time ever- M.D. Spenser pulls it off perfectly. There will be no extra segments because this whole book is one big Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters, Beautiful Imagery, and Hip References combined with whatever other random segment I would've come up with. It's truly spectacular.

Maybe the first book was like this too, and I was too new to the Shivers series to appreciate it, but I don't think so. I think this is a unique book. It starts off with our previous protagonist, Paul Alberti, looking for his right shoe, eager to pick up Anthony, who is visiting Chicago from Italy, from the airport. Paul looks in his closet when all of a sudden he sees the Orco and he jumps back and it's a dream sequence. Starting with a dream sequence, maybe it's not that unique. To be fair,  I feel like M.D. Spenser or whatever genius he paid way too little to write this book for him just included this as a joke, because as Paul Alberti (who in this book is much less annoying than in the first book- don't get me wrong, he's still annoying, but in a funny way) is searching through his closet, he finds "'Mad' magazines. Empty Doritos bags. Ukulele. Run-DMC tape. Snickers wrapper. 'Huckleberry Finn.' [sic]. Hawaiian shirt. Fur-covered foot. An old collection of Smurfs.
Wait a minute. Fur-covered foot?"

It's like something out of a Scooby Doo cartoon, and it's not the funniness that makes me appreciate it (I mean, he's no Bo Burnham), but the fact that considering such a ridiculous threat as a mountain troll in Paul's closet, M.D. Spenser writes in a way fitting the situation: utter silliness. Then the book goes over Paul and Anthony's experience with the Orco, the giant mountain troll that tormented them in Italy before being pushed off a cliff. M.D. Spenser handles sequels well; I didn't get bored of reading a review of the events in Terror on Troll Mountain, but it said enough to jog my memory. Later, Paul and "Mrs Alberti," as she's legitimately called in the book, wait for Anthony, whose inadequacies in the English language are expressed through random insertions of "-- how you say? --", at the airport. It's actually pretty obnoxious. It's at the stupidest parts, too, like "We should just keep our lips -- how you say? -- zipped."

When they get home, Anthony reveals that he suspects the Orco is alive and angry because he'd been getting "how do you say it? –– bad vibes." The whole book, while third person, definitely includes traces of Paul's thoughts. For example, "In Italy, most pizza crust is so thin it's practically see-through. Well, not that thin, but it'd seemed that way to Paul." Silly M.D. Spenser, an impartial narrator can't correct itself. Oh, and yet another burn against Italy (there are quite a few). Later, they go to a shopping mall, where Anthony challenges a young kid to a "computer boxing match" and Paul goes to look at action figures. Oh, and another thing about this book: the protagonist has an actual personality! It's insane. Paul is not just some mindless plot device, he is a real character. It really is a momentous occasion; I attempted to call the Los Angeles Times about it but they hung up on me. So did the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Santa Monica High student newspaper. The only newspaper that was willing to hear me out was The Onion, but... yeah.

When Paul tries to find his cousin, he discovers that Anthony had run off and starts to panic. Then, a furry brown hand lands on his shoulder and, in one of the most amazing scenes in Shivers history, the next line is "Hey! You like my mittens? Fifty percent off!" It's like in The Simpsons.

HEY BART, WANNA SEE MY NEW CHAINSAW AND HOCKEY MASK?

When the pair gets home, they watch Treasure of the Sierra Madre before asking to watch the news in an effort to stay up late. JUST MAKE SURE IT'S NOT FOX HAHAHA no but they really are the scum of the earth. The news claims that many children had been reporting Bigfoot sightings. Luckily, there's a reality show dedicated to finding him that somehow lasted more than one season. M.D. Spenser also does this weird thing where he writes a statement followed by a question for that statement followed by an answer. For example: "The next morning, Paul woke up early. How early? Before either one of his parents. For Paul, that was pretty early." It's so strange, I would hate that if it was in any other Shivers book.

So the pair decides to head down to a nearby park because a kid who had seen Bigfoot supposedly went there every day. They start walking up to him and handle the terrifying "big kids approaching a much smaller child" situation perfectly: Paul says "Don't worry, Jimmy... we're not gonna beat you up or anything." The thing I love about this book more than anything is that the main characters, especially Paul, act like idiots, so all evidence suggests that they shouldn't have lived half as long as they have; because of the way they act, other characters actually treat them like idiots. It's awesome. This kid Jimmy gives off a I-hate-dealing-with-idiots-like-these vibe, probably because Paul "felt like a private eye or an undercover cop, getting ready to pump a snitch for information." I don't even have to attempt to be funny, this book does it for me.

Jimmy leads them into the woods, where they get ambushed by a poodle which is understandably mistaken for a giant furry man. Jimmy bolts, but they find out from his description that it was, indeed, the Orco. When they get back home, Anthony proposes that they go after it with dynamite, machine guns, and grenades, because "I thought you could buy all the weapons you want in America." Now, one might expect me to make a statement on gun control. Well, I won't. I won't succumb to your expectations, I barely even care about gun control myself. So there, consider your expectations defied.

Paul, thinking his cousin has gone over the deep end, goes downstairs to make himself a sandwich. As he's reaching into the refrigerator, a hairy hand clamps over his mouth and tells him to be quiet but it's actually... the Orco. Legitimately, it's the Orco. 43 pages in and there's already a tangible threat, this book is awesome. But here's where it gets better: the Orco talks. In a British accent. "It was the voice of James Bond, or one of the Beatles, only huskier." Is... is M.D. Spenser just listing off well-known British people? The James Bonds don't even sound like the Beatles.

So the Orco demands a sandwich, and tells Paul about how he was human once, and how he stowed (stew?) away on Anthony's plane (yes, because that's possible), and how he likes to eat children, and yada yada yada he talks way too much. Then Anthony comes downstairs and Paul yells at him to run, but the Orco catches them both. He starts to eat Paul when his dad comes down and they discover that adults can't see the Orco. Nevertheless, the Orco stops eating Paul and leaves. Once upstairs, Paul and Anthony decide to visit Zia Anita, their crazy aunt who happens to live in Chicago and who had never appeared or been mentioned until this very moment. When they get to her house, they realize that she'd also seen the Orco, but since it only appears to adults, she can't do anything to help except maybe do some research or something. Wow, even their deus ex machina is useless, these boys are screwed.

When they get home, the boys discover that Paul's mom has to leave for work all day the next day, so they're completely alone. Once again, I love this book. After mom leaves, the boys take a bus over to the Field Museum of Natural History, where I would assume they learn things. Once inside the museum, they walk around for a while before coming upon an empty room where the Orco kidnaps them and drags them into a fake cave. I just want to know how it's possible for a giant mountain troll to stalk these kids in a museum without having been noticed by, say, other children. Whatever, he pulls them in a hatch and threatens to bring them back to his evil lair, which has the best view in the city (plot bells). Anthony challenges him to a fight, which he loses pretty badly. The Orco starts advancing on Paul, who backs up into a cupboard and knocks over a bunch of cleaning chemicals and stuff. God, I remember how much of a klutz Paul was in the first book. Pissed me off then, too.

Paul then figures out how to get out of this sticky situation by lighting a match and preparing to light the chemicals on fire when he realizes he needs a cool line before lighting flammable liquids. The good news about this book is that I can say "classic ___" about a character and not be sarcastic. The bad news is that I can say "classic ___" about Paul and not be sarcastic. This is how the snappy finishing-line goes: "Paul  lit one of the matches and called out: 'This light's for you!'
Not the greatest line, he had to admit. It actually didn't make much sense. A confused look spread across the Orco's face."

Can I say, one more time, how much I love this book? Anyway, the Orco grabs Anthony and runs away. Paul manages to climb up the hatch in which they entered when he's apprehended by a cop and charged with arson. He stomps on the cop's foot and escapes (yeah, really). The POV, while still 3rd person, becomes all detective-y as Paul deduces that the Orco is in the top story of the Sears Tower, which was under construction in the beginning of the book. That's actually really clever.

Paul sneaks up there and gets knocked out by the Orco. Considering how unbelievably half-assed his plan was, good.  When he comes to, he's next to Anthony and the Orco is making a stew for them. He explains his whole evil backstory: he was a totally evil pirate, lots of enemies, so he looked for a Fountain of Youth in Pinzolo, where he murdered all his men and drank from it, and the murder violated the spring and now he's the Orco so he has to feast on the blood of the innocent once a day.

Just when the Orco is about to murder Paul, Anthony cuts through his ropes with a pocket knife he didn't mention until that moment and starts hitting the Orco with a rolling pin. The Orco is scared, because it turns out that he was just a big scared bully the whole time (which actually kind of makes sense). Then the Orco fades to dust because it's midnight, and I'm just glad his weakness isn't camera flashes. The cousins go friendly jostling each other into the sunset, having burned a museum and assaulted a cop.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters (yeah, I lied, but it was just too tempting):
1. "And Paul hadn't been able to hit her back or anything because she was a little girl and it was his mom's school and he'd get busted for sure."
2. "He'd gone over the edge. Grenades! Machine guns! TNT! Sure, and maybe they could swing by Rent-a-Tank while they were at it!"
3. "This light's for you!"

Conclusion:
The fact that the sequel to Terror on Troll Mountain managed to be better than the original is a feat within itself. Not a large feat, granted, but a feat. But this book completely ditches any attempt to stick to the children-horror genre, instead becoming its own goofy action-adventure thing and doing a pretty decent job in that category. This book is perfect in a way that no other Shivers book has been, because not only does it have a compelling storyline inspired by characters I actually care about, it does it without taking itself seriously in the least. This is what separates this book from the other good ones, and the best part is that it wouldn't have been half as effective without all of its predecessors, both crappy and OK. Thank you, M.D. Spenser.

P.S. Sorry for the late update, I have been extremely busy this week. I'll make more frequent reviews starting now.

Shivers 30: Creepy Clothes

Well, looks like I'm back from hiatus early, and just in time to catch... Creepy Clothes. Great. When I was on "vacation," I was hoping against hope for two things: a book not about haunted clothing and for there not to be a sequel to Terror on Troll Mountain. God, I have so much to tell... I guess I'll start by announcing an update coming soon: The first Silent Hill, which I bought for my PlayStation (1). It's been fun and effectively terrifying, especially considering its age.

Speaking of future updates, I'm running out of Shivers. Six more books left. If any of you guys have any recommendations about what to read, watch, or play next, don't hesitate to comment or email them. Oh, and since it's summer time, I'll post even more than usual, just... you know, in celebration of summer. Maybe I'll even bug some friends to write a thing or two. It'll be grand. For now, though, I'll get to the book.

There is only one phrase that can be used to describe this: holy shit. It's insane. I honestly think that M.D. Spenser wrote this at three o'clock in the morning after a night of heavy drinking. He said to himself, "Hey, self, ya know what kids these days don't get enough of? Real fuckin' life." Either that or it was ghostwritten (which is actually highly likely). Usually, I wouldn't believe that, since Shivers wasn't the most popular series of its time, but this is drastically different. It gets real.

The book starts out with twelve-year-old Patricia waking up in her bed, unable to find anyone in her house. Eventually, she stumbles upon Abby, the housekeeper. Of course, she's black. The first black character in as long as I can remember and her first line is "Child, you scared me to death!" The two of them soon find Sam, Patricia's ten-year-old brother. The word I want to use to describe him is "slow," but that doesn't quite cover the complete lack of intelligence.

All of a sudden, a police car shows up in their driveway. Sheriff Yancy (be warned: there are many proper nouns in this book) comes inside and tells the children that their parents got in a car crash. Don't worry, this is Shivers, they're fine, but they will be in the hospital for a while. You know what's great about this book? Characters have personalities. I think M.D. Spenser actually did spend a lot of time on this, because he probably asked himself, "Now what would this character say?" during dialogue instead of the usual, "How can I best make the plot go by faster?" or, you know, stuff it. For example, when Abby the housekeeper hears this news, she starts pacing back and forth. I could imagine that character doing that, but not some other characters, it's amazing!

Anyway, their neighbors come over and hear the news and they all start crying. That's one thing I can use less of in this book: crying. Jesus, their parents got in a small car crash, they didn't die, they didn't even sustain permanent injuries, get over it. The Sheriff suggests that they see the parents, so they go to the Emergency Room and I swear it's something straight out of Silent Hill or Resident Evil or, to reach out to our modern gamer audience, Outlast. It smells awful, there are sick, crying, and bleeding people everywhere, it seems like something straight out of a horror movie. Take that, hospitals.

Some friendly advice to doctors was inspired by this chapter: never start off your sentence with "I know your mom looks really bad," which is verbatim what the doctor says. The rest of that sentence, no matter how positive, will not go over well. The kids later see their father, a silly and cheerful man who has a wounded leg. The children are scared out of the room by a blood-curdling scream coming from an old woman with tubes (plural) in her nose and throat. Now I'm completely sure that M.D. Spenser suffered some kind of hospital-related childhood trauma.

It turns out that, in the event of an emergency, Patricia and Sam were to be entrusted to their aunt, Dolores, whom they've never met. Hours later, they land in Atlanta (oh, they live in Virginia, by the way) and meet their aunt: a bony, witchy woman. Picture The Simpsons's Crazy Cat Lady. She takes them to her crappy, smoke-filled car and they head off to her apartment. Apparently, the only people who smoke are douchey middle-schoolers and sad, lonely middle-aged women. Take that, smokers.

This is a little strange, but I'm going to remove the Hip References bit from the end because there is an overwhelming amount of references, the first saying that Aunt Dolores's house looks like the house from Psycho. So... nice? I mean, it's a nice house. I wouldn't want to live there, because, you know, it's a set in Universal Studios, but it's nice. The inside is not so nice, though, and reeks of smoke and desperation. Despite their less-than-satisfactory lodgings, the two manage to get some sleep, until... Patricia mistakes the radiator for gunshots and starts screaming. I hate her, I really hate her. If there was one thing I could change about every Shivers book, I would make all the main characters not be mindless, soulless clods so I can feel a little bit of connection with the protagonist, which is currently like trying to bond with a clay figure. But, when you're a blogger reviewing children's horror books, you don't deserve to be able to change things.

Oh, sorry, I got so caught up in something I forgot to mention that the kids saw a man in a wheelchair with an army jacket glaring at them from a balcony. That's important. The next morning, he angrily and bitterly glares at Patricia from the street. Take that, wounded veterans. With nothing to do and Dolores at work, the kids start exploring and find a set of stairs leading up to an attic from their aunt's bedroom. We're going to play a little game to figure out how they respond. You ready?

Do they...
a.) act like sensible and respectful children and leave it be until their aunt returns from work.
b.) not (a), this is Shivers
c.) (b)
d.) all of the above, but not (a), this is Shivers.

The kids find a big trunk of clothes... Creepy Clothes! The kids try some on because isn't that what kids love to do nowadays, and the kids are sent back in time through the Magic Treehouse. Seriously, a wind blows through, the room starts spinning, and they're back in time. It was a very popular children's series that I read as a kid and this is almost completely ripped off of it. Nice job, M.D. Spenser, you used material already used in another children's book.

Anyway, the kids wake up in somebody's backyard and see the stereotypical deadbeat stepfather walk into the house. He has a white t-shirt, black pants, a nearly bald head, a tattoo, and yes, a cigarette. Add "abusive stepfathers" to the list of possible smokers. Soon, two kids come outside, whom the reader immediately realizes are Dolores and the kids' dad, but the protagonists don't realize it for, like, another fifty pages. Oh, and they can't see Patricia and Sam. Dad gets stuck in a tree, so Dolores helps him down and tears her dress. Her stepfather calls them over, screams at them, and then hits 11-year-old Dolores across the face.

Yeah, holy shit.

Then Dolores just stares at him with hatred, and Dad tries to say it was his fault but Dolores stops him so that, and it says this in the book, the stepfather won't hit five-year-old Dad too. The two children had been raised by their stepfather ever since their mother died. Holy shit.

All of a sudden, a harsh wind blows their hats off and the children go back to the present. They sneak out unnoticed and eat dinner with their aunt. Nobody's talking, so Patricia decides to break the ice by effectively saying, "Hey, tell us about your childhood, you were raised by your stepfather, right?" Personally, I would have commented on the weather, that day's activities, cute animals, The Holocaust, anything but her stepfather. I know it's stupid to continually complain about the unintelligent protagonist of a lesser-known children's horror series, but she is a blatant ass.

The next day, they go up to the attic again, put on more clothes, and go back in time- to what I can only infer is the 70's. There is a song playing, which Sam describes as "that Jimi Hendrix song mom plays all the time... the one about Purple Haze." You mean Purple Haze? There are people holding signs saying to give peace a chance, dancing to the music. The mellow vibes are amplified by an assortment of hypnotic tie-dye t-shirts and posters. God, am I glad I was not alive during the 70's.

Up on stage during this anti-war rally is Aunt Dolores and a man named Paul Griffin, stirring these hippies into a frenzy. The stepdad comes in military uniform and begins screaming at Dolores before punching Paul in the face. He drives Aunt Dolores back, but not before the dynamic duo jumps in the back of the truck. The only truck in the book. Take that, truck drivers.

Back at the house, Dolores gives Dad a box of money she's been saving so he can go make something of himself. With the children he had, I'd say he ended up failing. On that note, the children take off the clothes and head back to the attic. There, they find a newspaper telling of Dolores's attempt to murder her stepfather when she was 25. She shot her stepfather. I said it once, and I'll say it again: holy shit.

The siblings hear an argument coming from Dolores's bedroom between her and some man. He told her he needed the kids gone, she told him they had nowhere else to go, she told him she needed him gone so she wouldn't have to explain why he is in a wheelchair, and he leaves. Aunt Dolores hears them in the attic and starts screaming, saying things her stepfather had said, when all of a sudden their dad shows up, having been let out of the hospital. The older siblings make up and explain that after Dolores got out of prison, she got bitter and blamed everything on Dad. The guy in the wheelchair was Paul Griffin, her boyfriend, who had broken his legs in a car crash while running from the police with Dolores. Now that she faced the past, she's happy.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"Patricia didn't know what internal damage meant, but it didn't sound good." I mean, it's pretty self-explanatory.

Beautiful Imagery:
"It was made out of satin, and was very full, kind of like something a fairy princess would wear."

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover:
The cover, title, and back-of-the-book description were co-conspirators in a plot to make this book seem stupid and awful. It's not about haunted clothing at all, really, I don't know why Paradise Press would allow such an unappetizing cover.

Holy Shit:
Seriously, holy actual shit.

Conclusion:
M.D. Spenser took a good premise and, unlike in The Terrible Terror Book, had it retain its goodness as the book progressed. This is the only Shivers book where I was truly excited to find out what happened next, and I actually looked forward to opportunities that I could read it. The side characters are charming, though uncreative, and show personality and even development far beyond what I'd expect any Shivers book to be capable of. I just don't think it should have been part of the Shivers series. The book is a little heavy compared to every other piece in the series, and just doesn't seem to fit. I might even go so far as to say that it would deserve to be a totally separate children's novel altogether (but with different protagonists). In conclusion, you did well, M.D. Spenser, and I'm proud of you. This book is a great improvement, and you get props for writing it.

Shivers 29: The Terrible Terror Book

Now, you may think that I'm too hard on these books for not attempting to be scary, but they really are marketed as horror books. The opening to every book says, "Do you enjoy being frightened? Would you rather have NIGHTMARES instead of sweet dreams? Are you happy only when shaking with fear? CONGRATULATIONS!!!! You've made a wise choice. This book is the doorway to all that may frighten you. Get ready for COLD, CLAMMY SHIVERS running up and down your spine! Now, open the door- IF YOU DARE!!!!" So keep that in mind during this review.

Also, I went over some of my earliest posts today, and I've got to say, I've really evolved. In the beginning, I guess I was mostly just copying other styles, and I think I've really developed my own at this point. Also, it's much funnier now than in the first, like, ten posts. That is what inspired this week's...

Special Edition: Warning My Past Self Format

Jonathan Golden was enjoying a peaceful Autumn afternoon, reclining on his living room sofa and reading the first Shivers book, The Enchanted Attic. Jonathan felt mildly ecstatic, as he was about to write his first full post for his new blog, "Gnarly Book Reviews." But just as Jonathan set his book down on the table in front of him, the house began to shake.

Now, Jonathan knew his earthquake plan: grab his computer, his headphones, and his Wifi router, and get the hell out of there. Before Jonathan could put his plan into action, though, he was shocked into stillness by the sudden arrival of an old-fashioned telephone booth in his living room. 

"Dr. Who?" Jonathan asked, just as the doors opened and steam poured out the inside. 
"No," a familiar voice said, "and that reference was too easy. In the future, you would have connected this to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure."

And out stepped a slightly older Jonathan Golden.
"What the Hell?" the first Jonathan asked, "Who are you?"
"I am you, 219 days after your first post."
"OK, I'll believe that, but only for plot convenience."
"Gnarly. Now, I'm here to warn you not to start off your blog with the Shivers series."
"Why?"
"Why did you even choose this series in the first place? We didn't even read these books as a kid."
"It's complicated."
"Well, stop. How did you like The Enchanted Attic?"
"It was not bad. Why?
"Because your standards get higher and higher as time goes on, or maybe it's just that the books get worse and worse. I can't really tell. Either way, it sucks. Why can't you just read Steven King or something?"
"But why travel back now? Did you read an especially bad one?"
"Well, I'll let you be the judge of that. It all starts with protagonist-"

Kerri as she walks into "Herriman's Book Shoppe," a creepy old... book shop. She's shopping for presents for her older sister, Erin, who wanted a book from that exact store. She finds a book titled "The Terrible Terror Book," when all of a sudden she is grabbed by a creepy old lady who seems to know everything about her. Their conversation is roughly like this:
"So, you're looking for a scary book for your sister, eh?"
"Wait, how did you know?"
"Um... you must have told me about Erin before."
"No, we've been speaking for less than a minute, and... wait, how did you know her name is Erin?"
"She seems like an Erin."
"Have you met her?"
"...No."

But Kerri is eventually convinced to buy the book, and told not to open it herself. Erin must be the first to read it. Kerri buys the book for eight dollars, which happens to be the exact amount of money she had with her-

"Wait, hold up, Kerri went to a book store to buy her sister a present with eight dollars?"
"Ya, I know. What a cheap bitch."

Well, Kerri takes the present back to her house to find her sister had invited two of her best friends, Kimberly and Laura. Gee, I wonder if any of these characters will have personalities, or if they will just be mindless plot devices. Actually, Kimberly seems slightly more aggressive than the quiet Laura throughout the dialogue, so... that's something, I guess. Erin and Kimberly are about the same, though. And their mom is a Shivers mom.

So Kerri gives Erin her new present when Erin reveals how she learned of the bookstore. Erin was shopping- and keep in mind that this is straight out of the book- for a Shivers book. She actually says that she was getting The Spider Kingdom, which was awful. OK, it seems bad, but not that bad, right? Then, Erin was approached by a woman who tells her that if she wants books "even scarier than Shivers," Harriman's was their place. OK, it's bad. But it could be worse, it could get really self-referential.

"'Wow, scarier than Shivers?' Laurie responded. 'Those are really spooky stories.'"
Wow. OK, I do remember throwing this book pretty hard after that. I mean, it's just so much self-referential, I can actually feel his ego getting stroked. And it hurts.

Oh, and it was the old woman from the bookstore who told Erin about it. Later, at midnight, Erin reads the first page of the book, which contains a warning telling Erin that whoever starts the book must read it until the end, or else he/she will die. Now, some people, mainly normal people with at least below average intelligence, might think that this warning was just a frightening beginning to a frightening story. But not Erin. No, never Erin. She panics and drops the book, which makes me think that maybe Shivers actually was rightfully "spooky" for her.

All of a sudden, Kerri walks in and tells her sister that she's nervous about the book. Erin responds by promptly getting electrocuted before letting her sister know that it was just a prank. Unfortunately, I'm reminded of the Winston and Brad duo from the Animal Rebellion, and it's always a bad sign if anything reminds me of the Winston and Brad duo from the Animal Rebellion.

"Wait, I don't get that reference," Past Jonathan said.
"Oh, you will if you continue with this. You will."
"But don't you know that I continue this, because if I didn't you wouldn't exist and-"
"Stop. I'm not here to discuss the fundamentals of time travel, I'm here to give a synopsis for this awful book so you don't have to in the future."
"Wait, wha-"

Kerri leaves, and Erin starts reading about the sisters Kerrin and Terri, who just had an argument. Hey, I see what's going on here. It even mentions their dog, Buster, who is named "Mustard" in the book-within-the-book. Mustard. The terrifying and evil book of death named their dog "Mustard." I'm so close to being done with the series, I feel like I should just power through, but it's stuff like this that makes it so hard. Anyway, the book says that the wind blows "Terri's" window shut, crushing her hand. Sure enough, Kerri's hand gets smashed.

And then it starts bleeding. From being crushed by a window sill. But because whynot?, right? Who cares about being biologically accurate as long as you have a storyline that makes sense overa-
wait...
Honestly, if Shivers was popular enough to be ghostwritten, this one would have been. Either that, or Paradise Press stopped proofreading the books before shipping them out, because he ends a couple sentences with prepositions when not in dialogue. Now, I'm not a grammar stickler, but it really is unlike M.D. Spenser; although it does have... The Three Strikes. Yeah, from Lost in Dreamland, remember? Strike one: self-referential. There is so much strike one. Strike two: A deus ex machina. I don't want to ruin the ending, but there is a big deus ex machina. Strike three: obviously rips off of something else. Yes, it's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite place it. There is definitely some rip-off, though. I'm sure of it.

The next day, Erin keeps reading and the book says that her mother falls off a ladder while cleaning windows. Erin looks out her window to warn her, but it turns out that Erin's distraction was what caused her mother to fall in the first pla- that's it! I remember now! I read a comic exactly like this in Tales of the Crypt, and I saw a Twilight Zone episode about this, it's all about fate and a person's inability to alter time, this concept has been and will be used over and over and over again; Ray Bradbury, Steven King, Dean Koontz, Homer, Isaac Asimov, even Douglas Adams, the theme is great and interesting and is done a terrible injustice by The Terrible Terror Book. I mean, it's a cool premise, M.D. Spenser does a good job at first, but it just descends into awful as you get deeper and deeper into the book.

Speaking of terrible descents, Erin's mom just fell off a ladder, so I'm gonna try to get back on track. Erin calls an "emergency meeting" with Kerri, Laurie, and Kimberly, where Erin tells them about the book. This is before Laurie and Kimberly express a smidgen of what could be considered the beginning of a personality, so their first word is "what," and it's said in unison. Everything else is equally bland. The group doesn't believe her at first, but then they read it themselves and Lauren and Kimberly react in the following manner: "'Wow!' Laurie and Kimberly slowly said together." You can tell the author really put a lot of effort into this book.

So, the four girls decide to go to Harriman's Book Shoppe, hoping to get a refund or to swap it with another item of equal value. In the store, there is a set of stairs leading down that Kerri claims wasn't there before. The old lady's voice tells them to walk down from below, and they actually do it. Hey Erin, does your book also say that everyone in your little posse is a straight-up dumbass? It turns out that the creepy old lady is actually a creepy, blind old man with an old lady's voice. OK, first of all, weird. And second of all, this is never explained. Ever. The creepy old man says that the girls have to stay with him forever, but then he-

"Wait," Past Jonathan said, "Is this one of those kinds of books?"
"No, this isn't Dean Koontz. It's just a chapter ending. Also, can I end here? Recounting this is painful."
"Can you just finish the story? I'm having a case of morbid curiosity."
"Fine, but I'm going to do it fast."

The old man changes his mind and tells them to keep reading so they'll learn a valuable lesson at the end, turning back into the old lady and leaving them in the basement. The girls start crying until one of them actually makes a smart suggestion: keep reading the damn book. Coincidentally, that's exactly what I was saying to myself as I read The Terrible Terror Book. It says pretty much exactly what has happened to them, so everything in the book happens regardless of whether you read it first. The book says that Kerrin and Terri are trapped in a faith-healer's basement (what?). Then the book says that a giant hunchback comes in with a knife and starts chasing them because whynot?

And, just then, some hunchback guy comes in and attacks them. They run through a secret hallway behind a wall, but he catches up and trips, hitting his head against a wall and slicing Kimberly. The girls decide to keep reading, and the book say that they jump into a disgusting, animal-infested sewer to escape the hunchback. Sure. At first, they understandably resist, but the thought of being sliced up gives them strength and they jump in. Gross. This is the one time I'm genuinely happy that M.D. Spenser doesn't have the power of colorful description. That would be bad.

They float along until they fall over a dam into a pool of sewage water. The plant workers save them, letting them shower and stuff. And then, of course, the old man/woman/evil monster shows up again and the girls run away, stopping by the side of the road. If there's one redeeming value to this book, it's that the awful characters never catch a break. They read the book again, and this time it says that their mother comes to take them home, only to accidentally have Mustard (Buster) get hit by a car. The thing I like about this scene is that Kerri is actually the cause of Buster's getting hit, so it's like fate worked through Kerri, so that's cool. That that happened.

They tell their mom, and she actually believes them because M.D. Spenser got tired of having to provide material for the book. Then, the book says that they get a call saying that their father died in a plane crash. They race home, and... he got home early. The prophecy book lied. They finished the book, and it turns out it was all just a false alarm in the book, too. Say it with me, you guys:
"This book sucks!"

Well, the book says that their misfortunes are over, and Erin learned a valuable lesson in not letting fear cripple or control you. Wait, how? Oh, but the final lines, "'Whenever I ask you to get me a scary book,  just buy me something in the Shivers [sic] collection, OK? That's plenty scary enough for me!'" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ALWAYS END ON A STRONG JOKE!

"OK, I get the point. I'll stop now."
"OK, good. The series only gets worse."
"Well, I'll see you later. You can just take the time machine back, right?"
"Ya, wh- wait, you're gonna write it anyway, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm really bored."
"Fine, but be warned: you'll have to move on to real literature, one day."
And with that, he went back to whence he'd came.

Insight into the Complex Minds of Characters:
"What an odd title, Kerri thought. It didn't seem to make any sense. Wasn't terror always terrible?
Or was this a book about some terror even more terrible than most?"

Beautiful Imagery:
Not exactly imagery, but this had to go somewhere:
"'We're finished! Trapped like four worms inside a fisherman's tackle box.'"

Hip References:
Shivers, Shivers, Shivers Shivers Shivers Shivers
Shivers

Crazy, Mind-bending Paradox Alert:
This is back of the book:
"DO NOT OPEN THIS BOOK!
Please, don't even think about it. Don't make the same mistake that Kerri and her sister Erin made. Stop before it's too late –– or else you'll be doomed just like Kerri and Erin to face the terror that comes alive on page after page after page. It's not worth it! Don't read this book. This is your last warning! The monsters and mayhem that creep out the girls will turn around and come to your house and creep out you. No one is safe from the page turning terror. There's no escape once the book is open.
FEED THIS BOOK TO THE WORMS..."
There is so much wrong. First of all... "page turning?" Wouldn't "page-turning" be better? Also, what monsters? And how can the reader suffer the same affliction if he/she is simply reading about Erin and Kerri's experiences with the book? It makes less sense the more you think about it, and not in the good Inception, Memento, or The Stanley Parable kind of way.

Conclusion:
It had so much potential, M.D. Spenser ripped off a premise that really could have been good, but it's just so lazy that it falls short. First of all, nothing is explained ever. Who the hell are the weird old lady and the hunchback? Why Erin? What is the book? Nothing. Is. Explained. Oh, and that little blatant lie to trick the reader into thinking that a character the reader didn't even know was dead was just moronic. Not to mention the fact that there was no lesson; Erin's dog died, she had to swim in sewage water, what was the lesson? Don't try to change an awful future, just roll with it, and don't be scared while doing it? Well, at least a lot happened, so it had that going for it.