As usual, 20 films, all free to stream, and I’ve never seen them before. Can I really find 20 cave person films I can sit through?
EDIT: No. I’ve expanded the list to include any and all primitive cultures as there are not enough prehistoric flicks to watch.
EDIT: I’m capping this list at 10 – I can’t stomach any more f**king Italian cannibal flicks.
Master of the World (1983) TubiAgainst my better judgement, I’m starting a new list. The usual rules apply — 20 films, free to stream, based on a theme. This time, cave folk!
We kick off with this Italian offering from the early 80’s, obviously inspired by Quest for Fire and, um, possibly Caveman. It’s the old story of forbidden love, rival clans beating each other up and eating the brains of the vanquished, plus the invention of the bolas. It’s the Romeo and Juliet adaptation you never knew you needed.
The whole shebang is peppered with grainy stock footage of out-of-place animals and clouds, and there’s a man in a bear suit intercut with a real, heavily drugged bear, who beats the crap out of everyone. Actually, this semi-fake bear was a highlight.
As any nerd worth their salt will tell you, Ben Burtt used the sounds of a bear to create Chewbacca’s guttural growls. I swear to God, the filmmakers just took soundbites of Chewbacca from Star Wars and dubbed their own bear with them. Check it out — validate me!
Ultimately, a rather tedious affair, too much high-pitched grunting. I’m only one film in, and already regretting this.
3/10
Confession: I could only find about a half dozen prehistoric cave people flicks (that I hadn’t seen or are free to stream), so I have expanded the parameters to include any ‘primitive’ cultures or groups. This opens up the doors for a wider selection, and a lot more rubbish. Case in point…
I thought I had seen this, but I was probably confusing it with Amazon Women on the Moon — anyhoo, this is a weird little affair, very cheaply made, and a bit of a mess. I’ve seen it described as a comedy horror, but there’s no horror in it, and very little in the way of good comedy. The script, written by director J.F. Lawton (who wrote Pretty Woman and Under Siege!) is really not as funny as he thinks it is, flip-flopping between absurdist schtick in the Airplane vein, to satirical monologues — all of which outstay their welcome very quickly.
Shannon Tweed is perfectly fine as the lead, but Adrienne Barbeau is wasted, and the least said about Bill Maher the better (although he does nail a couple of pratfalls). The film claims to be a commentary on feminism and toxic masculinity, but neither theme is realised due the reliance on tired tropes (the male gaze, the white male savior). Oh well.
4/10
A primitive prehistoric race rises from the sewers to reclaim the planet after some misguided nuclear testing? Yes, this fits the criteria.
Is it any good though? Weeeellll…
It starts off pretty well. A lone pilot flies into a California airport, only to find the entire town deserted. It’s well set up, and would be even more effective if the film hadn’t shown us the titular monsters as soon as the film starts, before the credits. The monsters themselves are quite interesting, however it looks like they blew the budget on three full-size costumes; think Dr. Who‘s Zygons wearing gorilla pants.
The rest of the ensemble is made up of the usual suspects: lantern-jawed Clark Gable-lite, useless scientist, useless scientist’s useless daughters, useless marine (only there to say ‘gee whiz’ and kiss a useless daughter) and a nutcase who has ‘uncomfortable feelings’ for his goat. You read that right.
The whole affair is shrouded in fog (a major plot point) as mostly consists of lots of talking and running through the afore-mentioned fog. It’s a bit rubbish, but strangely compelling.
5/10
Of all the horror sub-genres, jungle cannibal ones are my least favourite. There’s simply no joy to be found in any of them, and combine them with the Italian predilection for animal cruelty, and you’ve got a film I never need to see twice. This one is the first foray into the genre by the much lauded Ruggero Deodato, and it’s not as ghastly as his later offerings, but still enough to leave me questioning my life choices. I can deal with the human-on-human buffets, but the suffering of real animals turns my stomach.
Anyhoo — it’s the usual plot; white Italians enter the jungle, get eaten. Along the way there is stock footage of animals eating each other, ants in wounds, copious willy tugging (some bad, some good) and lots of ‘oo, oo, oo’ ‘aah, aah, aah’.
The leads are pretty good, Massimo Foschi really sells the whole jungle madness look, and Me Me Lai is great as the loveliest cannibal of them all. However, at the end of the day I don’t mean to be judgemental, but I have no idea how anyone can watch these for a good time.
6/10
A tenuous fit for this project, Atragon features an ancient civilization (the Empire of Mu) hellbent on reclaiming their position as rulers of the world. For now, their continent lays at the bottom of the Pacific, so the film is all about Japan’s experimental submarine program, patriotism, and nefarious agents.
The entire world rallies via stock footage as the Mu Nemo themselves around the globe, sinking ships and being a general nuisance. Lots of lovely matte paintings and Thunderbirds-style models, and a bonus sea monster at the end. I had fun.
6/10
Yes, I started a free 30-day trial sub to AMC+ just so that I could watch this movie without the MST3K voice track. Such is my commitment to this pointless exercise in procrastination.
Anyhoo — here we have Roger Corman writing and banging out a caveman film in a couple of weeks. All shot on one California location, amply sprinkled with footage from other AIP flicks, featuring a very young Robert Vaughn as a young ‘cave person’ in the midst of an existential crisis. The clan he belongs to is the cleanest, whitest bunch of knuckle-draggers you’ve ever seen, and their hair is perfect. They all adhere to a bunch of rules attributed to Sky Gods and Monsters (TM), but Bobby Vaughn ain’t down with no rules, daddio.
He rebels, as all teens should, and while the elders sit around at camp discussing the rules, he goes out to see what’s so dangerous about the other side of the river. Here’s the thing, despite it being cheesy as hell, and somewhat laughable, Vaughn plays it straight (the right choice) and Corman clubs us around the head with a killer twist. I rather enjoyed it. Second film to feature a dude in a bear costume too, so it gains back the mark I was about to take away for the cruel real animal fighting.
6/10
Based on a 5300-yr-old mummy found by hikers in 1991, this German production proceeds to tell the imagined last days of a Neanderthal man, Kaleb. It’s a simple revenge flick, told in the ancient Rhaetic language, and is beautifully shot through with a suitably grim palette.
Jürgen Vogel as Kaleb is brilliant, bringing physical and emotional heft to every scene, and it was a treat to see Franco Nero pop up. It’s solid, at times horrific, and a reminder that revenge is a dish best served hunted, skinned and roasted.
8/10
Another Fred Olen Ray flick (credited as Nicholas Medina, his soft-core pseudonym), this one is a heavily edited version of the film Teenage Cave Girl, heavily edited to the point where there’s no actual Neanderthal nookie on display at all. By cutting out all the sex scenes, what you are left with is a rubbish comedy about a pair of cave dwellers who are transported to the future and fall in with some randy archeologists (there’s more than you knew).
Peppered with stop-mo shots stolen from Planet of the Dinosaurs and some abominable CG in all its 8-bit glory, this is the usual slice of fried shite I’ve come to expect from the once great Ray. It gets a point for only being 46 minutes long.
1/10
Primitives (Rapi Films, 1978) and Eaten Alive! (Dana Film, March 20, 1980)
This one is an Indonesian version of the Italian jungle exploitation flicks, and doesn’t just follow a similar plot, but lifts whole sequences directly for previous fare such as Cannibal Holocaust. In fact, it’s pretty shameless how much is ripped off from that movie, right down to locations and set pieces (although it stops short of actual tallywhacker removal). It’s full of the usual grunting and chomping, and the filmmakers seemed to double-down on the animal cruelty, using horrific footage from previous films.
It’s a miserable viewing experience, and I’m only giving it an extra mark for the shameless stealing of inappropriate music (Kraftwerk’s ‘The Robots, a trio of Jean Michel Jarre tracks and Princess Leia’s theme) and a hilarious rubber axe boomerang scene.
4/10
Eaten Alive! (1980) TubiNot to be confused with the Tobe Hooper ‘gator romp, this is another Italian cannibal flick that starts interestingly in New York, but then descends into the usual animal torture and misogyny associated with these films.
It’s held together by a flimsy ‘Jonestown’ plot, but this was the one that officially finished me off — I am totally done with this genre and never need to see another jungle cannibal film ever again. Hateful.
1/10
Previous Murkey Movie surveys from Neil Baker include:
There, Wolves
What a Croc
Prehistrionics
Jumping the Shark
Alien Overlords
Biggus Footus
I Like Big Bugs and I Cannot Lie
The Weird, Weird West
Warrior Women Watch-a-thon
Neil Baker’s last article for us was There, Wolves: Part III. Neil spends his days watching dodgy movies, most of them terrible, in the hope that you might be inspired to watch them too. He is often asked why he doesn’t watch ‘proper’ films, and he honestly doesn’t have a good answer. He is an author, illustrator, outdoor educator and owner of April Moon Books (AprilMoonBooks.com).
In a society ruled by digital displays, it’s simple to overlook the pure pleasure and…
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Dragonslayer (OSR Publishing, February 7, 2024). Cover by Jeff Easley
I’ve admired the mega-dungeon adventures of Greg Gillespie for several years, particularly Barrowmaze and The Forbidden Caverns of Archaia. Most recently, Greg published his own set of rules to go with those adventures. It’s called Dragonslayer, and I think it’s excellent. Here is the description from the back of the book:
Journey to a realm of myth and magic, where ancient legends and terrifying minsters come to life, and adventure awaits…
Inspired by the timeless role-playing tradition of the early 1980s, this ruleset seamlessly integrates the simplicity of B/X with the chrome if First Edition. The book has everything you need: classes, spells, monsters, and treasure, combined in a single volume.
For those who don’t know, “B/X” is the acronym for the Basic and Expert rules of Dungeons & Dragons.
Interiors from Dragonslayer
The Basic and Expert rules were conceived by Tom Moldvay and Zeb Cook, who in turn derived their inspiration from the works of Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson — and also the previous Basic set (my personal favorite) compiled by John E. Holmes.
B/X is probably the most “cloned” version of D&D, yet Greg establishes his own flavor, quite admirably, within that framework. It’s nicely done!
Lastly, it’s really great to see art from the likes of Jeff Easley, Diesel LaForce, and Darlene Artist. All legends of the hobby whose work I have admired for decades.
Jeffrey P. Talanian’s last article for Black Gate was a review of Robert E. Howard’s “Worms of the Earth.” He is the creator and publisher of the Hyperborea sword-and-sorcery and weird science-fantasy RPG from North Wind Adventures. He was the co-author, with E. Gary Gygax, of the Castle Zagyg releases, including several Yggsburgh city supplements, Castle Zagyg: The East Mark Gazetteer, and Castle Zagyg: The Upper Works. Read Gabe Gybing’s interview with Jeffrey here, and follow his latest projects on Facebook and at www.hyperborea.tv.
State of Paradise (Picador paperback reprint, July 8, 2025). Cover art:
detail from Tiger in a Tropical Storm by Henri Rousseau, 1891
When I was a kid there was a public service announcement on TV that went something like “Attention: Aliens. You are required by law to report by January 31st.” This was because of the Alien Act of 1940, otherwise known as the Smith Act. Basically, the legislation made it illegal to advocate the violent overthrow of the U.S. government and provided for a tracking system of non-citizens who, in the context of Nazi occupation of Eastern Europe and its then alliance with the Soviet Union, were potential suspects of espionage and sabotage. (Fun fact: prosecutions for advocating overthrow of the government have been ruled as unconstitutional violations of the First Amendment, in case you were wondering how any nitwit on social media can mouth off about doing just that.)
But as I didn’t know anything about this, the announcement always conjured an image of big headed, bug-eyed tentacled Martians registering at the local post office. Which I thought pretty funny. One thing I’ve learned over the years, and particularly these days, is that much of what adults say in all seriousness is often funny, but not in a “ha ha” way. More in a Jean Paul Sartre absurdist kind of way.
Needless to say, alien life forms are foundational science fiction, horror, and fantasy tropes. While some genre writers and filmmakers may very well have thought it just might be cool to tell stories about monsters from other worlds, the notion of aliens amongst us primarily serve as metaphors for, among other things, Communists and related usurpers of “normal” socio-political mores, fears of nuclear holocaust, technology run amok, repressed sexual desire, climate change, disease, and disembodiment.
Probably to a large extent due to the COVID-19 pandemic as well as severe climate events such as the California wildfires, today’s alienation storyline is less “aliens amongst us” and more “us alienated from the world.”
Which brings us to State of Paradise by Laura Van Den Berg.
The title is ironic, referring not only to Florida and its reputation as a refuge for the aged retired, the sunburned, and the weird, but that if the existential human condition is sometimes characterized using the Biblical metaphor of banishment from Eden, we currently find ourselves further away from Paradise than ever before.
In Florida, my husband runs. Ten miles a day seventy miles a week. a physical feat that is astonishing to me. He started running after he got stuck on a book he is trying to write, a historical account of pilgrims in medieval Europe. Back then it was not unusual for pilgrims to traverse hundreds of miles on foot… My husband is a trained historian and fascinated by journeys. He wants to understand what has become the pilgrimages in our broken modern world.
The first person narrator is
…a writer, though not a real one, I ghost for a very famous thriller writer. When I first got the job, I spent a month reading books by the famous author, to better understand the task that lay before me… the phrase everything is not as it seems appeared in nearly all the book descriptions.
Indeed, everything is not as it seems as the narrator (a kind of ghost herself) proceeds on a pilgrimage not only through actually weird Florida, where the 1930s Tarzan movies were filmed and non-native Pythons abound alongside Everglades alligators and Disney characters, but an alternate reality to which her sister and others somehow travel. Along the way are treated to torrential rain and flooding, sinkholes, virtual reality headsets, cults, and cats. And voluntary human extinction meetings. Just another day in Paradise.
With a history of being institutionalized, our narrator may be unreliable, and as a writer she is in the business of making things up. Not much cause for cognitive dissonance given the made-up unreliable narratives of our daily news cycle.
The plot, such that it is, concerns finding out what happened to her sister and others during their disappearances. And along the way what is happening to the narrator as she tries to figure out an increasingly strange world that nonetheless comes to define everyday existence. And whether she can trust what she is experiencing and what she remembers of those experiences.
Sometimes I wonder what we are supposed to do with our memories. Sometimes i wonder what our memories are for. A latch slips and the past floods in, knocking us flat. We leave places and we don’t leave places. Sometimes I imagine different versions of myself in all the different places I have ever lived, inching time in parallel.
This is a novel about the proverbial frog in boiling water, how because as the temperature only gradually rises, we don’t realize we’re being cooked. One absurdity follows another, and it is just how things are. We are now the aliens, journeying towards some unsettling destination, and we don’t have to bother to report.
One of the weirdest things about this period of time is the parts that still seem normal. Mundane and non-apocalyptical. Like how one minute we need an inflatable raft to cross the street and another we’re eating pasta at my sister’s house.
Or as Alice Cooper put it, “Welcome to my nightmare.”
David Soyka is one of the founding bloggers at Black Gate. He’s written over 200 articles for us since 2008. His most recent was a review of Polostan by Neal Stephenson.
Nestled among the cobblestone streets of Compiègne, there existed a bakery unlike any other. The…
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Of Men and Monsters, by William Tenn
(Ballantine Books, December 1975). Cover by Boris Vallejo
After posting about The Borrowers by British author Mary Norton (1903 -1992) last week, several people mentioned other books and movies with similar kinds of themes — little people living in the houses of big people. I thought I might take another post to discuss a few other examples from my own book collection.
First up is series by American author John Peterson (1924 – 2002). The first one was just called The Littles and was published in 1967, 15 years after The Borrowers (1952). The Littles live much like the “borrowers. They look human except for having tails. (In films they apparently look very mouselike but that’s not the case in the books.)
[Click the images for less little versions.]
Unlike with The Borrowers, I never heard of The Littles until I was buying books for my own son, (Josh), even though many were written when I was a kid. I stopped by Josh’s school to pick him up one day and they were having the Scholastic Book fair.
When I was a kid, we never had a fair where you could actually see the books, but we did get the order forms and I bought quite a few books through them for 25 cents or so when in grade school. I had to stop by this one at my son’s school and found out about The Littles. I bought every one they had, ostensibly for my son but at least halfway for myself. I read them all, too, although I don’t think Josh read them all.
There are a bunch of these books and more were written after Peterson’s death, but here are the ones I have. All covers are by Jacqueline Rogers, with charming interior illustrations by Roberta Carter Clark. (These are written specifically for children and I don’t think the stories are as good as in The Borrowers series, but they are fun.)
The Littles, 1967
The Littles have a Wedding, 1971
The Littles and the Trash Tinies, 1977
The Littles Go Exploring, 1978
The Littles and the Lost Children, 1991
The Littles and the Terrible Tiny Kid, 1993
In my twenties I came upon another series about tiny people. This was a trilogy by Gordon Williams (1934 – 2017) that included The Micronauts (1977), The Microcolony (1979), and Revolt of the Micronauts (1981) — all from Bantam Books.
These are SF novels, not to be confused with the toy series and comic book series from Marvel with the same name — which I’d never heard of until I started looking into stuff for this post. The difference here is normal sized people are cloned at 1/8th their natural size in order to deal with a catastrophic future where most natural resources have been exhausted. The experiment is set up in a controlled environment but things soon get out of control.
I liked all three very much and they had some cool covers. The Micronauts has a Boris Vallejo cover and interior illustrations. The Microcolony has a wonderful Lou Feck cover that I love. Revolt has a Peter Goodfellow cover.
Of Men and Monsters, by William Tenn
(Ballantine Books, June 1968). Cover by Stephen Miller
The last book I’ll review today is one of the first adult SF novels I ever read, Of Men and Monsters, by William Tenn (1920 – 2010). It’s still a fond memory. Tenn was the pseudonym for a British born author named Phillip Klass, although he moved to the US before he was 2. The book was published in 1968 and I read it in a library edition, but years later I bought a Del Rey printing with a great cover by Boris Vallejo (see top).
This one has its own twist on the theme. The people are normal sized, but they are survivors of an invasion by gigantic aliens so huge that the humans can live like mice in their walls. I just loved it, and found out from Adam Tuchman on Facebook that it was originally published in a shorter version in the October 1963 issue of Galaxy, called “The Men in the Walls.”
Galaxy, October 1963, containing “The Men in the Walls,” plus stories
by Cordwainer Smith, Murray Leinster, and more. Cover by McKenna
I’ll note that the ending Of Men and Monsters takes us into Sword & Planet territory.
There are plenty more I could talk about here, such as Lindsay Gutteridge’s Cold War in a Country Garden Trilogy, and Ben Sheppard reminded me of an awesome story called “Surface Tension” by James Blish, which deals with the miniaturization theme. There’s Asimov’s Fantastic Voyage, and even the movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, but this post is getting long as it is.
Charles Gramlich administers The Swords & Planet League group on Facebook, where this post first appeared. His last article for Black Gate was And Now For Something Completely Different: The Borrowers, by Mary Norton.
Here are 7 Author Shoutouts for this week. Find your favorite author or discover an…
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I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones
Mogsy’s Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Saga Press (March 18, 2025)
Length: 448 pages
Author Information: Website
At its heart, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter may be a vampire novel, but it’s about so much more that calling it such would be doing it a great disservice. Yes, the story involves undead, blood-drinking creatures. However, it is also a meditation on the scars of history, and, like any good western, features a tale of vengeance. In short, Stephen Graham Jones has created something far more complex than your typical vampire horror here.
The novel opens in 2012 with an introduction to Etsy Beaucarne, a junior professor at the University of Wyoming who is desperately looking for a way to revitalize her career. Her opportunity arrives when she comes into possession of a long-lost journal belonging to her great-great-grandfather, a Lutheran priest who lived in the American West in the early 1900s. Within its pages, Arthur Beaucarne had transcribed a stunning confession from a Blackfeet man named Good Stab who claimed to be an immortal vampire.
Through Good Stab’s recorded testimony, readers are plunged even farther back in time to the brutal winter of 1870, when US Army soldiers carried out the Marias Massacre that left hundreds of his people dead. Good Stab, one of the few survivors, swore that he would get his revenge, spending the next few decades hunting down those responsible. Yet his survival came at a heavy price. After losing his family, his home, and even his place in the world, Good Stab’s path changes his life forever. Possessed of both immense power and an insatiable hunger, he knows what happened to him is a curse—but it’s also one he can wield as a weapon against those who destroyed everything he once knew.
From the start, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter’s frame structure brings to mind Dracula, which is not the only nod to the classic. Stephen Graham Jones continues his homage with the epistolary style format, enhancing the story’s eerie, almost folktales-y like atmosphere. Despite its supernatural elements though, some of the most disturbing aspects of the novel are the parts rooted in reality—particularly the history of Indigenous genocide and the annihilation of the buffalo.
In Good Stab’s account, he wasn’t merely seeking revenge for the slaughter of his people, but also for the destruction of his whole way of life. His vampirism not only holds him forever in a state of constant hunger but also traps him in an endless cycle of rage and grief. Immortality offers him no peace but instead forces him to witness more loss as the years stretch on. This makes Good Stab one of the most interesting and tragic characters I’ve ever encountered. He isn’t a hero or a villain—just a man and then a creature driven by circumstance.
Like most vampire stories, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is unsurprisingly violent and gory. That said, its horror manifests itself in lowkey, slow-burn ways as well. The author’s prose captures the harshness of the frontier, an unforgiving landscape where you are constantly struggling to survive. Though the pacing may be demanding at times, this story simply must be experienced on its own terms, requiring your full attention. With its mix of so many elements from history, mythology, and horror, this is not a book to be rushed but to be absorbed slowly, allowing its haunting themes to fully take hold.
If I had any criticisms at all, it would be that some parts of the story become repetitive at times, especially with regards to the interactions between Arthur and Good Stab. While this back and forth served to reinforce the narrative style, I think the novel could have packed the same emotion punch without being quite so long, and some streamlining would have been beneficial.
In the end, I absolutely loved The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, as in, it just might be my favorite book by the author yet. While it’s not the easiest read, the end results are satisfying and rewarding. Stephen Graham Jones’ storytelling skills are on full display here, and it would make me very happy to see him tackle more historical horror like this sin the future. Granted, I haven’t enjoyed everything he’s written, but when he’s good, he very good. And with this novel, he’s proven once again why he is one of the most important voices in the genre today. If you enjoy horror with depth, especially one exploring a dark chapter of American history, this is a must read.
Because We Must by Tracy Youngblom is a candid exploration of motherhood and grief Please…
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Good afterevenmorn!
I hope everyone who has to suffer through the daylight savings shift Sunday are coping with losing that hour of sleep. To those to whom that does not apply, know that I am fiercely jealous of you. But let’s not dwell on our minor hardships. Today, I want to talk about writing, and very specifically how to make situations that are absolutely ridiculous on the outside feel real and very serious.
This came to me as I walked home from work today, thinking of my serialised novel (online on my blog every Friday until it concludes… look at me dropping a plug). It has, if you were to distill it down, the silliest, most ridiculous premise you could possibly imagine: Zombies, but make them hyper-aggressive, human-sized fairies.
Yup.
It’s so dumb. On the outside of it. And to be fair, I had so much fun writing it; giggling like a twit at how silly it all actually is. I take great delight in pointing out the hilariously ridiculousness of the premise. If I managed to do it well, then it will feel a good deal more serious than it seems when you distill it. If I pulled it off, it won’t feel how ridiculous it is. Whether I did or not is not really for me to decide, but here are some things I did in an effort to make it work. Maybe they’re something you can think about if you find yourself in a similar situation.
1. The situation might be ridiculous, but your characters don’t know that.
Let’s be honest. If you’re fighting for your life in a city that has been overtaken by a swarm of mindless winged humanoid killers, you’re probably going to be too busy trying to survive to worry about how silly it all actually is. That might come later, after you have done the surviving. If your characters treat their situation seriously (and it kinda is; they’re fighting for their lives), it’ll be much easier for your readers to suspend their disbelief while reading it. They’ll buy human-sized fairies attacking in swarms and consuming a city of millions in less than twenty-four hours.
It will probably also help to have at least one character who is familiar with really weird situations. Think of Mulder and Scully in the X-Files. They’re constantly facing things that, on the outside, are completely unbelievable, even ridiculous. But it works precisely because they take it seriously when they’re in the moment, and Mulder is a believer. However weird or out there a situation is, Mulder just accepts is as fact and rolls with it. It makes it easy for the viewer to do the same.
2. The situation is ridiculous, and your characters absolutely know it.
This isn’t an and/or situation with number one, trust me. If I found myself facing a mindless winged humanoid, I would absolutely demand of no one in particular what the actual f[redacted]. Having a character call out the idiocy of the situation they find themselves in — while taking it very seriously — is may be a way to get readers on board. This is especially true if the world you’ve built is encountering the situation for the first time.
If winged humanoids are a normal thing in the world, then having a character acknowledge how stupid that seems, will probably distance the reader and make it hard for them to suspend their own disbelief. However, if these creatures are not a part of your characters’ every day reality then having someone be absolutely incredulous at the situation they face will help your reader relate, making it easier for them to sink into the story.
It works for me, in any case. If the characters I’m reading aren’t absolute morons that question absolutely nothing, then I’m much more amenable to accept the scenarios they’re put through. Mind you, I’m not an especially critical reader, so I get sucked into stories a lot more frequently than most. It is both a blessing and a curse.
3. Keep it grounded
This might sound impossible, given the fantastic situation you’re trying to create, but keeping it as grounded as possible will help. There are a number of ways to do this. Providing real consequences for mistakes is one. Have people get hurt, or die. People will suffer in these situations if they ever actually happened; there will be grief, and fear, and anger. You’re already stretching incredulity with the situation. Have everyone dancing along unscathed will be pushing it much too far. This is especially important if it’s not taking place in a world that is easily relatable. I got a leg up, because the serial is set in a fictional city, but in the real world and set in 2024. There are a lot of touchstones that are easily digested for a reader.
It becomes harder if the entire world is fantastical. Finding something grounding in a world where trees talk or teleport, or whatever, is much harder. It’s not impossible, though. Find those touchstones and use them.
Did I achieve creating a story that brings people along and has them absolutely invested while also having gate silliest premise I think I could possibly conjure? No idea. But I tried, and I used these three (and other) things in the attempt. Maybe they’ll help you, too. If you’ve read books or are currently writing one which has an absolutely ridiculous premise, let me know what, and what worked (or didn’t). If you have any tips of your own for making a silly premise both believable and feel serious, also let me know in the comments below.
When S.M. Carrière isn’t brutally killing your favorite characters, she spends her time teaching martial arts, live streaming video games, and cuddling her cat. In other words, she spends her time teaching others to kill, streaming her digital kills, and a cuddling furry murderer. Her most recent titles include Daughters of Britain, Skylark and Human. Her serial The New Haven Incident is free and goes up every Friday on her blog.
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Rose of Jericho by Alex Grecian
Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Nightfire (March 11, 2025)
Length: 352 pages
Author Information: Website
Rose of Jericho by Alex Grecian returns to the dark and supernatural world first introduced in Red Rabbit, his 1880s western horror novel. While this is technically a follow-up that revisits the witchy trio of Sadie Grace, Rabbit, and Rose, it still stands solidly on its own, allowing new readers to jump in without needing prior knowledge. And personally, I found this new book to be even stronger and more immersive than its predecessor.
The book begins with a tragedy. A man named Moses Burke loses both his beloved wife and newborn child, and in his grief, takes on Death himself and murders him. Readers are transported back to the remote village of Ascension, Massachusetts, where the result of Death’s absence is subsequently illustrated in a bizarre string of events that go against the natural order. A gruesome accident that should have killed a boy instead leaves him walking around with a hole in his chest. Likewise, a terminally ill woman finds that the progression of her disease has halted, so she can suddenly get out of bed and go about her day. A hanged man calls out while still hanging from the noose, even with his neck broken and eyes pecked out by crows. And on and on it goes. It appears people can no longer die! While this revelation is met with confusion, there is also no small amount of excitement.
However, the longer this reality persists, the more the town and its residents are feeling its dark effects. Inside, those who should have been dead are changing, becoming more dangerous. Newly arrived in town, Rabbit, Sadie Grace, and Rose watch as chaos descends upon Ascension. As the three women attempt to find out what’s going on, they must also contend with the restless entities that haunt Bethany Hall, the old house they are staying in while they help take care of Rose’s sick cousin.
Unsurprisingly, Rose of Jericho delves into some thought-provoking themes, questioning the significance of mortality by exploring the balance between life and death. The Grim Reaper is literally killed off in a fit of rage, and the ripples created by this one impulsive act result in grave consequences for everyone on the planet. For the deeply religious townsfolk of Ascension, you can just imagine their struggle to reconcile their beliefs with what’s happening around them, and though readers only get to see the effects on this one little slice of the world, we can easily surmise that all hell has broken loose across the globe as well.
Speaking of Ascension, the author also does a fantastic job of bringing the town to life, making it feel even more vivid and immersive than I remember from Red Rabbit. This sort-of sequel gave us a chance to see more of the town, providing a deeper look into its people, customs, and day-to-day struggles—though admittedly, describing their “daily life” takes on a more sinister meaning when we’re talking about a world where no on can truly die. As the characters go on existing in this strange limbo, we watch some of them embrace what they believe is a gift or miracle, while others who are more skeptical end up succumbing to fear and paranoia.
All in all, Rose of Jericho is a unique dark fantasy novel that balances horror and grim humor while providing plenty of food for thought. The overall vibe is a mixture of eerie gothic and surreal western, presenting a weird but refreshing premise that keeps the story engaging and unpredictable. I found Alex Grecian’s prose and character work to be much stronger here than in Red Rabbit, but whether you’re returning to this world or a complete newcomer, I believe Rose of Jericho is an interesting and strange journey worth taking.
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