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Black Books of Horror #9
The Ninth Black Book of Horror
Horrible people, horrible places, horrible things and horrible fates all await you in The Ninth Black Book of Horror. The new anthology from Mortbury Press is truly horrible. Check in at a horror hospital, witness grisly acts, observe dreadful family reunions, meet a man who hates waste, the things that are not there, and find out what's behind you in The Ninth Black Book of Horror.
Sixteen stories by John Llewellyn Probert, Craig Herbertson, Simon Bestwick, Gary Fry, David Williamson, Anna Taborska, Sam Dawson, Paul Finch, Gary Power, Thana Niveau, Tom Johnstone, Marion Pitman, Kate Farrell, John Forth, Marc Lyth, and David A. Riley.
Sixteen stories by John Llewellyn Probert, Craig Herbertson, Simon Bestwick, Gary Fry, David Williamson, Anna Taborska, Sam Dawson, Paul Finch, Gary Power, Thana Niveau, Tom Johnstone, Marion Pitman, Kate Farrell, John Forth, Marc Lyth, and David A. Riley.
- GenresHorror
198 pages, Paperback
First published September 29, 2012
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44 people want to read
About the author
Charles Black
69 books19 followersLibrarian Note:
There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
December 12, 2012
Well, it’s horror on horror here with no punches spared and several right on the jaw. The Ninth Black Book edited by Charles Black is not for the squeamish. It begins with John Llewellyn Probert’s The Anatomy Lesson and I almost wish it didn’t. The author is at his most sickeningly nasty when he deals with medical subjects and this story of a twisted anatomist meeting another ‘enetertainer’ is only marred by the impossibility of identifying with the main protagonist when the denounement arrives – which is in itself a testament to just what a damned good horror writer John Llewellyn Probert is.
The Mall takes a step into the commercialized Hell of Christmas while Gary Fry’s - Pet deals with a rather incestuous family and their…pet. Simon Bestwick’s Salvaje is a well constructed story of the facisistic franquistas picking on the wrong girl. David Williamson, veteran of Pan Horror come out with a good tale of a man falling to bits in Ashes To Ashes and demonstrates that the later Pan Horror authors definitely still have the mojo. Anna Taborska in The Apprentice gives us an accomplished effort with a man who is clever at making bread and dishing out unwarranted violence. A short story I particularly liked is Sam Dawson’s Life Expectancy, which has an old phone bringing a bleak message to a poor lady.
As one might expect Paul Finch’s What's Behind You? is a definite highlight. What I like about Finch is that he often tries to stretch the boundaries of the form and, in this case, one is vaguely lulled into a pattern before a moment of real psychological horror creeps up on you, after which, the denouement shocks again with its unexpectedness.
Gary Power’s Ben’s Best Friend provides a warning leaflet about picking your friends carefully, a good story of external terror but for me Thana Niveau’s The Things That Aren't There is a standout piece of brilliant childhood horror that really captures the essence of inner terror reminiscent of the kind of fear that Ray Bradbury so eloquently unveiled in his early work.
Tom Johnstone’s Bit On The Side and John Forth’s A Song, A Silence are enjoyable and well told but as with Marion Pitman’s Indecent Behaviour seem to lack a little credibility – although in the latter, being haunted by a hand was rather neat. His Family by Kate Farrell provided a sickly disquieting image of hospital life but I felt the ending was almost unnecessary. Marc Lyth’s - The Man Who Hated Waste is short and humorous.
Finally, the veteran, David A. Riley, provides us with Swan Song, another highlight of this edition. Riley’s work has the bleakness of P.K. Dick and he is the master of the almost Ballardian antihero. No holds barred here in a grim unrelenting tale of three old nasties about to have a last evil fling – with unexpected and awful consequences.
April 15, 2013
When first I saw the cover for THE NINTH BLACK BOOK OF HORROR, I knew immediately that I had to read it. As you can see from the picture, it screams ‘intrigue’. And let me tell you: the book delivers, too. It certainly lives up to the creepy cover. This horror anthology will make you cringe, cause you sleepless nights, and might just scare the life right out of you.
I have to start off by saying I enjoyed this anthology so much that I am going to try and review the previous copies in the series as well. There’s an amazing amount of talent packed into this ninth book, so I can only imagine what volumes one through eight hold. The stories are all well written and draw you in immediately.
Every story in THE NINTH BLACK BOOK OF HORROR is good, which is quite a statement to make. Many collections entertain but then usually have a few stories that are only ho-hum. This is not the case here. Each tale in this anthology is crafted to scare, whether bluntly or subtly, and the result is a horrific group of stories filled with darkness and frights.
One of my favorite stories is “Indecent Behaviour” by Marion Pitman. In this tale, two men beat up a gay gentleman, who eventually dies from his wounds. But their victim haunts them from the grave in a truly, uh, ‘unique’ fashion. This is one of those stories that you’ll read a couple of times through simply to derive the full satisfaction of what occurs.
Another favorite of mine is “Ashes to Ashes” by David Williamson. This story tells of a man who starts off with a persistent itch, but discovers it’s something much more hideous. I loved the ending of this one so much that I woke my wife up to read it to her.
THE NINTH BLACK BOOK OF HORROR is a definite win for me and I think any horror-fiction fan will love it. The book is available now, so check it out for sure.
I have to start off by saying I enjoyed this anthology so much that I am going to try and review the previous copies in the series as well. There’s an amazing amount of talent packed into this ninth book, so I can only imagine what volumes one through eight hold. The stories are all well written and draw you in immediately.
Every story in THE NINTH BLACK BOOK OF HORROR is good, which is quite a statement to make. Many collections entertain but then usually have a few stories that are only ho-hum. This is not the case here. Each tale in this anthology is crafted to scare, whether bluntly or subtly, and the result is a horrific group of stories filled with darkness and frights.
One of my favorite stories is “Indecent Behaviour” by Marion Pitman. In this tale, two men beat up a gay gentleman, who eventually dies from his wounds. But their victim haunts them from the grave in a truly, uh, ‘unique’ fashion. This is one of those stories that you’ll read a couple of times through simply to derive the full satisfaction of what occurs.
Another favorite of mine is “Ashes to Ashes” by David Williamson. This story tells of a man who starts off with a persistent itch, but discovers it’s something much more hideous. I loved the ending of this one so much that I woke my wife up to read it to her.
THE NINTH BLACK BOOK OF HORROR is a definite win for me and I think any horror-fiction fan will love it. The book is available now, so check it out for sure.
December 30, 2020
A fairly unbalanced selection of tales, for my taste, with a lot of disappointing stories, made up for by a few very good; and a couple of perfectly serviceable efforts in between.
Overall story rating of 48/80, so Three Stars.
The Anatomy Lesson, by John Llewellyn Probert: 2/5. A torturer-for-entertainment is visited by a magician. A conte cruel—predictable once the format is established—though not without its gruesomeness, and sticking to the cliche that violence to women is paid back in kind to other women, just to punish men.
The Mall, Craig Herbertson: 3/5. A harried husband finds himself in Christmas Hell. Told in an unremarkable colloquial style, but jammed (a little too) full of relatable moments, as the search for a present is sidetracked into a dispiriting spiral, leading to a fine final moment, and delicious last line.
Salvaje, by Simon Bestwick: 4/5. Home invasion burglars find more than they bargain for. Despite the tired broad strokes of the antagonists (aggressive and swearing, when some shading would have improved the story) this blends history and pace compellingly to a fine and satisfying ending, when then explicates itself to somewhat lesser effect.
Pet, by Gary Fry: 2/5. A coddled son is temporarily forced home to his mother. This trundles along through familiar material—heavily ladled, unfortunately—and then fumbles the denouement, which requires a couple of readings to glean much sense from.
Ashes to Ashes, by David Williamson: 1/5. A man wakes with flaky skin, which spreads. (And five pages later, he's dead.) That's the story. Lacking any attempt at allegory or commentary—much less anything like characterisation—this is an idea in search of a story. Any story.
The Apprentice, by Anna Taborska: 4/5. A baker takes on, and mistreats, a young apprentice. Reading like a folk tale, while also being strongly modern horror, and slowly and surely characterised, with little moments setting up an expected ending, and then turning on you.
Life Expectancy, by Sam Dawson: 5/5. A student in accommodation discovers an old telephone in the attic. What seems an old setup matures nicely with some solid character work, backgrounding and atmosphere, benefiting from a page turn (happenstance, but effective) that prematurely truncates the tale you'd expect into something ending on a punchy, macabre note.
What's Behind You?, by Paul Finch: 4/5. Artists on a painting trip take a detour to a haunted house. Told in the classic format of the tale within a tale, this seems unassuming and almost standard—while wholly enjoyable—until the threads some together in an unsettling finale, capped with some subtle and wry irony.
Ben’s Best Friend, by Gary Power: 2/5. Ben makes a new friend on the posh estate. This ends abruptly, making a short tale one of allegory—should you care to read it into the proceedings—though none of this work is done by the author.
The Things That Aren't There, by Thana Niveau: 3/5. A babysitter starts to see the things her charge is scared of. This is short and sweet, spending little time on preamble or setup, much of its length on creepy description, and then inexplicably wastes its good work on a throwaway gag for a final line.
Bit On the Side, by Tom Johnstone: 2/5. A young father is haunted by a lost love. There's probably a little too much background information jammed into this—unsatisfyingly, for the most part; the story needs to be considerably longer—and the most relevant material is reserved for the denouement, which seems a cheat and spoils the purity of the ending, which is strong enough to have stood on its own with information seeded much earlier.
Indecent Behaviour, by Marion Pitman: 3/5. Two homophobic murderers find themselves strangely haunted. This balances dark subject matter with the almost humorous awkwardness of the haunting, and plays this out to its conclusion–which isn't necessarily the same thing as a satisfying ending, as the story needs something extra to add weight.
His Family, by Kate Farrell: 2/5. A lonely hospital porter makes friends among the patients. Narrated oddly—and unsatisfactorily—between fiction and a police report, a story which repeats its conceit until the end, but adds no layering or backstory, anything to give the idea some body or impact.
A Song, A Silence, by John Forth: 4/5. A traveller on the road at night hears singing. This builds slowly and confidently, layering character with mystery and mood, taking a trope and reconfiguring it to something new and disturbing, but rather than take it further , opts for the standard Monster Gets You ending.
The Man Who Hated Waste, by Marc Lyth: 2/5. A man hates waste. After setting out its stall, this details little more than you'd expect from the title, a few pages of bloody description, and then an ending somewhat at odds with the tone, because I suppose there's little else to add.
Swan Song, by David A. Riley: 5/5. A trio of bitter old bigots decide on one last hurrah. This begins with some over-broad right wing characterisation, setting the central characters up for a fall, but then diverts its climax into something weird, which then gets weirder, and ends with some quite satisfying gruesomeness.
Overall story rating of 48/80, so Three Stars.
The Anatomy Lesson, by John Llewellyn Probert: 2/5. A torturer-for-entertainment is visited by a magician. A conte cruel—predictable once the format is established—though not without its gruesomeness, and sticking to the cliche that violence to women is paid back in kind to other women, just to punish men.
The Mall, Craig Herbertson: 3/5. A harried husband finds himself in Christmas Hell. Told in an unremarkable colloquial style, but jammed (a little too) full of relatable moments, as the search for a present is sidetracked into a dispiriting spiral, leading to a fine final moment, and delicious last line.
Salvaje, by Simon Bestwick: 4/5. Home invasion burglars find more than they bargain for. Despite the tired broad strokes of the antagonists (aggressive and swearing, when some shading would have improved the story) this blends history and pace compellingly to a fine and satisfying ending, when then explicates itself to somewhat lesser effect.
Pet, by Gary Fry: 2/5. A coddled son is temporarily forced home to his mother. This trundles along through familiar material—heavily ladled, unfortunately—and then fumbles the denouement, which requires a couple of readings to glean much sense from.
Ashes to Ashes, by David Williamson: 1/5. A man wakes with flaky skin, which spreads. (And five pages later, he's dead.) That's the story. Lacking any attempt at allegory or commentary—much less anything like characterisation—this is an idea in search of a story. Any story.
The Apprentice, by Anna Taborska: 4/5. A baker takes on, and mistreats, a young apprentice. Reading like a folk tale, while also being strongly modern horror, and slowly and surely characterised, with little moments setting up an expected ending, and then turning on you.
Life Expectancy, by Sam Dawson: 5/5. A student in accommodation discovers an old telephone in the attic. What seems an old setup matures nicely with some solid character work, backgrounding and atmosphere, benefiting from a page turn (happenstance, but effective) that prematurely truncates the tale you'd expect into something ending on a punchy, macabre note.
What's Behind You?, by Paul Finch: 4/5. Artists on a painting trip take a detour to a haunted house. Told in the classic format of the tale within a tale, this seems unassuming and almost standard—while wholly enjoyable—until the threads some together in an unsettling finale, capped with some subtle and wry irony.
Ben’s Best Friend, by Gary Power: 2/5. Ben makes a new friend on the posh estate. This ends abruptly, making a short tale one of allegory—should you care to read it into the proceedings—though none of this work is done by the author.
The Things That Aren't There, by Thana Niveau: 3/5. A babysitter starts to see the things her charge is scared of. This is short and sweet, spending little time on preamble or setup, much of its length on creepy description, and then inexplicably wastes its good work on a throwaway gag for a final line.
Bit On the Side, by Tom Johnstone: 2/5. A young father is haunted by a lost love. There's probably a little too much background information jammed into this—unsatisfyingly, for the most part; the story needs to be considerably longer—and the most relevant material is reserved for the denouement, which seems a cheat and spoils the purity of the ending, which is strong enough to have stood on its own with information seeded much earlier.
Indecent Behaviour, by Marion Pitman: 3/5. Two homophobic murderers find themselves strangely haunted. This balances dark subject matter with the almost humorous awkwardness of the haunting, and plays this out to its conclusion–which isn't necessarily the same thing as a satisfying ending, as the story needs something extra to add weight.
His Family, by Kate Farrell: 2/5. A lonely hospital porter makes friends among the patients. Narrated oddly—and unsatisfactorily—between fiction and a police report, a story which repeats its conceit until the end, but adds no layering or backstory, anything to give the idea some body or impact.
A Song, A Silence, by John Forth: 4/5. A traveller on the road at night hears singing. This builds slowly and confidently, layering character with mystery and mood, taking a trope and reconfiguring it to something new and disturbing, but rather than take it further , opts for the standard Monster Gets You ending.
The Man Who Hated Waste, by Marc Lyth: 2/5. A man hates waste. After setting out its stall, this details little more than you'd expect from the title, a few pages of bloody description, and then an ending somewhat at odds with the tone, because I suppose there's little else to add.
Swan Song, by David A. Riley: 5/5. A trio of bitter old bigots decide on one last hurrah. This begins with some over-broad right wing characterisation, setting the central characters up for a fall, but then diverts its climax into something weird, which then gets weirder, and ends with some quite satisfying gruesomeness.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews