Peter Saxon was a house pseudonym used by various authors of British pulp fiction, among them W Howard Baker (Danger Ahead 1958, The Killing Bone 1968 and Vampire's Moon 1972); Rex Dolphin (The Vampires of Finistère 1968); Stephen D Frances (The Disorientated Man aka Scream and Scream Again 1966, Black Honey 1968, and Corruption 1968); Wilfred McNeilly (The Darkest Night 1966, Dark Ways to Death 1966, Satan's Child 1967, The Torturer 1967, and The Haunting of Alan Mais 1969); Ross Richards (Through the Dark Curtain 1968); and Martin Thomas (The Curse of Rathlaw 1968).
Awesomely nutty book. One disturbing image after another with no evident connection between the storylines, and no clear idea of what is going on until it all falls together at the end, like a much darker CRISPIN HELLION GLOVER'S WHAT IS IT? Funny, it says the book's about Satanism but there's not a drop of that in the whole story.
I am not sure I have ever seen so many wild and disparate ideas shoe horned into such a short novel before. This book was wild. Cold war conspiracies meet alien vampires by way of crime procedural mystery. It is wacky as hell, jumping from thread to thread. It almost feels like it is written by committee based on how different and separate each of its plot lines feel (which to be fair it might have been - Peter Saxon is an anonymous pseudonym after all).
The disconnect between everything going on is certainly jarring, but the quality of the prose is surprisingly good. Considering its' 60's vintage the whole story does feel reasonably modern. It does seem like they threw every idea at it to see what sticks. The problem with throwing lots of stuff that way is you ultimately end up with a mess.
Presented on the outside and on the blurb as a psychological political thriller, this is in fact, the first of a series of schlock-horror alien novels. A series of murders occur where it becomes obvious that the murderer has sucked the blood of the victims. The police follow a suspect and reveal an alien plot to take over the earth using robots made from the parts of people.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Probably the most effective horror story I have ever read. When you think about it and ask what if that was happening to me? The film is no where near as good as the book, so read the book first.
Peter Saxon was a house pseudonym used by several authors in the 60s-70s and I have no idea which of them was responsible for this. Random fun-fact: This book was made into a 1970 movie starring Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. I haven’t watched it, but I’m kind of desperate to after this hot mess (not entirely negative) of a story😂
The story is initially told from several POVs: It opens with an East German spy who’s returned from Berlin a very changed man. He sneakily murders his immediate boss and soon after a major even higher up. Said murderer later ends up running the agency, because I guess they’re kind of crap and didn’t find it strange that 2 higher ups suddenly died after both having come into contact with this dude? But anywho..
We then get acquainted with Ken Sparten. His right leg has been amputated and he can’t remember the events leading up to it. Furthermore, the nurse is weird: Empty stare and refusing/unable to speak/answer his questions. He’s then given a sedative. And wakes up again, only to find that now his other leg has been amputated as well. Then his right arm.. his tongue.. obviously things aren’t going too well for dear ol’ Kennyboy.
-Dale Keene from Scotland Yard is called to the site where a young woman was raped & murdered, with a throat cut so viciously that she was nearly decapitated. It becomes apparent that there’s a serial killer loose when more women show up dead; including one of their own. Then they realize that the neck wounds and rape might be a cover up for something far more sinister.
This read was nuts (not unenjoyable). I mean: Serial killer vampire, spies, aliens, synthetic beings dissolved in acid & somewhat (definitely) moronic characters😂 It was just so camp and over the top that I couldn’t hate on it.