What do you think?
Rate this book
Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth!
Broke. Barely employed. Desperate.
After blacking out at a party, Dusty wakes up in the morning different. His body is changing in upsetting ways. Now he has to piece together what happened.
Part low-stakes dirtbag crime story and part eco-horror nightmare, Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth! feels like Clive Barker and David Goodis drunkenly exploring the psychogeographic boundaries of the suburbs.
After blacking out at a party, Dusty wakes up in the morning different. His body is changing in upsetting ways. Now he has to piece together what happened.
Part low-stakes dirtbag crime story and part eco-horror nightmare, Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth! feels like Clive Barker and David Goodis drunkenly exploring the psychogeographic boundaries of the suburbs.
- GenresHorrorLovecraftian
86 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 15, 2025
1 person is currently reading
21 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
August 17, 2025
Many horror stories and dark comedies of the last 50 years are described as exploring the unconscious darkness lurking underneath suburban America. Think David Lynch, think Jack Ketchum, think…shit, I don’t know, I just finished watching the Tim Robinson comedy movie “Friendship” and that does it too. So we’ve heard of this trope before, but let me ask you this: have you ever read a story that, like, literally explores the actual underground of suburbia? That’s what this book does.
What does that mean? Without giving too much away, our “hero” in this book finds, after taking a mysterious drug, his physical being much more, uh, blobbier than it used to be, and he discovers a bizarrely fascinating ability to navigate the complex system of pipes and water tanks beneath the suburban area where he lives.
Jaskowski’s suburbia is not Lynchian: it is dirtier, the white picket fences having long lost the battle against decades of exhaust grime. It is more desperate, with houses less occupied with stable families than disaffected weirdos chasing a high to feel alive. As the MC of “Beneath the Swimming Pool…” becomes more and more disassociated from his surroundings, the more monstrous and violent he becomes.
The prose strikes an artful balance between precision and vagueness as it describes its surreal and horrific events. Sentences at a glance appear to meander, but after a few pages, I found myself really falling into a satisfying rhythm—not quite stream of consciousness, but a controlled and offbeat noir jazz that heightened an atmosphere of alienation.
A unique concept told exceptionally well, this novella showcases the strength of the form and is not to be missed for purveyors of literary weirdness.
What does that mean? Without giving too much away, our “hero” in this book finds, after taking a mysterious drug, his physical being much more, uh, blobbier than it used to be, and he discovers a bizarrely fascinating ability to navigate the complex system of pipes and water tanks beneath the suburban area where he lives.
Jaskowski’s suburbia is not Lynchian: it is dirtier, the white picket fences having long lost the battle against decades of exhaust grime. It is more desperate, with houses less occupied with stable families than disaffected weirdos chasing a high to feel alive. As the MC of “Beneath the Swimming Pool…” becomes more and more disassociated from his surroundings, the more monstrous and violent he becomes.
The prose strikes an artful balance between precision and vagueness as it describes its surreal and horrific events. Sentences at a glance appear to meander, but after a few pages, I found myself really falling into a satisfying rhythm—not quite stream of consciousness, but a controlled and offbeat noir jazz that heightened an atmosphere of alienation.
A unique concept told exceptionally well, this novella showcases the strength of the form and is not to be missed for purveyors of literary weirdness.
July 1, 2025
Mark Jaskowski, a Florida transplant now lurking in eastern Kansas, has graced us with his third book, Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth, published by Weirdpunk Books, a Minneapolis press devoted to raw, unconventional voices (we recently got to sit down with their head honcho, Sam Richard). Jaskowski’s prior work reflects a writer who thrives on unsettling readers with raw, unconventional narratives. Jaskowski’s shift from Florida’s humid sprawl to the Midwest’s flat expanse seems to shape his narratives, infusing them with alienation and decay. His output is sparse, suggesting a writer who prioritizes precision over prolificacy, shunning the churn of formulaic horror. Backed by Weirdpunk’s mission to amplify the strange, Jaskowski crafts stories that feel like a deliberate rejection of polished, predictable fare. His work resonates with readers who crave fiction that’s unapologetically weird, making him a standout in the indie scene for those who like their horror raw and unsettling.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth follows Dusty, a broke drifter stumbling through a drug-hazed Florida suburb, where a run-in with Alex, a slick hustler flush with cash, sets off a nightmarish spiral. A shady job offer and a chaotic party lead to Dusty’s body… changing. Jaskowski blends body horror with cosmic dread, crafting a feverish tale of a man losing his humanity to something ancient and predatory lurking beneath suburban pools and pipes. The story is a gritty plunge into a world of sticky floors, chlorinated water, and sharp teeth, where the boundaries of self and environment dissolve. It’s an unsettling, visceral dive into a suburb hiding a hungry, primal presence that feels far too close to home.
Jaskowski’s novella is a grimy ode to the rot festering beneath suburban facades, where the systems sustaining normalcy breed monstrosity. The core theme is transformation, with Dusty’s grotesque shift into something inhuman reflecting a loss of identity in a world that grinds down the marginalized. Sewers and pools serve as potent symbols, embodying the hidden machinery of addiction, economic despair, and conformity that poisons society. The teeth beneath the pool evoke a primal, near-Lovecraftian terror, hinting at an ancient, predatory force embedded in the everyday. Unlike cosmic horror’s detached grandeur, Jaskowski roots the weirdness in visceral body horror, making it feel raw and intimate.
The prose is jagged, tactile, and unapologetically gross, with sprawling sentences that slither like Dusty’s tentacles: “My body, readjusting in its new gooey way to the sausage-grinder manner of my entrance, bounced out from the compression and the stretching.” It’s repulsive yet poetic, mirroring the disorientation of a dissolving self. Philosophically, the book grapples with what it means to be human when your flesh betrays you, echoing Kafka’s Metamorphosis with a punk snarl. It skewers suburban homogeneity, casting Florida as a microcosm of late-capitalist despair, where hustlers scrape by while something older watches from below. Culturally, it resonates with those on society’s edges, broke, queer, or adrift. Dusty’s transformation into a sewer entity suggests a perverse liberation, but one that obliterates humanity, probing survival in a world that demands deformation. Jaskowski’s refusal to tidy up these tensions crafts a bold, bleak meditation on identity and systemic decay, leaving readers to stew in the discomfort of an unresolved nightmare.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is a daring, original horror novella, transforming a broke drifter into a monster in a premise that’s as bizarre as it is unnerving. Jaskowski sidesteps clichés, crafting a hybrid of body horror and cosmic dread that feels fresh all in a crusted suburban underbelly. The atmosphere is suffocating, with sweaty party floors, chlorinated pools, and claustrophobic sewer pipes painting a sensory hellscape that’s both repulsive and immersive. The prose shines in its grotesque lyricism, especially during Dusty’s transformation scenes, where descriptions of oozing flesh and splitting skin make you wince: “I pushed the tenacles out ahead of my splitting body and rode up them to the lip of another tub.” The thematic depth, tying personal alienation to suburban decay, elevates the story beyond shock, offering a scathing critique of systems that devour the vulnerable.
Dusty’s sarcastic, desperate voice grounds the surreal horror, making him a compelling, if not fully fleshed-out, protagonist. Supporting characters like Alex, Megan, and Trevor verge on archetypes, sleazy dealer, loyal friend, recovering addict, but their voices within Dusty’s mind add depth post-transformation. The pacing is relentless, hurling readers from seedy parties to sewer chases, but some passages drag with repetitive sewer descriptions that sap momentum. The horror lands hard, particularly in the pool-tooth encounter and the brutal bathroom showdown, where Jaskowski’s visceral detail makes your skin crawl. Yet, the cosmic entity, all teeth and vague presence, can feel frustratingly undefined, risking disconnection for readers craving a clearer threat.
The novella’s boldness is its greatest strength, tackling alienation and transformation with a raw, philosophical edge that feels punk and uncompromising. It stumbles when sensory overload overshadows narrative clarity, and the abrupt ending, while haunting, leaves the entity’s nature too ambiguous, potentially alienating those who want resolution. Still, Jaskowski’s commitment to a grimy, existential nightmare makes this a standout. Tighter pacing and deeper characters could have pushed it closer to greatness, but its refusal to coddle or overexplain is refreshing, delivering a slimy, unsettling experience that lingers like chlorine in your lungs.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is fearlessly original with an oppressive atmosphere, a gem in indie horror. Jaskowski’s grotesque prose and unflinching exploration of alienation and transformation craft a suburban nightmare that’s visceral and thought-provoking. Vivid details, slimy sewers, toothy pools, create a unique horror experience. Yeah, there’s some uneven pacing, with repetitive sewer sequences slowing the momentum, and characters that, while functional, lack the depth to fully anchor the cosmic dread. The entity’s vagueness, though evocative, risks a bit of frustration due to lack of clarity. Still, this novella is proof positive that indie presses can deliver bold, unsettling fiction that challenges and disgusts in equal measure. Its raw ambition and refusal to play it safe make it a must-read for those who want their horror gross, weird, and unapologetic. You should check this shit out.
TL;DR: A grimy, surreal dive into body horror and cosmic dread, Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth follows Dusty’s grotesque transformation in a Florida suburb’s seedy underbelly. Vivid, bold, and unsettling, it’s a standout indie horror novella.
Recommended for: Sewer-dwelling weirdos who dream of oozing through suburbia’s pipes to scare the HOA.
Not recommended for: Squeamish normies who need their monsters gift-wrapped in tidy explanations like a fucking Powerpoint.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth follows Dusty, a broke drifter stumbling through a drug-hazed Florida suburb, where a run-in with Alex, a slick hustler flush with cash, sets off a nightmarish spiral. A shady job offer and a chaotic party lead to Dusty’s body… changing. Jaskowski blends body horror with cosmic dread, crafting a feverish tale of a man losing his humanity to something ancient and predatory lurking beneath suburban pools and pipes. The story is a gritty plunge into a world of sticky floors, chlorinated water, and sharp teeth, where the boundaries of self and environment dissolve. It’s an unsettling, visceral dive into a suburb hiding a hungry, primal presence that feels far too close to home.
Jaskowski’s novella is a grimy ode to the rot festering beneath suburban facades, where the systems sustaining normalcy breed monstrosity. The core theme is transformation, with Dusty’s grotesque shift into something inhuman reflecting a loss of identity in a world that grinds down the marginalized. Sewers and pools serve as potent symbols, embodying the hidden machinery of addiction, economic despair, and conformity that poisons society. The teeth beneath the pool evoke a primal, near-Lovecraftian terror, hinting at an ancient, predatory force embedded in the everyday. Unlike cosmic horror’s detached grandeur, Jaskowski roots the weirdness in visceral body horror, making it feel raw and intimate.
The prose is jagged, tactile, and unapologetically gross, with sprawling sentences that slither like Dusty’s tentacles: “My body, readjusting in its new gooey way to the sausage-grinder manner of my entrance, bounced out from the compression and the stretching.” It’s repulsive yet poetic, mirroring the disorientation of a dissolving self. Philosophically, the book grapples with what it means to be human when your flesh betrays you, echoing Kafka’s Metamorphosis with a punk snarl. It skewers suburban homogeneity, casting Florida as a microcosm of late-capitalist despair, where hustlers scrape by while something older watches from below. Culturally, it resonates with those on society’s edges, broke, queer, or adrift. Dusty’s transformation into a sewer entity suggests a perverse liberation, but one that obliterates humanity, probing survival in a world that demands deformation. Jaskowski’s refusal to tidy up these tensions crafts a bold, bleak meditation on identity and systemic decay, leaving readers to stew in the discomfort of an unresolved nightmare.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is a daring, original horror novella, transforming a broke drifter into a monster in a premise that’s as bizarre as it is unnerving. Jaskowski sidesteps clichés, crafting a hybrid of body horror and cosmic dread that feels fresh all in a crusted suburban underbelly. The atmosphere is suffocating, with sweaty party floors, chlorinated pools, and claustrophobic sewer pipes painting a sensory hellscape that’s both repulsive and immersive. The prose shines in its grotesque lyricism, especially during Dusty’s transformation scenes, where descriptions of oozing flesh and splitting skin make you wince: “I pushed the tenacles out ahead of my splitting body and rode up them to the lip of another tub.” The thematic depth, tying personal alienation to suburban decay, elevates the story beyond shock, offering a scathing critique of systems that devour the vulnerable.
Dusty’s sarcastic, desperate voice grounds the surreal horror, making him a compelling, if not fully fleshed-out, protagonist. Supporting characters like Alex, Megan, and Trevor verge on archetypes, sleazy dealer, loyal friend, recovering addict, but their voices within Dusty’s mind add depth post-transformation. The pacing is relentless, hurling readers from seedy parties to sewer chases, but some passages drag with repetitive sewer descriptions that sap momentum. The horror lands hard, particularly in the pool-tooth encounter and the brutal bathroom showdown, where Jaskowski’s visceral detail makes your skin crawl. Yet, the cosmic entity, all teeth and vague presence, can feel frustratingly undefined, risking disconnection for readers craving a clearer threat.
The novella’s boldness is its greatest strength, tackling alienation and transformation with a raw, philosophical edge that feels punk and uncompromising. It stumbles when sensory overload overshadows narrative clarity, and the abrupt ending, while haunting, leaves the entity’s nature too ambiguous, potentially alienating those who want resolution. Still, Jaskowski’s commitment to a grimy, existential nightmare makes this a standout. Tighter pacing and deeper characters could have pushed it closer to greatness, but its refusal to coddle or overexplain is refreshing, delivering a slimy, unsettling experience that lingers like chlorine in your lungs.
Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is fearlessly original with an oppressive atmosphere, a gem in indie horror. Jaskowski’s grotesque prose and unflinching exploration of alienation and transformation craft a suburban nightmare that’s visceral and thought-provoking. Vivid details, slimy sewers, toothy pools, create a unique horror experience. Yeah, there’s some uneven pacing, with repetitive sewer sequences slowing the momentum, and characters that, while functional, lack the depth to fully anchor the cosmic dread. The entity’s vagueness, though evocative, risks a bit of frustration due to lack of clarity. Still, this novella is proof positive that indie presses can deliver bold, unsettling fiction that challenges and disgusts in equal measure. Its raw ambition and refusal to play it safe make it a must-read for those who want their horror gross, weird, and unapologetic. You should check this shit out.
TL;DR: A grimy, surreal dive into body horror and cosmic dread, Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth follows Dusty’s grotesque transformation in a Florida suburb’s seedy underbelly. Vivid, bold, and unsettling, it’s a standout indie horror novella.
Recommended for: Sewer-dwelling weirdos who dream of oozing through suburbia’s pipes to scare the HOA.
Not recommended for: Squeamish normies who need their monsters gift-wrapped in tidy explanations like a fucking Powerpoint.
July 15, 2025
Started this in line for a free beer at the Inbound State Fair book fair. The vibe is a lot like the films of Joel Petrykus, was more interested in the scrub-suburbia landscape than the creature reveal but still liked it.
December 11, 2025
This one is great. A drugged out mix of low-level crime and gory body horror in suburban hell.
Stream of consciousness narrative makes it hard to put down.
A killer ending too.
Stream of consciousness narrative makes it hard to put down.
A killer ending too.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews