For some, Matthew Cash’s greasy little horror novella “Krackerjack” will seem like an amoral, deeply offensive river of schlock, gore and faeces best wiped from the mind as soon as possible.
For the sickos among us, though, it will seem like an amoral, deeply offensive river of schlock, gore and faeces that will leave us eager for more.
The tale’s setup is pleasingly simple: a shamed 1970s TV host accused of numerous counts of kiddy-fiddling wreaks torture porn-style revenge on the people who blemished his once-good name – in the form of one final, deadly game show. As the depraved twists on famous popular entertainment games take place, bodily holes are plundered, slime and blood are spilled, participants are eliminated and ghastly truths are revealed.
“Fun” may seem a strange word to use for a book that features more bodily fluids than a bunga bunga party held in a sewer, but that’s just what it is. It’s written in a blunt, frills-free style that at times reminded me of Richard Laymon, which was ideal for setting the story’s perverse tone and effective at keeping the pace lightning-quick.
If you are looking for a fast, grimy and nauseatingly funny read, you can do far, far worse than spend an hour or two with Krackerjack.
On the other hand, if you’re offended by extreme violence or sexual assault being treated without the gravitas many feel it should always be handled with, steer well clear!