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The Asylum
Lawyer-turned-private detective Reno Sloan discovers shocking terror when he investigates the Cypress Island Clinic, an isolated asylum for disturbed teenagers, and Dr. Malachi Feldman, the creator of a remarkable--and horrific--new wonder drug. Original.
- GenresHorror
304 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1994
50 people want to read
About the author
John Edward Ames
20 books7 followersAlso writes as Judd Cole
John Edward Ames has an MA in English and taught writing at the University of Northern Colorado and University of New Mexico before becoming a full time writer in 1987. His 56 novels include 45 westerns and western historicals. The Unwritten Order (1995) was nominated for a Spur Award from the Western Writers of America. He began his career at age 19 as a journalist in the U.S. Marine Corps.
John Edward Ames has an MA in English and taught writing at the University of Northern Colorado and University of New Mexico before becoming a full time writer in 1987. His 56 novels include 45 westerns and western historicals. The Unwritten Order (1995) was nominated for a Spur Award from the Western Writers of America. He began his career at age 19 as a journalist in the U.S. Marine Corps.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
May 4, 2008
It truly pains me that I’ll never have the following happen to me: I’m sitting at the bus stop, leisurely having a cigarette, when it suddenly appears judgment day has arrived, countless giant fireballs are careening across the sky as space debris burns in the atmosphere, you can imagine that cities around the world are being relentlessly bombarded resulting in complete panic and disarray, some indescribably large chunk of shit has just drilled the moon and obliterated that poor f#cker, and it seems that not only are parts of the moon going to finally return to earth resulting in more pandemonium, but another icy hunk the size of the moon-wrecker is still on course to slam into the planet, and everyone surrounding me starts flipping out, concerned about the fate of their children, cats, maybe even themselves, when a disaffected-looking, hot-ass chick plants her ass on the bench next to me, lights her own cigarette, and asks if I’ve ever happened to read The Asylum, for no better reason than that this chick seems to get the ‘big picture’ and there doesn’t seem to be much use in discussing anything with more substance at the time. As the fantasy goes, she turns out to be quite an interesting companion, a Capricorn that skipped college, drank excessively, and once played bass with an unsuccessful garage band. Her favorite album is “so, this is how it is” by Nymb and her favorite movie is Camp Cuddly-Pines Powertool Massacre. Naturally, she also wants to copulate one last time in a fantastic fashion prior to being pulverized by space-shit, and it’s interesting how she seemingly gets hotter in an inverse relationship with the remaining time before my own approaching demise.
It’s pretty lame I wish this would happen. What’s lamer is that not only would my girlfriend call what I would do next in that scenario ‘cheating’, but that she also considers the thought alone worthy of the silent treatment for a week. This isn’t a joke; if she so much as has a dream concerning an infidelity on my behalf I might as well check into a hotel for a week, except that then she’d suspect something is up since she can’t monitor my every move, and just get increasingly pissed. This is why I don’t particularly fear jail. This is also a recommendation of employment the g/f should anyone be establishing their own gestapo. This is also a cry for some f#cking help.
Back to that book which I briefly discuss while on that ill-fated bench, awaiting a truly spectacular annihilation. The story concerns a once-promising lawyer (Reno Sloan) who is set up by a she-devil (and forces outside his realm of influence) resulting in his disbarment, only to become a misogynistic private investigator who’s been enlisted to find out why a disproportionately large number of teens from affluent families are suffering from psychotic episodes and being entrusted to the care of the shady Cypress Island Clinic. And while The Asylum doesn’t deal with any of that preposterous apocalyptic plethodon piss which I was joyously spewing forth earlier, the C.I.C. does indeed have a nefarious master plan which includes some bad mojo; Malachi Feldman, head-whacko-in-charge, has discovered that a byproduct of some rare plant causes severe mania when it comes in contact with the human body, and while he’s currently only using it to populate the Clinic, he imagines the day when he’s administered this shit to the whole world to please Yama, his deity. However, Malachi needs some funding and needs to test the efficiency of this crap, so working with the C.I.C. for a while is a necessary evil. It should also be noted that Malachi has a prosthetic penis, which I can only imagine is probably why the dude hates humanity so much. Once on the case, PI Sloan doesn’t jack around, he immediately immerses himself in the case; verbally abusing the local police, talking raunchy to every woman he meets, and casually laying the wood to his coke-head/stripper girlfriend, all between stints posing as a potential client of the Clinic under an alias. As Sloan gets nearer to the shocking truth behind the clinic, people start getting iced and he realizes that the conspirators funding the Clinic go all the way up to the top of the social food chain. That about sums it up, which is actually pretty impressive, considering it was published by Zebra.
Aside from Reno, all the other characters are about as basic and flimsy as they come, and most of their pitiful development is wasted time, as the characters never fully emerge from the miasma of ridiculous pagan worship of dudes named Malachi, Romer, and Nacho and the attempt to build up some sort of conspiracy. I was easily confused by who Reno was hanging out with, as all the characters were totally forgettable, and about the only way to tell them apart was through some silly-ass expression they would use, like calling someone ‘honcho’ or ‘bub’.
As sad as it is, much of my early reading incorporated the piddle which publisher Zebra pushed upon the unsuspecting. There wasn’t a bookstore nearby, and dwelling in an unincorporated area, not only were the libraries remote, but they weren’t about to issue my ass a card. Luckily, we had a Walgreens, and they carry exactly three type of book; nonsense about dieting and books to help you identify your pills (both of which I scoffed at while shoveling pizza in my mouth after crushing up antidepressants to snort from a mirrored pedestal), the NY Times bestsellers (which I usually turned my nose at with elitist impunity), and sensational fodder such as sleazy romances and Zebra horror. The sordid tales which Zebra shamelessly marketed towards morons like myself became my literary backbone.
I’ve recently re-read some of these books, and have come to the conclusion that they are pretty crappy. I’ve also been introduced to the habit of shopping at thrift stores, where I can get books cheaper than my daily fee for parking at the train station, and inevitably, they almost always have a few Zebra books, and for god knows what reason I keep buying these damn things. The Asylum is one of those wise purchases.
It’s pretty lame I wish this would happen. What’s lamer is that not only would my girlfriend call what I would do next in that scenario ‘cheating’, but that she also considers the thought alone worthy of the silent treatment for a week. This isn’t a joke; if she so much as has a dream concerning an infidelity on my behalf I might as well check into a hotel for a week, except that then she’d suspect something is up since she can’t monitor my every move, and just get increasingly pissed. This is why I don’t particularly fear jail. This is also a recommendation of employment the g/f should anyone be establishing their own gestapo. This is also a cry for some f#cking help.
Back to that book which I briefly discuss while on that ill-fated bench, awaiting a truly spectacular annihilation. The story concerns a once-promising lawyer (Reno Sloan) who is set up by a she-devil (and forces outside his realm of influence) resulting in his disbarment, only to become a misogynistic private investigator who’s been enlisted to find out why a disproportionately large number of teens from affluent families are suffering from psychotic episodes and being entrusted to the care of the shady Cypress Island Clinic. And while The Asylum doesn’t deal with any of that preposterous apocalyptic plethodon piss which I was joyously spewing forth earlier, the C.I.C. does indeed have a nefarious master plan which includes some bad mojo; Malachi Feldman, head-whacko-in-charge, has discovered that a byproduct of some rare plant causes severe mania when it comes in contact with the human body, and while he’s currently only using it to populate the Clinic, he imagines the day when he’s administered this shit to the whole world to please Yama, his deity. However, Malachi needs some funding and needs to test the efficiency of this crap, so working with the C.I.C. for a while is a necessary evil. It should also be noted that Malachi has a prosthetic penis, which I can only imagine is probably why the dude hates humanity so much. Once on the case, PI Sloan doesn’t jack around, he immediately immerses himself in the case; verbally abusing the local police, talking raunchy to every woman he meets, and casually laying the wood to his coke-head/stripper girlfriend, all between stints posing as a potential client of the Clinic under an alias. As Sloan gets nearer to the shocking truth behind the clinic, people start getting iced and he realizes that the conspirators funding the Clinic go all the way up to the top of the social food chain. That about sums it up, which is actually pretty impressive, considering it was published by Zebra.
Aside from Reno, all the other characters are about as basic and flimsy as they come, and most of their pitiful development is wasted time, as the characters never fully emerge from the miasma of ridiculous pagan worship of dudes named Malachi, Romer, and Nacho and the attempt to build up some sort of conspiracy. I was easily confused by who Reno was hanging out with, as all the characters were totally forgettable, and about the only way to tell them apart was through some silly-ass expression they would use, like calling someone ‘honcho’ or ‘bub’.
As sad as it is, much of my early reading incorporated the piddle which publisher Zebra pushed upon the unsuspecting. There wasn’t a bookstore nearby, and dwelling in an unincorporated area, not only were the libraries remote, but they weren’t about to issue my ass a card. Luckily, we had a Walgreens, and they carry exactly three type of book; nonsense about dieting and books to help you identify your pills (both of which I scoffed at while shoveling pizza in my mouth after crushing up antidepressants to snort from a mirrored pedestal), the NY Times bestsellers (which I usually turned my nose at with elitist impunity), and sensational fodder such as sleazy romances and Zebra horror. The sordid tales which Zebra shamelessly marketed towards morons like myself became my literary backbone.
I’ve recently re-read some of these books, and have come to the conclusion that they are pretty crappy. I’ve also been introduced to the habit of shopping at thrift stores, where I can get books cheaper than my daily fee for parking at the train station, and inevitably, they almost always have a few Zebra books, and for god knows what reason I keep buying these damn things. The Asylum is one of those wise purchases.
March 1, 2019
This is my first DNF of the year. I'm still trying to figure out how this book was horror, but perhaps I just couldn't get far enough. I didn't like the characters, and it just didn't seem to be going anywhere. This was just not for me.
July 26, 2010
Excellent horror/thriller from Ames. This is one of my favorites by him.
August 7, 2018
This book looked way better than it actually was. I expected a lot of action and gore in this one and it was nothing like that. Slow moving and boring in my opinion. Would NOT read again.
January 18, 2014
The first thing that I must say about this novel is that I could not finish it. It was simply impossible for me to sit through. I managed to read just over half of it before I gave up. The writing itself is just painful to read, and I'm rather amazed that a publisher would accept the manuscript.
The characters, including the protagonist, were obnoxious and generic in equal amounts. The plot was mind-numbing and sloppy. I adore trash horror novels, but this was a bit too trash for me. Initially, I was attracted to the title, as I adore books and movies about mental institutions. Somehow the author took one of my favorite horror settings and created the most mundane asylum imaginable. I would not recommend this novel to my worst enemy.
The characters, including the protagonist, were obnoxious and generic in equal amounts. The plot was mind-numbing and sloppy. I adore trash horror novels, but this was a bit too trash for me. Initially, I was attracted to the title, as I adore books and movies about mental institutions. Somehow the author took one of my favorite horror settings and created the most mundane asylum imaginable. I would not recommend this novel to my worst enemy.
November 25, 2015
If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. So, yeah...
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews