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Crabs #2
Ανθρωποφάγα καβούρια
Τό τραχύ ηλιοκαμένο χέρι του άρπαξε τόν αδύνατο καρπό της κι άπομάκρυνε τά δάχτυλά της άπό πάνω του. Τό αριστερό της χέρι τινάχτηκε καί τόν χτύπησε στό πρόσωπο μέ τήν ταχύτητα θαλασσινού φιδιού. Πριν σβήσει ό ήχος άπό τό χαστούκι, μέσα στην πολυτελέστατη κρεβατοκάμαρα, ό Κλίν είχε άρπάξει καί τό δεύτερο καρπό της μέ περισσότερο θυμό όπ' οτι τόν πρώτο.
Ύστερα, μέ μιά τέλεια συγχρονισμένη κίνηση έπεσε στό κρεβάτι άκινητοποιώντας την κάτω άπό τό βάρος του καί κόβοντάς της τήν αναπνοή. Τά γόνατά του ανάγκασαν τά πόδια της ν' άνοίξουν ενώ τήν ίδια στιγμή τά μπούτια του προσπαθούσανε νά μπουν άνάμεσα στά δικά της...
Ύστερα, μέ μιά τέλεια συγχρονισμένη κίνηση έπεσε στό κρεβάτι άκινητοποιώντας την κάτω άπό τό βάρος του καί κόβοντάς της τήν αναπνοή. Τά γόνατά του ανάγκασαν τά πόδια της ν' άνοίξουν ενώ τήν ίδια στιγμή τά μπούτια του προσπαθούσανε νά μπουν άνάμεσα στά δικά της...
285 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published May 1, 1978
16 people are currently reading
614 people want to read
About the author
Guy N. Smith
175 books298 followersI was born on November 21, 1939, in the small village of Hopwas, near Tamworth, Staffordshire, England. My mother was a pre-war historical novelist (E. M. Weale) and she always encouraged me to write.
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
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November 25, 2019
there are many different karens in this messed-up little head of mine. there is the karen that gives five stars to wuthering heights because it is great and everyone knows about it. there is the karen that gives five stars to the sea came in at midnight because it is great and not everyone knows about it. there is the karen that gives five stars to the marvelous monster because it is a childhood favorite. and there is the karen that gives five stars to this book. they should all be treated as though they are different people, and their opinions given different weight.
this book is not for everyone.
i mean, duh.
and this will have to be self-regulated. if you see the cover or the premise for this and your first thought isn't "i must have this," then it is not for you. this is not for people on the fence about giant crabs. this is for the people it is for. you know who you are.
but it is exactly what i needed this week. it is hard to stay depressed when reading lines like:
BEST!!
also, this:
SHE IS WINDMILLING HER LEGS!!
this is the sexiest mental image ever!! it is like an exercise video from the eighties!! plus, the alarming frequency of people, during intercourse, "pushing their thighs" at each other. my legs have been doing it all wrong this whole time. c'mere and let me push you.
but it isn't all intercourse - there are giant crabs on the loose! real crabs. monster crabs:
they are not here to play nice.
i am so grateful for michael for sending this to me, and i will read the other one soon, because it looks like it might answer some of the burning questions i have after reading this one.but, damn, there are a lot of books about crabs:
https://www.goodreads.com/series/67713
i have my work cut out for me.
come to my blog!
this book is not for everyone.
i mean, duh.
and this will have to be self-regulated. if you see the cover or the premise for this and your first thought isn't "i must have this," then it is not for you. this is not for people on the fence about giant crabs. this is for the people it is for. you know who you are.
but it is exactly what i needed this week. it is hard to stay depressed when reading lines like:
He lowered his head until their lips met, lightly at first, then crushed together in fierce passion.
"Damn the crabs," his voice was husky when they disengaged. "We'll have to put paid to 'em once and for all, Pat, if they're going to keep dragging me away from you like this. Still, we do owe 'em something. If it hadn't been for them we would never have met in the first place, now would we"?
They both laughed, and then went upstairs to make love.
BEST!!
also, this:
Caroline du Brunner was at the very peak of her second stupendous orgasm of the night when the firing broke out. This time she shrieked her delight aloud, and was kicking and windmilling wildly with her legs when Frank Burke drew back with a suddenness which took her by surprise, his perfectly timed ejaculation still spurting on to her legs.
SHE IS WINDMILLING HER LEGS!!
this is the sexiest mental image ever!! it is like an exercise video from the eighties!! plus, the alarming frequency of people, during intercourse, "pushing their thighs" at each other. my legs have been doing it all wrong this whole time. c'mere and let me push you.
but it isn't all intercourse - there are giant crabs on the loose! real crabs. monster crabs:
they are not here to play nice.
i am so grateful for michael for sending this to me, and i will read the other one soon, because it looks like it might answer some of the burning questions i have after reading this one.but, damn, there are a lot of books about crabs:
https://www.goodreads.com/series/67713
i have my work cut out for me.
come to my blog!
August 20, 2011
This book well and truly SUCKED WOOKIE BALLS!! Coming from me, this statement is made all the more staggering when you consider the following information nuggets:
1. I read the first book in the series, Night of the Crabs, and really liked it so I knew EXACTLY what kind of book I was picking up.
2. I joy at 50’s horror movies and occasionally binge on campy horror and tie in books (Star Wars, Star Trek, etc.) so this book is right in my wheel house.
3. I’m a guy.
4. While possibly redundant with 3. above, my maturity level peaked sometime between age 12 and 14. Therefore blood, gore, sex and nudity are like manna from heaven to me and words "boner" and "boobies" makes me giggle.
Thus, given my gender, my
Before I splain what I found so happy-stealing about this paper-turd, let me give you at least a brief synopsis of the, for lack of a better word, plot.
”PLOT” SUMMARY
The giant “crusties” are back and grouchier than ever. This time they’ve landed on an exclusive Australian tourist island and find themselves up against a stellar cast of Darwin rejects:
Klin, expert fisherman with a mysterious past and a serious tent-pole problem that may be low grade PRIAPISM;
Harvey Logan, douchy, big game hunter with a massive gun compensating for a very limp pistol;
Caroline du Brunner, wealthy divorcee and EXTREMELY crowded cock motel (I'm talking major over-booking here);
Captain Manton, ugly, scarred, one-eyed boat skipper who STILL manages to boink Caroline du Nympho into multiple leg-twirling, back-arching, vision blurring splooges; and
Cliff Davenport, professor, crab expert and the only penis not serviced at the “motel du Brunner.”
Plus, a small army of soldiers and military types who neither kill any crabs nor mount Ms. du Brunner. Basically, they are worthless cannon fodder and serve the same role as the nameless “red shirts” in a Star Trek away mission.
Okay…now on to the suckage.
SUCKAGE FACTORS
A. Not enough CRABS with my SEX.
Okay, now we all know that sex/nudity and violent, bloody horror go together like peanut-butter and chocolate. HOWEVER, this pairing comes primarily in two separate combinations that are very, very different.
The first combination (Combo #1) is the typical Hollywood HORROR film that has a scary, kick-ass monster and a high body counts with generous helpings of gore, BUT ALSO throws in a couple of completely meaningless and unnecessary sex scenes/shower montages with the bubbly, buxom but brain-dead coeds who eventually gets turned into giblets.
The second combination (Combo #2) is the typical
**Quick way to tell the difference between a Combo #1 and a Combo #2. Unless you are a complete FREAK, there are two things you will NEVER do before watching a Combo #2 film: (1) make popcorn and (2) watch with your parents. Additionally, a Combo #1 is a movie you usually watch once (maybe twice) straight through and then talk about with your friends. A Combo #2 film is one you usually watch the same 5 to 10 minutes 50 to 100 times, may “never see the end” and deny, deny, deny having ever heard of to your friends.
Regardless of which Combo floats your boat (I'm not judging), from a literary standpoint, NO ONE wants to read the screen play of a Combo #2, which is exactly what this book felt like from the get go. It was constant groan-inducing (no pun intended) sex with an occasional Crab visit. In fact there were more sightings of Caroline du "fuck machine" spelunking solo in the fur caves than giant, havoc-wreaking shell tops GINSUing the local populace. Here are a few statistics to support the above:
Even when sex isn’t actually going on, the narrative constantly wink winks in that direction. Case in point, here is the first mention of sweet Ms Caroline in the book:
The most physically perfect woman he had ever known. Firm breasts, pink nipples that changed to a deeper hue as they stiffened with arousement. Delicate white thighs, the hair between seductively trimmed.Eyes: n/a, Hair (on head): n/a, Height: n/a, Weight: n/a, BRAIN: n/a.
B. PERVY use of serious MEDICAL conditions.
From Chapter 1:
He could still feel the deep gouges made by her long fingernails on his shoulders and chest during those two lengthy orgasms when he had thought she was throwing a fit, tearing at his skin and pleading with him not to ease up. He hadn’t. No woman had ever seen Klin spent.UH…..here’s a tip. If you’re a guy and find yourself doing lots and lots of genital gymnastics and NEVER “spending” yourself, you SIR have a medical condition called “Delayed Ejaculation” and should get yourself checked out, pronto!
In addition to “DE”, it looks like Klin was also suffering from a mild form of PRIAPISM. I'm not sure how else to explain a 40+ year old man, alone on the water experiencing random stiffness: “He cursed as he suddenly became aware of a hardness, and a protrusion in the front of his shorts.”
...and later (again alone at sea) “The was a slight bulge in the front of his shorts which proceeded to grow rapidly once his thoughts fully centered on it.”
Personally, I cry bullshit on this. When you’re a teenager, sure, a strong wind is enough to have you facing north. However, as a 40 year old guy, I can assure you that these things no longer happen “accidentally” and NEVER…NEVER without the owner’s awareness, let alone consent.
C. Ah,the GIANT CRABS…descriptions that make you say…HUH?
The last 4 categories all have to do with the writing itself starting with some descriptions I just found stupid. Not campy fun, just dumb. Now I admit that I am no expert on Crabs Of Unusual Size or C.O.U.S. (*nods to Princess Bride for the assist*), but the following descriptions of the mega critters just didn’t work for me:
**“He could smell the beast’s fetid breath.”….
**“It was as though the crustacean, was grinning evilly to itself, aware of its own invincibility.”…
**“The expression on those crustacean features was one of sheer gloating.”…
**“The huge crab hissed angrily.” …
**“His antennae waved menacingly.”
Fetid breath...grinning...gloating? Are you kidding me? A gold star to anyone who can show me a photo of a crab gloating (believe me, I looked). Hissing? Hissing for cryin out loud? Plus, I’m sorry, I don’t care how big and ugly the crabs are or how fetid their breath is, there is no such thing as a “menacing” antennae. Also, for the record, the commas in the second quote above are exactly how they appear in the book, but I didn’t even have the energy to get into the punctuation.
D. Can I get some HYPERBOLE to go with that EXAGERRATION
Worse than the stupid was the attempt at “over the top” melodrama in describing the Crabs and their reign of terror. Here is my absolute favorite passage (note the awesome use of the word “audaciously”):
It was merely a tactical withdrawal, their leader being the last to leave, nippers raised towards the destroyer audaciously, a crustacean promise that mankind had not seen the last of his grotesque army. They would be back and their return would herald death and destruction unprecedented since the dawn of evolution.”Since the dawn of evolution? Wow, those are some pretty audacious nippers. And how about this gem: ”There was no question of driving the creatures back to the sea. They were invincible.” …. “Once again, the giant crab had proved their supremacy over mankind. This was only the beginning.”
NOOOOOOOOOO!! PLEASE, let it be closer to the END!!!!
E. This writing has angered my BRAIN
Worse still, I actually found myself biting back frustration, swallowing much bile and losing a series of battles with my gag reflex with large portions of the writing that stretched my suspension of belief to the breaking point. Here’s an example (quoted exactly as written):
He had barely completed two strokes of a panic-stricken crawl before something grips him by both thighs, checking his progress immediately. The sudden pain was agonizing, but it lasted for no more than a second. Then he was free of whatever held him. He struck out again blindly.Now, here is the same paragraph with the noisy running commentary that was screaming in my head as I read it:
Something was wrong, and he could not determine what it was. He felt numbed, and his leg thrusts did not appear to be propelling him along as they should have done. In fact, he appeared to be making no progress at all.
Something bobbed against him. He grabbed at it for support. A piece of driftwood, maybe. He clung to it with both hands, and kicked again with his legs. Once more his efforts appeared to be future, and then he saw the object on which he was relying to help him gain safety of the coral. A human leg. His own!!”
He had barely completed two strokes of a panic-stricken crawl before something grips him by both thighs, checking his progress immediately [I believe the correct words to follow should have been “He shit himself and screamed, ‘AHHHHHHH’”]. The sudden pain was agonizing [possibly because a car-sized Crabosaur is about to turn you into second base], but it lasted for no more than a second.[Whew, that was lucky…wait a second…WHAT…THE…FUCK?] Then he was free of whatever held him.[Free….and quite a few pounds lighter as well Captain Oblivious] He struck out again blindly. [My exact description of Smith’s attempt to write this scene]It’s been a while since we had any sex quotes in this review, so lets finish up with a couple of encores from our resident sperm bank:
Something was wrong, [Ya think?] and he could not determine what it was.[That’s because you are the president and founding member of the STUPIDOUCHE club]. He felt numbed, and his leg thrusts did not appear to be propelling him along as they should have done. [You’ve got three guess as to why that is…go…] In fact, he appeared to be making no progress at all.[Okay, just so I understand it, you are too “panic-stricken” to notice your massive, rapid weight loss and accompanying agony, but aware enough to notice you’re water speed is not up to par]. Something bobbed against him.[Oh shit, I certainly hope it’s not Klin’s massive erection because that think is out of control]] He grabbed at it for support. [Fucksticks, would you please die already] A piece of driftwood, maybe.[Uh, nope…NOT driftwood genius] He clung to it with both hands [ This is getting Ri-goddamn-diculous], and kicked again with his legs.[Are we seriously still playing this game?] Once more his efforts appeared to be futile,[and once more, my gag-reflex was overcome causing me to throw up a little] and then he saw the object on which he was relying to help him gain safety of the coral.[skip the drum roll, because I no longer give a shit] A human leg.[welcome to the plot assbarf] His own!![The fact that Smith felt the need to add those final two words makes me want to beat him to death with Klin’s over-active erection]
Klin was watching her thighs closely. They had parted slightly; no more than an inch or so, just sufficient for him to see part of the damp pinkness which lay beneath the dark hair. He waited for them to open further, but they didn’t. Caroline du Brunner wasn’t going to make it quite so easy for him this time.…..SCREEEECHHHHH!!! Full stop…Not going to make it easy? She’s lying naked on a bed exposing herself to you, Fucktard…that is called a done deal!!
“…his gaze focused on the top of the dark V of lower hair…She, in turn, was staring at the bulge in the front of his shorts.” I’m no prude, but this is making me want to watch Osmond Family reruns. These people are seriously and completely out of control. By the way, when the crabs invaded the island, they marched in a V formation. Coincidence or something dumber? You decide.
As I begin to wind up this review, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn’t include at least one quote containing the words “throbbing” and “pulsing,” so here you go: “With a deft movement she had undone his waistband, and now her fingers were stroking throbbing naked flesh.”...“Slowly she eased Harvey Logan’s trouser zip down, and furtively located the pulsing length of flesh inside.” My only comment here is that Caroline du Bang me hasn’t been furtive since she was in diapers. The woman is a fucking machine…literally.
F. A few special, noteworthy sentences among all the other wonderful prose.
Finally, I would like to share my absolute favorite “non-sexually” related sentences just to show that Smith didn’t need to be talking about sex to fuck up a story. First, we have the single must redundantly redundant example of redundancy, I seen in a long time: “It was invincible. And it did not know the meaning of defeat.”…UH...never mind, you're an idiot.
”Their military intelligence, second to none, neither man nor beast, had no way of overcoming the noise made by those tremendous pincers as they moved.” A very special prize for anyone who can diagram that sentence for me because I was lost after the second comma.
And last but not least, the sentence everyone waits for in order to confirm that they are in fact dealing with corny of the highest order: “Naturally, we cannot release anything like that in the interest of science.” On that note, and in the interest of science, I rest my case.
September 19, 2010
Gigantic, evil crabs are on the loose. Bullets cannot penetrate their seemingly indestructible shells. They have very mean faces. They hack people to bits, leaving heads bobbing along the shore. They're hidden somewhere in the reef, and only fire can destroy them. They shall breed during the full moon, which is approaching fast! And they have very mean faces. I mean really mean.
Look at the cover of this book. If you chuckle, you should read it. If not, you're going to think it's the tackiest, most tasteless asswipe of a book you've ever come across. I thought it was marvelous!
In so many ways, Smith sticks to classic monster movie tropes: fleeting glances of the giant crabs lurking below the water, gratuitous and constant sex, and some hair-brained way of killing the crabs that seems even more implausible when you see how they pull it off. In all of these aspects of the book, it could've been some masked Jason knockoff lurking in the background. But it wasn't. It was big crustaceans.
Most of the time, books with cheesy titles like "Bride of the Bat Monster" are bound to disappoint because they are written by hacks who make things just too silly. But, Smith is a capable writer of horror, and these crabs are pretty creepy sometimes. Then, something ridiculous happens: the crabs attack in battle formations, or another sex scene happens (where the one female character is fucking one of the few men left in the story who she HASN'T fucked), or the doctor has a great corny one-liner. SOMETHING to shatter the momentary illusion that the author is really trying to build suspense. This straddling of the line between horror and total goofiness is what makes this book an exceptionally good time.
But, there is enough goofy in here to keep this entertaining all the way through its 150 pages: among the male characters, the ones least skilled in bed are clearly the badguys, while the fisherman who can fuck like a beast is the guy you're supposed to root for. The first time the only female character is described, Smith describes her breasts first, her genitalia second, and that's the end of his physical description of her. And, the crabs have really mean faces, and evil eyes. They aren't just crabs defending their reef, and they aren't being angered by a disease or anything: even the scientists are aware that THE CRABS ARE EVIL, and WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD, and MUST BE COMPLETELY DESTROYED.
I thought this book was a whole lot of fun, and I plan on tracking down as many books in the series as I can.
So, why the three star rating? Well, uh, it's called "Killer Crabs." And that's what it's about. It's not exactly "The Grapes of Wrath."
Look at the cover of this book. If you chuckle, you should read it. If not, you're going to think it's the tackiest, most tasteless asswipe of a book you've ever come across. I thought it was marvelous!
In so many ways, Smith sticks to classic monster movie tropes: fleeting glances of the giant crabs lurking below the water, gratuitous and constant sex, and some hair-brained way of killing the crabs that seems even more implausible when you see how they pull it off. In all of these aspects of the book, it could've been some masked Jason knockoff lurking in the background. But it wasn't. It was big crustaceans.
Most of the time, books with cheesy titles like "Bride of the Bat Monster" are bound to disappoint because they are written by hacks who make things just too silly. But, Smith is a capable writer of horror, and these crabs are pretty creepy sometimes. Then, something ridiculous happens: the crabs attack in battle formations, or another sex scene happens (where the one female character is fucking one of the few men left in the story who she HASN'T fucked), or the doctor has a great corny one-liner. SOMETHING to shatter the momentary illusion that the author is really trying to build suspense. This straddling of the line between horror and total goofiness is what makes this book an exceptionally good time.
But, there is enough goofy in here to keep this entertaining all the way through its 150 pages: among the male characters, the ones least skilled in bed are clearly the badguys, while the fisherman who can fuck like a beast is the guy you're supposed to root for. The first time the only female character is described, Smith describes her breasts first, her genitalia second, and that's the end of his physical description of her. And, the crabs have really mean faces, and evil eyes. They aren't just crabs defending their reef, and they aren't being angered by a disease or anything: even the scientists are aware that THE CRABS ARE EVIL, and WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD, and MUST BE COMPLETELY DESTROYED.
I thought this book was a whole lot of fun, and I plan on tracking down as many books in the series as I can.
So, why the three star rating? Well, uh, it's called "Killer Crabs." And that's what it's about. It's not exactly "The Grapes of Wrath."
July 19, 2025
Guns, nukes, crabs, boobs. Clearly, a lot of talent went in to writing this story!! 🐐🍿
Shakespeare walked so this man could run 🏃💨
Shakespeare walked so this man could run 🏃💨
June 12, 2011
I'm not afraid of crabs (or any other shellfish. or corn on the cob.) and neither are my friends. We know exactly what to do. Butter. Spices. Beers.
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I enjoyed reading this book even though it took the idiotic humans until the very end to figure out
Bunch of dipshits.
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I enjoyed reading this book even though it took the idiotic humans until the very end to figure out
Bunch of dipshits.
Want to read
January 9, 2015One of the most sensational literary discoveries of the last year was the hitherto unknown first draft of La Fugitive. In the final version, It transpires that Proust had originally planned a more explicit treatment. I am proud to present my translation of the following key passage from Volume 6, at the time provisionally entitled Albertine tuée par les crabes géantes:
Just as Françoise, on the days at Combray when she had agreed to prepare her incomparable asparagus for our delectation, would examine the delicately scaled green stems with her expert eye, keeping the messenger boy waiting until she found one that was broken, then, regretfully, as one professional to another, drawing his attention to the offending article, shaking her head at the unforgivable lowering of his standards but, a moment later, making amends by offering him, with her "crooked smile", a newly baked madeleine, still warm from her oven, Doctor Brichot drew back back the sheet, unhappy to be the person who revealed to me Albertine in her new and unfamiliar state, her frail body cleanly snapped in two by the crab's claws, so that her torso rested on one half of the folding table and her legs, still streaked with blood and pond-weed, on the other; and I suddenly thought of those vertiginous dislocations of space that I loved in Elstir's paintings, where the human body, separated into its component parts, appears spread across different areas of the canvas, so that at first the eye is unable to relate a face to an arm, seeing them as belonging to different people or simply as geometric patterns, but, a second later, led by the subtle harmony of colour and shade, resolving them into a single whole; and I realised that I had never as much appreciated the essential unity of Albertine's corporeal being as I did now, when I experienced it lifeless and disjointed, the removal of her spirit somehow heightening my understanding of [That's enough Proust - Ed.]
July 25, 2025
As if Australians didn't have enough killer wildlife to contend with, Guy N . Smith gives them crabs. The second book in the long "Crabs" saga takes us away from the Cornish coast to the clear blue Great Barrier Reef, where a beach bum must do battle with the carnivorous crustaceans to save a tourist town.
My biggest complaint about the book is one of the main protagonists, Klin. I'm not the kind to throw around terms like "toxic masculinity", but THIS guy would be the poster child. One of the first things out of his mouth is how much he hates "Nip poachers" and plans to blast 'em full of holes with his shotgun should he run across any. The next thing he does is get an erection. The first of many. While undressing a woman with his eyes, he reminisces about all the neglected housewives he outdistanced in bed. He even has the arrogance to tell one woman thrice divorced that, "if any one of [your ex's] could screw as well as I do, you'd still be married" before forcing himself on her. Being a middle-aged man's stereotype of a libertine nymphomaniac, she doesn't mind, while Klin is Smith's avatar for the 1970s man's man he wanted to be. But lest you think Smith is some kind of lone weirdo, remember this was the era that would soon give us America's supercouple Luke and Laura.
Fortunately, Klin is not the entire focus of the story. In fact, he's almost forgotten once Dr. Clifford Davenport returns from the first novel, and he is a much more likeable hero. It's a shame he doesn't get as much to do other than ordering people around, because Smith is busy inserting a subplot about stolen loot in what must be the shittiest suitcase ever made, and involving more characters even more unlikeable than Klin, namely a big-game hunter and a bank robber, who add very little to the story.
The sequel not only amps up the sleaze, but tops the original in gore. However, Smith also gets a little too carried away to the point of sloppy writing. At one point, the narration remarks that a character being attacked by one of the crabs can "smell the beast's fetid breath". These may be mutant crabs, but does that make them mouth breathers? That's as dumb as when the shark roars in "Jaws 4". But if you can also suspend your disbelief that crabs the size of cows can withstand the firepower of destroyer missiles while somehow being cracked open with a wrecking ball, then you will just roll with it.
Another dumb choice is the ending. Smith contrives suspense by having the main characters scout for the monsters, and of course, they get stranded on the very island where the crabs brood. But why are three knuckleheads in one helicopter the only ones trying to find the crabs. Since this is the second incident, all governments are on alert, and the military is involved. So why is there no massive air reconnaissance? I'll tell you why. The plot peaked too early, and needed one last moment of peril. But it's dopey and anticlimactic.
Despite all the problems I had with this novel, I confess that Smith knows how to deliver chills to even the most desensitized reader. I recently went diving in Florida where an underground river opens into a cave at the bottom of clear blue cold springs. I had a mild panic attack looking down into this abyss, and am thankful I hadn't read this book until AFTER this experience, or I might have drowned myself suddenly having a mental image of giant claws reaching out from the black void. I don't know why I do this to myself.
In conclusion, "Killer Crabs" is everything you expect from a sequel to a classic paperback from hell. If the terribly politically incorrect prose doesn't make you cringe, the blood and guts will. Smith really cranks both aspects to eleven here. Yes, it's crass and dumb, but this review is for the kinds of vintage horror fans that would read this thread in the first place--so, for you folks, this is one sequel you'll likely want to catch.
SCORE: 3 obnoxiously macho 70s heroes out of 5
My biggest complaint about the book is one of the main protagonists, Klin. I'm not the kind to throw around terms like "toxic masculinity", but THIS guy would be the poster child. One of the first things out of his mouth is how much he hates "Nip poachers" and plans to blast 'em full of holes with his shotgun should he run across any. The next thing he does is get an erection. The first of many. While undressing a woman with his eyes, he reminisces about all the neglected housewives he outdistanced in bed. He even has the arrogance to tell one woman thrice divorced that, "if any one of [your ex's] could screw as well as I do, you'd still be married" before forcing himself on her. Being a middle-aged man's stereotype of a libertine nymphomaniac, she doesn't mind, while Klin is Smith's avatar for the 1970s man's man he wanted to be. But lest you think Smith is some kind of lone weirdo, remember this was the era that would soon give us America's supercouple Luke and Laura.
Fortunately, Klin is not the entire focus of the story. In fact, he's almost forgotten once Dr. Clifford Davenport returns from the first novel, and he is a much more likeable hero. It's a shame he doesn't get as much to do other than ordering people around, because Smith is busy inserting a subplot about stolen loot in what must be the shittiest suitcase ever made, and involving more characters even more unlikeable than Klin, namely a big-game hunter and a bank robber, who add very little to the story.
The sequel not only amps up the sleaze, but tops the original in gore. However, Smith also gets a little too carried away to the point of sloppy writing. At one point, the narration remarks that a character being attacked by one of the crabs can "smell the beast's fetid breath". These may be mutant crabs, but does that make them mouth breathers? That's as dumb as when the shark roars in "Jaws 4". But if you can also suspend your disbelief that crabs the size of cows can withstand the firepower of destroyer missiles while somehow being cracked open with a wrecking ball, then you will just roll with it.
Another dumb choice is the ending. Smith contrives suspense by having the main characters scout for the monsters, and of course, they get stranded on the very island where the crabs brood. But why are three knuckleheads in one helicopter the only ones trying to find the crabs. Since this is the second incident, all governments are on alert, and the military is involved. So why is there no massive air reconnaissance? I'll tell you why. The plot peaked too early, and needed one last moment of peril. But it's dopey and anticlimactic.
Despite all the problems I had with this novel, I confess that Smith knows how to deliver chills to even the most desensitized reader. I recently went diving in Florida where an underground river opens into a cave at the bottom of clear blue cold springs. I had a mild panic attack looking down into this abyss, and am thankful I hadn't read this book until AFTER this experience, or I might have drowned myself suddenly having a mental image of giant claws reaching out from the black void. I don't know why I do this to myself.
In conclusion, "Killer Crabs" is everything you expect from a sequel to a classic paperback from hell. If the terribly politically incorrect prose doesn't make you cringe, the blood and guts will. Smith really cranks both aspects to eleven here. Yes, it's crass and dumb, but this review is for the kinds of vintage horror fans that would read this thread in the first place--so, for you folks, this is one sequel you'll likely want to catch.
SCORE: 3 obnoxiously macho 70s heroes out of 5
May 27, 2009
Following on from the tremendous success of ‘Night of the Crabs’ is the next instalment for Guy N Smith’s signature crab series entitled ‘Killer Crabs’. First published back in 1978 the sequel still found itself as an early novel within Smith’s prolific writing career.
The story finds itself located this time within the picturesque setting of Barbeque Bay on Australia’s beautiful Hayman Island. Everything is far from tranquil as the giant crabs once again emerge from the sea to wreak their bloodthirsty revenge on humankind.
Our hero Cliff Davenport from ‘Night of the Crabs’ is soon on the scene, joining forces with a local fisherman by the name of Klin. The battle is on to protect the local population from these giant ruthless crabs as the crustaceans wage war on the community.
With the action packed, edge of the seat, crabs rampage now in full swing, a sexy nymphomaniac by the name of Caroline du Brunner is thrown into the equation to add a healthy dollop of sex to the mix. Du Brunner quickly seduces Klin delivering the standard insertion of graphic sex to break up the bloody gorefest that surrounds this over-the-top pulp horror tale.
Realising that the crabs must have a breeding ground of some sort, Davenport et all head to a remote and desolate island just off the mainland in an attempt to rid the crabs from Hayman Island. What was feared to be a deadly mission turns out to be even more harrowing than they could ever have dreamed as they make their way onto the crabs new home.
Taking up from where ‘Night of the Crabs’ had left off, throws the reader straight into the uncompromising bloodshed as Guy’s all time favourite monsters return in this unrelenting sequel. In true Guy N Smith style, ‘Killer Crabs’ delivers bucket loads of gore mixed in with elaborate and almost preposterous subplots.
The characters are all highly comical in their delivery, with widely exaggerated personalities and clichéd roles within the storyline. The input of the character of Caroline du Brunner in particular is outlandishly amusing, but adds such a perfect injection of lust fuelled sex to thrill any pulp horror enthusiast.
For the sheer volume of unrelenting crabs action and juicy subplots keeping the pace throughout, Smith has produced one of his best pulp horror novels to date. ‘Killer Crabs’ is possibly the highlight of the crabs series, mixing in so many over-the-top elements to the storyline that not a page goes by without an outlandish twist of the tale taking place.
For pulp horror fans, splatter-punk enthusiasts, and all lovers of Guy N Smith’s other work, this novel is so much of a must that you should stop reading this review now and grab yourself a copy this very second.
Running for a mere 158 pages (somewhat of a standard length for a Guy N Smith novel), somehow so much action and laughable storyline is thrown into so few pages. This truly is a masterpiece of seventies pulp horror.
The story finds itself located this time within the picturesque setting of Barbeque Bay on Australia’s beautiful Hayman Island. Everything is far from tranquil as the giant crabs once again emerge from the sea to wreak their bloodthirsty revenge on humankind.
Our hero Cliff Davenport from ‘Night of the Crabs’ is soon on the scene, joining forces with a local fisherman by the name of Klin. The battle is on to protect the local population from these giant ruthless crabs as the crustaceans wage war on the community.
With the action packed, edge of the seat, crabs rampage now in full swing, a sexy nymphomaniac by the name of Caroline du Brunner is thrown into the equation to add a healthy dollop of sex to the mix. Du Brunner quickly seduces Klin delivering the standard insertion of graphic sex to break up the bloody gorefest that surrounds this over-the-top pulp horror tale.
Realising that the crabs must have a breeding ground of some sort, Davenport et all head to a remote and desolate island just off the mainland in an attempt to rid the crabs from Hayman Island. What was feared to be a deadly mission turns out to be even more harrowing than they could ever have dreamed as they make their way onto the crabs new home.
Taking up from where ‘Night of the Crabs’ had left off, throws the reader straight into the uncompromising bloodshed as Guy’s all time favourite monsters return in this unrelenting sequel. In true Guy N Smith style, ‘Killer Crabs’ delivers bucket loads of gore mixed in with elaborate and almost preposterous subplots.
The characters are all highly comical in their delivery, with widely exaggerated personalities and clichéd roles within the storyline. The input of the character of Caroline du Brunner in particular is outlandishly amusing, but adds such a perfect injection of lust fuelled sex to thrill any pulp horror enthusiast.
For the sheer volume of unrelenting crabs action and juicy subplots keeping the pace throughout, Smith has produced one of his best pulp horror novels to date. ‘Killer Crabs’ is possibly the highlight of the crabs series, mixing in so many over-the-top elements to the storyline that not a page goes by without an outlandish twist of the tale taking place.
For pulp horror fans, splatter-punk enthusiasts, and all lovers of Guy N Smith’s other work, this novel is so much of a must that you should stop reading this review now and grab yourself a copy this very second.
Running for a mere 158 pages (somewhat of a standard length for a Guy N Smith novel), somehow so much action and laughable storyline is thrown into so few pages. This truly is a masterpiece of seventies pulp horror.
August 28, 2017
Killer Crabs Do Australia.
December 18, 2016
I've seen this episode before. Several times.
Sometimes, creative types get roped into working out of their comfort zone. Occasionally, a director has a vision that is stomped by a paycheck. In this case, I'm referring to the many times I've seen a monster/crime movie.
Ten minutes in, you can tell what happened. The director/writer had his heart set on making a crime movie, but the producers order him to produce a cheap yet lucrative horror flick. What you get is a crime thriller where the monster lurks on the edge of the film, occasionally eating characters that the plot is done with, until the film remembers in the last fifteen minutes, "Hey, I'm a horror movie, time to let the monster shine!"
In other words? They just didn't care.
This book is the platonic novelization of those films.
We have an crime novel with giant crabs on the edge. We have a duffel bag of 20,000 pounds driving the plot. We even get main characters who are NOT KILLED BY CRABS, something that will become vanishingly rare as the series goes on.
Oh, there’s also some rather large crustaceans in parts.
Our tale starts picturesquely.
"With the coming of January the spawning cod began migrating into Vestfjorden off the bleak Lofton Islands."
I swear, I can't help but hear that in Orson Welles's voice.
We're introduced to Ol Larsen, skipper of a fishing boat. Larsen is a man worrying about becoming obsolete and the hereditary angina he expects to kill him, walks down to his cabin. Suddenly, a desperate knock sounds at his door.
Curtain falls. Chapter ends. Ol Larsen, the most fleshed out and intriguing character in the entire series, is never heard from again. I just reread that chapter, and I still have no clue how in ties into the series. It's like Smith accidentally pasted the start of another book into his manuscript without noticing.
In the books to come, my mind will often wander to wonder what became of Ol Larsen.
From this point on, our tale is entirely set in Australia.
Our “hero” is Klin, a badass fisherman who everybody loves. Klin doesn’t care, though; Kiln’s cool on his own! People hate him, but secretly, everyone wants to be him!
Imagine a fishing-obsessed 9 year-old making up the coolest guy he can think of, and you have Klin.
Also, he’s really racist against the Japanese.
Our first act is dominated by Klin’s struggle to shoot the Japanese poachers stealing his fish. Thus begins Guy N. Smith’s obsession with poachers, which will last through every book of the series I’ve read. Of course, the crabs eventually get involved, and our clicking killers start to get up in everyone’s face. Since this is a Guy N. Smith novel, there’s also an obligatory conversation about the Loch Ness Monster.
Our main female protagonist is, well, I’ll call her Sex Girl. Sex Girl has a name, but a name implies personality. Sex Girl spends the first half dozen of her scenes lying in her hotel room, naked, waiting for any one of the three main criminals to get awkward and physical with her. It takes about 70% of the book for her to put on clothes.
Also, her legs tend to windmill when she orgasms. I teach sex ed classes, and I have only a vague image of what that could mean. I bet it could power a turbine.
Let’s start a tally.
Women Protagonists of the Crab Series
Book 1: Exists for the protagonist to put exposition in her ears and other things into her pants.
Book 2: Con-woman nymphomaniac who steals money so she can rent a sex hotel room and lounge naked inside it all day.
I got news for you, dear readers. That list isn’t going to get better in the foreseeable future.
Along with Klin and Sex Girl, two other ne’r-do-wells come onto the scene. I’m particularly fond of the big game hunter obsessed with bagging a crab. They all begin to come to blows over the duffel bag as the crabs begin a full scale invasion of the island. Shortly afterwards, the book remembers that something has to be done about that troublesome monster subplot and we ease into our final confrontation.
The ending struggle against the crabs manages to have some actual suspense and daring-do. For that matter, watching the criminals run around in a version of “A Crab Called Wanda” is entertaining as well. Let’s be clear: this is trash, but highly entertaining trash.
Just watch out for those poachers. :shiver:
May 25, 2021
"The queen crab was threshing the water with her nippers, burying her head in the tide to ease her burning pain. She reared up again. Shannon saw the eyes. They no longer glinted redly. Just two dull lifeless orbs. He had blinded her! She shambled up out of the sea, and stood there, looking in his direction but he knew that she did not see him. The trees nearest to her were blazing and falling
outwards, burning debris dropping all about her. She backed away, the incoming waves and thickening smoke screening her from his sight.
outwards, burning debris dropping all about her. She backed away, the incoming waves and thickening smoke screening her from his sight.
July 13, 2019
This review first appeared on scifiandscary.com
‘Killer Crabs’ is the first sequel to Guy N Smith’s ‘Night of the Crabs’ which I reviewed back in April. The action moves from Wales to a luxury resort on a small island off the coast of Australia, but aside from that the action is pretty similar. It’s got giant crabs, it’s got determined heroes, and it’s got a plenty of dismemberment.
Plucky scientist Clifford Davenport from the first book makes a reappearance. He’s joined this time by macho, unpleasantly racist, highly sexed, local fisherman Klin. I’m not sure Klin is actually a name, but that’s what he’s called. Klin bears a remarkable resemblance to Quint, the grizzled boat captain in ‘Jaws’. Only with more casual racism (against the Japanese) and even casualler sex, the latter with saucepot hotel resident Caroline du Brunner. Klin walks around with a permanent erection, a fact Smith chooses to refer to frequently. So much so, in fact, that it’s amazing that Klin can stand upright enough to actually fight the crabs.
You get the impression that Smith has thrown the sex in to keep the punters happy, rather than because his heart in really in it. If Herbert’s depiction of sex in books like ‘The Spear’ is bad, at least he tries to be sexy. Smith doesn’t even seem to bother. One memorable section in ‘Killer Crabs’ reads:
“Klin was watching her thighs closely. They had parted slightly, no more than inch or so, just sufficient for him to see part of the damp pinkness which lay beneath the dark hair…
’I like big things,’ she was still staring down at his erection, stroking it through the soiled cotton.”
Fortunately, the gore is more inventive than it was in the first book. In one great scene, a fisherman who has survived an attack by the crabs that has destroyed his boat, grabs a piece of driftwood to keep himself afloat, only to realise it’s his own severed leg.
The plot is somewhat better than that of the first book, there’s no spy shenanigans this time, instead the sub-plots revolve around some stolen money and the fact that some of the characters aren’t who they claim to be. It’s all very silly, but it succeeds on its own terms. It’s a pacey, gory piece of pulp fiction that’s diverting enough to spend an afternoon with, even if it’s not going to leave a lasting impression.
‘Killer Crabs’ is the first sequel to Guy N Smith’s ‘Night of the Crabs’ which I reviewed back in April. The action moves from Wales to a luxury resort on a small island off the coast of Australia, but aside from that the action is pretty similar. It’s got giant crabs, it’s got determined heroes, and it’s got a plenty of dismemberment.
Plucky scientist Clifford Davenport from the first book makes a reappearance. He’s joined this time by macho, unpleasantly racist, highly sexed, local fisherman Klin. I’m not sure Klin is actually a name, but that’s what he’s called. Klin bears a remarkable resemblance to Quint, the grizzled boat captain in ‘Jaws’. Only with more casual racism (against the Japanese) and even casualler sex, the latter with saucepot hotel resident Caroline du Brunner. Klin walks around with a permanent erection, a fact Smith chooses to refer to frequently. So much so, in fact, that it’s amazing that Klin can stand upright enough to actually fight the crabs.
You get the impression that Smith has thrown the sex in to keep the punters happy, rather than because his heart in really in it. If Herbert’s depiction of sex in books like ‘The Spear’ is bad, at least he tries to be sexy. Smith doesn’t even seem to bother. One memorable section in ‘Killer Crabs’ reads:
“Klin was watching her thighs closely. They had parted slightly, no more than inch or so, just sufficient for him to see part of the damp pinkness which lay beneath the dark hair…
’I like big things,’ she was still staring down at his erection, stroking it through the soiled cotton.”
Fortunately, the gore is more inventive than it was in the first book. In one great scene, a fisherman who has survived an attack by the crabs that has destroyed his boat, grabs a piece of driftwood to keep himself afloat, only to realise it’s his own severed leg.
The plot is somewhat better than that of the first book, there’s no spy shenanigans this time, instead the sub-plots revolve around some stolen money and the fact that some of the characters aren’t who they claim to be. It’s all very silly, but it succeeds on its own terms. It’s a pacey, gory piece of pulp fiction that’s diverting enough to spend an afternoon with, even if it’s not going to leave a lasting impression.
June 28, 2016
I was tempted in created a new bookshelves called something like "How NOT to write a book".
If you are a woman then you shouldn't read this. There was only a woman and every single scene she was in - she was on someone like a dog on a bone... The last scene she enters there was no "action" but we were told she was a money grabber that the police was after.
Then you've got several other male characters - who were always "on" the woman (yeah she was taking turns...) or they were something manly.
The plot its simple, you've got yourself a paradisiac isle where some woman screws you but unfortunally you the crabs (the animal) are there and they are big and armoured - so armoured that rifles, cannons and even bloody ships can harm them. They are that strong. For those who understand me: Space Marines should wear that for an armour.
So, the crabs kills people, destroy ships - but not those of wood... those with metal like a bloody battleship but then the main character who was in the first book - sorry I forgot to tell you this was part two - discovers something that can kill them and voila. You've got 160 pages of pure crap.
I rarelly, if ever think... why am I wasting my time on this book but this is a first... I had to read it all. I really wanted to know if something worthy came out, but alas I was wrong.
If you want to read fast paced book with crabs as villains, or people for that matter - then read it at your own peril.
If you are a girl - then stay back. This is a book that will make you hate a man. Even if I must add - this book was written in 70's where some writers wanted to entertaint some particular genre of people. In this case young men who want to possess a beautiful perfect two-breasted girl (and she enjoys it too - even when someone forces upon her).
Crap - pure crap - mega crap
If you are a woman then you shouldn't read this. There was only a woman and every single scene she was in - she was on someone like a dog on a bone... The last scene she enters there was no "action" but we were told she was a money grabber that the police was after.
Then you've got several other male characters - who were always "on" the woman (yeah she was taking turns...) or they were something manly.
The plot its simple, you've got yourself a paradisiac isle where some woman screws you but unfortunally you the crabs (the animal) are there and they are big and armoured - so armoured that rifles, cannons and even bloody ships can harm them. They are that strong. For those who understand me: Space Marines should wear that for an armour.
So, the crabs kills people, destroy ships - but not those of wood... those with metal like a bloody battleship but then the main character who was in the first book - sorry I forgot to tell you this was part two - discovers something that can kill them and voila. You've got 160 pages of pure crap.
I rarelly, if ever think... why am I wasting my time on this book but this is a first... I had to read it all. I really wanted to know if something worthy came out, but alas I was wrong.
If you want to read fast paced book with crabs as villains, or people for that matter - then read it at your own peril.
If you are a girl - then stay back. This is a book that will make you hate a man. Even if I must add - this book was written in 70's where some writers wanted to entertaint some particular genre of people. In this case young men who want to possess a beautiful perfect two-breasted girl (and she enjoys it too - even when someone forces upon her).
Crap - pure crap - mega crap
March 14, 2021
While the first book in this somewhat high-concept (not high-brow concept, mind) series was a fairly simple, fun story that felt both in- and out-of-place with other 70s horror — shoe-horning in an awkward under-written sex scene and bits of gore but also focusing on a simplistic, idealized romance and "good guy" British-man-of-education action — this sequel is a lot more definitely of its time. Its characters are less savory, the action is bloodier, the plot-line is more confounding (and sometimes confused), there are unnecessary moments of ick when it comes to racist and sexist language, and one of the sex scenes is written straddling the line of rape. This does a lot of make this much more of a horror novel than its predecessor, walking a fine line between outre exploration and easy exploitation. All with a heady dose of pulp sensibility.
It is the ending where the book falls flat. Smith for whatever reason puts the main action sequence just slightly past the half-way point, and after that most of the built up plotlines just run out and new ones just feel tacked on. The final confrontation — after something of change of pace for a fair chunk of the final third — is more or less told off-stage with the same convenient quickness of the original. Again, I am left with the sense of a 1970s Doctor Who serial...several episodes of various plots all for it to be solved entirely in the final episode with every inconvenient-to-solve element either falsely fixed or just ignored.
Still enjoyable. I'd say even more enjoyable than the first (trading off better/gorier action and meatier characters for the simplistic charm of the first) and still addictive reading while being a delightful mess. I'm definitely in for the next book or two of the series and after that we'll have to see.
It is the ending where the book falls flat. Smith for whatever reason puts the main action sequence just slightly past the half-way point, and after that most of the built up plotlines just run out and new ones just feel tacked on. The final confrontation — after something of change of pace for a fair chunk of the final third — is more or less told off-stage with the same convenient quickness of the original. Again, I am left with the sense of a 1970s Doctor Who serial...several episodes of various plots all for it to be solved entirely in the final episode with every inconvenient-to-solve element either falsely fixed or just ignored.
Still enjoyable. I'd say even more enjoyable than the first (trading off better/gorier action and meatier characters for the simplistic charm of the first) and still addictive reading while being a delightful mess. I'm definitely in for the next book or two of the series and after that we'll have to see.
December 27, 2013
Not my normal choice, but I bought it at a Garage sale for 10 cents, so I read it and enjoyed it. Very much like Stephen King, the title says it all, but it was an interesting read, fun, and a little action.
April 15, 2021
Ich denke, mehr wie Band 1 muss man in dieser Reihe nicht gelesen haben.
March 17, 2008
Well, one thing is for certain - "Killer Crabs" is a LOT better than "Origin of the Crabs." While "Origin" took place at a stupid welsh hunting lodge, "Killer Crabs" is set on the fucking Great Barrier Reef. The hero, a fisherman of indeterminate age named Klin, spends half the book being a badass and killing crabs and the other half having sex with a hot and sexy lady. That's right, there is a lot of sex in this book -- i now understand why Guy N. Smith was rejected by so many of his countrymen, but became the bestselling author in Poland.
For instance, there's this one scene early off where they call a professor who's the leading expert on crustaceans to tell him about the giant crabs. He tells the police that he'll be there right away. Then his wife walks in, and before he can tell her the news, her robe falls open and he can see her boobs. And the author spends a long time describing them. That is the madness of this book.
Another big plus: while in "Origin of the Crabs" the crabs killed everyone in the same boring-ass way, Guy Smith really manages to mix it up this time. Sometimes the crabs snap off people's heads and then disembowel them. Sometimes they just tear them apart. Like the other book, though, Smith keeps reinforcing the fact that the crabs have REALLY mean faces, and that they DEFINITELY want to kill humans because they are SO MEAN.
In one scene a giant crab eats a japanese pirate while his entire crew watches, snapping off one limb at a time. Woooo! CRABS! In another scene a drunk guy is standing on the beach, laughing drunkenly at the severed head of a guy he knows bobbing in the waves, when all of a sudden a CRAB drags him underwater and EATS HIM.
But some characters are killed by humans, reminding me (the reader) that humans are sometimes the worst killer crabs of all.
Are we the real monsters? No, we are not. The monsters are the Giant Crabs that we created by testing nuclear bombs underwater for no good reason.
I guess the only real question that needs to be answered is this... how much more awesome can the remaining books be? Will "Crabs Moon" surpass the sex and violence of "Killer Crabs", or will it be dull and plodding like, well, a giant crab? And what about "Night of the Crabs?" And holy shit, what about "Crabs: the Human Sacrifice" and "Crabs on the Rampage", which I only just found out about?! HOLY SHIT! CRABS!!!
I'll try to update you all as I finish these books.
For instance, there's this one scene early off where they call a professor who's the leading expert on crustaceans to tell him about the giant crabs. He tells the police that he'll be there right away. Then his wife walks in, and before he can tell her the news, her robe falls open and he can see her boobs. And the author spends a long time describing them. That is the madness of this book.
Another big plus: while in "Origin of the Crabs" the crabs killed everyone in the same boring-ass way, Guy Smith really manages to mix it up this time. Sometimes the crabs snap off people's heads and then disembowel them. Sometimes they just tear them apart. Like the other book, though, Smith keeps reinforcing the fact that the crabs have REALLY mean faces, and that they DEFINITELY want to kill humans because they are SO MEAN.
In one scene a giant crab eats a japanese pirate while his entire crew watches, snapping off one limb at a time. Woooo! CRABS! In another scene a drunk guy is standing on the beach, laughing drunkenly at the severed head of a guy he knows bobbing in the waves, when all of a sudden a CRAB drags him underwater and EATS HIM.
But some characters are killed by humans, reminding me (the reader) that humans are sometimes the worst killer crabs of all.
Are we the real monsters? No, we are not. The monsters are the Giant Crabs that we created by testing nuclear bombs underwater for no good reason.
I guess the only real question that needs to be answered is this... how much more awesome can the remaining books be? Will "Crabs Moon" surpass the sex and violence of "Killer Crabs", or will it be dull and plodding like, well, a giant crab? And what about "Night of the Crabs?" And holy shit, what about "Crabs: the Human Sacrifice" and "Crabs on the Rampage", which I only just found out about?! HOLY SHIT! CRABS!!!
I'll try to update you all as I finish these books.
April 5, 2014
Crustaean vandalism!
OK, Mr. Smith, das ist mir jetzt klar geworden: Menschen haben an den Stränden dieser Welt nichts verloren, denn egal ob an der Küste Englands oder Australiens, sie sterben dort wie die Fliegen, mal durch die Klauen des SLIME BEASTS, mal durch die Scheren der Riesenkrabben. CLICK. CLICK. CLICKETY-CLICK! Letztere sind in NIGHT OF THE CRABS nicht wie erhofft ausgerottet worden und treiben nur ihr Unwesen auf Hayman Island.
Wieder fängt alles scheinbar harmlos mit einzelnen Todesfällen an, auch wenn der Leser natürlich einen Wissensvorsprung hat und Zeuge der letzten Epiphanie eines Säuferst wird: "So this was hell. Water, not fire, a thousend times more frightening." CLICK. CLICK.
Bald zeigt sich, wer wirklich hinter den mysteriösen Todesfällen steckt.
Die Bürgerwehr australischer Fischer will japanischen Fischwilderern den Garaus machen. Bei Vollmond, ja haben die Band 1 denn nicht gelesen?
Und auch wenn alle Japaner Godzilla-geprüft sind, den nipponschen Fischwilderern hilfts nicht, KILLER CRABS sind eben extra. Auch das Militär sieht mehr als blaß aus: "There was no question of driving the creatures back to the sa. They were invincible". Wie gut, dass es Professor Davenport gibt. Professor, sie sind der Beste, nur sie können die Welt retten, aber passen sie auf, dass die Streichhölzer nicht nass werden!
Neben den verhaßten Schalentieren sorgen ein Bankräuber, eine Betrügerin, ein debiler Großwildjäger und ein Koffer voller Geld für Unruhe. Und natürlich gibt es wieder reichlich Sex-Szenen.
Professor Davenport weiß die Probleme richtig einzuschätzen:
"Only two things I know change a man like that. One's the moon. The other is a woman." He banged a piece of crab with a small hammer. "This feller here is controlled by the moon phases. Somehow I don't think that's friend Klin's trouble."
Mich kriegt ihr jedenfalls nicht, ihr verdammten Viecher, nicht in meiner BADEWANNE, dem sichersten Badeort der Welt, wo ich KILLER CRABS begonnen habe, und nicht eben dort, wo ich das Buch unter lautem Triumphgeheul beende!
Lots of fun and Rock ´n´ Roll!
OK, Mr. Smith, das ist mir jetzt klar geworden: Menschen haben an den Stränden dieser Welt nichts verloren, denn egal ob an der Küste Englands oder Australiens, sie sterben dort wie die Fliegen, mal durch die Klauen des SLIME BEASTS, mal durch die Scheren der Riesenkrabben. CLICK. CLICK. CLICKETY-CLICK! Letztere sind in NIGHT OF THE CRABS nicht wie erhofft ausgerottet worden und treiben nur ihr Unwesen auf Hayman Island.
Wieder fängt alles scheinbar harmlos mit einzelnen Todesfällen an, auch wenn der Leser natürlich einen Wissensvorsprung hat und Zeuge der letzten Epiphanie eines Säuferst wird: "So this was hell. Water, not fire, a thousend times more frightening." CLICK. CLICK.
Bald zeigt sich, wer wirklich hinter den mysteriösen Todesfällen steckt.
Die Bürgerwehr australischer Fischer will japanischen Fischwilderern den Garaus machen. Bei Vollmond, ja haben die Band 1 denn nicht gelesen?
Und auch wenn alle Japaner Godzilla-geprüft sind, den nipponschen Fischwilderern hilfts nicht, KILLER CRABS sind eben extra. Auch das Militär sieht mehr als blaß aus: "There was no question of driving the creatures back to the sa. They were invincible". Wie gut, dass es Professor Davenport gibt. Professor, sie sind der Beste, nur sie können die Welt retten, aber passen sie auf, dass die Streichhölzer nicht nass werden!
Neben den verhaßten Schalentieren sorgen ein Bankräuber, eine Betrügerin, ein debiler Großwildjäger und ein Koffer voller Geld für Unruhe. Und natürlich gibt es wieder reichlich Sex-Szenen.
Professor Davenport weiß die Probleme richtig einzuschätzen:
"Only two things I know change a man like that. One's the moon. The other is a woman." He banged a piece of crab with a small hammer. "This feller here is controlled by the moon phases. Somehow I don't think that's friend Klin's trouble."
Mich kriegt ihr jedenfalls nicht, ihr verdammten Viecher, nicht in meiner BADEWANNE, dem sichersten Badeort der Welt, wo ich KILLER CRABS begonnen habe, und nicht eben dort, wo ich das Buch unter lautem Triumphgeheul beende!
Lots of fun and Rock ´n´ Roll!
September 16, 2018
Although I didn't enjoy this as much as the first book, this was still quite engaging and cleverly plotted.
For some reason, counterparts of the giant, militaristic crabs of the Welsh coast from the first novel have resurfaced by Hayman Island in Australia. (Not much of an explanation for this, so don't bother expecting one.) The story starts off pretty strong and a bit jingoistic with local stud Klin inciting a fishermen's war against Japanese poachers. The parties blame each other but the real threats are the mega-crabs.
Much has already been written in these reviews about the Caroline du Brunner character, so my only comment is: she makes an impression. Safe to say this was intended as men's fiction.
Cliff Davenport from the first book from the other side of the world soon arrives to help with the local response. The crabs advance on the island and on the hotel where Caroline and her suitors sleep. The crab attack on the hotel alone earned this book one of its four stars in my opinion. Yes, there are a bunch of anthropomorphic descriptions of the crabs--some more effective than others--but Smith truly has a way of creating fear and tension even with silly material.
What I didn't like about this book was the fragmented, ensemble cast of characters. I wanted to see more of Davenport and his development. But he mostly took a backseat to Klin and the other players. This made it less of a unified story and vaguely reminded me of the 1970 disaster flicks where you have different characters dealing with various aspects of the situation independently.
The fourth star is earned at the end. It's another big set piece battle of sorts, but unique and effective.
For some reason, counterparts of the giant, militaristic crabs of the Welsh coast from the first novel have resurfaced by Hayman Island in Australia. (Not much of an explanation for this, so don't bother expecting one.) The story starts off pretty strong and a bit jingoistic with local stud Klin inciting a fishermen's war against Japanese poachers. The parties blame each other but the real threats are the mega-crabs.
Much has already been written in these reviews about the Caroline du Brunner character, so my only comment is: she makes an impression. Safe to say this was intended as men's fiction.
Cliff Davenport from the first book from the other side of the world soon arrives to help with the local response. The crabs advance on the island and on the hotel where Caroline and her suitors sleep. The crab attack on the hotel alone earned this book one of its four stars in my opinion. Yes, there are a bunch of anthropomorphic descriptions of the crabs--some more effective than others--but Smith truly has a way of creating fear and tension even with silly material.
What I didn't like about this book was the fragmented, ensemble cast of characters. I wanted to see more of Davenport and his development. But he mostly took a backseat to Klin and the other players. This made it less of a unified story and vaguely reminded me of the 1970 disaster flicks where you have different characters dealing with various aspects of the situation independently.
The fourth star is earned at the end. It's another big set piece battle of sorts, but unique and effective.
January 16, 2021
The second book in the Crab series shows significant improvement in the author’s writing, which unfortunately negates most of the amateurish charm of the first book. This time the monster crabs have shown up in an Australian resort area - discovered by a cantankerous fishing boat captain named Klin, who reminded me of Quint from Jaws, only a lot hornier. Fortunately for him (but not for us) a promiscuous model impersonating a wealthy woman is staying at the resort, a goofy subplot that yields several gratuitous and puerile sex scenes with various partners, but ultimately doesn’t really go anywhere. Professor Davenport is back and teams up with Klin to fight the monsters. No surprise that I didn’t like this as much as the first book, which wasn’t very well written, but was entertaining and charming in a pulpy way, where this one is mostly just a clunker.
December 4, 2018
Wonderful trash
The seventies were a golden age for trashy books and this is a classic of that genre. Obnoxious characters plotting and being generally offensive - the female lead is so terrible as to read as a parody - while giant crabs attack. It reads like Jackie Collins wrote a Syfy movie
The seventies were a golden age for trashy books and this is a classic of that genre. Obnoxious characters plotting and being generally offensive - the female lead is so terrible as to read as a parody - while giant crabs attack. It reads like Jackie Collins wrote a Syfy movie
March 7, 2022
This is a fun quick read, I liked it, but you need to read the first book before this one.
April 23, 2023
I didn’t like this one as much as the first. Still very silly, though. Just stay out of the ocean, y’all.
April 26, 2018
This is better than the first installment, "Night of the Crabs," which appears to the be the work of a dawdling amateur who never mastered simple exhortations like "show not tell." Four years later and a few non-crustacean-related books under his belt, the growth of Smith's talent as a writer is evident. That doesn't necessarily mean it's good.
Now the killer crabs have resurfaced, nearly 10,000 miles away from the Welsh coast in Australia. A couple of shark spotters and a loaner named Klin, whose origins are as mysterious as the giant crabs, are the first to come across the enormous beasts. Knowing they are--no pun intended--out of their depth, they call on Professor Davenport, the heroic marine biologist from the first novel, who flies in to assist.
From there, not much is different from book one. The military again tries and fails to use its sophisticated weaponry against the natural, impenetrable shells of the assailants. Locals die gruesome deaths, severed limbs and heads abounding.
Smith chooses to add a couple of odd subplots here. One involves a fraud of a big game hunter named Logan, who originally came Down Under to bag a great white. Instead, he sets his sights on a giant crab. Then there's Caroline de Braunner, a beautiful woman and--according to the text--"nymphomaniac" who attempts to sleep with every male character and, with the exception of now-happily married Davenport, succeeds. One is even an escaped bank robber lugging around 20,000 pounds of spoils. In a bizarre set of events catalyzed by a crab attack on the hotel, the three aforementioned characters and the money all converge. The diversion resolves itself, but the reader is left to question what the hell any of it is there for in the first place.
And, yeah, there's also virtually indestructible mutant crabs to deal with. This is all done in the span of 160 pages. While it's a fast read, mercifully so, it leaves little time for any real character development or any real building of pathos for the characters. That said, they aren't nearly as two-dimensional as the ones who populate the first book.
Maybe that's my hang-up for expecting something of substance about a yarn concerning crabs the size of automobiles who are as intelligent as we are and hate us with a blinding fury.
One question still looms. How? Where did the crabs come from? Davenport speculates they were caused by underwater nuclear testing. This is, after all, the late 70s, and a Cold War is still looming. Yet even Davenport quickly notes that this is purely conjecture.
So, on that note, I'm am bravely going to move along to book #3, The Origin of the Crabs. Maybe, just maybe, the title is spot-on. I really want to know what created these buggers. I'd also like to try a big hunk of them dipped in some garlic butter.
Now the killer crabs have resurfaced, nearly 10,000 miles away from the Welsh coast in Australia. A couple of shark spotters and a loaner named Klin, whose origins are as mysterious as the giant crabs, are the first to come across the enormous beasts. Knowing they are--no pun intended--out of their depth, they call on Professor Davenport, the heroic marine biologist from the first novel, who flies in to assist.
From there, not much is different from book one. The military again tries and fails to use its sophisticated weaponry against the natural, impenetrable shells of the assailants. Locals die gruesome deaths, severed limbs and heads abounding.
Smith chooses to add a couple of odd subplots here. One involves a fraud of a big game hunter named Logan, who originally came Down Under to bag a great white. Instead, he sets his sights on a giant crab. Then there's Caroline de Braunner, a beautiful woman and--according to the text--"nymphomaniac" who attempts to sleep with every male character and, with the exception of now-happily married Davenport, succeeds. One is even an escaped bank robber lugging around 20,000 pounds of spoils. In a bizarre set of events catalyzed by a crab attack on the hotel, the three aforementioned characters and the money all converge. The diversion resolves itself, but the reader is left to question what the hell any of it is there for in the first place.
And, yeah, there's also virtually indestructible mutant crabs to deal with. This is all done in the span of 160 pages. While it's a fast read, mercifully so, it leaves little time for any real character development or any real building of pathos for the characters. That said, they aren't nearly as two-dimensional as the ones who populate the first book.
Maybe that's my hang-up for expecting something of substance about a yarn concerning crabs the size of automobiles who are as intelligent as we are and hate us with a blinding fury.
One question still looms. How? Where did the crabs come from? Davenport speculates they were caused by underwater nuclear testing. This is, after all, the late 70s, and a Cold War is still looming. Yet even Davenport quickly notes that this is purely conjecture.
So, on that note, I'm am bravely going to move along to book #3, The Origin of the Crabs. Maybe, just maybe, the title is spot-on. I really want to know what created these buggers. I'd also like to try a big hunk of them dipped in some garlic butter.
October 19, 2019
Spooktober 2019 Book 11
Chalked full of every single macho-man cliche, creature destruction, overly descriptive sex, violence, and pulp like writing, Killer Crabs was basically everything I was looking for in a book to fuel my (immature) masculinity and to add to my Spooktober reading list.
Anyone who knows me know that while I love horror, I also love creature feature stories, the bigger and more destructive, the better. The good news is that Killer Crabs delivers that in spades. Huge crabs, wreaking havoc on the poor human population of a luxury island? Count me in 100 freaking percent!
Of course the book is cheaply written, relying on shock factor and the obligatory amounts of sex, violence, and basic tenants of “men’s adventure” stories to rope in readers, but guess what? It worked! I was hooked from the opening page.
My only complaint? Killer Crabs at only 160 pages, is way too short and the ending, while satisfying and open ended for more stories in this “Crabs” universe (there are something like 6 total novels in this series), felt a little too rushed. But, it’s not like that’s a bad thing since I’ll definitely find time to read the rest of Smith’s work.
Big shout out to Grady Hendrix and his phenomenal non fiction Paperbacks From Hell for introducing me to Guy N. Smith and his Crabs novels. Can’t wait to sink my own pincers into another one of these books.
Chalked full of every single macho-man cliche, creature destruction, overly descriptive sex, violence, and pulp like writing, Killer Crabs was basically everything I was looking for in a book to fuel my (immature) masculinity and to add to my Spooktober reading list.
Anyone who knows me know that while I love horror, I also love creature feature stories, the bigger and more destructive, the better. The good news is that Killer Crabs delivers that in spades. Huge crabs, wreaking havoc on the poor human population of a luxury island? Count me in 100 freaking percent!
Of course the book is cheaply written, relying on shock factor and the obligatory amounts of sex, violence, and basic tenants of “men’s adventure” stories to rope in readers, but guess what? It worked! I was hooked from the opening page.
My only complaint? Killer Crabs at only 160 pages, is way too short and the ending, while satisfying and open ended for more stories in this “Crabs” universe (there are something like 6 total novels in this series), felt a little too rushed. But, it’s not like that’s a bad thing since I’ll definitely find time to read the rest of Smith’s work.
Big shout out to Grady Hendrix and his phenomenal non fiction Paperbacks From Hell for introducing me to Guy N. Smith and his Crabs novels. Can’t wait to sink my own pincers into another one of these books.
July 4, 2016
Smith wrote a whole series of crab books, of which this is the second. I read a lot them many years ago and found this one to be not nearly as good as my memory of it was. Smith's early popular crab books appeared long before the Williams/Gonzalez/Keene Clickers books, back when giant thingies of all types were terrorizing humanity, and before people began noticing melodramatic and possibly misogynistic dialog such as:
As the heat of passion left her, Caroline de Brunner began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with the spasms, and she buried her face against his chest, scraping her cheek along the matted hair.
"You bastard," she moaned. "Oh, you bastard. Oh God, why did you have to do that?"
"Because you wanted it, and I wanted it," he said. "And that's a good enough reason for any couple."
"Damn you, I wanted to forget you, Klin." She raised herself up, and looked at him through tear-filled eyes. "It always happens the same way. I vowed I'd never take another husband."
Anyway, the crabs are in Australia in their second outing and it was fun to revisit them in a nostalgic way, though I can't really recommend this one to serious horror fans.
As the heat of passion left her, Caroline de Brunner began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with the spasms, and she buried her face against his chest, scraping her cheek along the matted hair.
"You bastard," she moaned. "Oh, you bastard. Oh God, why did you have to do that?"
"Because you wanted it, and I wanted it," he said. "And that's a good enough reason for any couple."
"Damn you, I wanted to forget you, Klin." She raised herself up, and looked at him through tear-filled eyes. "It always happens the same way. I vowed I'd never take another husband."
Anyway, the crabs are in Australia in their second outing and it was fun to revisit them in a nostalgic way, though I can't really recommend this one to serious horror fans.
August 27, 2018
This book, due to personal issues took me over a year to read. It's amazingly short but it was a good read. Guy N Smith does have a way with keeping on track, and skipping unnecessary details. That's something that I can really enjoy when it comes to authors. As with many of his books, including those within the "Crabs" series by Smith, the end of the book will leave you with many unanswered questions. Most of which you are able to piece together on your own. As a science fiction nerd, I loved the book, but as a Biology nerd, it can be infuriating at times. Anyways, my main point for this book, is that its a decent read, but if you want to get the most out of it, you'll have to read the "Crabs" series completely to piece everything together.
November 23, 2014
This is the literary equivalent of a 1950's monster B-movie, and I loved every page! Guy Smith gives us everything we want from a book called "Killer Crabs"! There's fearsome, nigh indestructable mutant crabs and imperiled people desperately trying to find some way to stop them. He gives us heroes we care about and root for
and people we really hate, who we can't wait to see get their come uppance. Throw in a littel almost gratuitous sex and this book is a perfect little beach read. If you like action and nature gone wild, don't miss "Killer Crabs"!
and people we really hate, who we can't wait to see get their come uppance. Throw in a littel almost gratuitous sex and this book is a perfect little beach read. If you like action and nature gone wild, don't miss "Killer Crabs"!
July 15, 2012
The third (fourth?) in this marvellous series about EVIL GIANT CRABS was I think a return to form for the series. Of course this is a speculative review of a half memory. This is the one I believe where the evil sadistic crab bastards start to show some weakness and sets up the finale of the series nicely.
March 22, 2018
Not exactly packed with Killer Crabs this time around, but more of a crime novel about an Australian resort that by the end has to worry more about man-eating crustaceans than Japanese poachers. Not that it's a bad thing as it is still a highly entertaining read and moves at a lightning clip. If you like Smith's stuff, you will enjoy this, if not, it certainly won't change your mind.
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