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The Dregs Trilogy #1-3
The Dregs Trilogy
From British Fantasy Award-nominated author Chris Kelso comes The Dregs Trilogy, a transgressive odyssey in three instalments – Shrapnel Apartments (Ginger Nuts of Horror Book of the Year 2017), Unger House Radicals (Ginger Nuts of Horror Book of the Year 2016) and Ritual America – that will leave you dazzled, fascinated and shocked in equal measure.
536 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 2019
6 people are currently reading
231 people want to read
About the author
Chris Kelso
72 books206 followersChris Kelso is an award-winning genre writer, editor, illustrator, and musician from Scotland. His work has been published widely across the UK, US and Canada.
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
July 12, 2020
The DREGS Trilogy is a collection of three novellas: Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals, and Ritual America. The content of all three is raw, graphic and brutally nihilistic. Incorporating the idea(l)s of violence, media and self-idolization, these novellas takes us on a hallucinogenic tour of the underbelly of humanity. When does action stop taking responsibility for itself? Where do people draw the line between fear and destruction? How do we live in an imploding world? Chris Kelso uses words as an artist wields a brush, creating impressive new colors and visually impacting shapes. He will lead you to a hellish reality that is all too close for comfort. Read. Reflect. Reevaluate.
September 2, 2024
Chris Kelso is a chameleon, literarily speaking. The young Scot has written fiction with wide-ranging genre tags, from bizarro to science fiction, horror to transgressive, and almost all combinations possible. He has collaborated on fiction and a graphic novel, and has edited anthologies, as well as working on his own work. The Slave State is his creation of a bleak, horrific alternative reality that has been the setting for much of his work. All of this is to say he is an incredibly accomplished and hard-working author, but his work tends not to fit neatly into any one genre box. And his latest book is no exception.
The Dregs Trilogy is the culmination of a major element of Kelso’s fiction work which began in 2016 with the publication of Unger House Radicals and continued with the second book, Shrapnel Apartments, published in 2017. Always intended as a trilogy, Steve Shaw at Black Shuck Books stepped forward to publish all three stories in a single book, concluding with the third part, Ritual America. The finished article, along with interior artwork by Shane Swank, S.C. Burke, Michael Salerno and Don Noble, as well as an eye-catching cover by the ever-reliable Matthew Revert, and an introduction by Jim McLeod, head honcho of gingernutsofhorror.com, is a wonderfully hefty hardback that any fan of Chris Kelso’s particular brand of transgressive horror would be proud to display on their bookshelf.
The framework for the three separate parts within involves the gradual deterioration of humanity through the uncompromising Ultra-Realism movement and the influence of extradimensional beings called Blackcap and King Misery. Part one, “Shrapnel Apartments”, opens with a brief introduction by Blackcap, addressing the reader as “Sweet, innocent Viewer”, a reference to the idea of a horrific reality television show shown on the internet where five humans are imprisoned in the extradimensional Shrapnel Apartments and their struggles are televised for the enjoyment of a sadistic audience. At the same time, in Amber Acre, Louisiana, the youngest member of the troublesome Carson family is suspected of the abduction and murder of local children. Unfortunately, the detective assigned to the case, Bobby Reilly, has a terrible secret that gives him a unique insight into the mind of Beau Carson.
This is not an easy read. It isn’t for the faint of heart. It concerns human horror of the worst possible kind; violence toward children. Kelso has never been a writer to shy away from the more disturbing aspects of human nature. He explores the darkness where most would fear to tread, but it is essential for the telling of this story. Through the exploration of these characters, Kelso examines the very real question of man’s inhumanity to man. Are we losing the sense of togetherness, our empathetic ability, our love for our fellow human? We do seem to be distancing ourselves from each other, isolating ourselves behind locked doors and internet connections, seeing more and more divisions every day. In “Shrapnel Apartments”, Kelso asks if this is simply the way society is naturally progressing – through movements like Ultra-Realism – or is there a much larger, unseen and unimaginable, sinister hand guiding our suffering for their own sustenance? While these cosmic elements never fully materialise in an alien invasion or attack by a giant monster, by merely hinting to them and including brief monologues from Blackcap and King Misery, Kelso maintains a subtle sense of the grandiose horror that lies (mercifully) just out of our reach. Yet, the horror of human suffering is expertly portrayed.
The story of Ultra-Realism continues in “Unger House Radicals”. Although presented as part two of the trilogy, the events of this story predate “Shrapnel Apartments”. Main characters Vincent Bittaker and Brandon Swarthy are actually the founding members of the movement. Vincent is a young filmmaker who only wants to change the world. He wants to create something that will spawn a movement. Swarthy is the older man with whom he instantly becomes infatuated. But there is a darkness not-so-deep beneath Swarthy’s skin; violence is an everyday occurrence for him, and he gets off on it. Tired with modern filmmaking and the falseness of Hollywood, Vincent longs to make something real. Real-er than real. Ultra-Real. Swarthy convinces him that they need a victim, someone they can film as they experience ultimate suffering. Toward the end, Vincent begins to question their mission, and reality itself. Who – or what – is Swarthy, really?
While the depictions of violence are truly violent, they are never gratuitous. Every scene serves the purpose of developing the characters or furthering the story. It is bloody and visceral, but it never detracts from Kelso’s wildly unique story-telling style. It is non-linear and jumps between the different characters’ points of view but, rather than distracting, this only adds to the compelling nature of Kelso’s writing. It is gripping and enthralling to the end.
Which, of course, is not the end of the trilogy. Part three, “Ritual America”, is the only section that is previously unpublished. Taking place after the events of the previous parts, we explore the more cosmic side of Ultra-Realism, but not with Blackcap or King Misery. At least, not by name. It is more of their influence. A sound is infecting the human race, possibly permeated through the music of Ultra-Realism followers, and seemingly spreading the message of human suffering. A couple living in New York, Rob and Kathy, are living their seemingly banal lives when Rob’s brother, Steven, appears at their door. Rob is critical of Steven’s zealotry belief in strange followings, including Ultra-Realism. Naturally, it doesn’t take long for “the sound” to infect their lives. Told alongside this, and providing a more tangible connection to the previous parts, previous Amber Acre resident (and victim of the Carson clan), Alfie McPherson tells his story of encountering the sound, and the music of Ultra-Realism. As a teenager, he was abused by Jed Carson, and, along with another victim, took a gruesome interest in death.
The shortest part, it is a fitting end to Kelso’s trilogy devoted to the darkest recesses of the human soul. If, indeed, there is such a thing. As with his many other books, The Dregs Trilogy is not straight forward. He tends to sacrifice ease of reading for a more challenging and, ultimately, rewarding reading experience. But just because a story is easy to follow and tells the story from one point of view and follows a natural progression of scenes, does not mean that it is a “good” story. With The Dregs Trilogy, Kelso jumps between multiple narrators within each individual part, he utilises techniques such as epistolary, poetry and stream of consciousness among others to deliver an epic and transgressive tapestry. He weaves threads of each individual character, their complex histories, the overarching nightmarish theme of Ultra-Realism and the existential horror of being human together to create a bleak work of nihilistic art.
The Dregs Trilogy is the culmination of a major element of Kelso’s fiction work which began in 2016 with the publication of Unger House Radicals and continued with the second book, Shrapnel Apartments, published in 2017. Always intended as a trilogy, Steve Shaw at Black Shuck Books stepped forward to publish all three stories in a single book, concluding with the third part, Ritual America. The finished article, along with interior artwork by Shane Swank, S.C. Burke, Michael Salerno and Don Noble, as well as an eye-catching cover by the ever-reliable Matthew Revert, and an introduction by Jim McLeod, head honcho of gingernutsofhorror.com, is a wonderfully hefty hardback that any fan of Chris Kelso’s particular brand of transgressive horror would be proud to display on their bookshelf.
The framework for the three separate parts within involves the gradual deterioration of humanity through the uncompromising Ultra-Realism movement and the influence of extradimensional beings called Blackcap and King Misery. Part one, “Shrapnel Apartments”, opens with a brief introduction by Blackcap, addressing the reader as “Sweet, innocent Viewer”, a reference to the idea of a horrific reality television show shown on the internet where five humans are imprisoned in the extradimensional Shrapnel Apartments and their struggles are televised for the enjoyment of a sadistic audience. At the same time, in Amber Acre, Louisiana, the youngest member of the troublesome Carson family is suspected of the abduction and murder of local children. Unfortunately, the detective assigned to the case, Bobby Reilly, has a terrible secret that gives him a unique insight into the mind of Beau Carson.
This is not an easy read. It isn’t for the faint of heart. It concerns human horror of the worst possible kind; violence toward children. Kelso has never been a writer to shy away from the more disturbing aspects of human nature. He explores the darkness where most would fear to tread, but it is essential for the telling of this story. Through the exploration of these characters, Kelso examines the very real question of man’s inhumanity to man. Are we losing the sense of togetherness, our empathetic ability, our love for our fellow human? We do seem to be distancing ourselves from each other, isolating ourselves behind locked doors and internet connections, seeing more and more divisions every day. In “Shrapnel Apartments”, Kelso asks if this is simply the way society is naturally progressing – through movements like Ultra-Realism – or is there a much larger, unseen and unimaginable, sinister hand guiding our suffering for their own sustenance? While these cosmic elements never fully materialise in an alien invasion or attack by a giant monster, by merely hinting to them and including brief monologues from Blackcap and King Misery, Kelso maintains a subtle sense of the grandiose horror that lies (mercifully) just out of our reach. Yet, the horror of human suffering is expertly portrayed.
The story of Ultra-Realism continues in “Unger House Radicals”. Although presented as part two of the trilogy, the events of this story predate “Shrapnel Apartments”. Main characters Vincent Bittaker and Brandon Swarthy are actually the founding members of the movement. Vincent is a young filmmaker who only wants to change the world. He wants to create something that will spawn a movement. Swarthy is the older man with whom he instantly becomes infatuated. But there is a darkness not-so-deep beneath Swarthy’s skin; violence is an everyday occurrence for him, and he gets off on it. Tired with modern filmmaking and the falseness of Hollywood, Vincent longs to make something real. Real-er than real. Ultra-Real. Swarthy convinces him that they need a victim, someone they can film as they experience ultimate suffering. Toward the end, Vincent begins to question their mission, and reality itself. Who – or what – is Swarthy, really?
While the depictions of violence are truly violent, they are never gratuitous. Every scene serves the purpose of developing the characters or furthering the story. It is bloody and visceral, but it never detracts from Kelso’s wildly unique story-telling style. It is non-linear and jumps between the different characters’ points of view but, rather than distracting, this only adds to the compelling nature of Kelso’s writing. It is gripping and enthralling to the end.
Which, of course, is not the end of the trilogy. Part three, “Ritual America”, is the only section that is previously unpublished. Taking place after the events of the previous parts, we explore the more cosmic side of Ultra-Realism, but not with Blackcap or King Misery. At least, not by name. It is more of their influence. A sound is infecting the human race, possibly permeated through the music of Ultra-Realism followers, and seemingly spreading the message of human suffering. A couple living in New York, Rob and Kathy, are living their seemingly banal lives when Rob’s brother, Steven, appears at their door. Rob is critical of Steven’s zealotry belief in strange followings, including Ultra-Realism. Naturally, it doesn’t take long for “the sound” to infect their lives. Told alongside this, and providing a more tangible connection to the previous parts, previous Amber Acre resident (and victim of the Carson clan), Alfie McPherson tells his story of encountering the sound, and the music of Ultra-Realism. As a teenager, he was abused by Jed Carson, and, along with another victim, took a gruesome interest in death.
The shortest part, it is a fitting end to Kelso’s trilogy devoted to the darkest recesses of the human soul. If, indeed, there is such a thing. As with his many other books, The Dregs Trilogy is not straight forward. He tends to sacrifice ease of reading for a more challenging and, ultimately, rewarding reading experience. But just because a story is easy to follow and tells the story from one point of view and follows a natural progression of scenes, does not mean that it is a “good” story. With The Dregs Trilogy, Kelso jumps between multiple narrators within each individual part, he utilises techniques such as epistolary, poetry and stream of consciousness among others to deliver an epic and transgressive tapestry. He weaves threads of each individual character, their complex histories, the overarching nightmarish theme of Ultra-Realism and the existential horror of being human together to create a bleak work of nihilistic art.
July 31, 2021
My first read through of this masterpiece, though I doubt I'm done with it :)
It does seem, if not cyclical, self-referential in a way that will expand in resonance with re-reads.
Art for a broken world, to show it that it is broken. What you do with that info is up to you—likely you will not run screaming into a wall, but no one knows why not.
If you follow me and like the kind of fiction I read and write, pick this one up post-haste.
It does seem, if not cyclical, self-referential in a way that will expand in resonance with re-reads.
Art for a broken world, to show it that it is broken. What you do with that info is up to you—likely you will not run screaming into a wall, but no one knows why not.
If you follow me and like the kind of fiction I read and write, pick this one up post-haste.
September 30, 2020
The Dregs Trilogy is a fierce ol' thrillride, one that makes its way across cities, timezones and dimensions as it follows these alternately lost and bedevilled souls. The characters here are all cursed to make sense of a hostile universe that takes no pity on its tenants. Meanwhile we readers get something genuinely sui generis and Chris Kelso has created for us a hysterical, many-headed monster.
July 8, 2020
Before this review starts rambling (which it almost inevitably will) here's the short version: this book is an incredible achievement, and hats off to Chris Kelso for inhabiting this grim, relentless world of visceral and existential horrors for as long as he did, and with such a pure vision. The book can be disorientating - much of what transpires occurring in parallel dimensions and time-loops - but you'll be rewarded if you stick with it. Tenfold.
The Dregs Trilogy comprises of the previously published SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS and UNGER HOUSE RADICALS (presented here in their originally intended chronology) and the final part RITUAL AMERICA, new to this edition. Each part is quite different in its approach, although numerous characters recur throughout, as do the themes of art, ultra-violence, reality TV, serial killers, murder, suicide, misogyny, rape, child abuse, complicity, identity, possession, death cults and the inter-dimensional gods Blackcap and King Misery who thrive on it all. It's not for the faint-hearted, but there's a deep examination of the human condition at the core of all the degradation and nihilism.
The central conceit of the trilogy is the rise of the Ultra-Realist movement, a project at the intersection of performance art and serial killing intended to lead eventually to a mass murder-suicide pact involving the whole human race.
SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS is perhaps the most fragmented of the three books, jumping around between numerous viewpoint characters, many of whom are trapped in the strange afterlife panopticon of Blackcap's Shrapnel Apartment's reality TV show. There's a mesmerising sort-of prologue set in the Democratic Republic of Congo that introduces both the child-devouring nightmare god Blackcap and the Ultra-Realists, reminiscent (and not for the last time) of William Burroughs' archetypal traveller experimenting with and losing himself in transgressive alien cultures. Then we relocate to America, Blackcap now the traveller ready to make his mark on the new world.
There's a lot going on in SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS, most of it revolving around the eternally recurring murder of a young girl, Florence Coffey. Kelso's approach to the subject matter is unflinching as he creates a kind of interactive limbo for a small group of people reliving the abuses they've both suffered and committed. There is not a single morally uncompromised character on display here, and death seems to offer no possibility of escape (most chillingly realised in the repeating motif of characters remembering/reliving their own autopsies). The seeds are sown for the concept of the human race as a spent force that deserves an unpleasant end it may be too tired and beaten down to resist.
There is a tangential section towards the end of the novel that features a running spat between a science fiction writer and a critic, including interactions with William S. Burroughs on a trip to Scotland - Kelso clearly has a huge fondness and admiration for Burroughs' work (as do I) and his spirit is often to be found within the Dregs Trilogy's pages, but the writing never feels derivative.
UNGER HOUSE RADICALS begins with the relationship between an avant-garde film maker and his serial killer muse - one that will ultimately birth the Ultra-Realist movement. Deeply rooted in both narcissism and nihilism - as of course many cults are - its creators see Ultra-Realism as an updated (and distinctly non-faked) version of Grand Guignol theatre. Events get increasingly surreal when Kelso throws strands of multiple personality disorder and/or possession into the mix, and from this point forward conventional chronology is frequently abandoned. Without revealing too much, the cast of characters expands from here on in, as does Kelso's exploration of various philosophies and the role that dreams and nightmares play in everybody's lives, along with individual and societal complicity in an endless parade of atrocities.
As with SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS, the closing vignettes of UNGER HOUSE RADICALS are heavily infused with the spectre of William Burroughs at his most inter-dimensionally science fictional, and I had a big smile on my face throughout this part. Don't get me wrong, the content remains genuinely horrifying, but I found it hard not to be captivated by such a loving homage.
I'm unsure how much to say about RITUAL AMERICA, as I'd hate to give away anything about how Kelso wraps up his magnum opus. Extremely minor characters from earlier parts take the centre stage now, and take us deeper and deeper into the mind of the abusers and the abused, often difficult to tell apart. There's a lot to examine about love and family and the effect that cults have on both, and while there's always a backdrop of the paedophilic/cannibalistic cosmic horror of Blackcap and King Misery much of what's on display here is seen through the lens of of humanity's decline and the infinite and awful mutations of its artistic culture.
It was a weird experience reading this book during a global pandemic, with daily protests and riots against the established order of things - at times it felt like the world was mirroring the urge to self-destruction on the page, the willingness of some to sacrifice members of their own species, and the glimmer of hope that exists in those who refuse to surrender to authoritarianism and cultural nihilism. There ARE tiny moments of hope within the world of the Dregs Trilogy, but they are as heartbreakingly rare and fragile as they are seemingly eternal.
I think it's worth mentioning the bravery inherent in writing material like this, especially at a time when an increasing number of people seem to think that documenting the worst excesses of humanity is somehow akin to condoning them. There's nothing here that glorifies the subject matter. Rather it's an unflinching examination of the human condition, and a bleak prophesy of where we might be heading as a species.
It's not pretty, but damn is it powerful.
HUGELY recommended, in case you hadn't guessed.
The Dregs Trilogy comprises of the previously published SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS and UNGER HOUSE RADICALS (presented here in their originally intended chronology) and the final part RITUAL AMERICA, new to this edition. Each part is quite different in its approach, although numerous characters recur throughout, as do the themes of art, ultra-violence, reality TV, serial killers, murder, suicide, misogyny, rape, child abuse, complicity, identity, possession, death cults and the inter-dimensional gods Blackcap and King Misery who thrive on it all. It's not for the faint-hearted, but there's a deep examination of the human condition at the core of all the degradation and nihilism.
The central conceit of the trilogy is the rise of the Ultra-Realist movement, a project at the intersection of performance art and serial killing intended to lead eventually to a mass murder-suicide pact involving the whole human race.
SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS is perhaps the most fragmented of the three books, jumping around between numerous viewpoint characters, many of whom are trapped in the strange afterlife panopticon of Blackcap's Shrapnel Apartment's reality TV show. There's a mesmerising sort-of prologue set in the Democratic Republic of Congo that introduces both the child-devouring nightmare god Blackcap and the Ultra-Realists, reminiscent (and not for the last time) of William Burroughs' archetypal traveller experimenting with and losing himself in transgressive alien cultures. Then we relocate to America, Blackcap now the traveller ready to make his mark on the new world.
There's a lot going on in SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS, most of it revolving around the eternally recurring murder of a young girl, Florence Coffey. Kelso's approach to the subject matter is unflinching as he creates a kind of interactive limbo for a small group of people reliving the abuses they've both suffered and committed. There is not a single morally uncompromised character on display here, and death seems to offer no possibility of escape (most chillingly realised in the repeating motif of characters remembering/reliving their own autopsies). The seeds are sown for the concept of the human race as a spent force that deserves an unpleasant end it may be too tired and beaten down to resist.
There is a tangential section towards the end of the novel that features a running spat between a science fiction writer and a critic, including interactions with William S. Burroughs on a trip to Scotland - Kelso clearly has a huge fondness and admiration for Burroughs' work (as do I) and his spirit is often to be found within the Dregs Trilogy's pages, but the writing never feels derivative.
UNGER HOUSE RADICALS begins with the relationship between an avant-garde film maker and his serial killer muse - one that will ultimately birth the Ultra-Realist movement. Deeply rooted in both narcissism and nihilism - as of course many cults are - its creators see Ultra-Realism as an updated (and distinctly non-faked) version of Grand Guignol theatre. Events get increasingly surreal when Kelso throws strands of multiple personality disorder and/or possession into the mix, and from this point forward conventional chronology is frequently abandoned. Without revealing too much, the cast of characters expands from here on in, as does Kelso's exploration of various philosophies and the role that dreams and nightmares play in everybody's lives, along with individual and societal complicity in an endless parade of atrocities.
As with SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS, the closing vignettes of UNGER HOUSE RADICALS are heavily infused with the spectre of William Burroughs at his most inter-dimensionally science fictional, and I had a big smile on my face throughout this part. Don't get me wrong, the content remains genuinely horrifying, but I found it hard not to be captivated by such a loving homage.
I'm unsure how much to say about RITUAL AMERICA, as I'd hate to give away anything about how Kelso wraps up his magnum opus. Extremely minor characters from earlier parts take the centre stage now, and take us deeper and deeper into the mind of the abusers and the abused, often difficult to tell apart. There's a lot to examine about love and family and the effect that cults have on both, and while there's always a backdrop of the paedophilic/cannibalistic cosmic horror of Blackcap and King Misery much of what's on display here is seen through the lens of of humanity's decline and the infinite and awful mutations of its artistic culture.
It was a weird experience reading this book during a global pandemic, with daily protests and riots against the established order of things - at times it felt like the world was mirroring the urge to self-destruction on the page, the willingness of some to sacrifice members of their own species, and the glimmer of hope that exists in those who refuse to surrender to authoritarianism and cultural nihilism. There ARE tiny moments of hope within the world of the Dregs Trilogy, but they are as heartbreakingly rare and fragile as they are seemingly eternal.
I think it's worth mentioning the bravery inherent in writing material like this, especially at a time when an increasing number of people seem to think that documenting the worst excesses of humanity is somehow akin to condoning them. There's nothing here that glorifies the subject matter. Rather it's an unflinching examination of the human condition, and a bleak prophesy of where we might be heading as a species.
It's not pretty, but damn is it powerful.
HUGELY recommended, in case you hadn't guessed.
December 23, 2025
If your life is a book, it's one that can fit every single book that's ever been written within its pages. And all of those books will receive a film adaptation, so now those are stuffed inside you as well. And all of those films wind up being subject to documentaries which uncover all the seedy drama that happened behind the scenes, and now every last one of your memories is tainted by tales of creepy producers and dogs that know a peanut butter trick. And then you're strapped to a chair like it's A Clockwork Orange and forced to watch all the documentaries about those documentaries, and then you're in a whole other type of book -- now you're in a Chris Kelso book. It's a little bit JG Ballard, a little bit William Burroughs, and a little bit of some other writer who doesn't have a name because he's too weird to exist yet.
July 14, 2021
Like all of his work, what you think this book is about is never what it's really about...
June 16, 2020
Trigger Warnings: All of them
The Dregs Trilogy is a dizzying, hallucinatory read, dense with ideas and clever references. It’s metafiction with layers of narratives that appear disconnected at first, but then jigsaw together. Reviewers have drawn comparisons with Bret Easton Ellis, William Burroughs, and Chuck Palahnuik. I’d add Alistair Gray to that list.
The book explores the cult of Ultra Realism and the Great Isolation, the killer as celebrity, of violence and where of art and reality. Black Cap/ King Misery is the interdimensional guiding hand. It’s a bleak, nihilistic view of mankind, particularly men. The violence is an indictment of a world where we’re all vicarious perpetrators because of our voyeurism. The unremitting violence towards women and children is a difficult read. Chris Kelso is a dark philosopher who has envisaged humanity where culture itself is nothing but a halt, a break, a respite, in the pursuit of barbarity.
I struggle with star rating systems. I feel the same about The Dregs as I do about a Francis Bacon painting. It disturbed me. I had a queasy, visceral reaction to it. It’s no small feat to sustain this over 533 pages. The 4 stars reflect my admiration for Chris Kelso's skill, even when I found the subject matter challenging. That’s the power of art. Sometimes it’s hard to look but you can’t look way.
The Dregs Trilogy is a dizzying, hallucinatory read, dense with ideas and clever references. It’s metafiction with layers of narratives that appear disconnected at first, but then jigsaw together. Reviewers have drawn comparisons with Bret Easton Ellis, William Burroughs, and Chuck Palahnuik. I’d add Alistair Gray to that list.
The book explores the cult of Ultra Realism and the Great Isolation, the killer as celebrity, of violence and where of art and reality. Black Cap/ King Misery is the interdimensional guiding hand. It’s a bleak, nihilistic view of mankind, particularly men. The violence is an indictment of a world where we’re all vicarious perpetrators because of our voyeurism. The unremitting violence towards women and children is a difficult read. Chris Kelso is a dark philosopher who has envisaged humanity where culture itself is nothing but a halt, a break, a respite, in the pursuit of barbarity.
I struggle with star rating systems. I feel the same about The Dregs as I do about a Francis Bacon painting. It disturbed me. I had a queasy, visceral reaction to it. It’s no small feat to sustain this over 533 pages. The 4 stars reflect my admiration for Chris Kelso's skill, even when I found the subject matter challenging. That’s the power of art. Sometimes it’s hard to look but you can’t look way.
May 6, 2020
The Dregs Trilogy is three books, two previously released. All three stories are standalone, but slowly weave together a dark, unforgiving world where the worst aspects of humanity take the front seat.
The first book, Shrapnel Apartments, concerns the residents of a cruel and bizarre reality show. Told through the perspectives of the residents, it is the bleakest of the three, and the most complex. The intertwined lives of the contestants are slowly revealed, and plot unfolds beautifully. Shades of Bret Easton Ellis throughout, this book rewards careful reading.
Unger House Radicals concerns a filmmaker and his sociopathic lover, and their desire to subvert cinema, change art, and shock the world. The goriest of the three, transgressive with shades of splatterpunk and a nod to the bizarre. Here we learn more about the philosophy that drove the world to its knees, and the men who created it.
The third book, Ritual America, is at first glance a straightforward tale of a male prostitute and a client who seems... off. As the story progresses, it deftly ties up the first two books, revealing more of the darkness that is hinted at in Shrapnel Apartments and Unger House Radicals.
Given the dizzying way we’re guided through the Dregs, I’ve deliberately left out certain plot aspects in this review. It’s best you discover these for yourself. As you progress through the trilogy, you’ll be confronted with ideas about the origin of evil, the role of the media in its perpetuation, and the base nature that exists within each of us (and how thin the veil that conceals it really is).
Please be warned; The Dregs Trilogy is not an easy book. The bleakness of the Ultra-Realist world, the nihilism and narcissism of their viewpoint, and just how close we skirt to this all contribute to the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the books. There is no redemption to be found here. It is superbly written, with a thickly layered plot that reveals a little more on each repeat reading.
Chris Kelso writes books that tether themselves to your soul, and leave you thinking about them long after you finish the last page. A rare talent, and one of my very few ‘must-buy’ authors.
If you like fiction that matters, you’ll love Chris Kelso
The first book, Shrapnel Apartments, concerns the residents of a cruel and bizarre reality show. Told through the perspectives of the residents, it is the bleakest of the three, and the most complex. The intertwined lives of the contestants are slowly revealed, and plot unfolds beautifully. Shades of Bret Easton Ellis throughout, this book rewards careful reading.
Unger House Radicals concerns a filmmaker and his sociopathic lover, and their desire to subvert cinema, change art, and shock the world. The goriest of the three, transgressive with shades of splatterpunk and a nod to the bizarre. Here we learn more about the philosophy that drove the world to its knees, and the men who created it.
The third book, Ritual America, is at first glance a straightforward tale of a male prostitute and a client who seems... off. As the story progresses, it deftly ties up the first two books, revealing more of the darkness that is hinted at in Shrapnel Apartments and Unger House Radicals.
Given the dizzying way we’re guided through the Dregs, I’ve deliberately left out certain plot aspects in this review. It’s best you discover these for yourself. As you progress through the trilogy, you’ll be confronted with ideas about the origin of evil, the role of the media in its perpetuation, and the base nature that exists within each of us (and how thin the veil that conceals it really is).
Please be warned; The Dregs Trilogy is not an easy book. The bleakness of the Ultra-Realist world, the nihilism and narcissism of their viewpoint, and just how close we skirt to this all contribute to the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the books. There is no redemption to be found here. It is superbly written, with a thickly layered plot that reveals a little more on each repeat reading.
Chris Kelso writes books that tether themselves to your soul, and leave you thinking about them long after you finish the last page. A rare talent, and one of my very few ‘must-buy’ authors.
If you like fiction that matters, you’ll love Chris Kelso
May 24, 2020
The Dregs Trilogy contains the previously published Unger House Radicals and Shrapnel Apartments, as well as the unreleased third volume of the trilogy, Ritual America. It is truly a transgressive odyssey, and really, that's all you need to know about the "plot.". If you like your narratives challenging and creepy, I highly recommend you check it out.
May 1, 2025
This was a Transgressive masterpiece.
May 3, 2021
A vast, strange labyrinthian masterwork of grotesquery that spans several genres:
There’s horror here for sure (grisly scenes of torture and masochism which Kelso sometimes attacks with nasty flair and sometimes dispatches with a cold, dispassionate creepiness that works equally well), some crime too (in the bleak noir vein, there’s absolutely no moral order to be reasserted when the day is not saved here), a bit of sci-fi in there (time hopping narrative loops, future visions, dystopian game shows), nods to dark folklore (each book is haunted by the demon Blackcap in some guise or another), and an anteater that’s a literary critic and whose urethra is blocked with ants (?).
The three books that make up the trilogy are Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals, and Ritual America. All of them swirl around an abused and murdered teenage girl called Florence Coffey, whose death repeats over and over, the perpetrator and the details of the crime shifting and twisting with each telling.
My personal favourite of three is the final book, Ritual America, where Kelso’s style is in full flow, his love of beat generation writing on show, channelling early Burroughs, and even putting me in mind of William Gibson in the way the sentences hit the ear, the rattling references of exotic places and in-the-know cool creating an imagined subculture patois:
“Drugs keep the spiders at bay. In Asia, they understand what it’s like to have a soul infested with spiders: in most parts of Indonesia they’ll fry magic mushrooms into your omelettes and you can get a ‘happy special pizza’ in Siem Reap for practically nothing. There’s always a Xanax in your beer.”
That's the opening sentence, and I was hooked from there.
There’s horror here for sure (grisly scenes of torture and masochism which Kelso sometimes attacks with nasty flair and sometimes dispatches with a cold, dispassionate creepiness that works equally well), some crime too (in the bleak noir vein, there’s absolutely no moral order to be reasserted when the day is not saved here), a bit of sci-fi in there (time hopping narrative loops, future visions, dystopian game shows), nods to dark folklore (each book is haunted by the demon Blackcap in some guise or another), and an anteater that’s a literary critic and whose urethra is blocked with ants (?).
The three books that make up the trilogy are Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals, and Ritual America. All of them swirl around an abused and murdered teenage girl called Florence Coffey, whose death repeats over and over, the perpetrator and the details of the crime shifting and twisting with each telling.
My personal favourite of three is the final book, Ritual America, where Kelso’s style is in full flow, his love of beat generation writing on show, channelling early Burroughs, and even putting me in mind of William Gibson in the way the sentences hit the ear, the rattling references of exotic places and in-the-know cool creating an imagined subculture patois:
“Drugs keep the spiders at bay. In Asia, they understand what it’s like to have a soul infested with spiders: in most parts of Indonesia they’ll fry magic mushrooms into your omelettes and you can get a ‘happy special pizza’ in Siem Reap for practically nothing. There’s always a Xanax in your beer.”
That's the opening sentence, and I was hooked from there.
September 13, 2021
Chris Kelso offers an experience in this trilogy of novellas. It explores the nature of modern day violence and killing, our endless appetite for content and how the human experience moulds and corrupts thing to suit their own needs.
To describe the plot would be a fruitless task overall, but there books prove a unique read. "Shrapnel Apartments" is a scattershot thunderbolt that introduces us to the ideas and reality in which the story plays out. "Unger House Radicals" slows the pace down with the tale creeping and seeping into our skin and minds as the characters use their ambition and lack of inhibition to justify their violent ways. "Ritual America" wraps things up in a messy, ambiguous bow as people continue to seek answers and meaning in the violence of crazed men.
This is a nihilistic thrill that examines the society we live in and allows for things to be open ended in a world that is increasingly desperate for answers to every plot spawning reboots, prequels and spin offs. Kelso wants you to make your own answers. He does so with style, wit and gore. It would be fair to call this Lynchian, but it is so much more on top of that. It's a book that recognises we all have a lot to answer for and challenges us to find the answers within ourselves.
To describe the plot would be a fruitless task overall, but there books prove a unique read. "Shrapnel Apartments" is a scattershot thunderbolt that introduces us to the ideas and reality in which the story plays out. "Unger House Radicals" slows the pace down with the tale creeping and seeping into our skin and minds as the characters use their ambition and lack of inhibition to justify their violent ways. "Ritual America" wraps things up in a messy, ambiguous bow as people continue to seek answers and meaning in the violence of crazed men.
This is a nihilistic thrill that examines the society we live in and allows for things to be open ended in a world that is increasingly desperate for answers to every plot spawning reboots, prequels and spin offs. Kelso wants you to make your own answers. He does so with style, wit and gore. It would be fair to call this Lynchian, but it is so much more on top of that. It's a book that recognises we all have a lot to answer for and challenges us to find the answers within ourselves.
June 1, 2020
Disturbing and addictively fascinating, The Dregs Trilogy explores themes of the horror born of the squalor that can grow in the human heart; that privation of the spirit that breeds a sense of inadequacy and futility in the individual and can lead to a desperation to take from life rather than take part in it, or to bow out of it altogether. Always in the background and never fully revealed are those cosmic forces that encourage this failing of the human heart and draw sustenance from the pain it causes, an overarching story element comparable in some ways to what Robert W. Chambers did with The King in Yellow, an unexplained mythos of evil.
A wonderful book.
A wonderful book.
December 30, 2024
This was my first stab at reading a book in the horror genre. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I really enjoyed the Dregs Trilogy.
Existential horror; transgressive horror; I literally hadn't heard of those terms before a week ago when I got the book for Christmas. But I probably should have looked them up prior to reading so I had some better idea into what I was getting myself.
LOVE the structuring and the broken/shared narration; I'm a predisposed fan of authors getting creative in the delivery of their story(s), so I'm pretty partial to books who's narratives or plotlines are somewhat elucidated by the timeline/writing structure; books that are self-referential, but not without a little effort on the reader's part. Despite the ridiculously dark and twisted nature of the characters and their actions, the overlapping of existential, cosmic, and personal horrors makes a piecemealed, separated but vaguely interconnected overall arc; my own curiosity to see which cosmic or human or spiritual being was about to pipe-in on the next page, and then how that character played into the rest of the narrative, was part of what made reading it so fun.
One of, if not THE weirdest, books I've ever read. That could be either to the book's advantage or no, depending on your literary tastes. Personally, I like weird. Normies would say the book's weird solely because of the content; but believe it or not, despite the transgressive subject matter, I think Kelso did a pretty good job of building this eerie atmosphere that didn't require all that much provocative, violent bloody storytelling (but don't get it twisted, there's definitely some of that going on). I think that was part of his goal - to build this ultimately horrifying (dare I say it) "Vibe" through this phantasmic narration and world-building. Also, I'd be remiss if on the topic of "weird", I didn't give a shoutout to one of the weirdest (and one of my favorite) parts of the book - Shrapnel Apartments, Ch. 10 (No. 8 Henry Mancuso), that mf Gotleib literally made me LOL and go "What the fuck am I actually reading right now?!" but in the best way. To me, it was a perfectly-placed chapter that provides just enough of a side-quest narrative to lighten the load of the previous 9 chapters, plus prime you up for the closing of Shrapnel Apartments in the following chapter, and ultimately for Unger House Radicals. Truly some of the most bizarre storytelling.
Would recommend to seasoned readers who don't mind a bit of a narrative challenge.
Existential horror; transgressive horror; I literally hadn't heard of those terms before a week ago when I got the book for Christmas. But I probably should have looked them up prior to reading so I had some better idea into what I was getting myself.
LOVE the structuring and the broken/shared narration; I'm a predisposed fan of authors getting creative in the delivery of their story(s), so I'm pretty partial to books who's narratives or plotlines are somewhat elucidated by the timeline/writing structure; books that are self-referential, but not without a little effort on the reader's part. Despite the ridiculously dark and twisted nature of the characters and their actions, the overlapping of existential, cosmic, and personal horrors makes a piecemealed, separated but vaguely interconnected overall arc; my own curiosity to see which cosmic or human or spiritual being was about to pipe-in on the next page, and then how that character played into the rest of the narrative, was part of what made reading it so fun.
One of, if not THE weirdest, books I've ever read. That could be either to the book's advantage or no, depending on your literary tastes. Personally, I like weird. Normies would say the book's weird solely because of the content; but believe it or not, despite the transgressive subject matter, I think Kelso did a pretty good job of building this eerie atmosphere that didn't require all that much provocative, violent bloody storytelling (but don't get it twisted, there's definitely some of that going on). I think that was part of his goal - to build this ultimately horrifying (dare I say it) "Vibe" through this phantasmic narration and world-building. Also, I'd be remiss if on the topic of "weird", I didn't give a shoutout to one of the weirdest (and one of my favorite) parts of the book - Shrapnel Apartments, Ch. 10 (No. 8 Henry Mancuso), that mf Gotleib literally made me LOL and go "What the fuck am I actually reading right now?!" but in the best way. To me, it was a perfectly-placed chapter that provides just enough of a side-quest narrative to lighten the load of the previous 9 chapters, plus prime you up for the closing of Shrapnel Apartments in the following chapter, and ultimately for Unger House Radicals. Truly some of the most bizarre storytelling.
Would recommend to seasoned readers who don't mind a bit of a narrative challenge.
July 9, 2021
“The saviour of mankind will be suicide and its prophets are serial killers and film makers – apparently.”
Right then, OK, where do I start with this one? I don’t often struggle with writing reviews, it’s usually pretty easy to sum up what I liked about a book, giving small details of the plot alongside what people may or may not find enjoyable.
But this offering from Chris Kelso has me head scratching somewhat.
First things first then; this trilogy is captivating, stomach-churning, at times a very difficult read, but ultimately brilliant.
The three novellas contained within are Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals, and Ritual America. All three are set in the same desolate and nihilistic world, with the whole trilogy reading as one complete piece. I read Unger a few years ago, long before I reviewed stuff, though if I had I would have probably struggled with what to say about it, as I am now.
Ahem, deep breath, lets get things started.
Instead of talking about each novella separately I’m going to combine them all in this review, it seems the best way of doing it as the thing reads more like a novel anyway. There is no ‘plot’ per se, instead the whole world and tales from within its wretched streets and woodland are presented in a semi-coherent narrative, with multiple timelines and seemingly unrelated characters, that sort of thing. It’s important to say that this is completely intentional from Kelso, and not simply the ramblings of a mind full of ideas with no end product in sight.
These stories of transgressive fiction could almost have been designed to become a show directed by David Lynch. Take Florence Coffey; a girl of 13 who has died multiple times, who in each new resurrection suffers in much the same way all over again. It’s as though her destiny is to be destroyed.
Or perhaps that serial killer who may have been here before in a different life and will continue his work in various guises or even timelines.
Is there a cosmic puppet master at play controlling everything? Is there an inherent evil hiding in the woods?
Are you lost? Good, because that’s how this book makes you feel; desperate and lost, and loving every second of it.
Unger House Radicals, the second story, takes place before the events of the first, so having read this one before gave me more of an understanding of the world into which I was delving. In this tale a young film maker wants to do something to change the world. He’s tired of the sterility of Hollywood and longs to make something of true artistic purpose. Enter a dude who’s spent his life (and possibly many others) vindictively inflicting suffering upon others, and spilled much blood in the process. When he meets our young wannabe director (after murdering someone, obviously), the pair head off to make their film.
It may appear as just another snuff film, but this soon-to-be-important and ignominious work spawns the movement of The Ultra-Realists, a cult that is the main driving force of the whole trilogy. The pair become infamous, their work transfixing an entire generation. It seems the only way to continue their ‘art’ is to bring the human race to mass suicide.
The legend of this movie is spoken of in Shrapnel Apartments, a kind of reality TV show that immerses its contestants in suffering; something the viewers are all too happy to indulge in. It seems humanity is destined to see and embrace the art in death and the darker extremities of the human condition.
And I haven’t even mentioned Blackcap or King Misery. These beings, deities, demons – call them what you will – are the ones responsible for the end of humanity. It’s not delivered in black and white exactly what these cosmic entities are or whether they are really the cause of suffering, but those immersed in the happenings in these stories sure seem to believe in them.
Or are they just crazy? Did man create evil, celestial beasts, or did these beasts create the evil in man?
It’s this guessing game that makes the whole thing so immersive. At times I was left wondering just what in the hell was going on, but never enough to put the thing down and take a breather. Although saying that, there are plenty of occasions when some readers may want to. There are many taboos broached here, some very upsetting (although not for me as I’m a cold-hearted bastard, or something).
I still don’t feel like I’m doing this trilogy justice, it’s really something that you need to experience for yourself. I read the ebook version of this and while it was amazing (I think you may have gathered I enjoyed it) I really feel the experience would be completed by owning the physical version in my hand, as there is some great and harrowing artwork contained that really adds to the dark, misanthropic nature of the stories.
If you’d tick any of the following; David Lynch, transgressive fiction, non-linear narratives, subject matter that may turn your stomach, the downfall of society; then you really need to check this out.
And quickly. Before Blackcap consumes us all.
Right then, OK, where do I start with this one? I don’t often struggle with writing reviews, it’s usually pretty easy to sum up what I liked about a book, giving small details of the plot alongside what people may or may not find enjoyable.
But this offering from Chris Kelso has me head scratching somewhat.
First things first then; this trilogy is captivating, stomach-churning, at times a very difficult read, but ultimately brilliant.
The three novellas contained within are Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals, and Ritual America. All three are set in the same desolate and nihilistic world, with the whole trilogy reading as one complete piece. I read Unger a few years ago, long before I reviewed stuff, though if I had I would have probably struggled with what to say about it, as I am now.
Ahem, deep breath, lets get things started.
Instead of talking about each novella separately I’m going to combine them all in this review, it seems the best way of doing it as the thing reads more like a novel anyway. There is no ‘plot’ per se, instead the whole world and tales from within its wretched streets and woodland are presented in a semi-coherent narrative, with multiple timelines and seemingly unrelated characters, that sort of thing. It’s important to say that this is completely intentional from Kelso, and not simply the ramblings of a mind full of ideas with no end product in sight.
These stories of transgressive fiction could almost have been designed to become a show directed by David Lynch. Take Florence Coffey; a girl of 13 who has died multiple times, who in each new resurrection suffers in much the same way all over again. It’s as though her destiny is to be destroyed.
Or perhaps that serial killer who may have been here before in a different life and will continue his work in various guises or even timelines.
Is there a cosmic puppet master at play controlling everything? Is there an inherent evil hiding in the woods?
Are you lost? Good, because that’s how this book makes you feel; desperate and lost, and loving every second of it.
Unger House Radicals, the second story, takes place before the events of the first, so having read this one before gave me more of an understanding of the world into which I was delving. In this tale a young film maker wants to do something to change the world. He’s tired of the sterility of Hollywood and longs to make something of true artistic purpose. Enter a dude who’s spent his life (and possibly many others) vindictively inflicting suffering upon others, and spilled much blood in the process. When he meets our young wannabe director (after murdering someone, obviously), the pair head off to make their film.
It may appear as just another snuff film, but this soon-to-be-important and ignominious work spawns the movement of The Ultra-Realists, a cult that is the main driving force of the whole trilogy. The pair become infamous, their work transfixing an entire generation. It seems the only way to continue their ‘art’ is to bring the human race to mass suicide.
The legend of this movie is spoken of in Shrapnel Apartments, a kind of reality TV show that immerses its contestants in suffering; something the viewers are all too happy to indulge in. It seems humanity is destined to see and embrace the art in death and the darker extremities of the human condition.
And I haven’t even mentioned Blackcap or King Misery. These beings, deities, demons – call them what you will – are the ones responsible for the end of humanity. It’s not delivered in black and white exactly what these cosmic entities are or whether they are really the cause of suffering, but those immersed in the happenings in these stories sure seem to believe in them.
Or are they just crazy? Did man create evil, celestial beasts, or did these beasts create the evil in man?
It’s this guessing game that makes the whole thing so immersive. At times I was left wondering just what in the hell was going on, but never enough to put the thing down and take a breather. Although saying that, there are plenty of occasions when some readers may want to. There are many taboos broached here, some very upsetting (although not for me as I’m a cold-hearted bastard, or something).
I still don’t feel like I’m doing this trilogy justice, it’s really something that you need to experience for yourself. I read the ebook version of this and while it was amazing (I think you may have gathered I enjoyed it) I really feel the experience would be completed by owning the physical version in my hand, as there is some great and harrowing artwork contained that really adds to the dark, misanthropic nature of the stories.
If you’d tick any of the following; David Lynch, transgressive fiction, non-linear narratives, subject matter that may turn your stomach, the downfall of society; then you really need to check this out.
And quickly. Before Blackcap consumes us all.
December 7, 2020
Art as an extension of pain, violence wrapped in the delusions of media; these are immediate ideas that spring to life from the pages of another transgressive odyssey from one of the most original voices in fiction, Chris Kelso. The collected Dregs Trilogy is strictly for those readers who want their minds expanded by art—without hard drugs. Such a description would almost seem to imply that Kelso’s trilogy is incoherent or messy, but the individual voices from individual characters are very easy to follow, and I would daresay, the pieces are very accessible and won’t challenge anyone with words that require a thesaurus.
Like many good writers of transgressive fiction, the book itself is a means by which themes and ideas are delivered; through photographs, illustrations or shifts in font styles and character perspectives. The overall presentation is aesthetically pleasing, and the aesthetic is certainly part of the journey.
Kelso gives us the narrative voices and perspectives of individual characters who serve as unreliable narrators who have been dropped into a world in which the art we consume is damaging, and ultimately inspiring an apathetic population. These characters are so terribly damaged that they cannot recognize they are damaged, and their vivid experiences with violence and hurt seem to trap them in a cycle in which they are part of a project that promotes and involves casual murder. These characters are not going to suggest that they’re victims of any phenomenon, and Kelso continues to challenge us by giving us the questions that we should explore through his world. His characters are the disenfranchised, the artists and vagabonds who have hit rock bottom, only they don’t see a bottom—they see their lives.
I only wish there was a small group of people I could nerd out with after reading this book. There are so many ideas that are worth discovering and discussing. I’m always thankful for another Kelso experience, because he delivers what I want from literature when I want it. Review copy purchased directly from the publisher.
Like many good writers of transgressive fiction, the book itself is a means by which themes and ideas are delivered; through photographs, illustrations or shifts in font styles and character perspectives. The overall presentation is aesthetically pleasing, and the aesthetic is certainly part of the journey.
Kelso gives us the narrative voices and perspectives of individual characters who serve as unreliable narrators who have been dropped into a world in which the art we consume is damaging, and ultimately inspiring an apathetic population. These characters are so terribly damaged that they cannot recognize they are damaged, and their vivid experiences with violence and hurt seem to trap them in a cycle in which they are part of a project that promotes and involves casual murder. These characters are not going to suggest that they’re victims of any phenomenon, and Kelso continues to challenge us by giving us the questions that we should explore through his world. His characters are the disenfranchised, the artists and vagabonds who have hit rock bottom, only they don’t see a bottom—they see their lives.
I only wish there was a small group of people I could nerd out with after reading this book. There are so many ideas that are worth discovering and discussing. I’m always thankful for another Kelso experience, because he delivers what I want from literature when I want it. Review copy purchased directly from the publisher.
February 1, 2022
As soon as I finished reading The Dregs Trilogy I (jokingly?) texted ma pal asking if he reckoned it was too soon to call my favourite book of 2022. I mean, it definitely is too early, but regardless of what I end up reading over the next 12 months this book is guaranteed to be up among the favourites.
But let’s not get carried away: this book probably won’t be for everyone. Trigger warnings? All of em. Seriously, this book is dark, its depraved, and Chris Kelso goes places a lot wouldn’t. It’s brave, really bold and really messed up.
Told across three inter-linked novellas: Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals and Ritual America, this is the story of the absolute depths of humanity. There are recurring ideas, motifs, characters - some we see a lot of, some we never ever want to hear from again - that build into the most nihilistic and bleak narrative I’ve read in a long time. Maybe ever.
There is a plot here - of a corrupt cop, murderers, ultra-real filmmakers, extra-dimensional beings…but the narrative jumps around and keeps you in the dark about what’s going on until the absolute last second of your patience but this makes it all the more rewarding.
I think if I had to try and sum this up I’d say it was a story about the inevitability of humanity’s complete degeneration as we hurtle into oblivion. But I feel like if you read it (and please do) you’ll get something else from it, there’s a thousand different interpretations and realities about such a book and that’s the beauty of it.
Anyway, if you’re looking for something that will make you see the world through a slightly different lens than the one you started with - give this a go.
But let’s not get carried away: this book probably won’t be for everyone. Trigger warnings? All of em. Seriously, this book is dark, its depraved, and Chris Kelso goes places a lot wouldn’t. It’s brave, really bold and really messed up.
Told across three inter-linked novellas: Shrapnel Apartments, Unger House Radicals and Ritual America, this is the story of the absolute depths of humanity. There are recurring ideas, motifs, characters - some we see a lot of, some we never ever want to hear from again - that build into the most nihilistic and bleak narrative I’ve read in a long time. Maybe ever.
There is a plot here - of a corrupt cop, murderers, ultra-real filmmakers, extra-dimensional beings…but the narrative jumps around and keeps you in the dark about what’s going on until the absolute last second of your patience but this makes it all the more rewarding.
I think if I had to try and sum this up I’d say it was a story about the inevitability of humanity’s complete degeneration as we hurtle into oblivion. But I feel like if you read it (and please do) you’ll get something else from it, there’s a thousand different interpretations and realities about such a book and that’s the beauty of it.
Anyway, if you’re looking for something that will make you see the world through a slightly different lens than the one you started with - give this a go.
May 7, 2020
"There is an intelligence at work here that transcends contemporary horror fiction. This is how it would be if Chuck Palahniuk did horror, a battle-scarred landmark that will stand the test of time."
Read my full, detailed review on The British Fantasy Society website:
http://www.britishfantasysociety.org/...
Read my full, detailed review on The British Fantasy Society website:
http://www.britishfantasysociety.org/...
April 10, 2023
Heralded as harrowing, transgressive horror, compared to William Burroughs, lavished with praise by Jim McLeod and John Langan, nodded at by Dennis Cooper and Samuel Delany, I found The Dregs Trilogy disappointing. The descriptor that comes to mind first and foremost is edgelordian.
I don’t seek out horror literature to find the biggest, grossest scare, but perhaps reading Dennis Cooper and Peter Sotos made it hard for horror to ever rattle me the same way again. This shouldn’t be a problem, but it is when a work hinges almost entirely on how disturbing you find it.
I was most affected by Unger House Radicals (written first chronologically, but placed second in the compendium), as the pace gives the impression of progression and evil somehow continuing to unfold and infect even beginning from the most heinous acts. I like the idea of conflating pure art with pure evil. But even here, it’s really disappointing how little Kelso does with the concept, settling for name dropping some arthouse directors, famous snuff films, and internet urban legends. It strikes me as content generated by someone interested in debased horror but not interested in people or experiences. It starts to become clear near the end of UHR that Kelso isn’t really taking us anywhere in particular, so onto Shrapnel Apartments, maybe that’s where the genius kicks in…
But no. Shrapnel Apartments seems to be a reality show purgatory, which is a great concept woefully unexplored in favor of tedious POV chapters detailing each inhabitant’s various crimes and over-the-top traumatic backgrounds. Shock value is front and center. This book is particularly fixated on a 13-year-old girl named Florence, an immortal victim who's been raped and murdered again and again throughout time immemorial. If you're interested in how Kelso might explore the idea of the sacrificial young girl, how she's both revered and reviled, you'll be disappointed to find that Shrapnel Apartments is most concerned with cataloguing Florence's abuse and not much else. The plot screeches to a halt again and again as Kelso relentlessly checks in to make sure the reader is clutching their pearls. An intriguing entity named Blackcap seems to be stalking Flo through time and space, but we have to hear the story through painfully uninteresting characters who are not fleshed out any further than the vile things they do and whose insights are cliche and droll.
In the last book, Ritual America, new characters very much like the characters in UHR (gay, depraved, with necrophiliac and casually violent tendencies) are introduced. There's more Ebaum's-World millennial knock-offs of Dennis Cooper with no understanding of what makes Cooper's shallow, vain, violence-obsessed characters interesting. There are some intriguing hints of Florence's and Blackcap's larger purpose but these, like everything else in the story, are steamrolled by identically depraved characters who seem to exist only to drop phrases like "We used to murder little girls together."
Throughout the trilogy are various black and white pieces of "art" (lightly edited stock photography of little girls curled up in the corners of their bedrooms, high-contrast portraits of the characters, grungy 90s-esque newspaper collages, early 2000s straight-to-video horror DVD vibes) that add nothing but are easy enough to ignore-- until Ritual America, where Kelso tries to up the shock value by using real photographs of victims from the Vietnam conflict. Maybe this is part of well-done artistic commentary on violence and images, you might think. Maybe Kelso explores disassociation, desensitization, and the inevitable mass-sociopathy that comes from seeing such widespread public imagery? If you think that a drug addict oh-so callously telling you about taking heroin up the ass counts, sure, I guess.
It's tiresome how much the prose chases its tail like it's trying to outlast you in a staring match of dull, lifeless cruelty. I don't see much except juvenile imitation of Cooper, Burroughs, de Sade, etc. in these books, although there are plenty of new ways to expand on them in a social media age. There's a really interesting part of UHR that fast-forwards to a post-apocalyptic world where a man is recording/preserving girls on tape in a way that mimics digital virtual reality and, once again, I thought the story was going somewhere, but the scene is tossed out like roadside garbage and we're back on the monotonous interstate of murderers and rapists. Kelso covers subject matter that's "difficult" in the sense that it's difficult to pull it off without coming across as a pasty teenager in a black trench-coat fresh off his first Dark Web foray and, unfortunately, the Dregs books don't succeed.
There were things in the trilogy I liked a lot, too. I particularly liked the scene with a dybbuk, the highly bizarre character of Gottlieb, and the aforementioned VHS-virtual girls. The schtick of mysterious, creepy videos and ill-defined evil is very compelling for a short but wonderful while until you learn it's the only trick up Dregs' sleeve. Kelso shines when he shakes off the shock-jock. These are slivers in a vast pool of aimless, subreddit-level nihilism, though. I bet Kelso has a really good, *actually* transgressive horror novel in him, but you'll only find the dregs of one here.
I don’t seek out horror literature to find the biggest, grossest scare, but perhaps reading Dennis Cooper and Peter Sotos made it hard for horror to ever rattle me the same way again. This shouldn’t be a problem, but it is when a work hinges almost entirely on how disturbing you find it.
I was most affected by Unger House Radicals (written first chronologically, but placed second in the compendium), as the pace gives the impression of progression and evil somehow continuing to unfold and infect even beginning from the most heinous acts. I like the idea of conflating pure art with pure evil. But even here, it’s really disappointing how little Kelso does with the concept, settling for name dropping some arthouse directors, famous snuff films, and internet urban legends. It strikes me as content generated by someone interested in debased horror but not interested in people or experiences. It starts to become clear near the end of UHR that Kelso isn’t really taking us anywhere in particular, so onto Shrapnel Apartments, maybe that’s where the genius kicks in…
But no. Shrapnel Apartments seems to be a reality show purgatory, which is a great concept woefully unexplored in favor of tedious POV chapters detailing each inhabitant’s various crimes and over-the-top traumatic backgrounds. Shock value is front and center. This book is particularly fixated on a 13-year-old girl named Florence, an immortal victim who's been raped and murdered again and again throughout time immemorial. If you're interested in how Kelso might explore the idea of the sacrificial young girl, how she's both revered and reviled, you'll be disappointed to find that Shrapnel Apartments is most concerned with cataloguing Florence's abuse and not much else. The plot screeches to a halt again and again as Kelso relentlessly checks in to make sure the reader is clutching their pearls. An intriguing entity named Blackcap seems to be stalking Flo through time and space, but we have to hear the story through painfully uninteresting characters who are not fleshed out any further than the vile things they do and whose insights are cliche and droll.
In the last book, Ritual America, new characters very much like the characters in UHR (gay, depraved, with necrophiliac and casually violent tendencies) are introduced. There's more Ebaum's-World millennial knock-offs of Dennis Cooper with no understanding of what makes Cooper's shallow, vain, violence-obsessed characters interesting. There are some intriguing hints of Florence's and Blackcap's larger purpose but these, like everything else in the story, are steamrolled by identically depraved characters who seem to exist only to drop phrases like "We used to murder little girls together."
Throughout the trilogy are various black and white pieces of "art" (lightly edited stock photography of little girls curled up in the corners of their bedrooms, high-contrast portraits of the characters, grungy 90s-esque newspaper collages, early 2000s straight-to-video horror DVD vibes) that add nothing but are easy enough to ignore-- until Ritual America, where Kelso tries to up the shock value by using real photographs of victims from the Vietnam conflict. Maybe this is part of well-done artistic commentary on violence and images, you might think. Maybe Kelso explores disassociation, desensitization, and the inevitable mass-sociopathy that comes from seeing such widespread public imagery? If you think that a drug addict oh-so callously telling you about taking heroin up the ass counts, sure, I guess.
It's tiresome how much the prose chases its tail like it's trying to outlast you in a staring match of dull, lifeless cruelty. I don't see much except juvenile imitation of Cooper, Burroughs, de Sade, etc. in these books, although there are plenty of new ways to expand on them in a social media age. There's a really interesting part of UHR that fast-forwards to a post-apocalyptic world where a man is recording/preserving girls on tape in a way that mimics digital virtual reality and, once again, I thought the story was going somewhere, but the scene is tossed out like roadside garbage and we're back on the monotonous interstate of murderers and rapists. Kelso covers subject matter that's "difficult" in the sense that it's difficult to pull it off without coming across as a pasty teenager in a black trench-coat fresh off his first Dark Web foray and, unfortunately, the Dregs books don't succeed.
There were things in the trilogy I liked a lot, too. I particularly liked the scene with a dybbuk, the highly bizarre character of Gottlieb, and the aforementioned VHS-virtual girls. The schtick of mysterious, creepy videos and ill-defined evil is very compelling for a short but wonderful while until you learn it's the only trick up Dregs' sleeve. Kelso shines when he shakes off the shock-jock. These are slivers in a vast pool of aimless, subreddit-level nihilism, though. I bet Kelso has a really good, *actually* transgressive horror novel in him, but you'll only find the dregs of one here.
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August 22, 2024
Super smart, discomfitingly relatable nihilistic fiction. Worth multiple reads, and rewards them. All the narrative threads are jagged at both ends so don't expect any traditional beginnings or conclusions. Every narrator's voice was compelling in its own way — I feel like if Chris Kelso ever got the urge to write non-genre books, he could find an enormous following in literary fiction circles.
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