Nic Brewer’s debut novel uses body horror as a means of interrogating the artistic process
The book uses Grand Guignol techniques to literalize the process of tearing oneself open in the act of artistic creation.
A Blog About Books and Reading
A Blog About Books and Reading
The book uses Grand Guignol techniques to literalize the process of tearing oneself open in the act of artistic creation.
In this suite of sixteen uncanny tales, memory and loss are manifest in the spectres that haunt various characters.
A volume of cultural criticism about Vampira and a new memoir by the creator of Elvira: Mistress of the Dark show how much, and how little, the two have in common.
Horror doesn’t gel with those who’ve propped up CanLit respectability – that is, chiefly cishet, nondisabled white people, Pottle writes.
The pop culture phenomenon resulted in board games and a central character’s appearance alongside Bozo the Clown.
Nia DaCosta’s re-imagining of the 1992 film Candyman proves more effective because it does not traffic in white voyeurism in its examination of Black trauma.
What could possibly go wrong?
“By scaring you in your seat without actually posing a threat, you have the opportunity to practice your emotion regulation skills, particularly with regard to fear.”
The author returns to the slasher film saturated ground he has trod before to provide a loving homage that leans a bit too heavily on insider knowledge of the genre.
“Horror movies really, really distracted me from the most painful time of my life. Alone in the theatre for a couple of hours, being manipulated into screaming, swearing, and tossing my popcorn, I was transported.”