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How the fuck do you keep doing this shit, Max?
*and, yes, I am committing the cardinal sin of reviews: addressing the writer. If you don't like it, go somewhere else. it isn't like I get paid for this shit.*
Seriously, tho… How? At best, this is a minute long gag filling space in one of the VHS films. A guy and his son find their own corpses underneath the garden out back. Then they find out that the corpses and themselves are physically entwined as they start rotting. WEIRD! CREEPY! DONE!
But, somehow, Max Booth takes one of the stupidest premises in horror and makes it into an insanely engaging book. Again.
Part of it is the personality he brings. My dude has a weird sense of humor. Dry as the sahara in places. Quite inappropriate everywhere. Like a scientist offering to have sex with a kinda dead guy inappropriate. Always hilarious, even when you don't feel right laughing.
Another part of it is how honest his characters feel. Sometimes they are assholes. Often they are selfish. Occasionally they are stupid. Like we all are. Max isn't one of those writers that go too far and take the assholes so far into assholedom that they become caricatures. We get why they are being an asshole, even if we still don't like them. There is no moralizing from the keyboard here.
Then there is his endless ability to come up with an even weirder "and then." No matter where the hell the story has gone so far, he somehow finds a way to make it weirder. Its a rad skillset in a writer.
So, yeah. Get Maggots Screaming. Have a good ass time with it. I did.
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