Human-Shaped Fiends

Splatter Western, Book 11

By: Chandler Morrison

Narrated by: Maurice Mongrelle

Length: 3 hrs and 42 mins

Publisher's summary

Los Angeles, 1854. Felipe Alvitre and a band of teenage outlaws set out on a brutal, seemingly random killing spree across the San Gabriel Valley, igniting the ire of the Los Angeles citizens. Sheriff James Barton wrestles with a rapidly escalating crime rate and a populace that demands more from their corrupt, do-nothing legal system as the bodies continue to pile up. The crimes of the young Alvitre gang become symbolic of a greater frustration, and the sheriff faces mounting pressure to bring the outlaws to justice. His greatest battle, however, comes from within, and his responsibilities soon play second fiddle to his struggles with addiction and his toxic, unrequited love for a mysterious prostitute.

Los Angeles, 2021. Self-obsessed, pretentious, womanizing novelist Chandler Morrison has been contracted to write a Western. He knows what kind of book his fans want, but he's torn between his commitment to the craft and the "brand" to which he believes he is expected to adhere. As he sinks deeper into deluded self-importance while juggling a number of surface-level relationships, the line separating fiction from reality becomes increasingly blurred.

©2021 Chandler Morrison (P)2023 Chandler Morrison

Let’s Give The Fans What They Want!

irst off, full disclosure. I am a huge Chandler Morrison fan, I have been since I got introduced to him by Jeff Burke after the Bizzaro-Con and Deadite fiasco over a rather spicy reading and reenactment of an especially repellent sequence in the deliciously depraved book Dead Inside ( You know the one )

Anyways, so it’s not going to be a shock that I give this a five star rating, I’ve gobbled up everything this transgressive genius has put out like a certain Doctor eats dead fetuses….I’m insatiable for his brand.

What we have inside the pages of this book are two stories. First is the splatter western that Chandler is desperately trying to get done for DHP.

It’s a dark story about a lot of things, but most importantly it’s about Los Angeles and the role it plays in the evil that men do. It’s filled to the brim with actual Human Shaped Fiends that rape, torture, kill, drink heavily and partake in drugs.

It’s about love and what it does to a person. It’s about the sheer senselessness of human nature and how black the hearts of men truly are. All in all a very enjoyable smorgasbord of guts, grue and tasty depravity of the highest order.

Now here’s where things get mighty interesting.

Interludes are peppered throughout of the “real Chandler” going through the motions of his vapid existence. We have our hero struggling to try and surpass what he feels he has become, the Dead Inside guy.

He is even mocked and belittled by the skeleton from the cover of the damned book telling him that is all he will ever be.

We read on and see that Chandler is stuck in this endless cycle of giving his fans ( all ten) what they want or expect from a new Chandler Morrison novel, AKA his brand.

The poor guy is pigeonholed and there isn’t a way to break from these literary restraints, self imposed or otherwise.

We follow him throughout as he has discussions with his friend and fellow writer and constant Twitter banterer Autumn Christian.

Follow him as he is mistaken for another writer friend and given a rather painful hand job, and basically wonders what all of this has to do with his western. It’s hysterical stuff in every way possible.

It’s a writer at the top of his game having fun at the audience’s expense and I love him for it! It’s like the AC/DC
Song, “ If You Want Blood, (You’ve Got It!) you also get rape, necrophilia, baby eating, incest, lots of smoking and all of the other Grand Guignol that we the fans love him for and his critics absolutely loathe.

It all ends in a very horrific way as only Chandler can do as he winks at us and says, “here’s what you came for, this is what you think I am!!!”

This is easily the most impressive Splatter Western book yet. I can’t recommend this any higher , if any of my incoherent babbling made any sense to you then run, don’t walk and buy this amazingly brash and scathingly hysterical transgressive masterpiece.

5 out of 5 partially eaten dead babies!