Day 3 of my spotlight on Lethe Press features Adam McOmber. I have read, reviewed and greatly enjoyed many of his works. You can click here to see all of his books and here to see all of the ones I have reviewed. But I especially LOVED Jesus and John. Click here for that specific review [It's after Survivor Song in the post]. I also included it in this list of must read Psychological Horror.
But I am not alone, when it comes to the craft of writing, many experts, professors, and critic agree. A professor himself, McOmber is cited by others as their most used example for their students.
I often cite McOmber as proof when people say they cannot identify with stories that don't feature their experience. Take Jesus and John as an example. It is a story that is deeply steeped in Christianity and a gorgeous gay love story, as well as being disorienting and weird. [Read the review to see the details]. I am neither Christian nor a gay man but I was immersed in this story. I was in deep, totally invested in the characters and their plight, both the physical and metaphorical ones. After I finished it, I wanted to go start it over again.
Acclaimed author Adam McOmber offers readers an erotic and subversive reimagining of one of literature's most thrilling tales, Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles. Dr. Watson arrives alone on the moors of the Baskerville estate to help solve the mystery of its scion's grim death and the murder’s connection to the spectral hound that plagues the ancestral home. Watson's understanding of his own history and queer desires is sorely tested when he discovers Baskerville Hall is rife with stimulation and horror. As this supernatural mystery unfolds and reality itself begins to bend and break, he must work against the clock to discover the truth and prevent whatever beast roams the grounds from claiming future victims.
This one will be VERY popular with library patrons. Especially those who love Sherlock Holmes fan fiction. And trust me, there are a lot of them. I personally know a few.
Today I am extremely happy to welcome Adam McOmber to the Why I Love Horror family. His essay is also one of my favorite examples of the series. All I tell the authors is to share why they love Horror in 1,500 words or less. I allow them to explore that prompt however they want. McOmber did his as a list, and just like his novels and stories it is immersive and emotional.
Twenty-one Reasons a Gay Kid from Ohio Fell in Love with Horror
by Adam McOmber
Because no one calls you faggot at the library.
Because you live in the middle of a cornfield in a small Christian town and there’s a McDonald’s and a Burger King and an old drugstore and football games and homecoming dances and jocks and hoods. And every single road leads where? Nowhere except out into the flat dead country.
Because your father is a farmer (corn and soybeans) and your mother is a nurse (emergency room). And they are both very nice people. But they cannot even begin to understand.
Because when the stalks are high and tasseled, cornfields feel like old dark mansions. Sometimes, you wander down a leafy row, pretending you’re in a shadowed hallway lined with dripping candles. You imagine you might meet a boy there. Someone pale and handsome. Someone who would live in a haunted house. Maybe he’ll walk with you for a while. Maybe he’ll hold your hand.
Because you know you’ll never get a chance to fall in love.
Because everyone says you’re a weirdo or worse than that.
Because it’s the 1980s, and you are ten years old. You’re with your grandparents at Walden Bookstore in the mall, and you’re allowed to choose any book you want. Your grandparents are readers themselves. They’re from Detroit. They fly airplanes as a hobby. They drink martinis. You choose a big collection of stories by Edgar Allan Poe. You like the way Poe looks on the cover. All sad and worn. But like he knows some secret too.
Because of mirrors and the way the woodgrain on your closet door looks like an old man’s face.
Because of Halloween and skeletons and plastic masks with strings and cardboard haunted castles and orange pumpkins and witches and bonfires and darkness and the big costume party at the YMCA.
Because once, when your nose is bleeding, you think you better not touch anybody with your blood or you’ll make them sick.
Because your dad digs graves at Woodland Cemetery.
Because when you are in high school, you read Stephen King nearly every day. Sometimes you even read him when you’re walking down the hall to your locker, and you hope no one trips you.
Because of the old video rental store on Crawford Street. There’s a huge horror section in the back corner. And even though your mom won’t let you rent scary movies, just looking at the pictures on the boxes is almost enough.
Because when you are fourteen, you finally get to go to the movies alone with your best friend, Tom. You decide on Child’s Play. You both want to see the killer doll. Tom sits really close to you. And when he jumps, you jump. You accidentally touch each other. You do this several times.
Because of The October Country and Weaveworld and The House with a Clock in Its Walls and that one episode of Little House on the Prairie where Laura thinks she sees the ghost of a Civil War Soldier.
Because the long dark hallways of the high school teach you what death feels like. There are lots of days when you feel like you’re going to die. And there are other days you wish you could die. It’s really awful there. Every day. And the people are so cruel.
Because one time you play Jesus in a children’s Passion Play at church. You get nailed to a cross.
Because the Kiwanis Club makes a haunted house in town for Halloween and your best friend, Tom, dresses up as a hairy monster. And you know, underneath the monster suit, he’s wearing only his red boxer shorts.
Because the girl you pretend to date for a month always laughs and quotes from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Because of the old house that sits empty way back in the forest behind the cornfield. There’s a story about the house, how the owners (a family) abandoned it during dinner one night. They left because something told them to leave, a voice that spoke from the air itself. And supposedly their dinner is still all laid out. Blackened food on yellowed china. And you understand this story because you feel like someone is always shouting at you from the air, asking why you are here in this place. Why are you here in this place at all?
There are other reasons too, you suppose, but you’ve forgotten them by now.
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