Category: My Reads

First off, I will admit I grabbed this book in error! I’d read and enjoyed Out by Natsuo Kirino, and wanted to give another of his books a try, but for reasons unexplained, my brain fatigue convinced my Ryu Murakami had written it. Still, it turned out to be a happy mistake, as In The Miso Soup is dark, twisted, and horrific, as it delivers the mental and emotional torment of a man faced with a true psychotic individual.

The story follows Kenji, a young Japanese man who earns his crust by ‘guiding’ foreign visitors around the nightclubs and hostess bars of Tokyo. Now, for those who don’t know, the Japanese have some strange views about hostesses, companions, and sex workers, and Kenji’s ability to assist outsiders to negotiate the murky waters is in demand.

He meets Frank, a seemingly hapless and somewhat bumbling American, when he’s hired by the man for a few nights. As they spend time together, Kenji begins to notice things which are at odds with his client’s seemingly jovial and naïve character.

One of the compelling things about In The Miso Soup is when Kenji starts to suspect Frank isn’t all he seems, the doubt isn’t irrational, and the character suffers with the credibility of his own suspicions. However, the emotional roller coaster becomes ever more twisted and hectic, and when things kick off, the book takes a very dark and surprising turn.

In The Miso Soup has its violent moments, but the true torment is mental, as Kenji tries to carefully pick his way through the perilous situation without allowing things to spiral out of control.

As 2025 draws to a close, this was one of my favourite reads this year!

For me, true horror, the darkest terror imaginable, exists in our own minds. Put me up against a ghost, a vampire, a werewolf, or even a bloke wearing a mask of other people’s skin with chainsaw, and I’m pretty much happy to take my chances, but allow the darkest thoughts to take over, to oppress my mind, to cripple my existence, and that is something I do fear.

No Longer Human is bleak. I mean, it’s really fucking bleak. However, the narrative voice has enough humanity to give it the lightest touch of humour. I’m not talking laughs or jokes; it’s pitch dark humour which hints more at a resignation to the fact of being powerless than an ability to use humour as a coping mechanism.

The book takes the form of three notebooks written by Yozo. The first address his inability to understand humanity during his early youth, the second concerns his school and university years, much of which hinges on control (both his control over others and their control over him), and the third addresses his attempts to create a normal life while battling inner demons and a way of thinking which challenges convention at every turn.

If you want jump scares, axe murders, or flesh-eating entities, this book won’t be for you, but if you crave something soul-smotheringly haunting, told with a dark and twisted lyrical beauty, then I would very much recommend this!

I was initially drawn to Ringrock by Stephen A Barnard due to him referencing ‘rituals and religion’ in one the prerelease blurbs. Well, I’m a sucker for rituals and religion, especially when they’re a bit off-kilter, so I was interested to see where it went. The Ringrock journey did not turn out to be what I expected.

Reading the Prologue, I was a bit surprised at the direction it took, given I anticipated something very different. However, it transpired to be essential foreshadowing and necessary to the plot, and also represented the first time of many where things weren’t as I expected.

As I read further, I loved the revelation of the many layers of strangeness which interweave this tale. At times, it has a very folksy-type vibe, reminiscent of something carrying Mennonite or Amish influences, but with a hidden undercurrent of weirdness (and I mean fatally weird, not just oddly different). However, there are also many hints, some subtle, some not so, which indicate all is not well (nor as appears on the surface) in the parish of Ringrock!

There are unexpected twists and turns aplenty, and the beauty of these is Stephen Barnard doesn’t lie or deceive the reader. All the misdirection, and there is a good dose of it, is on the part of the reader! The narrative gives us the facts, and we contort them so as not to see the reality. When the revelations arrive, you only have yourself to blame for not seeing them in advance.

As Ringrock progresses, it gets darker, and more delicious too! There is evil and malevolence, hope and love, and a never-ending tinge of threat and manipulation. Then, just as you’re thinking you know which direction it’s headed in, it becomes twisted and depraved without ever sliding into a camp circus of chaos.

Well, not yet…

When it does kick off, it’s as if Barnard has found a hand grenade charged with utter fucking carnage, pulled the pin, and tossed it into his cauldron of deception, and it all goes fantastically ballistic!

Ringrock is a wild ride, an entertaining tale with many twists and turns, and significantly, it’s addictive. I’d finish a chapter, try to go to sleep, and after ten minutes would find myself picking up my Kindle and thinking, ‘Just one more.’

Buy it; you won’t regret the read!

This was a first-time read of anything by R.J. Daly, and Run Red didn’t disappoint. It’s a short, sharp, stingingly brutal smack in the teeth, and it delivers its narrative in an accomplished and well sculpted way.

In any work of this genre (extreme and brutal horror), there always has to be an element of “suspension of belief”. Yes, the things in the various books could happen, but they’re extremely unlikely. While this is a factor in the vast majority of horror books, R.J. Daly deals with it using a clever and well-considered approach. He inserts little snippets of conventional wisdom, acknowledgements of the everyday mundanity, to ensure the reader has a constant frame of familiar reference.

For example, at one point, when Alex picks a pair of secateurs from the toolbox, the description of how they opened slowly due to grime and rust when the locking button was released is perfect. Has anyone ever had a pair which, after some time in a tool box, doesn’t open like that? They always rust, they always get gummed up, and the recognition of that ensures the reader has a point of familiarity, which lessens the suspension of belief.

By interspersing the horror and brutality with recognisable elements, Run Red never gets to the point where the reader feels things are too improbable, and that elevates the reading experience significantly.

The plot is, in all honesty, fairly straightforward, but that is no bad thing. As the inevitable starts to unfold, you find yourself grinning (or wincing, depending upon your way of thinking) in anticipation, and there is one major twist, which works well. It’s somewhat telling of my dark sense of humour that I laughed when I realised where things were headed.

All in all, Run Red is a captivating read, and kept me immersed throughout. I daresay some will find it uncomfortable, but I found it a bloody good and enjoyable read.

I do enjoy R.J. Benetti’s books, and having read many, I know what I’m getting, or at least I thought I did.

The opening of Ass Slasher made me sit back and think to myself, “Hang on; he’s doing something different!” The important thing here is Ass Slasher isn’t different for the sake of it; it twists the narrative from the start, delivering a level of intrigue and a tease of something unusual. It almost disorientates to a point where you feel like you’re peeping into someone’s darkness, and you shouldn’t be.

However, for me, the real strength of Ass Slasher comes from R.J.’s use of language. Despite part of the subject matter being crude and vile, he paints the images with a lyrical beauty, an almost poetic weaving of words that allows you to feel every detail, to smell it, to taste it. If it was not for the subject matter, this book would be (should be) taught in schools to show how the power of words can place the reader’s nose right in the middle of the situation.

The characters are sublime, and created with a panache which I found reminiscent of John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces. Despite the obvious flaws and weaknesses of the many players in Ass Slasher, I couldn’t help but love the delusional fools.

And the twist? I knew it was coming, but I sort of forgot about it. R.J. weaves an enchanting cloak of deception and misdirection throughout the pages, and it resulted in me not seeing the obvious, not seeing what I already knew and he’d already told me in the narrative, so when all was revealed, I could only sit, nod my head, and chastise myself for refusing to accept things as they really were.

As I said at the start, I’ve read many of R.J.’s books, but this is a new level, a pinnacle of his ability and voice. If you’ve read it, you’ll understand my delight. If you haven’t, then you really don’t deserve to have eyes.