Hub

High Expectations, Over Promise... Under Deliver, Underwhelming


The moment I opened this Pandora's Box of depravity, there was nothing short of a relentless onslaught of “what the f**?!” that bombarded me, but not in the way expected of an experienced reader of extreme horror.Matt Shaw is known for being an author of countless books classified in the extreme horror genre. I'm not unfamiliar with his works, having purchased a digital copy of “Sick Bstards,” “Hunger,” “Obsession,” and wanting to dive into “Happy Ever After” following my discovery of it from one of those overdone YouTube iceberg videos.

You really can't dabble into the category without stumbling across his name, among the likes of Judith Sonnet, Aron Beauregard, Kristopher Trianna, et all.

This is the kind of genre you either love or hate, and Matt Shaw is everything that embodies it.
When writing this book, he might as well have had a checklist of taboos, disturbing topics, scenarios that were known to upset, possibly even start a mob with pitchforks and torches, and ticked them off with glee and a face reminiscent of the cartoon Joker.

I've read a number of reviews and watched a selection of videos covering this book, and different opinions were thrown. Some considered it the most disturbing book they've ever read, some classified it as a poor excuse of shock value.

And then there was a comment I read under a video review that perfectly summed up everything I was thinking when reading the book: “There's nothing transgressive about this. It's CP-torture fantasy that uses shock value as a mask in order to label itself as a work of horror.... It's less about substance and more about ‘oh what will get people disgusted' which is a cheap distillation of what it means for something to be considered a work of horror.”

I am not one with a weak stomach for the disturbing, the macabre, the gruesome and violent, the gory and the depraved. In fact, some would consider my tolerance as fairly high, since the only story I have read to make me visibly nauseous was Terry Musalata's “Baby in a Blender” and the novel that made me take several pauses to finish because of how uncomfortable I felt was Alyssa Nutting's “Tampa.” I enjoy horror movies as much as the next person, with some of my personal favorites being the ones that set me on edge and leave me questioning reality, what is within control, and what isn't (for reference: “Hereditary”) and beautiful symbolism represented through horrifying creatures and entities that stay with you for years (“The Babadook”).

Yet I have an absolute love/hate relationship with slasher films and whatever genre you would throw the Saw and Hostel movies into. I hate shock and gore for the sole purpose of making people uncomfortable without a deeper intention behind it. There needs to be reason, a method, something to add context and substance to it, not just trying to disturb me.

This is where HUB falls remarkably short.

From the first to the last page, there were moments of violence and gore, instances of children being forced and trained to “please” their potential new families, not an inch of ink spread on the pages didn't contain some sort of content that made you question the legalities of such a book, and more so, wondering when the FBI were going to come crashing down your door.

The characters, what few there were, were a special breed of dysfunction, a marinated concoction steeped in toxic sludge of questionable life choices, and even more questionable, illicit morals. It was a difficult challenge just trying to feel empathy for the children in the story, the true victims of not just the heinous crimes inflicted on them but also victims of Shaw's twisted mind.

And the events of the storyline, the plot, all played out like a car crash captured on a TikTok video, one that you have saved and watched a hundred times, looking for anything different than what you've already seen. In this situation, though, the car is driven by one man, a crazed, demented psychopath high off his own inflated ego and self-centered view of the world, and this is in reference to the male lead of the story, (not directed at Shaw, whom I am not familiar with his personality or personal life).

By the time the predictable ending came, I was wondering if there was a way to stage some sort of intervention for Shaw, or at the very least whatever little inspiring Demons planted these ideas in his head. Poor things are overworked, understaffed and underpaid, and it shows in this book. There were so many opportunities to dive head first into genuinely upsetting and very real aspects of human nature, the way society is so easily manipulated by those in wealth and power, and how those of the meek and innocent are simply tools used by the hierarchy to fulfill their ultimate goals and needs.

Except these ideals and messages were reduced to a cheap thrill ride with predictable “scares” if you could call them that, with the ambient horror music missing the beat to drop when the monster peaks around the corner to jump out at you. I prefer my darkness with a side of depth, nuance, true horror, not some list written out by a middle school student of what their definition of “scary” is, aiming to disturb the schoolyard crush.

There is potential to meet the markers of transgressive fiction. If time and effort was put into it, skills that I know Matt Shaw possesses but did not put into this piece of literary fiction. What is considered by many to be the most disturbing Matt Shaw book, if not quite possibly the most disturbing book in extreme horror, they've ever read, did nothing more than fall flat to me.

“Baby in a Blender” still holds firm as the only book I've ever placed in the zero stars category, but this book could easily give it a run for its money. I will reward it though at 1 star, for the potential, alone.