Mr. Giggles is okay.
4 stars barfed and transported by utterly illogical means into the toilet of the cosmos! Jerry Blaze is described as, quote, "an international bestselling author of Trash Horror and Bizarro Fiction." Well, I can't speak to the international part (even if I am no where near the USA but would only qualify for the teeny tiny village I live in) but he sure nailed the latter two along with a good dose of splatterpunk in his very, very weird, shocking, and even arguably disgusting book "The Discarded." I mean, I just have this image of him deciding to write this book by picking point A - oh let's say that's a spot on the map where somebody is dumpster diving at the local abortion clinic - and determining that he wanted to eventually reach point Z, which I'll just summarize as saying life on Earth is probably doo-doo-doomed.
We are the discarded of the city. The city gave us life and tried to take it away, but they failed.
Now while writing said book, Blaze might have suddenly looked up from the used coffee filters and stolen Arby's placemats he was taking notes on and said to himself, "No wait… that reads like a straight line. Much too obvious, too many people will expect that… and that just won't do." And from there, the book just got weirder and weirder and then went through some sort of Stargate-like portal and wound up being the book I just finished. I mean, wow, this was an acid dropping miasma of putrid bizarreness that I can't really compare to anything I've read. Full stop. I mean, even after you finally get to meet all of the main-ish characters and understand at least why they're making appearances of a sort, it probably won't help much because you just won't see any of this coming.
The storm will be the calm before the true essence of fear strikes.
I do appreciate though that we had the good taste to at least start this story with the on-going machinations of the kind of person that'll never disappoint me as a reader, namely, a mad scientist. Or a future Nobel Prize winner, your call (he could have maybe eventually even qualified for a FIFA Peace Prize including the Cracker Jack necklace it came with). To say though that his target - to render infants capable of telling their caretakers "why they were upset rather than screaming or crying" - is an understatement of the grandest scale. Now this certainly sounds at face value like an act of absolute insanity, oops, I mean well-meaning and profitable research but knowing that the good Doctor was not even fond of children, especially the youngest ("He hated babies. They were literally the worst part of the human life cycle.") left one wondering just what the hell was really going on.
He would prove how wrong everyone was in judging him as a madman.
Now while we're making sure our stock of bull shark DNA, human stem cells, and biological fetal materials is all sufficient (the "is" should go with "stock" so I think that's right?) - with the latter of course being available in abundance just by checking the cities trash cans (I mean, duh, no?) - other things are also happening (as things tend to do) of note throughout Winscott City, which was at best "a breeding ground for criminals, crabs, and creeps"! I guess even by this vague input, it should already be clear that this is not a nice city, as the streets are dirty, the cops don't give a damn, serial killers ply their trade practically at will - as you'll see, "the city was one giant wildlife preserve for the Foot Carver" - and yes, even worse. Yeah, so all this - plus AGAIN just the sheer insanity of realizing that we're easily able to find DOZENS of abandoned babies in trash cans throughout town just thanks to a random search on a random night - just points out that (a) it's going to get worse (think: "mutated monster babies" and you're on your way!) and (b) maybe that won't be a bad thing. Oh ha ha, who am I kidding? Remember: this is not straight-line thinking we're concerned with. Face it: everyone's fucked, it's all just a question of how fucked and when!
This is the sickest shit I’ve ever been contracted to do.
So Blaze sends us off on some pretty wild escapades - some of which may just be small side-stories (or huge hints to the rest of what's happening) and some which seem to be huge bits that we shouldn't forget (or may just be small shit… well, you get the idea). The most important thing is that no matter how quickly your own brain matter begins to dissociate and/or disintegrate, the whole shebang moves forward at a pretty damn brisk pace. Like it or not, there are some people that really know their jobs (for better or worse) and some THINGS that learn how to do what they wind up doing best right from the get-go. And sure, you can argue not every failure we run across means that something didn't work just that it didn't work the way ANY of us expected. Still with me?
She tried to scream, she tried to beg, she tried to pray, but all was futile.
For myself, this was my first Blaze book and it had all the ingredients I was looking for in, well, my first Blaze book. There are a few editing hiccups but nothing I'd rip anyone's face off for (we have people for that you know). And that whole "ignore the straight and narrow" bit works out pretty well, in that there's no kind of "gosh, I'm so glad me and all my loved ones survived" kind of contrived ending. Granted every dimensional wall that can be broken seems to have been left in tatters (though oddly enough not the 4th wall), but that's part of the fun. That and the floods of blood and brain matter and the "splashes of blood and guts popping out all over the walls" and the "brutalized corpses (falling) onto the floor and body parts (sailing) across the air" and the baby sharks singing doo, doo, doo, doo, aaaahhhhh we gonna eat yo' asses… well, excuse me while I wipe away these tears because you really can't get much better for the holidays!!! Enjoy!