Ancient Horror History Unearthed: Toy Cemetery by William Johnstone. REVIEWED. kinda

Here it is. My first novel by William W. Johnstone. A prolific and permanent fixture of 80s fiction, the guy turned out books constantly. In fact, he continues to today...even though he died in 2004. Puzzled? Me too.

Anyway, the guy wrote hundreds of books, about 50 of which were horror, all published by Zebra. He has a reputation for writing books that are gory, ridiculous and repetitive. Sounds fun enough, right?

Sure.

Gory and ridiculous is my thing, and given just how much the guy contributed to the genre, I had to give it a go.

I'm sorry, Johnstone. Rest ya soul, dude...but you are, hands down, the worst writer I have ever read. I stopped at page 230 or so, over halfway. This incredibly bizarre feeling of "I have read absolutely nothing, but am completely overwhelmed with how much shit is going on in this book at the same time" has enraptured me for days.

Frankly, there's too many good books to keep reading dookie. And this is stank dookie. I don't care how much of a supposed historical monument you are supposed to be to horror fiction...this has got to be one of the worst books ever written.

I can not imagine a time when something this lousy, could be purchased with such accessibility. Especially given that there are so many fantastic writers who can hardly get published in the present day.

So, yeah. My first Johnstone novel at age 31.

I bought it at the suggestion of some fellow readers of what is "Quintessential" reading of this turd-typist, combined with the fact there is some speculation that this book will be a difficult find soon, due to a pretty fantastic write-up of it's ridiculousness in the forthcoming PAPERBACKS FROM HELL.

It arrived. And from page one I felt in trouble.

I feel as though this is a book I would have written in middle school, with about the same skill level. Of course, I'd need to be a middle schooler with a bunch of shit to work out including my bizarre religious agenda, my obsession with incest, and right political leanings.

It's like a Goosebumps book written by a mental patient. Who can't stop talking. About nothing.

Written with no feeling, no passion, everything is so matter of fact that a semblance of giving two damns about what happens in the next page is out the window. Characters are written with NO character at all...rather caricatures of some other character from some other, better written book.

And holy shit, there's a lot of characters.

My favorite thing about this book is it's attempt at some level of maturity and class by labeling the book into sections with quotes from things that have nothing to do with anything going on in the book.

BOOK ONE. "Ye who read thine scripture be cursed through art thou wherefore whenceforth hereafter." -Edgar Allen Poe.

Or some nonsense like that. Got a real good laugh out of me.

It's slow and endless. It's tangential. It's seriously impossible to read.

There's zombie toys, zombie people, kiddie porn factories, ghost aunts, incest ghouls....just like everything all at once.

I can't even tell you what this book is actually about. I can only tell you it's trash and in the absolute worst way. A guy inherits a house in a town full of fucked up stuff. That's the synopsis I can give you. And that'll have to do.

BUT.

I am a glutton for punishment. I will try Johnstone again. I can't tell you why. I want better for us. For some inexplicable reason. And also that I have three more of his books.

Save me.

I need a literature pallet cleanser after this unbearable mess. Somebody recommend me a book that at least makes sense.

0/5.