Blowfly (UK: Star Books, 1984)
Tagline: "A Swarming Plague of death."
Ah, before we get to the nitty gritty of this month's
offering, let us give praise to the cover. Pretty cool,
pretty graphic, pretty damn creepy-crawly (which is,
after all, what we're after). Flies crawling over a sweaty
face ready to attack an eyeball. If you saw this at a
bookstore, you would have no doubt you were about to
launch into something that would put you off meat for
the day. That was, I think, the essential beauty (?) of
these books, the simple visceral joy: no subterfuge, no
Tagline: "A Swarming Plague of death."
Ah, before we get to the nitty gritty of this month's
offering, let us give praise to the cover. Pretty cool,
pretty graphic, pretty damn creepy-crawly (which is,
after all, what we're after). Flies crawling over a sweaty
face ready to attack an eyeball. If you saw this at a
bookstore, you would have no doubt you were about to
launch into something that would put you off meat for
the day. That was, I think, the essential beauty (?) of
these books, the simple visceral joy: no subterfuge, no
subtlety, absolutely no beating around the bush: you wanna buy this, go ahead, but
if you get sick that's your problem. And while we're praising the cover, let us praise
the title: BLOWFLY. I mean, what more could you ask for?
There's absolutely nothing I can tell you about the author of this one, David Loman.
He doesn't seem to have written any more of these type books. One shot? Don't
really know. When a guy doesn't have a track record writing this stuff, I get
concerned (see FLESHBAIT). I worry that some jackass who knows nothing of
horror and (worse) knows nothing of the British school of nasties might have
penned it. But in this case, I needn't have worried. For Loman gets to the goodies
in the first paragraph:
"They wriggled blindly under the animal's skin in their hundreds. They convulsed
in the rank dead flesh, smooth, white and totally parasitic."
YEAH, BABY! Bring it. You have to respect an author who tries to disgust you right
off like that. And how about this:
"Marilyn looked towards the pram and blinked. The white coachwork was covered
in flies, their blue-black bodies crawling over every millimetre of space. She
reached out instinctively and tried to get the baby underneath. Belinda was there,
under that mass of flies! 'Oh God say she is alive,' she screamed suddenly and
looking down at the fly-specked face, she forced open the little girl's mouth.
It was full of flies."
Still slavering? Then dig into this bit of grue as an especially horny woman steps
from the tub:
"Maisie closed her eyes and dreamed until the water cooled and then rose,
naked, and looked at herself again. It was all too good, too great, too desiring.
She could close her eyes and feel his hand on her shoulders and breasts, on her
belly and between her legs...
It was then the horror bit deeply into her. Those precious sensations were still
there but their causation was totally unexpected, totally horrendous. Those special
parts of her, those erotic areas of flesh tingled not with the memory of a lover, but
with the infestation of thousands of blowflies...
Okay. Enough. I can't have you drooling all over my webpage.
Anyway, you get the picture. Say no more. What's happening in this charming little
book is that the interbreeding of common blue bottles and flesh-flies has resulted in
a hybrid blowfly which is a really nasty monster, we soon learn. Yes, it's trouble in
the west counties as our plague of mutant blowflies spreads from rural Devon up to
Bristol. The flies attack in swarms (as you might have guessed), cover their prey
(people), and suffocate them in their numbers by crawling up their noses and down
their throats and, of course, laying their eggs in them which eventually hatch into
maggots. They especially like the eyes. But all is not lost! Enter Dr. Ian Wilde, a
member of WHO (World Health Organization, not the band) and an expert in
tropical diseases who knows his flies. While the flies get people in houses and cars
and supermarkets and you name it, Wilde and the army use a chemical spray that
keeps down much of the hybrid fly population...or so they think until the flies mount
a counterattack and blanket Bristol. They also kick up their heels in rural Devon
where a movie company is filming a children's superhero show called MANFLY.
The only thing that saves our stalwart production company are their
lights--ultraviolets. It doesn't take long for Wilde and the army to mobilize UVs and
the battle is afoot!
Pros: Great fly attacks, disgusting infestations, a particularly cool scene where
swelling blisters explode and disgorge hundreds of maggots into a woman's face.
Characters are nothing special, but a few are pretty realistic. The very best is
Mark Lambert, an ex-soldier who got his legs blown off in Northern Ireland. He
thinks he's washed up as a man, but the lighting guy on MANFLY convinces him
he's not and it works very well. Cudos to any author who gives a disabled guy a
fighting chance.
Cons: Very few. I would have liked more maggot scenes and the fly swarms could
have been nastier...but that's about it.
Overall: A very readable and fun book. Certainly not the greatest nasty ever
written, but worth a look.
3½ bloody skulls out of five.
Next month's Guilty Pleasure:
"When the nightmare ended, the real horror began..."
if you get sick that's your problem. And while we're praising the cover, let us praise
the title: BLOWFLY. I mean, what more could you ask for?
There's absolutely nothing I can tell you about the author of this one, David Loman.
He doesn't seem to have written any more of these type books. One shot? Don't
really know. When a guy doesn't have a track record writing this stuff, I get
concerned (see FLESHBAIT). I worry that some jackass who knows nothing of
horror and (worse) knows nothing of the British school of nasties might have
penned it. But in this case, I needn't have worried. For Loman gets to the goodies
in the first paragraph:
"They wriggled blindly under the animal's skin in their hundreds. They convulsed
in the rank dead flesh, smooth, white and totally parasitic."
YEAH, BABY! Bring it. You have to respect an author who tries to disgust you right
off like that. And how about this:
"Marilyn looked towards the pram and blinked. The white coachwork was covered
in flies, their blue-black bodies crawling over every millimetre of space. She
reached out instinctively and tried to get the baby underneath. Belinda was there,
under that mass of flies! 'Oh God say she is alive,' she screamed suddenly and
looking down at the fly-specked face, she forced open the little girl's mouth.
It was full of flies."
Still slavering? Then dig into this bit of grue as an especially horny woman steps
from the tub:
"Maisie closed her eyes and dreamed until the water cooled and then rose,
naked, and looked at herself again. It was all too good, too great, too desiring.
She could close her eyes and feel his hand on her shoulders and breasts, on her
belly and between her legs...
It was then the horror bit deeply into her. Those precious sensations were still
there but their causation was totally unexpected, totally horrendous. Those special
parts of her, those erotic areas of flesh tingled not with the memory of a lover, but
with the infestation of thousands of blowflies...
Okay. Enough. I can't have you drooling all over my webpage.
Anyway, you get the picture. Say no more. What's happening in this charming little
book is that the interbreeding of common blue bottles and flesh-flies has resulted in
a hybrid blowfly which is a really nasty monster, we soon learn. Yes, it's trouble in
the west counties as our plague of mutant blowflies spreads from rural Devon up to
Bristol. The flies attack in swarms (as you might have guessed), cover their prey
(people), and suffocate them in their numbers by crawling up their noses and down
their throats and, of course, laying their eggs in them which eventually hatch into
maggots. They especially like the eyes. But all is not lost! Enter Dr. Ian Wilde, a
member of WHO (World Health Organization, not the band) and an expert in
tropical diseases who knows his flies. While the flies get people in houses and cars
and supermarkets and you name it, Wilde and the army use a chemical spray that
keeps down much of the hybrid fly population...or so they think until the flies mount
a counterattack and blanket Bristol. They also kick up their heels in rural Devon
where a movie company is filming a children's superhero show called MANFLY.
The only thing that saves our stalwart production company are their
lights--ultraviolets. It doesn't take long for Wilde and the army to mobilize UVs and
the battle is afoot!
Pros: Great fly attacks, disgusting infestations, a particularly cool scene where
swelling blisters explode and disgorge hundreds of maggots into a woman's face.
Characters are nothing special, but a few are pretty realistic. The very best is
Mark Lambert, an ex-soldier who got his legs blown off in Northern Ireland. He
thinks he's washed up as a man, but the lighting guy on MANFLY convinces him
he's not and it works very well. Cudos to any author who gives a disabled guy a
fighting chance.
Cons: Very few. I would have liked more maggot scenes and the fly swarms could
have been nastier...but that's about it.
Overall: A very readable and fun book. Certainly not the greatest nasty ever
written, but worth a look.
3½ bloody skulls out of five.
Next month's Guilty Pleasure:
"When the nightmare ended, the real horror began..."
| Copyright 2010 by Tim Curran |