Customer Reviews

The Long Last Call

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

John Skipp's latest novel, "The Long Last Call" is a battle of good vs. evil played out against the backdrop of a seedy, roadside strip club. Hank's girlfriend has just broken up with him and he is teetering on the edge of madness. Driving down a lonely stretch of road, haunted by persistent destructive hallucinations, Hank happens on a strip club called Wild Thangs and decides to stop in for last call. Skipp's last call for Hank is both literally and figuratively as the drunken man envisions blowing out his brains right in front of the stage.

Skipp nails down to a perfect "T" all the usual denizens of lower tier strip clubs; There's Darnell the bouncer who fancies himself hero to the dancers for walking them to their cars after closing time; Daisy the young rookie, unskilled as a dancer but making up for it with looks and a body that haven't yet been eroded by years of abuse; Ambrosia, the self-appointed queen bee among the dancers and sexual toy for the club's owner, Eddie. And of course there's the usual group of drunken red necks, hooting and hollering and spending the last dollar of their meager paychecks.

Eddie owns the club and it's his private little empire despite the fact that he is in debt up to his ears. Eddie's sister works form him handling the club's finances so he doesn't put it all up his nose. She's also the club's house mom, watching over the dancers as if they were her own daughters. Just as last call is announced, a mysterious stranger walks into the bar, dark and handsome...and completely terrifying to Hank who is able to see past the glistening veneer.

This Dark Stranger stars tossing money around, lots of money, and soon the entire bar is at attention. The dancers all fight for his attention while Eddie plays the cordial host, making sure is guest has everything he wants. And what he wants is the bar to close so he can enjoy a private with the dancers and the other patrons. Only Mom, suspecting something isn't right about the stranger, decides to leave at closing time. As the door locks behind her, the terror is about to begin... As one would expect from one of the founders of the splatterpunk scene, the action turns gory and gruesome before long.

I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've sat down to read a book and finished it in one sitting and this was one of those times. It wasn't a long book at 182 pages, but what there was moved at breakneck speed as the entire story was played out over a couple of hours. Each of the character's personalities were right on the money without becoming caricatures. The feeding frenzy that takes place when the dark stranger starts throwing money around is evidence of the desperate lives that these women lead.

The Long Last Call hits the road with the petal to the floor and never lets off the gas. If you are a stripper, you might want to think twice the next time that high-roller saunters into the club. You just never know what his true intentions are...

Reviewed by Tim Janson

When I saw that Fangoria gave this book praise on the cover I knew I had to have it. This is an extremely fast read one can easily finish this in one evening if uninterrupted since John Skipp is a talented writer. His style is very fluid and easy to understand and he doesn't shy away from writing whatever his imagination dictates but I didn't find this terribly scary or over the top gory. I've read heavier books so this was a nice morsel but nothing that would shock me, if anything it was the teasing he did with the reader, luring the mind into his tale without revealing what exactly is about to perspire. I can see how this can be compared to movies such as From Dusk to Dawn, although there are no vampires - there is however a rowdy strip club fight at the end that made for a really fun read.

When a dark stranger walks into a strip club called Sweet Thangs in middle of nowhere, he changes the lives of everyone inside. His expensive clothes, tight leather gloves and suitcase brimming with money are nothing but a façade, a way to get into people's weak mind. The closing hours are winding down but the strippers and everyone inside notice the wealth that came through and no one wants to go home. He enjoys the way he captures everyone's attention as they vie for his riches, little do they know that he brings more than cold hard cash; he's the harbinger of doom in ways that they can't even imagine. I can't say too much; it would spoil the glorious buildup that Skipp masterfully creates but the book was entertaining and explosive, especially towards the end. With names like Ambrosia, Pearl and Kristal, the strippers didn't shy away from being catty and over the top, but it was the money and the mysterious slick residue that coated it that brought out the real freak from inside out, each character in the novel showed who they really were and nothing can mesmerize a human like a dollar bill, or a stacks of hundreds to be precise.

I enjoyed the lovingly written intro for John Skipp, done by Brian Keene. I can see Skipp's influence on his style of writing and why he's such a big fan. It was certainly nice to see what horror writers like to read themselves.

- Kasia S.

According to the introduction, by Brian Keene, Skipp originally wrote this book, as a screenplay, though no one would hire him to make it because he was a first time director. After reading this book, I would think that it would be the perfect movie, for a first time director. . . Hopefully one day it will get made, as it will make for an awesome movie!

This book is an extremely fast read, (couple hours - tops) with excellent character development and a cool plot.


Review of Conscience (a Bonus Novella, included with The Long Last Call)
I do not know if it is just because I read this, right after reading The Long Last Call, or what, but this short story was just okay. It started off good, and then became muddled in the middle, though luckily it ended superbly!

myspace.com/horror_reviews

After the first couple of chapters, even the average horror fan knows exactly where this one is going, but that doesn't stop it from being an incredibly enjoyable and addictive read. Skipp writes surprisingly detailed characters for such a short piece of fiction. He takes out almost all the fat, leaving nothing but lean, raw, fast-paced action, gore, and sex. It's a great ride and reads like the movie it was always intended to be. I understand that Skipp wrote the screenplay to this before the novel, so I'm hoping to see this someday in the theater. The added novella, Conscience, that was included at the end of the book, was a bit disappointing, but the book is still well worth purchasing and adding to anyone's collection because of the lead title. Great stuff.

Do you enjoy children's tea parties, fairy godmothers, unicorns and rainbows? Yeah? Well, you want to get a cab, because John Skipp is serving buckets of blood, twisted sex, and peek-through-your-fingers gore, friends. If, on the other hand, you dig Splatterpunk like I do, come and see what the co-founder of that infamous subgenre of horror hath wrought; it ain't pretty. It is, however, tremendously entertaining and utterly horrifying! A young and immensely drunk young man named Hank finds himself staggering into a seedy, dead-end strip club called Sweet Thangs, where the dancers are hot and the beer is cold. The strip joint is a perfect place for Hank to medicate the growing suicidal madness and hallucinations with which he's been grappling. Worse, his girlfriend has recently kicked him to the curbstone. He finds the dancers enticing, but they want money for the pleasure watching them writhe and undulate. Like most of the other men, Hank is aroused by the girls, but somewhat resentful that he must enjoy their wanton, unattainable charms at a distance and for a price. The dancers despise the patrons, whom they feel are cheap and exploitative. It is a symbiotic parasitism of mutual antipathy that develops into rage-fueled carnage ignited by a well-dressed and moneyed stranger that arrives in a limousine and enters the club. The oddly out-of-place stranger is not altogether human, you see--he is the walking, talking embodiment of the antagonism and mutual distrust that exists between men and women. The Sweet Thangs club, a microcosm of simmering hatreds, is a prime location for the stranger to sow dark seeds of mayhem with the cash he carries in his briefcase, because the men are there for sex and the women are there for money, so just guess to whom the women are going to be drawn. And it is ON, no holds barred. This is classic Skipp, a master of terror whose supernatural horrors are always so smartly underpinned by sociological realties and human frailties. When you click on the cover graphic and purchase THE LONG LAST CALL, you will also receive an included bonus novella, "Conscience", another in-yer-face, balls-out Skipp masterpiece that begins with a boy and his dog but quickly veers into a Splatteresque nightmare of gambling, sex, carnage and, um, religion. Please note that this is unapologetically explicit adult fiction that is not suitable for children or grandma's bedside table.

As a fan of horror fiction for many years, it was with great pleasure that I read the latest from John Skipp. The characters are real, fleshed out (no pun intended). The pace is a roller coaster, the ending not seen. If viseral gore can be beautiful....this is it.

This time the bar in question is one that features topless dancers. The night is almost over. In walks a well-dressed, but moist, gentleman who immediately starts spreading money around. This is the sort of money that the people in the bar may never see again. The prospect of money brings out their truer natures and most of them are not particularly nice. More money is offered and things start to get strange. People begin to act strange and some seem to be changing. A final battle ensues as some of the patrons and workers attempt to hold out against the stranger.

Lass than 200 pages in to the book the story ends and we get another novella called Conscience. Here a professional killer starts to really think about his current lifestyle. He has a new contract to help discredit a popular guru who has all sorts of ideas about the coming planetary alignment. Is this the Age of Aquarius?

The title story reminds me of the movie Feast where monster attack a bar with no explanation. Here we learn nothing about the stranger other than he may be very old. What is the slime? Who knows. Why does he exist? who is Lloyd? Still no answers. Kind of disappointing really.

In the second story we see a character going through self exploration but we don't really learn anything about him other than he loved his dog as a boy. Weaker than the first story but with the same lack of explanation. What is the alignment all about and what does the guru say will happen? Why does someone want to stop him? More unanswered questions.

I had high hopes for this one as I have long been a fan of the team of Skipp and Spector. I was sadly disappointed. I kept expecting some substance and never found it. Brian Keene wrote and introduction for this one. Save the into for after the book as it builds expectations that are unfulfilled. These are based on comments about past works and not the one within. All in all I can't really say that I recommend this one but if you like your horror visual and don't care about causes and explanations then you may feel differently about this one.

Last year, we saw the triumphant return of John Skipp, editor extraordinaire, as he bagged a Stoker for MONDO ZOMBIE-- a project roughly thirteen years in the making. This year, John Skipp, the proud Splatterpunk Papa, returned to the fiction arena with THE LONG LAST CALL, a tale of demons and strip club dancers, of innocence and bloated lusts.
Don't get me wrong. It's not as if Skipp wasn't busting his butt in the world of horror and beyond. Since the late 90s, he's been busy editing, writing collaborations with others, making music videos, short films, and even adult movies (for which he won an AVN), and writing screenplays. But to his fans, his return proper was a moment of truly bizarre dichotomy.
A sense of expectation, for sure. Finally, the man who made some of us want to be rock n' roll horror writers was coming back to the fold.
But many wondered if that old Skipp magic was still there?
Could he pull off another ANIMALS or THE BRIDGE?
This reviewer is here to allay any such fears. Despite the relative short length, THE LONG LAST CALL is vintage Skipp, but with a whole new wisdom.
Written initially as a screenplay for a film that Skipp intended to produce, he cleverly keeps that cinematic vision throughout the story, moving from one character to another with an editor's eye for continuity and pace. After introducing the reader to Hank, an angst ridden young country boy, who might just be a little less than sane, we're escorted into SWEET THANGS, a strip club off the beaten trail. Using a technique rivaling the famous opening tracking shot in Orson Welles' TOUCH OF EVIL, we meet the assorted cast of dancers, a sleazy drugged out club owner, a muscle bound bouncer with plans of his own, a trio of local dollar tipping rowdies, and the wallflower stripper mom. Enter The Dark Stranger, loaded with cash and big plans for a night's not-so-innocent entertainment.
If you've ever been lucky enough to attend a Skipp reading, you'll recognize the loose and easy style of writing as the same way in which he reads aloud for his eager fans. It's as if your favorite uncle is sitting across from you, relaying the damnedest story from his checkered past. The litmus test of a true craftsman is how easily Skipp is able to keep the breakneck pace, layer the violence and sex to a heady pitch, and still load the story with pathos and emotion.
If THE LONG LAST CALL is any indication of what the future holds for Skipp fans, we all have thanks to give to whatever writing gods convinced him to come back again.
All Hail the Splatterpunk King.

--Nickolas Cook

One of the first ironies is a book with "long" in the title being so incredibly short! It literally took me an hour to read this book--the hardcover's got big print, biiig margins, and wee little sentences. Definitely not a good value. Oh, and it's poorly edited, too, by someone with a very loose grasp on basic grammar guidelines.

The story's one big cliche after another. Oh my gosh, a stripper who's a college student by day? What an incredibly unique idea! And the owner of the strip club provides drugs to the strippers in exchange for sex? What *will* they think of next?? I have to admit that the devil having to slime a person in order to can bring out his/her worst nature was a new twist. A ridiculous twist, but new nonetheless. All I could think of every time the author mentioned the slime (and there were a lot of those times!) was Slimer in Ghostbusters. Not really very terrifying.

John Skipp as anthologist: brilliant (the Books of the Dead are still a couple of my favorite collections). John Skipp as author: not so much.

John Skipp's The Long Last Call is a book that stayed with me for months after I read it. I sat down and began to read the book and was instantly swept into his world of debauchery, violence and the unknown. I could not put this book down. I kept this book with me at all times until I finished it, and I would sneak a minute or two here and there to read as much as I could as fast as I could.
Each character was flushed out, full formed and became living breathing people for me (to the point that the Stranger actually walked by me in a casino here in Vegas after I finished it and I was completely FREAKED out)
I am not going to rehash the plot, since many reviewers already have done that, but instead I am going to recommend you go out and buy this book and read it. My skin crawled, my heart stopped and my feelings for the characters grew, even if I hated their actions, I still longed for them to make it out alive. Being a John Skipp novel, you can guess there were murders/deaths in this book, but what else would a fan of Skipp's expect?
It is a good fun rollercoaster of a world that I never want to enter in the real world.