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The Last Final Girl Paperback – September 16, 2012
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"The Last Final Girl is like Quentin Tarantino's take on The Cabin in the Woods. Bloody, absurd, and smart. Plus, there's a killer in a Michael Jackson mask." - Carlton Mellick III, author of Apeshit
Life in a slasher film is easy. You just have to know when to die.
Aerial View: A suburban town in Texas. Everyone's got an automatic garage door opener. All the kids jump off a perilous cliff into a shallow river as a rite of passage. The sheriff is a local celebrity. You know this town. You're from this town.
Zoom In: Homecoming princess, Lindsay. She's just barely escaped death at the hands of a brutal, sadistic murderer in a Michael Jackson mask. Up on the cliff, she was rescued by a horse and bravely defeated the killer, alone, bra-less. Her story is already a legend. She's this town's heroic final girl, their virgin angel.
Monster Vision: Halloween masks floating down that same river the kids jump into. But just as one slaughter is not enough for Billie Jean, our masked killer, one victory is not enough for Lindsay. Her high school is full of final girls, and she's not the only one who knows the rules of the game.
When Lindsay chooses a host of virgins, misfits, and former final girls to replace the slaughtered members of her original homecoming court, it's not just a fight for survival-it's a fight to become The Last Final Girl.
- Print length206 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherEraserhead Pr
- Publication dateSeptember 16, 2012
- Dimensions5.5 x 0.5 x 8.5 inches
- ISBN-101621050513
- ISBN-13978-1621050513
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Product details
- Publisher : Eraserhead Pr (September 16, 2012)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 206 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1621050513
- ISBN-13 : 978-1621050513
- Item Weight : 9.9 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.5 x 0.5 x 8.5 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #92,186 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #593 in Fiction Satire
- #3,110 in Horror Literature & Fiction
- #4,424 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Born and raised in Texas. In Boulder, Colorado now. Forty-nine. Blackfeet. Into werewolves and slashers, zombies and vampires, haunted houses and good stories. Would wear pirate shirts a lot if I could find them. And probably carry some kind of sword. More over at http://demontheory.net or http://twitter.com/@SGJ72
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The first stumbling block is the text's presented. Little arrows, camera direction such as 'we pan over/zoom in, from character X's POV' - it reads like a screenplay with an extra sentence of description. Not only is it jarring, but it leaps around so much with jumpcuts that anyone without ADHD is going to get whiplash. Even more confusingly, you will have two characters' dialogue in the same paragraph. But fine, let's just chock that up to style.
The author then goes to break the fourth wall so thoroughly as to directly speak to the audience. Here's some passages:
What matters, though, is that Izzy, she’s stood up for Lindsay, then for Crystal. Completely not in keeping with what we know about her.
The way this is framed, too, there’s this big empty space over his shoulder, so that we’re holding our breaths (but grinning, be-cause he’s so going to deserve it), and jump hard when, instead of some shape stepping into the sheriff’s space, the garage door of Izzy’s house starts
Ben mumbles, and nods to himself, pushes hard away from the concrete with his feet so he can situate himself on the surface properly: arms crossed over his chest grave style, so we’re all holding our breath for him, don’t want a kid to die.
“Boop, boop, boop,” she says, pinching the windows shut with her fingers, some personal game we don’t know anything about. It’s enough to steady
Why would you do that? Might as well say "We should be worried about the killer. We should be getting tense. We should be scared now."
Also, one character is named Crystal Blake, which is obviously a reference to Camp Crystal Lake, another is Mandy Kane (Mandy Lane). That's acceptable. But then the author does this:
Close on the business card: “Jamie Curtis, Telegraph,” and the usual email addresses and phone numbers and faxes, all the area codes obscured enough we can’t really guess at a state.
“Tell me your middle name’s Lee,” she says to him, tucking the card into her bra so that most of the card’s still out in the open.
“And my brother’s Michael , yeah,” Jamie says.
If you're going to give the characters these names, they shouldn't acknowledge them unless the whole plot is a conspiracy or questioning reality. A subtle wink to the audience is fine. Here it's so blatant it comes off more as the author saying, "See what I did there?" The book is so self-aware I expected a character to bump into the camera.
You know that part of the horror movie where it's introducing the main cast and their young adult drama BS? The part where you want to hurry so we can get back to the slashing? That's 47% of the book. The plot here often goes nowhere, drags on unnecessarily, or creates plot threads that the book never goes back to. Worst of all, it lacks tension and there's barely any buildup at all. W're told that Lindsay is surrounding herself with Final Girls but only two girls are given detail as to how they're Final Girls. So if the plot's worn thin and the writing is choppy at best, what about the characters?
The main character Izzy and her friend Brittney spend 90% of the novel being every 80s-90s teen movie main characters - snarky, witty and rebellious. However, all their dialog, all of it, is smarmy, self-aware banter. That gets old after page 90. A horror movie can get away with stock characters because most of it is spent with them cowering and running, but when the focus is on those characters for 200 pages, that void needs to be filled with something other than constant hollow movie references. Prime example:
“Unless it does turn out to be you, of course,” Izzy adds. “Then I’ll spit on your grave myself. Take you to the last house on the left just before dawn.”
The author can't even describe things without referencing pop culture - 'Oprahing her eyes' 'Spocking her hand' 'Uses his Morpheus fingers to invite' 'Velociraptoring up on the counter'. One character's complete description is just 'Tony Todd'. After describing the characters as Robert Englund and Tony Todd, and I am not joking, the next line is "The Bulldogs' head coach is Freddy Kreuger, their assistant coach the Candyman." Easter eggs are one thing, but this is spoonfeeding. Why even bother describing anything, just tell the story only by stringing together movie quotes and actor names for nouns and verbs.
I came away from this book insulted as a horror fan, a movie fan in general, and finally as a reader. What really frustrates me is that all this self-congratulating fanservice buries some good stuff. When the action starts it gets good. There's a sequence that had me turning pages, desperate to find out what happens next, in part because it's so damn unique and inventive. The buildup is excellent, the tension at the last part of the book is excellent, the reveals are well done. There is obvious talent here. But it's so thick with pure fanservice desperately passed off and hyped as slick, clever, stylish homage.
It was a real struggle not to give this one star, but it gets two here because of the parts that are good.
The story is, of course, a slasher flick. With a twist.
<blockquote>
"Lindsay's right," Izzy says, collecting the leftovers. "Billie Jean is coming back for her. With a little help from his friends."
"So . . . so is this a horror movie now, or a teen comedy?" Brittney says.
"It's an afterschool special," Izzy says, Hoddering her head over to study Billie Jean. "Know what the take-home message is? Don't **** with Izzy Stratford."
</blockquote>
Lindsay, the "Final Girl" in the movie that ended in the opening chapter, survived an encounter with a slasher-killer in a Michael Jackson mask. Now as homecoming queen, she's going to lead her high school in a celebration of life and survival, and she's chosen a handful of other very special girls for her court.
They're all Final Girls who survived their own teen bloodbaths.
Since this is a slasher film, and Stephen Graham Jones is not going to neglect a single trope, even Izzy, the confused odd girl out, knows that a homecoming game with a cast right out of every scary movie ever can only end in blood.
The Last Final Girl is fun, if you find movies like Halloween and My Bloody Valentine and Nightmare on Elm Street fun. And it tries - it tries so very, very hard - to be clever. But it's not quite as clever as it tries to be. It's been billed as a literary version of Joss Whedon's Cabin in the Woods, but it's not a deconstruction so much as a tongue-in-cheek fan fiction collage. The characters, all of them, are genre-savvy and know they are in a horror flick, so they try to outsmart fate, even knowing that the rules aren't going to let them all survive. The author tries to keep us in suspense about who's really the villain, but like many slasher films, it kind of spins out of control during the bloody finale. But hey, who says they have to make sense?
The writing style will definitely not be to everyone's taste. It's written in present tense screenplay format, complete with camera directions:
<blockquote>
→ and now Billie Jean's clambering easily over the rail after Izzy and Ben, Izzy falling backwards and up, her POV looking ahead, where they're going: to the top rail.
A dead end. A fast drop. Just like the cliff.
"Stupid girls run upstairs, stupid girls run upstairs," she's saying to herself, turning to pull Ben with her up the aluminum steps, Billie Jean just feet behind them,
→ Crystal down on the track, Billie Jean in the crosshairs of Dante's rifle, about to have his insides opened up.
"Now, you ****er," Crystal says, and pulls the trigger.
On nothing.
She doesn't understand this gun.
</blockquote>
It really does convey the sense of being in a movie, watching from seats sticky with artificial butter through the alternating POV of a stalking serial killer and spunky teenagers, but it also gets annoying after a while.
I almost wanted to rate this 4 stars, but the writing style wore on me and while there were some good jokes, they weren't quite funny enough to elevate this to true satire, let alone genius. Definitely a fun read for any horror fan, but it's mostly just a celebration of all those R-rated blood-and-guts-and-titty-fests of our (well, my) youth
Hollywood NEEDS to make this happen.
This is one for horror fans of all levels. Right from the jump we are thrown into a teen massacre. Our killer is giving total Michael Myers vibes. The rest of the story is nod after nod to a variety of horror themes. The genre is completely analyzed for the reader, and I loved it.
There is satire, gore, and a high kill count.
This is my first read by this author and I appreciated the fine details and the way he framed every scene. This read as if you were watching it. When it was all said and done, I appreciated it. But while reading it, it took time to get used to.
Top reviews from other countries
By taking this approach and making it allegorical and metafcitional.
Take all the standards-the prom queen, the homecoming football match, the end of school and the big step into the beyond of adulthood, and dump a bucket of pigs blood onto it.
Sly references and digs abound, from characters names through to place names, all nods to the genre that created it. And what better villain to have, than to have him wear a Michael Jackson mask, a mask of the man who made his own face into a mask, a man made famous by the alterations beyond all recognition, to both his appearance and his race?
And if that doesn't strike you as a particularly scary modern bogeyman, try Googling Michael Jackson masks, it's pretty bloody terrifying.
He represents reality, adulthood, the next step on the ladder of progression which many parents would almost rather their children do not take, rather, preserved like a prom night corsage , behind glass, at their absolute peak. The killer is representative of the wishes and the hopes of their parents, which are often so far removed from the things that the teens themselves want that they might as well be dead if they take on the burden of these expectations. The invincible nature of being young versus the will of parents wanting them not to make the same mistakes that they did, or wish fulfiment is represented by the slasher, literally slashing them out of existence and leaving them forever young.
Meta fiction takes a twist then doubles back on itself as Stephen presents this tale as though we, the audience, are voyeurs,viewing it from a distance which has the effect of fiction cum cinema verite. It is presented as a screen play, divorcing the reader from reality as suspect after suspect is presented as the possible villain behind the mask.
However, ultimately, the identity of the person is not as important as following the rules of the game, grinding the killer to dust and then taking that breathing space for the inevitable sequel....
As Billy says-
''Movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative.'
The format and constant chopping through scenes made it at times difficult to read, and I had to go back and re-read several chapters to work out who was who, and what was what. That niggle aside, I found that Stephen's paean to the slasher film was an enjoyable jaunt into the Blockbuster bargain bin ,where every method of teen disposable was painted loudly onto every page.
Another big recommendation from me.
Erzählt wird das ganze aus der Sicht des komplizenhaften Zusehers eines Slasher-Filmes, komplett mit Kamera-Anweisungen, Hinweisen, welche Nebensächlichkeiten wir bemerken sollen und wie wir als Publikum zu fühlen haben. Diese Erzählweise ermöglicht es Jones, mit den Erfahrungen des Zusehers zu spielen (wie eben Kevin Williamson in Scream), aber auch gleichzeitig eine Distanz zu den Figuren aufrecht zu erhalten, die es eben ermöglicht, dass bis ziemlich zum Schluss eigentlich jede mögliche Auflösung als plausibel erscheint.
Fazit: extrem amüsant, temporeich, gut konstruiert und - wie jeder gute Slasher - mit einer Reihe von Hintertürchen für das Weiterleben von Billie Jean.








