Nightmare Fuel magazine interview /  by Garth Jones

Garth Jones first caught our attention when a story he wrote about Santa being brutally tortured landed in our inbox at Nightmare Fuel. 666-odd words later and we were hooked; written with a kind of perverse glee and pace that matched the heartbeat of its victim, it was one of the standout stories from our Violent Night collection in 2022.

Growing up in Broken Hill but now based in Meanjin (Brisbane), Jones may be Australia’s answer to Hunter S. Thompson, if Hunter actually knuckled down and got serious about drugs, drink and depravity. 

An ‘occult rock ‘n roll black comedy that cruises outback highways, dive pub toilets and the scabby upper echelons of society in the Republic of Australia’, Jones’ most recent work Home Brewed, Vampire Bullets Vol. 2 is a 116-page meticulous lesson in the art of wordplay. It’s slick, switchblade sharp and smutty enough to make you blush – and just when society thinks they have a moment to unclench their pearls, he goes and tells us he’s about to unleash Volume 3.

We had a chat with Jones to find out more about Home Brewed, Vampire Bullets series and his quest to spread the mongrel punk gospel…

Read the full interview here.

EXCERPT – DR LARA CAIN GRAY REVIEWS HOME BREWED /  by Garth Jones

Consider my gob well and truly smacked – this review knocked me on my arse and then some. Read the full thing here while I retire to my fainting couch.

“Comparisons elsewhere have been to Hunter S Thompson and Tom Robbins. I see shades of John Birmingham, Mad Max and Spinal Tap. This is grotty, grimy, larrikin smut. Unapologetically vulgar, it takes anything you thought of as taboo and throws it in your face while it flips you the finger. If you don’t own any pearls, now’s the time to pick some up. You’ll be clutching tight.

So, why the heck is little miss picture book librarian so into it? I can see why you might ask. I might not seem like the target audience for a series that reads like Russell Mulcahy took acid and had a fight with the Urban Dictionary, but this is actually one delicious read. It’s funny, anarchic, original and ridiculous. When I first read Volume One, I described it to a friend as a palate cleanser. I have a pretty eclectic TBR, but a lot of it is worthy, literary, cautiously crafted and market-focussed tomes that frankly get a bit same-y sometimes. It’s so healthy to be shocked out of your reading routine…“

As I said, read the lot here.
Follow Lara on Twitter here.

Daredevil: Season 2 /  by Garth Jones

And lo, Marvel’s crimson Catholic head-kicker returns to your streaming device* for a highly anticipated second season of angsty, claret-soaked pulp vigilantism.

Setting up shop squarely in The Dark Knight’s thematic bailiwick, season two is an exercise in escalation: melodrama ratcheted right up, bruising, head mashing violence ratcheted right up, meditations on crime and punishment to the fore.

To wit: in stark contrast to season one’s tepid slow burn, we’re immediately introduced to Jon Bernthal’s (Fury) Frank Castle, AKA The Punisher (essentially Michael Myers with Arnie’s Commando arsenal). 

Frank doesn’t just maim his quarry like Ol’ Hornhead - he straight up murders them in a hail of high velocity, Ted Nugent endorsed gunfire.

Because ‘justice’.

Castle’s modus operandi sets up season two’s central concern: do the ends justify the means? 

Our man Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) is forced to question the effectiveness of his methods, first by Castle, and then, later, his wildcat college flame Elektra (the revelatory Élodie Yung).

Then there’s a certain cantankerous, stick-wielding former mentor hovering on the periphery...

Structurally, Daredevil Season Two’s thirteen episodes could be considered a trilogy of interconnecting tele-films, each embracing a pulp genre.

We begin with the Death Wish pathos of The Punisher, move on to the sassy heists and saucy romance of the Elektra arc (given some extra nuance by the courtroom drama of Frank’s trial), the ensuing prison film tropes and… well, that would be telling.

Daredevil season two’s grander narrative canvas is ambitious, but, sadly, let down by some extremely threadbare dialogue, ropey supporting performances (those appalling Oirish accents!) and impressive fight choreography betrayed by murky lighting and cinematography.

Still, the core cast, both original and returning, are incredibly game, with newcomers Bernthal and Yung in particular bringing dazzling new colour and shade to proceedings.

Once more drawing the bulk of its inspiration from Frank Miller’s seminal 1980s run of funny-books (with a lick of Garth Ennis for good measure- what he’d think of those accents would beggar belief), this second season of Daredevil, whilst perhaps a tad over-long and on-the-nose, script wise, confirms that the Netflix Marvel universe is the place to be for a cheeky spot of vaguely adult (ish) superheroic drama which is less “shit dropping out of the sky” and more “oh god I never realised I needed to see Frank Castle shoot someone’s face right off on a telly show”.

Get to it!

*There.

A  Netflix Marvel show review with zero references to ‘binge-viewing’.

I’m good.