Having already been a fan of Caleb J. Ross from his short story collection, Charactered Pieces, it was nice to see him make a big leap with his first novel, Stranger Will. In fact, he jumped himself right into Ira Levin territory with this macabre tale of evil that lives right next door (if not right inside the protagonist). It’s been a while since I have read a solid, eerie tale of actual human depravity — let’s face it, most writers are too zombie and vampire obsessed these days — but Stranger Will hits the mark perfectly. As Levin did with Rosemary’s Baby and The Stepford Wives, Ross sets Stranger Will in a our world, one too familiar, where a slight twist, a nudge in the wrong direction send’s the protagonist Will into the presence of secret movement that exists just beneath the surface. Their plans… well, without giving anything away, are as nefarious as the old folks in Levin’s satanic opus.

In terms of mood, Ross hits it perfectly. There is a dark grime to the story, similar to the fluids that Will cleans up as part of his job as a crime-scene janitor. The author is daring enough to never let the slack off the line, dragging us further and further into the bleak plot. As you read, you come away with the impression that the sun never shines in Will’s hometown of Brackenwood. Picture rain soaked pictures such as David Fincher’s Se7en and you get the atmosphere. If I seem light on plot details, it’s because I don’t want to give away the main hook, the nefarious deeds Will suddenly finds himself involved in courtesy of one Mrs. Rose, an elementary school principal with a tight grip on Brackenwood. But it involves a bit of “correcting” by strangers in the guise of homeless men. The plot, is taught, well-crafted, and 2/3 of the way in hits you with the right-hook to the head where you suddenly realize everything that came before was just a warm-up for the real action. And Ross, never winks, never let’s down his guard — very important for this kind of tale. He could have tried to temper the darkness with humor, but that would’ve undercut the atmosphere. As written, there is no letup for the reader.

If I had one wish for the book, it would be that in parts the author didn’t overwrite. Ross is a good writer, he doesn’t need to oversell the story or the mood. Certain parts, in dialogue or description, felt as if the author really wanted us to respect his writing (which we already do) rather than serving the story as they should. The only blackmark I could level against the book goes to the publisher who didn’t serve their author well by doing a crap job on the copyediting. Too many damn typos that after a while do start to distract from the story. To their credit however, they did a great job on the cover.

Regardless, Ross has outdone himself on this one. So much so, I think the next book will be another bar raiser for him. And I hope it is a dark, sinister, and eerie tale to top Stranger Will. Ross writes the macabre better than most.

Caleb J. Ross, author of the fantastic collection Charactered Pieces, just posted a nice review of The Love Book by yours truly on Outsider Writers. If I had to pick my favorite line from the review, I’d roll with this:

Perhaps The Love Book is the memoir of every damaged soul who has ever asked, selfishly or not, for such a simple thing as love.

Most impressive is that these characters are able to repeatedly dodge indefinite depression to end up, if not happy, at least with a more thorough understanding of what could bring that happiness.

You can check the rest of the review here. And if you haven’t read the dark, gritty tales in The Love Book yet, what the bloody ‘ell are you waiting for?

In the opening story of Caleb J. Ross’ new collection, the main character invents the term charactered pieces as a euphemism for diamonds with obvious cracks and flaws. In many ways Lori is a charactered piece herself – mostly due to the foot of her fetus-in-fetu sister that protrudes from her belly. Then of course there is mom, a bit of a flawed gem herself, who had half-her face blown off in a beer-commercial mishap. Yet, she seems convinced that somehow all the defects can be covered up, if only by glops of makeup.

That opening tale served as a nice introduction to the off-kilter, macabre, black-sense of humor that made me instantly like most of the stories in Charactered Pieces. The people who stumble and wander through Ross’ stories, much like Lori’s diamonds, have obvious flaws, glaring even. It’s an ugly humanity but one that’s too real to dismiss. Take the divorced, ex-drug-addict, father who slaves away as the lone gringo in a Chinese kitchen. He’s too angry, too bullheaded, and too self-centered to take responsibility for his mistakes. He views them as unavoidable obstructions that he had no more control over than the snow storm that starts a series of unfortunate events. As he says midway through the tale, “Mother Nature doesn’t want a person to live.” Where Ross keeps this from becoming cliché is his compassion for the characters. There is beauty in the flaws, or at least humanity.

The prose is punchy and has a great rhythm to it, especially when the stories are told in first person. Ross nails his character’s voices, so you can feel yourself sitting in a bar and hearing the grim tales first hand. “Charactered Pieces,” “The Camp,” and “An Optimist is the Human Personification of Spring” — the best of the stories where you can’t help being drawn into the lives of the narrators — are worth the cover price alone.

Charactered Pieces is not for the meek. If you want relatable characters, stay the hell away. Ross’ characters confront rather ingratiate. And that is what makes them live and breathe so well.