BOOK REVIEW: "Gator Bait" by Adam Howe

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Adam Howe writes with pitch-black wit and gulp-worthy violence in “Gator Bait,” a swamp-noir-horror (swampoirror?) set during the 1930s Prohibition. Now, mixing a bayou period piece and horror is no easy task, but Howe pulls it off with aplomb by throwing some “creature feature” dynamics into the steamy stew and cooking up a pulpy recipe for literary success.

A ragtag drifter named Smitty opens the story by losing three fingers to a cuckolded husband. (On a side note, while reading this part, all I could think of was the, “On your finger scale, how was my wife?” scene from The Last Boy Scout. Man, I love that movie! But I digress…) Smitty, sans some digits, gets the eff outta Dodge and ends up in a sleazy backwater dive where the owner, Horace Croker, gives him a job playing the piano. At first Smitty sticks around for the money, but when he gets an eyeful of Grace, his boss’s smoking-hot-and-ready-to-trot wife, he finds another reason to stay. Problem is, Grace is in permanent “hands off” status and Horace has a nasty habit of taking those who piss him off and tossing them to Big George, the massive gator that lives behind—and under—the honky-tonk. You might think you can see where all this is going, but Howe has several twists up his sleeve and leavens the inevitability with some eye-popping surprises.

This novella is chock full of restless energy that prowls like a caged tiger and tight, gripping dialogue. Every facet of the story—plot, characters, setting, action—is skillfully rendered. This is rich, violent, pulpy fun from start to finish and I sported an ear-to-ear grin on my face as I read about all the dastardly doings down at the Grinnin’ Gator.

Bottom line, “Gator Bait” is Joe R. Lansdale chugging moonshine with John Skipp as Tobe Hooper fires up a blowtorch. And if that doesn’t make you want to read this, then nothing will.