Weird/Terrible Books - Post the most obscure, odd, and terrible written works you've even seen

Ubiquitous

kiwifarms.net
Anything that Shaun Hutson farts out. He's like a shitty James Herbert. I initially enjoyed Slugs and Spawn but as I read more of his work it became apparent that he recycles character archetypes, plotlines and has a weird, inexplicable fascination with the soft spot atop the heads of babies - across three books there are characters being described prodding this area or desiring to and it's disturbing (this guy has a daughter, btw - was he leaning over her crib most nights fighting the urge to plug a finger into her cranium?)

He relies heavily on shock content to provoke an emotional response from the reader. Yeah, horror authors utilize disturbing content all the time in their books to get a reaction but he just puts no finesse into it. Baby/child getting murderd or harmed? Yeah, just chuck it in there with a gratitutous description.

There's a scene in one of his books where he describes a baby being shaken by its despairing mother. It's awful, because you can tell he researched what happens to babies that are shaken but it has such a weak, cliche build-up that doesn't do the scene justice. The rest of the content in that particular book doesn't do that scene justice.

I think the most unforgiveably mediocre piece of rubbish among his pile has got to be "Twisted Souls" - holy shit that one was an imaginatively bankrupt rush job. Even the title tells you how much of a shitshow it is.
 

Coffee Druid

Your friendly caffeinated chevalier
kiwifarms.net
This thread reminded me of a comic book I read as a kid.
1016511.jpg

Looks innocuous. But these creatures are eager to be eaten by humans, and just simply looking at them hungrily will make them kill themselves in order to be eaten. With a smile. They eat nothing, produce asexually and can somehow produce packaged milk, butter and eggs. Oh, and depending on the cooking method they taste like chicken, beef, pork, oysters, etc. And they make perfect pets for young kids!

I don't remember the plot whatsoever but these things haunt me to this day. Shit was weird.
 

Fromtheblackdepths

A Pelagic Horror Arrives
kiwifarms.net
This thread reminded me of a comic book I read as a kid.
View attachment 1589885
Looks innocuous. But these creatures are eager to be eaten by humans, and just simply looking at them hungrily will make them kill themselves in order to be eaten. With a smile. They eat nothing, produce asexually and can somehow produce packaged milk, butter and eggs. Oh, and depending on the cooking method they taste like chicken, beef, pork, oysters, etc. And they make perfect pets for young kids!

I don't remember the plot whatsoever but these things haunt me to this day. Shit was weird.
Aren't those Nerds Candy?
 

Lmove

kiwifarms.net
The Interface Series.
I'm seriously pondering just reposting it all piece by piece in its own thread. Y'all have never read more disturbing shit. It's a very dark scifi narrative built by one guy making random shitposts in completely unrelated subreddits over a span of months. The author is an insane alcoholic with serious chops. Down The Rabbit Hole has an episode on the guy.

Title: "Dubai Incidents"

5th Post / Date 04-21-2016 at 18:20:20 EDT



Dubai probably has the highest rate of free-floating non-interface incidents of any major metropolitan area in the world.

In one incident, a large group of migrant workers was segmented in an underground facility.

Perfect cross-sectional segmentation along the frontal plane.

You could see their lungs working, food being digested, blood pumping on the inside of the heart, everything.

They live for almost 5 months in this condition.

Absolutely fascinating to see in person.

There was also a group of school children who were very slightly segmented, just ends of fingers and bits of the calves and such.

Hardly fatal wounds, yet they all died within 2 months.

Some showed signs of intellectual mutation.

There are no known flesh interfaces in Dubai.

However, it is surmised that the architecture is actually based on interface geometry and carries some latent interface-like power.

Mass segmentations remain one of the most mysterious aspects of the interfaces. They seem to show that the interfaces do indeed concentrate on flesh, living up to their name.

Mother Horse Eyes was so fucking good.

His writing was like a combination between H.P Lovecraft and Philip K. Dick.
Here is a livestream of Fredrik Knudsen reading some of his work if you are a bit interested, but too lazy to read it yourself.
And here is the link of his archived posts.
 

jellycar

Bonjour, je suis Jelly Duvall
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
Outlander

Literally everything about outlander

Diana Galbon is obsessed with rape and i mean obsessed with it. Nearly every main character gets raped, I shit you not. And what's worse is that this is also the case in the live action television adaptation.
 

DungeonMaster

kiwifarms.net
My country is not known for its literary masterpieces.

When the coof struck and we began to appreciate walking in our neighbourhoods again, I saw a table laden with free books. Naturally I borrowed one called "Spirit Shinto" because it was written in New Zealand and sounded campy enough. All those books were library surplus. So I decided to give this one a chance. I had assumed this book would be mediocre at best, but boy had I made the understatement of the century.

sniff.jpg


It was so boring I almost fell asleep every second chapter. The plot was typical "bad guys want to take over our land, gotta stoppem" and the characters were unremarkable. Noble savage, rebellious princess, evil wizard; there was nothing to write home about. As I expected, there were parallels to New Zealand social issues surrounding the Maoris, for whom there are direct analogues to in the novel's setting. The main character's name, Tane, is the Maori equivalent of "John". And it doesn't even explore these issues. It just sticks them there, like they did in Bright, where they have no bearing on the plot. Tane even comes across a bunch of his impoverished countrymen getting wasted then thinks to himself "well, they did choose to drink, so I think it's a very complicated issue. Ta ta." then leaves it at that.

This wasn't bad in a funny way. It wasn't like Eragon or Maradonia, where you could point and laugh at the absurdities and idiosyncrasies. No. Elvy really took it upon himself to make Spirit Shinto as boring and joyless as possible. It was like drinking half a lukewarm cup of watered down Milo.

And let's not forget about the Shinto. Since this was published 'round the turn of the century, I had assumed it would have had amusing weeaboo tripe here and there; but no. This was the most deracinated book I've laid my eyes upon. For something so socially conscious you'd assume it wouldn't be shy drawing cool shit from around the world, especially from the Maoris, but no; he just HAD to reduce the "Shinto" to basic bitch elemental spirits who literally do fuckall except passively contribute to magic spells. There's almost no monsters nor magic in this story. It doesn't even suggest there's something vaguely interesting behind the curtain. Fuck, at that point, just write historical fiction instead!

The prose reminded me of communion wafers. Tasteless, melts away and leaves no impression on you. The plot, the dialogue, everything, was so bland and stiff I imagined my Computer Science teacher narrating it.

My worst mistake was that I had borrowed the whole trilogy. That's bad news unless I find myself short of toilet paper. The only place this book should be donated is to the fires of Mount Doom.

The author ended his publishing career shortly after finishing the third novel. He sold his domain to a Japanese company, which then tossed it out. He has vanished from the internet. Dave Elvy is nowhere to be found. Not even Waybackmachine keeps his website intact.

Victoria University churns out only the most prosaic minds.
 

Inatrous

kiwifarms.net
In the realm of weird fiction, I’m perpetually disappointed that My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist doesn’t come up more often than it does.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to read an abstract painting, like one of those bullseyes or Jackson Pollick whatsits? That’s basically My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist in a nutshell. The damn thing is just coherent enough, in between all the ridiculous premises, insane 90’s references, and deliberately huge words that it feels like there’s a story, but not so coherent that you can make any sense out of whatever it is you’ve read.

As an example, the only story I really remember out of that collection featured a human bomb, whose penis had been booby trapped by terrorists to explode when stimulated. If my memory’s correct, (it’s been years,) the story ends just as the human bomb decides to masturbate.

Bimbos of the Death Sun, contrary to the name, falls more into the obscure category than anything. It’s a book that’s all about the failings of nerd culture, and how trying to live your life through fantasy is ultimately unhealthy. Bimbos of the Death Sun managed to peg everything wrong with nerd culture all the way back in the eighties, before most people even knew nerd culture was a thing. The only reason I can think of as to why the book fell into such total obscurity is that it hits a little too close to home for most people, even now.
 

TalmudSperg

New Zealander & Agriculturalist
kiwifarms.net
n the realm of weird fiction, I’m perpetually disappointed that My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist doesn’t come up more often than it does.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to read an abstract painting, like one of those bullseyes or Jackson Pollick whatsits? That’s basically My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist in a nutshell. The damn thing is just coherent enough, in between all the ridiculous premises, insane 90’s references, and deliberately huge words that it feels like there’s a story, but not so coherent that you can make any sense out of whatever it is you’ve read.

As an example, the only story I really remember out of that collection featured a human bomb, whose penis had been booby trapped by terrorists to explode when stimulated. If my memory’s correct, (it’s been years,) the story ends just as the human bomb decides to masturbate

there is a massive difference between "weird fiction" and "fiction that happens to be weird"


Caitlín R. Kiernan and Robert Bloch are "Weird Fiction" House of Leaves is "fiction that happens to be weird"
 

alreadyhome

kiwifarms.net
In the realm of weird fiction, I’m perpetually disappointed that My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist doesn’t come up more often than it does.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to read an abstract painting, like one of those bullseyes or Jackson Pollick whatsits? That’s basically My Cousin, the Gastroenterologist in a nutshell. The damn thing is just coherent enough, in between all the ridiculous premises, insane 90’s references, and deliberately huge words that it feels like there’s a story, but not so coherent that you can make any sense out of whatever it is you’ve read.
Mark Leyner said in an interview (from the early 90's I think) that he was trying to make books that were fun to read above all else, and that he felt an obligation to his reader to be intensely entertaining. All his books are entertaining in that way, with the exception of his memoir/autobiography. Depends how you think of fiction, but it feels superficial to read, like tv on the page - that's what he was trying to compete with I imagine.
 

Cyclonus

kiwifarms.net

DRINK THIS

And so it came to pass that Dr. Roy Bradley called his best friend Dr. Mick Fuckface into Laboratory 18, the dangerous chemical facility in the heart of the classified military research centre where they both worked.

Mick had been bullied relentlessly at school, due to the fact that his name had been Ramsbottom. That was until, with uncharacteristic logic, he renamed himself Fuckface, and all bullying subsequently stopped in accordance with the 'escape through excess' rule.

Roy was standing over a workbench covered in dirty lab equipment. Beakers, tripods, bunsen burners, all lying discarded exactly where they had been used. The scientific detritus seemed to revolve around a thin collection of papers, being held in place by a beaker half-full of a mysterious yellowish liquid.

"Drink this," said Roy when he saw his friend enter.

"What?" asked Mick.

"I did it," said Roy in a monotone, slowly taking off his protective goggles. "I have created the Universal Elixir."

"The what?"

"Many years ago, my father discovered on the internet a formula for something called the Universal Elixir. A substance from which life, thought and the human soul derive. Apparently, the entire universe is surrounded by a gigantic halo of this stuff, frozen solid. He printed out the recipe, but he could never summon the courage to mix it up. But where he failed, I have succeeded." He held the beaker up to eye level. "I have created the Universal Elixir. The material which birthed all life."

"What're you going to do with it?"

"Experiment. I'm going to see what happens when a human being drinks it. I was thinking of you, actually."

"Me? Why can't you drink it?"

"'Cos I'm not stupid."

"Fair enough. But what would happen to me?"

"Elementary theory on the subject dictates that the drinker would experience an incredible feeling of omnicogisance. Their mind would be expanded to encompass all the knowledge in the collective mind of all life. In an instant, the subject would be everyone, every creature that swims and walks and flies and slithers, they would know every experience that has ever been experienced."

"Sounds like fun."

"But on the other hand, it is not known if the human mind has the capacity for such a thing. It could result in a sudden moment of ultimate clarity, then immediate death. So, have a sip and let's find out."

"Fuck you," said Mick matter-of-factly.

"I can understand your reluctance, my friend," continued Roy, "but please consider what I am offering you. You will be everyone, know everything. Your mind will simultaneously witness things that Einstein would have torn his eyes out to see. Is such a thing not worth the price?"

"I wouldn't think so."

"Well then, I'm just going to sit here until you do think so."

Roy lapsed into silence, frowning at the beaker in his hand, completely still. Mick stood and watched, fidgeting restlessly from foot to foot. This tableau continued for a long time.

It was during the sixth hour that the first rebellious thought extended its tendrils through Mick's innocent mind. It joined forces with his sense of scientific curiosity, and soon it was flashing in neon at the front of his hypothalamus for all to see. Why not? it said. Okay, maybe you'd die, but in that one brief moment you would experience more than anyone else does in a hundred years.

Sentient life has always been about the pursuit of higher truth, of understanding. It's what sets us apart from the animals. Here is your chance to know the answer to conundrums that have plagued mankind for millennia. So what if you die? If you knew all of this, there would no longer be any reason for you or anyone else to live.

By the time this mischievous thought had extended to every corner of his consciousness, Mick was staring boggle-eyed at the beaker held before him. A thin trickle of drool escaped his mouth and thumped noiselessly upon the workbench below. In one fluid movement he grabbed the glass, held it to his lips, and tossed the entire contents greedily down his throat.

For a moment, he stood completely still, waiting for the first fragments of knowledge to explode into being inside his head. A great fog of expectation filled him, bringing tears to his eyes and a joyful smile to his mouth. He had only a vague sense of the actions of Roy at this point.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAA!" screamed Roy, running down the corridor, waving his arms. "MICK JUST DRANK MY WEEEEEEEEE!"
 
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