Review: The Last Book on the Left (2020)
The Last Book on the Left is a book that I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. I’ll say this right away: I love this book. It’s a great book and right in that sweet spot of informative and hilarious. However, one aspect nagged at me as I read and ultimately proved to be a problem for me.
The Last Book on the Left was written by Marcus Parks, Ben Kissel, and Henry Zebrowski. The illustrations in the book are by independent comic artist Tom Neely (The Humans). When I mention three authors, I should clarify that the bulk of the writing is on the shoulders of Marcus Parks; Kissel and Zebrowski are contributors who add a great deal, but this is firmly a project guided by the Texas ghoul.
What Works about The Last Book on the Left
How do you translate the format of the podcast to the written page? By just doing what the podcast is already doing. Marcus Parks writes down a chapter that covers one of the infamous killers while Ben Kissel and Henry Zebrowski pepper in their asides and occasional insights. Repeat this over nine chapters are you have The Last Book on the Left. This sounds a bit laconic, but that’s basically it. Throw in some pictures illustrated by the wonderfully talented Tom Neely and a final jokey item written by the authors (such as a letter from a “concerned neighbor” of Jeffrey Dahmer) and you have the entirety of The Last Book on the Left.
To the credit of the team, this works incredibly well. Marcus Parks’ writing provides the through-line of the chapter, balancing grim irony and shocking depictions of violent, abhorrent crime. Ben Kissel drops the written equivalent of drunk dad jokes and references. Zebrowski alternates between very messed up jokes and some solid insights. All of this is absolutely on-brand for the podcast and it translates to the page with paragraphs of Parksian description with interjections of his co-writers. It makes the book feel a lot like a textbook, only probably one of the most fun textbooks you’ll ever read.
The book covers nine fan-favorite “heavy hitters” from the podcast. This list includes such murderous luminaries as Ted Bundy, Richard Chase, Ed Gein, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, David Berkowitz, BTK, Andrei Chikatilo, and Jeffrey Dahmer. Each profile ranges from around 20 to 30 pages and covers a little biography with an emphasis on the development of these figures as literal bogeymen. These are all figures who have been profiled extensively on the podcast and no information here is really brand new. The addition of Tom Neely’s illustrations, ranging from great splash pages, EC Comics style avatars for the podcasts (think Tales from the Crypt) to comic and cartoon parodies are some extra levity to the book.
However, the novelty of the book is to present something a little more refined and edited than the podcast (which is generally fairly thorough). The book works largely in the form of a “best of anthology” regarding content. Some stuff just ultimately feels missing, however. The insertions of jokes and comments by Kissel and Zebrowski are welcome and used an appropriate amount for the 20 to 30 pages per chapter (with the exceptions of BTK and Dahmer, who get the largest chapters). Ultimately, though this leads to a lack of one of the best parts of the podcast: the back and forth between the hosts. It’s not entirely possible here and something feels a little lost because of that. It’s not a complete one-to-one translation of the podcast, but it never could be.
Overall, the book largely succeeds in balancing the needs of appealing to fans and also being general enough for the casual book-buyer into murder. There is one major issue, however.
What Didn’t Work about The Last Book on the Left
As a whole, the book is excellent and mostly balances the tough challenge of being for the fans while also being general enough for anyone to enjoy. The voices of the contributors are quite clear even on the page, and for fans, it’s near impossible to read the book without hearing the voices of the podcasters describing every gold star moment and Bobby Bonilla reference.
The big problem for me with the book comes from me being a fan and having certain expectations. One great thing about the podcast is that the sources of the episodes are given relatively early into the first episode of a series. We are given information on the conducted research and it lends the podcast a certain level of credibility. Unfortunately, cited sources feel relatively few and far between in the different serial killer profiles. Parks does make references to certain texts but there is a lack of a resources section. This ultimately hurts the book for me because it seems like a huge oversight, particularly given the attention to detail on research presented in the podcast.
This leads to a larger issue: The Last Podcast on the Left is not necessarily an academic sort of production in a traditional sense, it’s ultimately a comedy-horror podcast. The same applies to The Last Book on the Left which is a comedy-horror book upfront. Regardless, the team at the Last Podcast Network has put out a lot of content that is generally well-regarded when it comes to research. It’s unfortunate that the podcast’s history of research isn’t so readily apparent in the book.
Final Verdict
The Last Book on the Left is a worthy companion to the massively popular comedy-horror podcast and well worth picking up for a casual read on some of the most notorious killers in history. The book, despite the lack of documentation, is well-sourced and provides some very accurate recounting of the origins of these killers in the podcast’s signature comedy style.
(4 / 5)
If you would like to buy a copy of The Last Book on the Left be sure to try ordering it through your local independent book store.
Imagine this. You’re home alone, waiting for your partner to return, when you hear a knock on your door. You answer it to see a family of five, bundled up against the cold. The father, a kindly older gentleman, explains that he used to live in this house as a boy. And he would love to show it to his family.
Do not let them in.
The story
Released in June 2024, We Used To Live Here is author Marcus Kliewer’s debut novel. It tells the story of Eve, who just purchased a beautiful house with her partner, Charlie. Their plan is to flip the house and sell it.
One night, while waiting for Charlie to come home, Eve is surprised by a knock at the door. It’s a man named Thomas Faust and his family.
Thomas explains that he grew up in the house and hasn’t been in the area in years. Would Eve let them in so that he can show the home to his children?
Against her better judgment, Eve lets them in. She regrets this almost at once when Thomas’s daughter vanishes somewhere into the house.
What worked
I always appreciate a book that allows you to play along with the mystery. And this book does that better than just about any other I’ve seen.
Pay close attention to the chapters, to the words that aren’t there. To everything about this novel.
This is mostly down to Kliewer. This is ultimately his work of art. But the production value is also fantastic. I don’t want to ruin the multiple mysteries, so I’ll just say this. There are clues in this book that require some specific artistic choices in the page layouts in this book. And I loved that.
If you’d like to experience another horror book review, check out this one.
We Used To Live Here is also the kind of story that makes you question everything right along with the main character, Eve. Eve is a great main character. But she might be an unreliable narrator. She might be experiencing every single horror described, exactly as it’s described. Or, she might be having a psychotic breakdown. Through most of the book, we can’t be sure. And that is so much fun.
Finally, the weather plays a large part in this story. There are several stories in which the weather or the land itself could be considered a character. Even an antagonist. This is certainly one. The winter storm is the thing that traps the family in the house with Eve. It also makes escaping the home difficult. Reading this book during the winter was especially impactful. Most of us know what it feels like to be shut in by a storm. I’ve personally lived through some of those storms that are just referred to by their year, as though they were impactful enough to claim the whole 365 days for themself. And that was with people I liked. Imagine what it would feel like with strangers. It’s a staggering thought and one that we explore in depth in this book.
In the end, We Used To Live Here is a fantastic book. It’s the sort of story that sneaks into your brain and puts down roots. And if this is just the first book we’re getting from Kliewer, I can’t wait to see what else he comes up with.
(5 / 5)
As a disclaimer, this is a review of The House of My Mother from a critical perspective. I will not be discussing my opinions of the legal case against Ruby Franke and Jody Hildebrandt. I will be discussing the merits of the book as a work of true crime alone.
In 2015, Ruby Franke started a YouTube channel called 8 Passengers. In August of 2023, Franke and her business associate Jodi Hildebrandt were arrested for, and later plead guilty to, charges of aggravated child abuse. And in January of this year, Shari Franke told her story in The House of My Mother.
The story
The House of My Mother is the true story of Shari Franke, the oldest child of one of the most famous family vlogger families.
As a child, Shari came to the conclusion that her mother didn’t like her. Soon, she began to fear her mother’s anger.
Things got significantly worse when Ruby started their family vlog. All of the families most intimate moments were splashed across the internet for anyone to watch. This became a living nightmare for Shari.
Of course, that was only the start of the family nightmare. Because Ruby was about to meet someone who would reinforce all of the darkest parts of herself.
Eventually Shari manages to escape her home. But her younger siblings were still in her mother’s clutches. She had to save them, and her father, from the monster her mother had become.
What worked
Through the book, Shari only ever mentions the name of one of her siblings, Chad. This is because Chad is the only of her siblings that is an adult at the time of the publication.
There are children involved in this story. Children who’s lives and privacy have already been damaged. Shari didn’t want to do that to them again, and neither do I.
It probably won’t surprise you that this book is full of upsetting details. But not in the way you might imagine.
Nowhere in this book will you find gory details about the abuse the Franke kids suffered. And I consider that a good thing. Those sort of details are all fun and games when we’re talking fiction. When it’s real kids who are really living with the damage, it’s not a good time.
What you’ll find instead is a slew of more emotionally devastating moments. One that stuck with me is when Ruby’s mother gives her a pair of silk pajamas as a gift after Ruby gave birth to one of her babies. Shari asks Ruby if she’d bring her silk pajamas when she had a baby. Ruby responds that yes, when Shari becomes a mother they can be friends.
What a lovely way to make a little girl feel like she’s not worth anything unless she reproduces. And, if she does decide to have children, who is going to bring her silk pajamas?
In the end, this isn’t a story about ghosts or demons. It’s not about a serial killer waiting on a playground or in the attic of an unsuspecting family. Instead, this is a story about things that really keep us up at night. It’s the story of a woman so obsessed with perfection that she drove away her eldest daughter. The story of a young woman who’s forced to watch from afar as her beloved brothers and sisters are terrorized and abandoned. These are the sorts of things that really keep us up at night. These are the real nightmares.
More than that, though, The House of My Mother is a story of survival. It’s about a family that was ripped apart and somehow managed to stitch itself back together again. It’s about a brave young woman who managed to keep herself safe and sane in the face of a nightmare. If you haven’t read it yet, I can’t recommend it enough.
For more like this, check out my review of Shiny Happy People.
(5 / 5)
Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror is a collection of twenty-two haunting tales that dwell in the deepest darkest woods and frozen wastelands, edited by Katherine Silva and including Haunted MTL’s very own Daphne Fauber. Each story has even been gifted with its very own poster, hinting at the horrors to be found within it, bestowing a beautiful visual collection as well.
The tales are varied and touch upon the environment in new and different ways, each hearkening to a sort of epiphany or raised awareness. These stories exude both dread and wonder at the smallness of our human existence in contrast to the sacred world we have isolated from, sheltering ourselves in our comfortable houses with centralized heat and everything we could possibly need or want at the ready. The taiga becomes a sanctuary outside of our own dulled awarenesses. It is a holy place imbued with powers beyond mortal human reach, a wilderness that threatens to swallow us – both whole and bit by bit, simultaneously.
The protagonists enter into this realm through ritual, superstition, longing, stubbornness, and their own hubris – yearning to survive its dangers, and to make their own marks upon it. The starkness of their surroundings harbors delicate moments that would be all too easily missed if not deliberately sought or pointed out. The softness of fur, the dappled sunlight shining through trees, the hazy clouds of breath forming in crisp air, the brittleness of bleached bone… those quiet experiences that beg to be forgotten, to lay safely sleeping just below the frozen surface, awaiting spring.
There are those who followed in the footsteps of their predecessors, seeking to escape the constraints of their parent’s and elders’ indoctrination, traditions, madness, and abuse, yearning to find their own way despite also being inextricably bound to their own pasts. There are those who just wanted to go for a walk in the woods, and remained forever changed by what they experienced. There are those who wished to impose their will upon the wilderness, their order falling to disarray, unable to make lasting impact. There are those who sought to leave behind the world of mankind, looking for oneness in the natural order of things through isolation, leaving a bit of themselves behind after being consumed by the terrors they encountered. There are those who truly found communion with the woods, became one with its wildness, and invited its spirit into their hearts to find peace, even at cost of their own lives. And then, there are the spirits themselves…
(3 / 5)
All in all, I give Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror 3.0 Cthulhus. I love existential angst so I found it to be an enjoyable read, and I appreciated the myriad manners in which the biome was explored. But there were points in which I found myself struggling to follow along, as if the words were swept up into their own wilds in ways that alienated myself as reader, as if my mere voyeurism into this otherworldly place was not enough to comprehend the subtle deviations in storytelling mannerisms fully. I suppose in some sense this seems appropriate, but at the same time, it left me feeling a bit unfulfilled, as if I had missed a spiritual connection that should have resonated more deeply.