I am now officially a huge John Skipp fan. He’s amazing. In THE LONG LAST CALL, he delivers all of his trademark elements–an enclosed space with no way out, a demonic murderer with a violent familiar, great characters you care about, tons of splatter, and few people standing at the end–wrapped in his equally trademark lyrical, conversational, breathless style. The novel tells the story of the people who inhabit a strip club in the middle of nowhere, from the strippers to the owner hyped up on coke to the bouncer with a mean streak to the customers who come in to drool and spend their dollars on their favorite girls. Then a well-dressed stranger walks in with a briefcase full of cash. And every dollar he spends stirs up a little more anger, a little more hate, until the pressure builds, builds, explodes. If you like straight up splatterpunk, this one’s for you.