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In order to discuss this novel, I'll need to spoil some plot elements and rather than just put a spoiler tag over the whole review, I'm letting you the reader, decide for yourself what you wanna do. We good? Good.

Splatterpunk occupies a very divisive niche in the horror genre. It's sort of the red-haired stepchild that readers begrudgingly acknowledge exists but won't publicly admit to, like they'll end up being lumped into the same group as goatse.exe (don't look that up).

But Splatterpunk is a genre that's near and dear to me. And Duncan Ralston's Gross Out feels like a love letter to all the things I love about it, while at the same time skewering the ever-loving shit out of it at the same time. Because despite its namesake and Ralston's past works, this isn't a straight horror novel.

The setup takes place at a local horror convention and follows the exploits of a group of con-goers who, through their own flaws, failings and fuckups, commence to turn the convention into one that will live on in infamy and horror, for all the wrong reasons. So what we have is by and large an ensemble cast with an ensemble cast of stories that all intersect at various points to meet at the end in a climax that is chaotic, shocking and appropriately disgusting.

So at it's core, the story is very much a black comedy horror satire, taking the piss out of the horror community, its fans and writers, the nature of fame and what it does to some people and where splatterpunk exists in the current day and age with social media. And for the most part it works surprisingly well. A lot of the characters are given enough time to breathe and live between the pages, going beyond the baseline archetypes into being fleshed out characters, although some do suffer for a lack of screen time.

In no particular order we have:
- Clay, a burgeoning novelist who's grossout story from last year caused him to be publicly shamed/cancelled, reminding me of Eric LaRocca or Isabel Fall.
- Moira, another novelist from Wales and Clay's love interest, who's trying to break into the horror industry, an industry which - let's be honest - is male dominated.
- David Ennis, a washed up horror writer, whose struggles with alcohol have lead him to writer's block.
- Tyler, a jilted fan of David's who has plans for his former idol.
- Archie, a part-time writer whose grossout story last year got him saddled with a humiliating nickname.
- Anderson Ackerman, a bigtime writer who's scummy behaviour evokes images of Harvey Weinstein.
- The Critic Crew, a pack of online critics whose extreme progressive politics lead them to conflict with David, a failed writer they mobbed online, and a pack of raunchier wannabe horror writers.

And a host of others who get roles of mixed importance. Of those who get the most screentime, they're interesting enough to hold my attention. But on the flip side, some of those who get smaller screentime feel underutilized. Kendra Pleasance - Moira's idol - is propped up as a big influence on Moira and the women at the con, but her time in the book is very thin and feels like a wasted opportunity. Anderson Ackerman is little more than a deviant and a creep that gets his comeuppance in a very vile, but suitable way, but he's still just a scumbag for the audience to gloat over.

But on the subject of Ackerman, that brings me to satire. In my opinion, a good satire works when it doesn't blatantly shove a message in the reader's face. If I wanted a message, I'd go listen to someone on a pulpit or running for office. A good satirist should skewer themes/concepts/ideas while still being entertaining. And for the most part, Ralston succeeds. Not a single section of the book doesn't at least have one section that takes the piss out of some toxic element of the literature/critic/social media communities including:
- People being cancelled by online mobs - whether justified or not
- The toxic use of social media
- The nature of splatterpunk in the wider horror community
- Celebrity worship and those who protect said celebrities
- The nature of writing
- High art vs. Low art
- The writer vs. the critic (especially online critics)

And several more that I can't think of, off the top of my head. Now I don't know how many of these are by accident or design, but most of them do come off decently, although there are others that do just feel like Ralston is getting on a soapbox. In those moments, the satire becomes just Ralston shouting at clouds. Also, some elements of the book do feel like they were put in just so Ralston could shout at clouds. Seriously, who (the Critic Crew) would attend a Splatterpunk convention if they were looking to spend the day being offended?

But this is a splatterpunk book and when the splatter does it the fan, it leaves drippings down the walls. Most of the splatter is bodily fluids and if you don't have the stomach for that stuff, don't bother with this. It's not worth the barf bag. But for the most part, a lot of the violence is done with a cheeky wink (and probably a wank too), and oftentimes crosses over so far into absurdity that I was laughing and squirming as opposed to reaching for the toilet bowl.

As for other issues, there are some areas I would've cut. The trip to the strip show and the fake suicide attempt by one of the con-goers add nothing to story and feel like padding. Some of the characters are so underused that it feels like they would've been better just getting the axe. And the ending does seem to come to a close that feels a little anticlimactic, which is weird for me to say, given what happens.

Splatterpunk isn't for everyone. I would even hazard to say it's not for most people. Hell, look at the reviews on this website, on Reddit, on Youtube. Most people hate this shit. They think it's tacky, it's misogynistic, it's cruel and it's pointless. But Splatterpunk isn't that to me. I don't need all my horror literature to be high art. I don't need all my literature to be evocative award winners. Sometimes, horror just needs to be fun and silly and ridiculous. And Gross Out fits that niche to a tee. It's silly, it's playful, it's gross at times, but it's also got heart. There's genuine love here for the horror genre and it's the sort of thing I like to see from authors.

Better that, than some authors who put out mediocre shit for a paycheck. Or authors who keep fans hanging for years on years with promises of books that never arrive.

Seriously, what sort of author would be so dickish to their own audience?