Alex Bone’s new novel The Chronicles of Jack Primus will change your life! It was powerful watching Bone’s main character Jack Primus grow from the kind of guy who would bash villains in the face with a steel pipe, to the kind of guy who would bash villains in the face with a six-pack of beer. Talk about character development!
Alex Bone is HOT, and I’m not just talking about his stunning good looks. This year was a breakout year for Mr. Bone, who also writes under the name Michael D. Griffiths, because the police are far too familiar with his alias. He’s published in several anthologies this year including, Big Book of Horror, End of Days, and The Book of Cannibals. These are available at Amazon and Living Dead Press. He just got book one of The Chronicles of Jack Primus published in 2010, but there is already interest in the second book in the series, and—if that weren’t enough—another publisher out of Boston is interested in his new Skinjumper series. Perhaps, even more impressive, he is also a regular contributor for our beloved Daily Discord. When I had the opportunity to sit down with Mr. Bone over a pint of ale last week, I asked, “With all of your recent success, why don’t you ever buy me a fucking beer?” He bashed me in the face with a mug.
There’s more than just a little Jack Primus in Mr. Bone. Alex is a horror nut, who throws more zombies into his work than Rob Zombie on angel dust. I met Mr. Bone about a year ago and, after only knowing him a few weeks, he got his hair cut (keep in mind he’s 7 feet tall and had very long hair). Barely knowing him, I said, “Why did you cut all your hair off? I always thought of you as more of a Viking type.” Not knowing how he would react—would he be offended, cry, or bash me in the face with something again? Instead, he said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Sad, but true…the story, as well as the fact that no one says nice things to him.
The Chronicles of Jack Primus rocks! Although, I did try to talk Mr. Bone into calling it, Zombie and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but he never listens to me (maybe it’s because the book doesn’t actually have any zombies in it). The book opens in a psych ward, where Mr. Primus is a tech on the unit—a unit where something is definitely amiss. Very quickly, the protagonist is thrown into a dark world of the Xemmoni, a supernatural race of Lovecraftian aliens. For those of you who don’t know what a protagonist is, I think it’s someone who doesn’t believe in zombies. Surviving encounter after encounter, Jack learns that he is a Stalwart with powers of his own—powers from a certain deity that make him more difficult to kill than your average Joe. These powers also give him the ability to sense these invaders. Unfortunately, his enemies also share these powers. Jack is just a babe in the woods, desperately outmatched and bent on finding out more about his new powers and this brave new world in which he finds himself.
Jack Primus soon embarks on a wild ride East across the country. At first, Jack just wants to stay alive, but as he learns more and more about himself and his new found powers, he becomes a man on a mission. He becomes determined to hit every brewpub en-route. Oh wait, that was my cross-country mission. Primus becomes bent on ridding the planet of these foul creatures lurking at the threshold. And, they lurk in pubs too! Which is even more disturbing to me, personally. Jack Primus’s travels culminate in Boston. Amidst the winding streets of Beantown, Jack stumbles into a bar called Grendel’s Den (oh, and for those of you who know me; yes, I’ve been there). There, below street level in a cool bar off of Harvard Square, we find out more about Stalwarts, The Xemmoni, and the half-priced drink specials, weekdays from three to five.
I thoroughly enjoyed Book 1 of The Chronicles of Jack Primus, and if you’re only going to buy one book this year, make it Frankenhooker. But, if you’re going to buy a second book this year, make it The Chronicles of Jack Primus.
Once again, you can find the book at Amazon, Hastings in Flagstaff, AZ, and Living Dead Press, or wherever all good horror books are sold…or, in our case, even bartered for ale.