Tag Archive: “the grim reverend steven rage”

Cover of "PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale"

Cover of PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale

He’s the deacon of the diabolical, the clergyman of carnage, the cardinal of chaos. Bizarro-horror writer (and ordained minister) The Grim Reverend Steven Rage joins “The Authors Speak” to chat about his latest book – The Place In Between – just released through LegumeMan Books. Call in and ask the Rage a question. 9/25/2010 9:00 am (Arizona time) 12:00 noon (Eastern) 1 hr.


By  D. Gorman “Crystalline Structure Moon” – See all my reviews
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This review is from: The Place In Between (Paperback)

Reading steven rage is a little like being a mother who ran out of diapers even though you’re locked in a room with a baby who has been living on nothing but 5-alarm texas chili. sure, there are times when you want to puke, but you can’t help loving the baby anyway. yes, rage is still gruesome, sickening, twisted, gross, horrific, morose, profane, disgusting, morbid, blasphemous, shocking and repugnant. but these are not the only compliments i can bestow upon this promising new author. but we’ll get to that bit later. the 3 short stories that comprise this book are pure rage. the first and last story bring us back to that familiar setting, the harbor. these stories have all the requisite characters and elements that you would expect if you’ve read steven’s earlier work. there are vampire drug lords, addicts, whores, demons that crawl out of people’s rectums, perverted sex and all the dregs of society in the darkest of dark settings and situations. they are well crafted extensions of his earlier work, and there is even an effort to tie some of the stories together. visiting this setting again was a blast! he really did have something to add that was compelling and kept the pages turning as often as it kept your stomach turning. he even threw in a few surprises like an artificially created chimp-man and a sexy chicken or two. the first story relies a lot on the modern street venacular again, while remaining intelligent and creatively devised. the last two stories were not so dependant on modern slang, as the lead characters were not the sort of (shall we say) ‘sludge’ that would need to speak that way. this allows a more clear visage of rage’s ability to exhibit a writing prowess that is more accessible to a wider audience. the harbor stories do give rage fans a lot to be thankful for in expanding the previous stories with bizarre, twisted putridness. yet, my favorite story by far was the title story in this book. that is because rage steps away from the harbor and explores a new setting with a whole new disturbing set of circumstances. i truly believe that if rage continues to grow and expand and explore new horizons (especially in new settings), he can reach his full potential as a great writer. much as before, there is an intelligence to this dude’s work. his gift as a storyteller is being more finely honed in this work. the fact that he has spent time working in a hospital is apparent, and it comes through in his stories. i can honestly say this is my favorite of anything i have read from him thus far. he’s getting dangerously close to getting a 5-star review from me…..and that’s not easy to do when writing something that is so far removed from ‘ordinary literature’. so to sum up…..yes, this has all the disturbing, grotesque, alarming, horrible elements that you’d want to see in 3 strories by rage…it also has all the fine storytelling…..and he is growing and improving as a writer. i recommend this collection of stories, but i also recommend that you (metaphorically) stock up on diapers first. if he keeps expanding his horizons, he will be a supurb voice and visionary for our dark, backward, malevolent times…even if he remains the pessimistic, ignoble saint and demented sick ticket that we all know and love.


The Authors Speak Live: Steven Rage (All You Need To Know)
There are very few writers who can thoroughly disgust you and simultaneously stimulate you intellectually.  Steven Rage is one of those writers, and with his latest book, “The Place In Between”, he’s hit his stride.  This is his style. 

I’m honored to have Rage as our first “live” guest.  We’ve been boasting it all week – the Authors Speak is going live.  There are many reasons for this, but the biggest is we really want the authors to speak to you directly.  It’s one thing to transcribe their words for you.  It’s one thing to recommend their books.  It’s one thing to discuss the validity of reading.  But, you’d rather hear it directly from their mouths, no?

Tomorrow at 12pm (EST), The Authors Speak launches its weekly interview series.  And it’s real simple to navigate.

Step One: Follow the link http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theauthorsspeakcom/2010/09/25/the-authors-speak-the-reverend-steven-rage

Step Two: Listen on your computer or your telephone.  And, if you have a question, simply call in (323) 693-3330 and ask us.

Step Three: If you’re unable to catch it at the time, just podcast the thing and rock n’ roll…there it is on your iPod.
So now you know the deal.  You’re set.  Oh, but you want to know more about the guest.  Okay.

Steven Rage is the author of 3 books: Pilate: A Brutal Bible Tale, You Morbid Westphal, and The Place In Between.  His fiction is horror fiction, but falls into the realm of bizarro.  And, his writing is not for the squeamish.
Tomorrow we’ll be giving out a copy of Rage’s newest book (courtesy of The Authors Speak), so if you’re not familiar with him, you soon shall be.  For everyone else, here’s the Rage Sampler (seen below).

Remember, the Authors Speak because you listen…and tomorrow you shall.  Join us at 12pm.If you’ve read any of Rev.Steven Rage’s fiction before, please chime in this Saturday – 9/25 – and share your thoughts with the diabolical deacon.  Rev. Steven Rage will join us LIVE at 9am (Arizona time) 12noon (EST) on our new blog talk radio show:


It will be a fun time, to be sure.

An Eric Mays (Host of ‘The Authors Speak’) review of The Place In Between, by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

Sick?  Absolutely.  Genius?  Perhaps.  Rage?  All the way.

We have a certain adoration for Steven Rage at the Authors Speak.  He may be one of the sickest, most twisted writers writing today, but there’s a mad brilliance to his work.  Reading one of his texts is like growing wiser while simultaneously suppressing the urge to vomit.  And, there’s the funny, too.  Rage brings the funny in a big way.

I’m no fan of shorter fiction.  I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure why I feel the need to say that everytime I review a collection.  I guess I say that because it speaks worlds when I do like a collection.  “The Place in Between” is a brilliant collection of some of Rage’s best work to date.  And, if you’re going to do short fiction, at least tie it together.  Steven Rage does this flawlessly.

On the surface, the stories in “The Place in Between” are some classic noir pieces that we’ve heard before.  If you’ve read Rage’s previous works, well, you know the man has a few tricks up his sleeves.  Rage pulls out all the stops to showcase his twisted reality in which these tales take place.  The landscape itself becomes a character of his crazy brain, thus giving these somewhat familiar tales a whole new slant.

“The Place In Between” is the title of the strongest piece in the collection.  Imagine a Fasutian tale that were written and directed by John Waters and David Lynch and you start to gather a little of where Steven Rage’s mind is.  The book feels heavily influenced by both talents – the seedy, dark, weird spliced with the scatological.

Go ahead and order it, folks.  But be warned: this book is disgusting.  You’ll need a strong stomach to handle it.  But the reward and payoff is huge.  It’s not gross for the sake of gross.  It’s dark fiction at it’s finest.

Go ahead and give The Authors Speak LIVE! a listen. Maybe even give us a call and we’ll tawk….no big whoop!
‘click’ here to get yours! Through the sheer shock of his presentation, Rage forces readers to consider the alternatives, to look at the garbage in the streets, to see what is swept into the gutters at night right before all decent people awake to see another cleaned up version of the day.


bloody needle, somebody bleeding, gothic comment tag, sexy mess, sexy bleeding vampire pics

Moon Phases

Image by Kami Jo via Flickr


The Place in Between:

When Del is sent pictures of his wife’s latest affair, he reasons a .45 caliber bullet will answer his problems. To Del’s dismay, that’s only the beginning of his time spent wedged in the place in between. Luci’s lover tortures Del relentlessly. Del wants to recover just enough to seek revenge on them both. Sure enough a demon shows up with her silky-sweet promises. Then the ambiance twists dark and cruel beyond anything any one of them could’ve imagined.

Blood and Bubblegum:

It’s colder than frozen shit down here in the dangerous tunnels of The Harbor in the post-cataclysmic world (ACE). Juan and I find ourselves here, in this horrible place because of The Good Doctor. His organic narcotics trade is booming. Juan, Mary and I want in. We have to find TGD and the nocturne, see if they will let us. We are down. We are hungry. And we are bringing Blood and Bubblegum to sweeten the pot. All of our dreams will come true. The only uncertainty is Mary and Juan living long enough to reap the rewards.

Bad Notion, Traveling Potion:

The second day of the fifth waxing moon, in the 24th year, ACE. The frozen earth of The Harbor is in the grips of a new Little Ice Age. The human populace is down to just one-third. They are forced to exist in long, dank tunnels and cramped domiciles underground with The Good Doctor and his creations of Halflings and other freaks and geeks. TGD’s latest organic narcotic discovery goes LIVE and becomes self-aware. The bad notion traveling potion makes meat puppet users do its unholy bidding. Then the monster decides to turn on TGD, the Creator. Not the best idea, this. But it sure is going to be fun to watch. 

(The 9th year, After Cataclysmic Events,
during the 12th Waning Moon, on the 6th Day.)

About Three weeks ago:

Juan and Mary knew that their game was with
a nocturne and they were smart enough to be
afraid. Even still, they were dying to meet him. He
had it all and they wanted in.
The couple sat in the bar sipping re-hydrated
ethanol-squeezing cocktails, just as they had done
every evening for almost two weeks straight. They
watched the nocturne as he appeared. He just appeared
right out of thin air over by the bartender.
“Did you see that shit?” I asked. No-one answered.
The vampire handed the nigga a package
which vanished beneath the bar top in an instant.
It was unerringly the same routine as the last
three times. It wasn’t a pattern, exactly, not one
that could be fingered, but they knew he would
eventually show up because the dealer always did.
He had to deliver
his drugs. Juan and Mary knew
if they were patient and waited long enough, the
nocturne would show.
The small, tightly wrapped package should be
Plata if they knew their guy, which they did. The
bartender, Steel Ovid, handed over an envelope; cash,
most certainly.
The nocturne peered inside the envelope, checked
the denominations, gauging the thickness. He
didn’t count it though. The nocturne didn’t need to.
No-one in their right mind would be stupid enough
to butt-fuck the drug dealing vampire. Even so, he
looked like he could use the help of a couple of down
like Juan and Mary. You know, to help
with the day to day. The young couple just needed a
way in.
The nocturne looked at Steel Ovid. He said something
to him that Juan couldn’t begin to hear across
the distance of the bar and the slow, deep throb of
the hardcore shit that passes for music these days.
It was blasting forth from the DJ’s station nearby,
making conversation details dreadfully difficult to
Whatever it was must’ve scared the god-fuck
out of the dude, because he stepped back and put
his hands up in surrender and fear. The bartender
backed up a quick two-step as the vampire leaned
in, his long, tightly curling hair spilling in a wave,
obscuring his face. The menace in the gesture and
what he must have said was full and uncomfortable
like a dildo on a church pew.
Steel Ovid looked frightened, dropping his arms
and folding his hands. He lowered his head, nodding
in supplication, staring at his feet. Juan could see his
quaking even from across the room. The nigga was
a big dude, too, really more imposing than even the
Steel Ovid was a huge, heavily muscled albino.
He had orange corn rows and was festooned with
homemade pre-Fall prison ink. Professional tattoos
displayed his fight wins. They were all over the place.
He was a big and scary motherfucker who had a
reputation for immense, visceral violence and the
hair-triggered temper to go with it. Folks were as
scared of Steel Ovid as if he was a blood-drinker
himself. But the poor, scared fuck was not and the
nigga threatening him was.

“My God,” Mary said, watching the scene with
Juan, “You ever see that big fucker scared before?”
“Steel Ovid, no way,” he replied, “Never. It’s interesting
“For sure,” she spoke, took a quick sip of her
cocktail. “No doubt we are looking at the right dealer
to hook up with.”
Juan nodded his agreement, noting how the
stood straight and then in one quick movement,
turned to look right at him.
“Fuck,” spat Juan, his own fear bursting within.
That nigga’s eyes were yellow and backlit. They
looked like a night hunting panther’s, or a mutated
tunnel rat, glowing as they were at Juan.
Then, just like that, he disappeared. Juan turned
quick to Mary. She was still glancing that way. He
opened his mouth to speak and saw the color vanish
from her face. Her lips quivered and her eyes
grew wide. She then backed up and Juan turned to
“Fuck me!” I shouted from within Juan. I’d never
seen anything like it in my whole unborn life.
There the nocturne was, standing right in front
of Juan and Mary’s table. Speechless, we stared at
the vampire and he right back. And then, without a
single word, the nocturne dissolved on the spot, gone
without a trace. There was some displacement of air,
a slight cold whoosh and that was it.
It was a few moments before Juan and Mary
could breathe. The bartender, they could see, was
even more fucked up by his encounter than they.
From where they were perched, we could see the
Steel Ovid shaking like he had wet hair in a meat
He turned to the racks of liquor behind him,
ignoring customers coming up. He poured himself
three big shots of pre-events, top shelf tequila. The
bartender, obviously being as nervous as all getout,
was slugging them one after the other. When
he pinched the bridge of his nose, shut
tight his eyes, leaned on the ledge running below the
bottles. He collected himself with a final big breath
and straightened up.
Steel Ovid went back to work just as the Authorities
came in to the bar. Everybody quieted right
down. They always do when the Indian Army came
a-calling. It happened every time.
It was as if the bar crowd was doused with a big
blast of frigid water. It was nearly silent.
A contingent of the Occupying Indian Army made
their way slowly through the bar. They were just
making their presence known, being sure to stay
away from the rooms in the back. The rooms in the
back led down stairways to the bathrooms
and other
dangerous locales. The Occupiers were smart enough
not to concern themselves with that area. They had
been thoroughly warned when they teleported to
The Harbor to do their mandatory tours.
The patrons hid any activity that was overtly illegal,
but were otherwise left unmolested and to their
own demise.
“Wonder what the blood drinker said to him,”
Mary mused as several soldiers passed. She shook
her lonely ice cubes at a passing barmaid and was
ignored. “Just when I really need one, you bitch!” she
yelled after and was still shunned. The Army Captain
looked back at her. Mary just smiled at him, as sweetly
as she could manage.
“Shit, girl,” Juan told her, “have mine.”
“She’s going to get us tossed out on our ears,” I
warned through gritted teeth.
Juan ignored my wisdom and tried some of his
own on for size. He handed her his mostly full drink.
Juan was dead right and Mary knew it. She shouldn’t
be drawing any attention our way. She shut her trap
and threw the drink back. The Indian officer soon
lost interest when Mary calmed down. He turned
from us and kept moving away.
“Jesus, who knows what he said,” Juan muttered,
thinking, getting them back on track. “I mean, shit,
baby, motherfucker didn’t say even a word to us and
I feel like climbing into a hole and pulling the earth
in after me.”
“Scary motherfucker,” I agreed.
“Exactly,” Mary chimed in. “What do you think,
Papi, should we just forget it?”
Juan wondered that very good point for a moment.
Then he said: “He sure is scary, for real,”
he told her, “but he’s our way in.” Mary nodded in
agreement. “And once we are in,” Juan continued,
“We won’t have to be afraid of anyone else, baby. Not
in the whole of The Harbor.”
“We’d be the big-dick daddies, for sure.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “If he doesn’t kill us first.”
“Still,” she said, “It’s clear he needs our help.”
Mary pushed Juan’s now empty glass away and
reached into her purse. She pulled out and lit a thin,
pre-rolled blunt of half tobacco and half homegrown
Mary Jane.
“She’s my main thing…” Nothing.
“He really shouldn’t even be here,” Juan mused,
“it’s not safe.”
Mary pulled hard on the blunt and nodded.
“Shorties or even the two of us should be flipping
shit, not the top dog.”
“That’s for sure,” she said, handing Juan the blunt.
“How are we going to hook him, though?” she asked.
Juan smoked and thought. He knocked ash on the
already very dirty bar floor. “I was thinking of an offering.”
Mary looked at him closely. “A gift,” he said.
“I don’t know,” she responded, taking back
the blunt. “I mean, just giving the motherfucker a
won’t do it,” she countered, “He can hunt
whomever he wants, true?”
“Yeah, but he’s exposed and shouldn’t be.”
“Also true,” Mary agreed. “Oh, shit, wait,” she said,
looking back to the bar. “There’s our answer.”
Juan turned to where she was looking and saw
a young comely Plata fiend. The egg-layer moved
slow and sexy through the crowd, touching many
patrons, speaking slow with a naughty tongue lick
of her beak. On and on she went, clucking down the
bar, looking for a daddy.
Juan smiled at Mary’s idea. And even I had to
agree. It was brilliant. They looked at each other.
“But if we gave him the gift that keeps giving…”
trailed Juan.
“We will need some cheese for the trap, baby,”
Mary added, gesturing toward the now recovered
bartender. “And I know where we can get it.”
Juan sucked on the blunt again and held it in. He
loosed out a big plume and handed it back to Mary.
“Go and scoop her up,” Juan told her. “Ply the
little coop-chick with drinks and a few lines. She
doesn’t look like she shoots up.”
“No she doesn’t,” Mary agreed, “At least not yet.”
It was impossible to tell that from where they sat,
though. What with her little bent wings tucked up
against her large succulent white meat breasts. She
carried a small bejeweled clutch tight to her body.
“Yeah,” Juan nodded, seeing where she was going.
“Now you’ll get to use some of your long dormant
medic training, get her set up for the long haul.”
“Think she’ll go for it?” Mary asked, watching her
get rejected and looking more and more anxious.”
Egg-layers weren’t everyone’s cup of orange pekoe,
                                            ……end excerpt

Future looking mighty Grim …


The Place In Between
Reverend Steven Rage
240 pages
203 x 127 mm
978-0980593860Available here:LegumeMan Shop
AmazonRead a sample
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