Death and fond evocations of smalltown life blend in varying concentrations throughout this trio of offbeat riffs on traditional horror themes. Best known as a satirical novelist who has turned unlikely subjects such as competitive embalming (The Unnatural) and the dark side of hometown hero worship (Serial Killer Days) into morbidly amusing entertainments, Prill, in his first collection of short fiction, conjures a variety of moods, ranging from playful irreverence to bittersweet nostalgia. The title tale is a gentle pastiche of Booth Tarkington, about first love between two teenagers—who happen to be zombies—and who worry (as only teenage zombies can) about whether trivial matters like decay of body parts will prove an obstacle to true romance. In "Carnyvore," Bradbury-esque poetics soften an uncharacteristically grim parable about politically correct guardians who dismantle a traveling carnival, and the Grand Guignol just deserts visited upon them. The book's anchor, "The Last Horror Show," is a profound and revelatory piece of Americana: its narrator, a disaffected Midwestern boy, recounts his infatuation with Dr. Ogre Banshee's Chasm of Spasms, a touring carnival spook show whose seedy decline into irrelevance between 1966 and 1973 is a catalyst for reflections on his generation's loss of innocence in the Vietnam era and the importance of fantasy as a buffer against the disillusionments of adulthood. Although Prill's low-key style and deadpan wit help these tales to go down easy, readers will find that they lodge in the memory long after the book is closed. (Aug. 5)
