Formats: digital

Publisher: Smashwords

Genre: Blood & Guts (Splatterpunk), Body Horror, Killer/Slasher, Psychological Horror, Romance

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay main characters and author, trans male author

Takes Place in: US and Italy

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Cannibalism, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Mental Illness, Necrophilia, Mentions of Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Suicide, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

The very first page of Claustrophilia gave me a panic attack, and when I finished it, I felt like someone had put my brain in a blender. I swore I’d never force myself to experience something so sick, sadistic, and stressful again.

Well, that promise lasted all of four months and then I reread it. Why would I expose to that filth again? Because I love this book so goddamn much. The writing is amazing. Like, made-a-deal-with-a-dark-force-to-obtain-supernatural-talent amazing (Blake is also an incredibly talented artist, which is just all kinds of unfair). I read the entire thing in one traumatic sitting even though it was 2 AM and I really needed to take a break. It’s sooooooo good, but soooooo fucked up and I’m not sure I should even be admitting to reading it. Hell, just purchasing Claustrophilia will probably put you on some kind of FBI watch-list. Although I’m pretty sure I’m already on there, thanks to my Google search history. Disclaimer: If you are a law enforcement agent I had totally legitimate, non-creepy reasons to look up “at-home lobotomy instructions,” “how to dissolve a body” and “where to buy cursed dolls” even if I can’t think of any right now. Also, some weirdo stole my credit card and bought Claustrophilia. And reviewed it. And then read a bunch of erotic gay Deep Space Nine fan fiction followed by two-hours of zit-popping videos on Youtube. Someone who wasn’t me.  

For the sake of your sanity, I’m going to warn you right now, if you are someone with any kind of triggers, stop right here. I’m serious. Claustrophilia is chock-full of extremely explicit torture (medical, physical, sexual, and psychological), cannibalism, gore, and a super fucked up, abusive relationship. It’s a good book, but it is splatterpunk. So, if that’s not your thing, stay far, far away from this book and most likely this review. But if you have a strong stomach and can handle a scene where a guy fucks another guy’s brain (literally) I’d definitely recommend it. Will/Hannibal shippers, fans of Rotten.com’s Rotten Library (R.I.P.), and extreme horror enthusiasts will all enjoy Claustrophilia. 

Admittedly I’m not usually a fan of splatterpunk. I used to enjoy extreme horror, back in my early twenties when I felt like I needed to prove what a badass horror fan I was, but the turtle death scene in Cannibal Holocaust put an end to that phase. I still like fucked up shit, but visceral, graphic violence just isn’t my cup of tea. Plus, I don’t find it particularly scary. I work in a hospital, so I see guts, amputated limbs, and dead bodies all the time; that stuff just doesn’t gross me out. And unfortunately, a lot of splatterpunk also seems to equate to sexualized violence against women handled in the worst way. possible *cough*Richard Laymon*cough* But Blake manages to create a graphic, gory story without the sexism. Most torture porn comes with a heavy dose of misogyny, and with all the real-world examples of abuse, torture, and murder of women by men, it’s kind of hard to enjoy it in fiction. But an erotic exploitation novel between two men doesn’t come with the same baggage (although, obviously, abuse can and does happen in same sex relationships and I’m not trying to minimize that). And cannibal doctor Ivan Skinner is pretty equal opportunity when it comes to his victims so there are no sexist vibes.

Dr. Ivan Skinner is a pretentious asshole sophisticated gentleman who loves fine art, opera, and gourmet food (usually people). He plans on running off to Italy, loves torture and mind games, and is an overall terrible friend. He’s basically a gay Hannibal Lecter. So essentially Hannibal from the Bryan Fuller TV show, but even more sadistic. Chris is an older medical student, struggling with school, work, and a general lack of direction. He falls in love with Ivan, who then tortures Chris mentally, physically, and sexually until his student becomes a murderous psychopath. And don’t worry, Blake doesn’t try to romanticize or glamorize their abusive relationship. This isn’t Twilight or 50 Shades of Gray. He makes clear from the get-go that everything between them is twisted, perverted, and ugly, even if Ivan and Chris sometimes mistake it for something else. While the torture does have shade of BDSM I’d hesitate to call it such because it’s non-consensual, and BDSM is all about explicit consent. It’s utterly fascinating to watch, and yeah, some of the sex scenes are hot, but in the end it’s a repulsive and deeply disturbing relationship where Ivan intentionally traumatizes and brainwashes Chris until he’s entirely dependent on the older man. Not that Ivan would have had to try very hard to push Chris over the edge. The young medical student is already emotionally unstable, possibly a budding serial killer, and being around cadavers all day is sending him spiraling towards a nervous breakdown.

I would just like to state, for the record, if a pathology assistant (which Chris is acting as) had a nervous breakdown it’s far more likely to be the result of dealing with the giant piles of paperwork, frequently missing slides, the dictation software breaking down again, or one of the endless phone calls from physicians who want to know if the results they only just requested are done yet like you’re supposed to drop everything else to focus on them and their nonsense and somehow break the laws of spacetime (but ~heaven forbid~ you point out that you could get to their stuff a lot faster if they stopped calling every five fucking minutes because then you’re the asshole). Look, all I’m saying is if I found out someone went on a killing spree because they got yet another phone call asking why a pathology report wasn’t ready, I’d get it. But working with dead bodies is not that stressful. They just sort of chill and don’t bother you. If you’re stressed out by the dead, you probably don’t belong in medicine.

Anyway, it’s absolutely fascinating to witness Chris’ deteriorating mental state. It’s incredibly stressful, but also offers a sort of sadistic pleasure as you wonder how much more he can stand before he snaps completely. While there is a lot of gore, it’s not the scary part of the story. It’s the suspense and psychological horror that’s terrifying. You keep wondering, “How much worse can it get?” And then it gets worse. So. Much. Worse. I think the last time a story affected me this viscerally was Eric Larocca’s Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke. And as a horror reviewer, I’m not easily phased.