Husk

“I was just a pawn, a character in a poorly conceived pulp novel of gore, tragedy, and painful metaphors,” so claims the zombie protagonist of Corey Redekop’s sophomore novel, Husk, a romp fully self-aware of its utter grotesqueness. Sheldon Funk, actor-turned-zombie, awakes during his own autopsy and spends the first half of the novel figuring out who (or what) he is, finding love, eating hobos and earning his Hollywood stripes, all whilst intermittently tucking his intestines back inside his body cavity and resisting the urge to nibble on the veiny forearms of his costars. The second half is an action-packed mad-science thriller and nihilistic philosophical tangent fueled by incisor-sharp wit and social commentary. While anatomically nauseating and graphic to the point where it should come with a “do not consume food while reading” label, Husk is a completely original and welcome oddity. To put it plainly, this novel has guts.