Guy N. Smith is a guilty pleasure. I began with his series of Pulp Horror books featuring giant crabs (yes, you read that right, giant crabs), Smith’s fiction is as close as you can get to the kind of 1950s or early 1960s horror films that were regular fare when I was growing up on Saturday afternoons. But with an adult twist.

Werewolf Omnibus collects together three vintage Smith novels and one short story:

• Werewolf By Moonlight (1974)
• Return Of The Werewolf (1977)
• The Son Of The Werewolf (1978)
• and the short story, “Spawn Of The Werewolf”

The story centers on Philip Owen who is bitten by a dog that was bitten by a werewolf. Hence Owen becomes a werewolf and begins to kill a few animals, and of course finally graduates to killing people.

Looking at reviews on GoodReads of any Guy N. Smith book is always fun. People either love or hate him. There is no in between. It reminds me of a quote from Jerry Garcia about the Grateful Dead: “people who like the Grateful Dead are like people who like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.”

I hate licorice, but love the Grateful Dead and Guy N. Smith novels. They are quick and fun reads. And often that is what I really want. Just like sometimes I just want a Twinkie for a snack or Coco Puffs for breakfast.

Reading “Escapist Fiction,” especially in the Age of Trump, can be a cathartic experience. I much prefer it to watching television or some Netflix series no matter how good the show or the series may be. Reading is always an internal experience. Watching television and movies is inevitably external.

I love Guy N. Smith books. Most of them anyway. But like the Grateful Dead, I know his books are not everyone’s “cup of tea” (to mix in another metaphor, which seems appropriate somehow when writing about Smith).

If you are feeling like trying something really different and are not bothered by 1970s sex and violence, here is a link to Werewolf Omnibus.

Enjoy!