Synopsis:
There’s not much rumbling during the Recipe Days show at the Lubbock Municipal Coliseum—except for stomachs, that is—until the professional wrestlers arrive early for their Saturday night matches. Chaos ensues when the home cooks are overrun by Xombie, the Hellbillies, and Jersey Devil Jill.
They’re not everyone’s idea of family fun . . . especially when the rowdy wrestlers descend on the free donuts brought for the security team—and are turned into brain-eating zombies. The night’s main event starts early with undead wrestlers squaring off against kitchen divas and soccer moms. And as the contagion spreads, the few survivors, armed with mixers, booth poles, and a Zamboni, must fight to keep their heads on straight—and off the menu.
Review:
Absurd, bonkers, completely off its rocker (I could continue for the rest of the alphabet until about x) and something that only Stephen Graham Jones could pull off so brilliantly, “Zombie Bake-Off,” is undeniably a balls to the wall, fun, gory time. Whilst Jones’ unmistakable and exquisite prose means that this book couldn’t have possibly been written by anyone else, one is forced to question exactly what was happening when he sat down to write this one. Perhaps a particularly vivid nightmare after too much late night “Food Network?” Whatever the case, we should all be grateful. For those familiar with the Great British Bake-off, Britain’s only redeeming cultural export aside from perhaps Andrew Michael Hurley, I assure you this is not a book to cozy up with and read with the family at 8PM on a Tuesday evening. There is not a scone in sight. If however you have watched the bake off and thought it was lacking hordes of undead luchadores, contaminated donuts, and graphic violence in general, this book may well be your cup of tea. If you have an empty stomach and a rolling pin to hand, why not don your apron (things get messy) and step into the ring.
We follow Terry who is an event manager at the Lubbock Municipal Coliseum. During the (fateful) day, the “Recipe Days,” show is taking place, in which a host of mothers and grandmothers, armed with secret ingredients and age-old recipes, set up shop to show that love, tradition and butter make the world spin round. It’s almost guaranteed to be a heart-warming event appropriate for all the family and perfect for a local newspaper puff piece. Until the slimy Johnny T and his “Hell-billes,” show up early for their wrestling match later that night. With the “Recipe Days,” representative already kicking up a fuss, the luchadores are quickly ushered away, and begin to descend upon the donuts ordered especially for the security team. What they didn’t know what no one (apart from one rather panicked baker’s son called Rex) could have known is that those donuts are contaminated. When Jersey Devil Jill, Gentleman Jim, Billy Bob Graham and the others begin turning into brain-eating, blood-thirsty zombies it quickly becomes apparent that the Recipe Days show will not go down in history as a wholesome food festival.
SGJ’s prose is something I’ve come to adore, but it wasn’t love at first read. Frankly I simply couldn’t get into the flow of Jones’ writing the first time around (and spent about a year convinced he wasn’t for me (WRONG)). Despite the bizarro premise, hilariously named characters and rapid descent into gorey, brain-filled mania, Jones’ unmistakable voice remains intact, and is still as intelligent, rhythmic and rich as ever. If you’re a fan, expect more of the same beautiful writing, with the added bonus of zombie wrestlers. If you’re looking for a point at which to start reading Stephen, I’d recommend his tor.com originals, which you can read for free and in one sitting.
A no-holds-barred and hilarious romp that hits as hard and as fast as a folding chair to the face, if you’re looking for some lucha-libre brain munching, or perhaps simply a zombie story that’s a little different, then you can and should be reading this one. It’s gory, it’s chaotic and it’s so absurd that it loops back around to genius- it’s part horror, part comedy, and absolute carnage.
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