I It was
written, firstly, for author Lucifer Fulci’s self-satisfaction as is the
case for most writers I might add, and more profoundly for our subculture of
gorehounds which flourish in the dark crevices of society around us. For
those of you not very well versed in the ways of Gorehoundism, if I may
impose such a term, it should not be confused (and I’m speaking in terms of
literature here) with the “splatter punk” phenomenon that horror in the
written word had delved into in the days of the likes of John Skipp and
Craig Spector and David Schow way over a decade ago. Gorehounds are raw to
just about the farthest degree a human can go in the ways of disgust, gore,
violence, perversion and depravity, would take roadkill home to their
mothers, idolize serial killers and Italian zombie horror and exploitation
film icons alike, and drink their lovers’ blood for Valentine’s Day. That’s
probably the best I can do to paint a picture here, though perhaps I’m
borderlining on stereotype.
With this, the essence of it all
presented here to this degree, I welcome you to the explicit, often
pornographic and sadistic universe of Lucifer Fulci’s Siki City.
Child mutilation, necrophilia,
and all things sick and twisted envelope the handful of main characters as
they journey in murderous abandon towards Siki City, in fact a graveyard
bordering somewhere between Los Angeles and the edge of reality where all
their dreams and nightmares promise to manifest with repercussions to all,
the law hot on their trails.
Fulci is an astonishingly
impressive fluid storyteller, brandishing a way with words that far
surpasses a great many mainstream works that have crossed my path over the
years. His visions are vivid, if not perversely poetic. It’s refreshing
and thrilling to acquaint oneself with such talent, even if the unapologetic
explicitness is not one’s cup of tea. The magic and brilliance which
festers here is the blatant proof that a true gorehound can be utterly
prolific, literate and even sophisticated, doing a credit to the way
mainstreamers may otherwise perceive them.
Not I, as my perceptions here are
as affectionate as they are descriptive, and many a gorehound has graciously
rocked my world from time to time.
No wonder Fulci can write as well
as he does, he’s got a lot on his plate. He writes and edits major genre
magazines, produces and directs, and his band Penis Flytrap is a major
Pretty sick stuff, this Siki
City, and that’s the way it should be. Fulci is a major asset to
hardcore horror and serious gorehounds everywhere.