Thomas Tessier (1947–2026)

I’m not normally a fan of werewolf stories, but this is a more subtle and psychological story of a man in 1970’s London slowly succumbing to an animalistic madness as he becomes ever more violently aggressive in both behaviour and sexual lust

There’s a lot of ambiguous trails that weave throughout the story which work really well from his early life, leaving the reader guessing to how they connect Bobby Ives’ unravelling condition. What perhaps stands out best is the clever way show more Tessier ramps up the beast not with classic lycanthrope tropisms, but through acts of rage, through his thoughts, through his postures and through the degradation of lifestyle—at one point reflected in a change in the music he listens to. His descriptions of London also change and darken with his descent into madness, in fact London itself positions itself almost as a supporting character in its own right.

This isn’t a classic or overt story of the wolfman tale and anyone looking for a visually impressive were-beast of lore should look elsewhere. Instead this is a triumph of psychological bestial horror that burrows in deep and does not retract its claws. show less

I have as tough time reviewing short story anthologies and collections. What if some of the stories are great and others suck? Should I tell some one to avoid it? I also hate reeling off the plot points of each story or even the highlight stories, just read the damn thing yourself, you don't want me giving it away.

Anyway, great first collection of short fiction by Thomas Tessier. The contents range from the conventional horror story to the truly Tessier signature ultra twisted weird. Some of show more these stories, as in his novels, are going to be hard to take so be forewarned; not for the faint hearted. Tessier is not afraid to take on very controversial topics in a pc-stretching manner, but it's necessarily not a condoning attitude, just one of realism.

I suspect Mr. Tessier may have some personal issues that reflect in his fiction both in subject and the fact that he isn't very prolific and his stuff is all over the place from noir to splatter. I wonder what his nightmares are like? He is almost uniformly great and always thought provoking. However I think he actually excels in the novella length which one of the stories here The Dreams of Dr. Ladybank, the best in this collection, parallels his excellent novella [b:Finishing Touches|287641|Finishing Touches|Thomas Tessier|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1348371040s/287641.jpg|279070].

The prose is spare, as always, Tessier doesn't waste words and his weirdness while literate, is not going to send you running for the dictionary. His strength is his bizarre and twisted imagination married to a penchant for quick character development. A lot of times these characters are only fleshed out in one aspect due to brevity but it's the one necessary for the tale, and it still gives a feeling of depth to the persona.

These fears are very real even when they are unreal. Have fun and leave on the lights. show less

I knew within the first few chapters that Finishing Touches just wasn’t my kind of book, and finishing fifty pages confirmed it. This is one of those novels where the premise depends on a specific psychological dynamic — and the dynamic simply didn’t work for me.

The core issue is the characters. Roger, our protagonist, barely feels like a person. He’s supposed to be a doctor, but everything about him reads more like a directionless wanderer who’s been handed a profession for plot show more convenience. His entire personality seems to be “stays out drinking until someone interesting notices him.” None of his choices feel rooted in a real psychology.

Meanwhile, the plastic surgeon is the only character with a pulse: he has the quirks, the opinions, the texture. It’s hard not to feel like he’s the author’s stand-in — the charismatic, controlling figure Tessier actually cares about. Roger, in comparison, is a blank cut-out placed in the room so the surgeon has someone to manipulate. That imbalance makes the whole setup feel artificial.

The book also leans into a kind of male fantasy I don’t enjoy: the passive protagonist who does nothing and yet is rewarded with mystery, danger, and sexually available women. Even the erotic elements felt secondhand and hollow — like imitations of transgression rather than anything with emotional or psychological depth.

In short: the book wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t built for a reader like me.
I need character logic, psychological grounding, and desire that feels earned. Finishing Touches never found that footing. show less

DNF at 17% – I found the narrative uncritically aligned with Jeff’s self-absorption. His interiority is treated as inherently meaningful while other people barely exist as real beings. Drinking, entitlement, and boundary violations are presented as ambient masculinity rather than corrosive forces. This framing made the book feel ethically and structurally wrong for me.