Clay McLeod Chapman

The story is absolutely gripping, as well as terrifying in its realism. It's about the power of fear, false narratives, what you “want” to hear, and the urgency that drags people along long after the lie has been exposed. I was hooked from the very beginning and devoured this book in just three hours. Of course, sleep took a backseat, but it was worth it. It's a tough reality but the story shows that the mistakes of the past always come back to be atoned for and sometimes, the price is show more one’s own life. I thought it was going to be a cheesy story about some kids experimenting with the occult, but I was pleasantly surprised with how interesting the story got and the ending was a real surprise. It's laced in eeriness and small-town controversy. Is fear the greatest motivator and are innocent children always to be believed? show less

POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: SUICIDE/ SOME GOREY VIOLENVCE/ LOSS OF A CHILD
“The story is one that will have you pacing the room, reconsidering your own sanity, and questioning that stubborn instinct to nurture.”
I'm a huge fan of Gothic horror...bet some of you thought the only thing I ever read are M/M romances:) My friendly librarian & best friend handed me this and said, "you have GOT to read this." Thanks to her I spend an enjoyable day and half the night listening to every squeak, creek and show more bump...and loving every freaky minute of it!

This is a very dark, creepy, and disturbing book, so of course I couldn’t put it down. It's been a long time since I have read a book that made me feel that I was physically THERE. Madi hasn't had the best life and is trying to start over back in her hometown, with her teenage daughter. It was this daughter's impending birth that made pregnant, teenager Madi escape the town seventeen years ago. She sets up shop reading palms and reading clients and telling them what they want to hear. Then she reconnects with an old flame, Henry. Henry's son Skyler had disappeared a few years prior when he was just a baby. Madi realizes that she is having visions of Skyler and thinks that she may be able to find him.

As a dark fantasy thriller this was already great. So, the romance between the two former lovers wasn't really necessary but is again connected over Madi's visions and Skyler’s potential presence. I couldn't help thinking that these two emotionally, mentally damaged characters were falling into something emotionally unhealthy. Can't say much more about the romance.

Now about the horror elements. Be aware that there is SO much really nasty body horror. How you will take this really does depend on your tolerance. I didn't find it disturbing or super gory, but I read some really weird stuff...but this may be way too much for some readers. Some of the descriptions are graphic and could be nightmare producing. However, it’s also incredibly creative in the direction it takes and what it means for the characters...but still it's definitely freaky and unsettling. There were the moments that the story unfolded in a new way that explored parental devotion and inability to either seek or accept closure. This part will stay with you for a long time.

Overall, this book is brutal, but most true horror fans will love it. If you haven't had the opportunity to check out this author, now may be the time. But be warned: you aren’t going to ever see crabs the same way after reading this. I strongly advise anyone that has any triggers whatsoever to pay very close attention to the trigger warnings. Otherwise...it's a story that is worth every minute of your time to read it. show less

Clay McLeod Chapman’s Wake Up and Open Your Eyes is a goddamned primal scream, the literary equivalent of being locked in a panic room with a Fox News broadcast cranked to 11. From the first page, it grabs you by the scruff and shouts, “WAKE UP! OPEN YOUR EYES!” And if you’re not awake by the end of it, well, you’re probably the kind of person who’d watch “Just the Fax” and think, “Yeah, this seems reasonable.”

Chapman, one of horror’s modern masters, channels his fury show more into a scathing social commentary dressed up as a possession story. It’s like if The Exorcist and The Americans had a love child, then dropped it into the cesspool of modern American media culture. The result is terrifying, hilarious, and painfully relevant. Let’s break it down.

Noah Fairchild—a liberal Brooklynite—makes the mistake of checking on his parents in Richmond, Virginia, after they’ve gone radio silent. These aren’t just any parents; they’re Southern boomers mainlining conspiracy theories and guzzling the poison Kool-Aid of a far-right network called “Fax News” (I wonder what that could be). But when Noah finds them locked in a trance—rotting food in the fridge, TV blaring like it’s their life support machine—things take a turn for the horrifying. His parents attack him, not with words but with fists, teeth, and a batshit demonic rage with a disturbingly sexual twist.

Oh, but it’s not just Noah’s family. Across the country, families are imploding in waves of violent, cult-like fervor. And the glue holding it all together? Screens. Whether it’s TVs, social media, or wellness influencers, this plague of possession spreads through digital channels, turning ordinary people into rage-filled, bloodthirsty zealots. Noah’s only hope of survival is to team up with his young nephew Marcus and flee—but how do you outrun a monster when it lives in every screen around you?

At its core, this novel isn’t about zombies or demons. It’s about us—our addiction to media, our ideological divides, and the way unchecked technology worms its way into our brains like some malevolent parasite. Chapman doesn’t shy away from naming names either. “Just the Fax” is a thinly veiled stand-in for Fox News, and the book’s satire hits with the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

But don’t think Chapman lets the left off the hook. Noah, our protagonist, is the quintessential armchair liberal: full of righteous indignation but utterly ineffective when it counts. He’s just as complicit in this societal collapse as the possessed hordes, a point Chapman makes with gleeful venom, hilariously making his inner dialogue narrated by Anderson “the Coop” Copper in the second half of the book. By the end, you’re left wondering if anyone—liberal or conservative—deserves to survive this nightmare.

The symbolism here is as in-your-face as it gets. The screens are literal portals for demonic possession, a metaphor for how media hijacks our brains. But Chapman doesn’t stop there. He’s got wellness influencers peddling “purifying” juice cleanses that turn people into actual monsters. He’s got algorithm-fed radicalization pipelines that transform teenagers into incels. And then there’s the “Great Reawakening,” a conspiracy-laced apocalypse event that’s part QAnon fever dream, part The Purge on meth.

Chapman’s imagery is grotesque and visceral. There’s a family dinner scene that will make you reconsider ever sitting down to eat again. His descriptions of possessed bodies—twisted, twitching, vomiting black bile—are so vivid you want to shower. It’s body horror at its finest, and it’s impossible to look away.

If there’s one thing Chapman excels at, it’s creating tension. The pacing is relentless, each chapter ratcheting up the stakes until you’re practically chewing your own arm off in suspense. And the gore? Chef’s kiss. Chapman doesn’t flinch from the gruesome details, which makes the horror feel immediate and real.

The narrative structure is another win. The book is divided into three “phases,” each with its own unique tone and style. Phase One is a claustrophobic horror story centered on Noah’s family. Phase Two zooms out to explore how his brother’s suburban household succumbs to the madness. Phase Three—a road trip through an apocalyptic America—is a cacophony of found footage, social media snippets, and raw survival horror. It’s ambitious, and it works.

Chapman’s decision to blend horror tropes with sharp social commentary is very enjoyable. He doesn’t just aim for scares; he’s holding up a mirror to our current societal predicament, daring us to confront the monsters we’ve created. It’s a bold approach, and it pays off well. The sheer creativity on display here, from the chilling character arcs to the disturbing “set pieces,” is something you rarely find in genre fiction.

Here’s the thing: if you’re looking for nuanced, understated commentary, look elsewhere. Chapman’s sledgehammer approach won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. The repetition of the book’s titular mantra, “Wake up and open your eyes,” can feel heavy-handed. But honestly, when the world’s burning, maybe subtlety isn’t what we need. Character development is another sticking point. While Noah and Marcus are compelling, some of the side characters—like Noah’s brother Asher and his Instagram-obsessed wife—feel more like caricatures than fully fleshed-out people. Then again, when the message is this urgent, who has time for nuance?

That said, even the weaknesses feel deliberate, as if Chapman is leaning into the chaos to make a point. The over-the-top nature of the narrative mirrors the hysteria of the world it’s portraying. It’s a calculated risk, and while it might alienate some readers, it’s likely to resonate deeply with others.

In interviews, Chapman’s admitted that the book is deeply personal. He’s seen members of his own family radicalized by conservative media, a transformation he likens to possession. “It’s like my parents are possessed by demons,” he’s said. “So I made that literal.” Chapman also pulls from real-world horrors, like social media’s role in radicalizing young people. He’s unflinching in his critique of how we’ve let algorithms and echo chambers dictate our lives. And while the book’s satire leans heavily on conservative targets, Chapman doesn’t spare liberals either. As he’s put it: “If there’s a demonic apocalypse, we’re all fucked.”

The author’s ability to weave personal experiences into a broader cultural critique gives the book its emotional core. It’s clear that Chapman isn’t just writing to entertain; he’s writing to provoke, to unsettle, and to spark conversation. His unapologetic approach to storytelling is refreshing in a genre that often plays it safe. Wake Up and Open Your Eyes is a wake-up call, a slap in the face, and a gut punch all rolled into one. It’s a book that forces you to confront the ugliness of our media landscape and the ways we’ve all been complicit in its rise.

Is it perfect? No. But it doesn’t need to be. Its raw, chaotic energy is part of its charm. If you’re a fan of horror with something to say—or if you’ve ever looked at the state of the world and thought, “What the actual fuck?”—this book is for you. Just be prepared to smash a screen or two. Whether you come away from this book inspired to make a change or just thoroughly creeped out, one thing’s for sure: Wake Up and Open Your Eyes will leave a mark.

So yeah, fuck you, Clay McLeod Chapman. You’ve written a book that’ll haunt me. And also, thank you. Because maybe—just maybe—we all needed this. show less

Don't let my rating fool you -- I inhaled about 90% of this today. I couldn't put it down. In horror, there's always "a writer to watch" but I genuinely will be excited to see where Chapman goes from here (apologies Clay if you've written stuff before Ghost Eaters; I'm a newb to your stuff).

I agree with some other folks that there are multiple storylines in here, and not all of them are successful. However, I think Chapman does a wonderful job exploring the complexities of addiction, and he show more suffuses those conversations with empathy. Fiction has gotten much better at handling addiction themes, but I always tense up a bit when I see it's a central theme in a story. So, well done on that front, too. show less