“Baby’s First Book of Seriously Fucked-Up Shit” by Robert Devereaux is a mixed bag of short fiction. There are some standout tales that might have earned a higher star rating but overall it is a bit uneven.

Devereaux’s in-your-face title lets you know up front he is an extreme horror writer. There are a couple more low-key tales here but you won’t make it through the whole collection unless you have the tolerance for extreme horror.

Two standout tales, both highly original and provocative, are “Li’l Miss Ultrasound” and “One Flesh: A Cautionary Tale.”

In “Li’l Miss Ultrasound,” technology provides a means to digitally enhance fetuses in the womb, entering them in beauty contests. Two expectant mother/ultrasound technician teams compete in this brilliant satire made more horrific because it seems shockingly plausible given our country’s perverse preoccupation with reality television.

“One Flesh: A Cautionary Tale” pulls off an exceptional challenge in narrative point of view. A father and son are killed in an automobile accident the same night the son’s son is born. Their spirits possess the child and as he matures, father and son devise a means of reclaiming the love of their widows only an extreme horror writer could devise. The story is told from the point of view of the dead son and Devereaux skillfully handles that aspect of what may be the best story here.

There are some hilarious moments of dark comedy and some wild and crazy conceits to be found in other tales, including a young man lusting for Tinkerbell, a detective story of all clown characters and an enormous and amorous tongue created by a lab experiment gone awry. While these stories show great imagination, I did not find myself caring much about the characters. The characters and dialog seem to exist mostly to fuel the conceit and shock value of their narratives.

Overall, extreme horror fans will enjoy the over-the-top sex and gore present in these imaginative stories. One thing for sure—Devereaux’s tales are always outrageous and unpredictable.

– George Wilhite