abusive, alcoholic father who made his life miserable. His mother died when he was a teenager (he literally walked in and discovered her body in bed one morning), and his father died a few years later. A close girlfriend’s parents told him she was too good for him and caused their breakup. His best childhood friend died on 9/11. One of the book’s most riveting passages is Barton’s description of taking the train to work in downtown Manhattan that day and seeing the first plane hit the Twin Towers. Barton’s exit from the city that day, accompanied by thousands of other frightened people, is the stuff of real-life horror.

Barton doesn’t shy away from describing the emotional pain he felt at these events and other personal tragedies in his later life. Instead, he acknowledges that writing A Comedy of Tragedies was a matter of facing his personal demons and making them public as a form of catharsis. His raw honesty is evident many times in the book. So, too, is his writing skill. Barton’s writing is often eloquent, humorous, and descriptive. For example, when describing the trash bins at the Florida condo where he once lived, Barton says: “I came to realize in no time that Floridian trash areas were much like New York public toilets in that whoever uses them instantly forgets everything that they’ve been taught about cleanliness and hygiene. … The only difference really was a lack of graffiti and the occasional jump-scare provided by eager frogs who were just trying to score a meal.”

The author’s recounting of his younger days isn’t all gloom and doom. Barton includes several entertaining youthful escapades as well. He describes his introduction to horror movies when, as a five-year-old, he saw Night of the Living Dead on television and mistakenly thought the events were actually occurring (much like Orson Welles’ Mercury Theater radio broadcast had fooled people a lot older than young Barton). Later, when Barton met George Romero for the first time, he described the moment as “one that brought me 110 percent full circle.” Romero enjoyed the story, which may have led to Barton appearing as a zombie in one of Romero’s subsequent movies.

Barton’s introduction to the horror industry came in an unusual manner. A man who sold him a Jurassic Park model cage on eBay was Tony Timpone, an executive at Fangoria magazine. He hired Barton to moderate the magazine’s chat forums (a position in which Barton first called himself Uncle Creepy). From there, Barton co-founded the DreadCentral website, where he became the editor for many years. Barton’s description of his business career is spotty, but some things are clear. First, people in the industry don’t get rich. Barton moonlighted at various low-paying jobs throughout his career to make ends meet, including a gig at GameStop. Second, the industry has plenty of people who know far more about writing and making horror than about the business of horror. Barton frequently butted heads with one group he dubbed the Ass Clowns at the start of his career. Years later, he had another awful experience with a man he dubbed “Shake-and-Bake.” In both cases, Barton eventually moved on. This is the part of A Comedy of Tragedies I wish Barton had gone into more detail about.

Most people who read A Comedy of Tragedies will want to hear stories about the celebrities Barton met throughout his career. He doesn’t disappoint them, although he sometimes resorts to some unwieldy dropping a dozen or more names in a row with little individual explanation. Barton frequently attended conventions and fanfests where the late-night parties involved copious amounts of booze and controlled substances. One enjoyable story he relates involved the night he tried to match drinks with Tyler Mane, the seven-foot-tall actor who played Michael Myers in Rob Zombie’s Halloween movies. That night did not end well for him. Many of Barton’s stories mention his good friend, actor Sid Haig, who starred in several of Zombie’s films. At one horror convention held at a Marriott hotel, Haig actually officiated at a couple’s wedding in full horror costume.

Towards the end of A Comedy of Tragedies, Barton describes his most recent career highlight, his involvement in producing and publicizing Terrifier 2. The movie managed a sizable theatrical run and was quite successful. Further, its “star,” Art the Clown, is probably the hottest current horror icon. (A third Terrifier movie has been released since Barton wrote his book.) I expected Barton to end the book by giving himself a well-deserved pat on the back for the success of Terrifier 2. However, life intervened. In the last chapters, Barton describes a personal tragedy and a professional setback following the making of Terrifier 2. His description of those events packs perhaps the greatest emotional wallop of any part of the book. This material made me appreciate Steve Barton much more as a writer than as a sometimes crude, witty raconteur. (It also raised my book rating from four to five stars.)

The core audience for A Comedy of Tragedies are those people who are already very familiar with names like Tyler Mane and Sid Haig and don’t have to resort to some quick IMDb research. They will love Barton’s story. However, this is a book that mainstream audiences can also enjoy if they give it a chance. His triumphs and tragedies will resonate with anyone who experienced similar emotions. (One incident he describes is eerily similar to an event in my life.) Readers will also learn more about the business of horror, a fascinating subject on its own. There’s nothing creepy about Uncle Creepy’s writing; it’s just plain good.

NOTE: The publisher graciously provided me with a copy of this book through BookSirens. However, the decision to review the book and the contents of this review are entirely my own.