Zombie Bukkake (Book)
Steve Barton
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Reviewed by Scott A. Johnson
Written by Joe Knetter
Published by Lulu
Oh God…Excuse me…I have to vomit….*blech!* There…That’s better. You’ve been hearing about Joe Knetter’s new opus, Zombie Bukkake, for a while now, and I got to be the lucky guy to get a his greasy hands on a copy for review. If you know Knetter, if you’ve read his stuff before, you think you know what to expect. And you’d be wrong. Oh so wrong. Oh sure, there’s gore, sex, shit, blood, zombies and masturbation a-plenty. But that’s not even the half of it. Knetter has outdone himself this time, and the result is a book that is guaranteed to disturb, nauseate, and thrill his fans. For the record, those who already like Knetter’s work will adore this book. Those that already think he’s a sick perverted monster…Well, they’ll still pretty much think he’s a sick perverted monster. Moving on.
The story revolves around Foley, an all-around good fellow, who loves his wife and daughter, and seems like a great guy. There’s just one little addiction from which he cannot escape: Porn. When he finds out that his all-time favorite porn star is coming out of retirement to do a “Goth Bukkake” shoot, and they’re casting it from his home city, he jumps at the chance. While he and a bunch of other random guys are standing around wanking over this beautiful, half-buried, woman’s face (in a cemetery, I might add), the Zombie Apocalypse kicks off. Grotesquery and hilarity ensue, and that last bit is only if you have a twisted sense of humor. Foley tries his damnedest to wade through hordes of the undead (while naked through most of the book, by the way) to make it home and make sure his wife and daughter are safe.
Let’s be honest here. This book contains a few things like point-of-view shifts and tense-shifts that would drive an English major buggy. But that’s not the point of this novel. No, the focus here is the story. Where Knetter is concerned, every blood-soaked, cum-dripping page is what’s important, and what Knetter has created is a compelling, if disgusting, story. And, believe it or not, there’s a message here, and one that’s rather poignantly illustrated. Somehow, in all the depravity that includes cannibalism, necrophilia, rape and torture, Knetter lets us know that when push comes to shove, the most important thing is family, and keeping true to that family. He isn’t heavy-handed preaching that porn is bad, but he does contend that honesty in a relationship is key, and addiction to anything can destroy a relationship just as quickly as a horde of ravenous zombies.
So how does one review a Joe Knetter book? Most reviewing is done comparatively, but there’s nothing to compare Joe Knetter to but…well…Joe Knetter. No one writes like him, and I doubt anyone ever will. Pretenders to the throne there may be, but the king of all things sick and twisted is now, and will always be, King Knetter. Really, if you find yourself even slightly aroused when reading this book, there’s something really wrong with you. This book is a fine example of Joe’s work, and, for those that can stomach maggot-infested semen (shudder), actually a fine story. Don’t eat before reading this, however, and don’t expect to get romantic with anyone (or anything) after reading this. But still…I kinda like it. Does that make me weird?
4 out of 5
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