Don’t really get the zombie fad.
 
Sure, I’ve enjoyed a few zombie movies in my time — ZOMBIELAND and SHAUN OF THE DEAD, to name two off the top of my head. But did I really enjoy those movies because of the zombie aspect? No, most likely it was the comedic elements of the story and the whole apocalyptic, end of the world, us few against the ravenous hordes scenario that the movies portrayed — much like why I love Richard Matheson’s I AM LEGEND.

So what is the appeal of zombies? Vampires and werewolves have a power fantasy element to them, but does anyone imagine themselves as a zombie? What could possibly be the appeal? The bad skin? Poor hygiene? Disgusting diet and eating habits?

In HUNGRY FOR YOUR LOVE, editor Lori Perkins pulls off what I would have predicted to be an impossibility: zombie romance stories. Perkins is a literary agent who represents paranormal romance and erotica. According to the introduction, the idea for a collection of zombie romance stories was borne from a remark made at a writer’s convention: that zombie romance could not be done. As I said, Perkins manages to pull it off … to an extent.

Many of the contributors are paranormal romance writers, i.e. writers who specialize in writing about bad-boy vamps and the half-demon hunters that love them. And many are erotica writers, and it shows in their contributions. Yes, folks, there’s soft-core porn, but very little of it involves zombie-on-zombie action. So if that was what you were hoping for, you’ll have to look elsewhere.

The anthology plays around with the theme, and for a while, I thought the premise was going to remain stagnant. Many of the writers in the first half of the book used the unusual set-up of zombies being the newest minority. The zombie plague happened, people rose from the dead, then they began to settle in and get jobs. The person serving you overpriced coffee or tearing your movie tickets in half might just be a zombie. (Sounds like the newest Jeff Foxworthy comedy bit waiting to happen, doesn’t it?)

As the zombies try to regain a normal life, they meet lost loves and rekindle romances, all while dealing with parts of their bodies rotting off their frames and struggling to keep their addiction to human brains under control. You know, typical zombie angst.

“Through Death to Love” by S.M. Cross is about a zombie speech therapist falling for one of her clients. “Everyone I Love is Dead” by Elizabeth Coldwell is about a woman torn between her living, hot-blooded lover and her newly returned from the dead true love. “Undying Love” throws magic into the mix and read like a pilot for a possible series, which maybe is what writer Regina Riley is hoping for. If so, I wouldn’t count myself out as a possible reader — the story isn’t bad.

The first half of the book, however, is bogged down by too much … well, lack of fun, quite frankly. Some of the stories, like “I Heart Brains” by Jaime Saare, have so little to do with zombies that I wondered if the editor had trouble finding selections for the anthology. But the second half of the book saves the whole thing, as the fun factor is ratcheted up a few notches.

“Captive Hearts” by horror writer Brian Keene is a taut piece about zombies and revenge, and how the survivors of a zombie apocalypse might be more savage than the ravenous hordes outside. “Apocalypse as Foreplay” by Gina McQueen comes up with a cool twist, namely that the zombies will target their former lovers or secret, unrequited crushes.

My favorite in the batch is “Last Times at Ridgemont High” by Kilt Kiltpatrick, which manages to throw in every teenage horror cliché — high school loser gets his chance to be the hero and save the pretty cheerleader as the world ends — and freshens the genre with witty turns of phrases, such as:
 
“I critically examined the gloomy dude in the mirror. Not a bad-looking guy; he looked a bit like a young John Cusack. Unfortunately, the problem was I seemed to be stuck in permanent boy mode, like Michael J. Fox. Was I doomed to age as a Peter Pan man-boy until I finally morphed straight into some ancient leprechaun without ever achieving a respectable grownup adult he-man stage at all?”

And:

“He had me undead to rights, but my soapy and drenched buck-nekkid ass popped right out of his grasp like a watermelon seed. I slid around like a fish on the slick wet tile floor, scrambling to get away while he clawed at my torso and legs, trying to reel me back towards his snapping jaws. Somehow my crazy flailing managed to give me just enough space to kick away from him and sail across the floor of the showers like I was cavorting on a Slip ’n Slide.”

While I don’t think zombie romances will become the next big subgenre, HUNGRY FOR YOUR LOVE does certainly fill a gap that I never imagined existed. If you decide to try it, stick with it through to the second half. Like a good meal, it gets better as it goes on. —Slade Grayson

Buy it at Amazon.