Darkly comic, but surprisingly light-hearted.

Camus meets Palah­niuk in a dark­ly com­ic, but sur­pris­ing­ly light-heart­ed, mind-meld in Corey Redekop’s Husk. Sure, the pro­tag­o­nist is a zom­bie, but this is 2012, and as Redekop right­ly observes, we’re all zom­bies now.” — Andrew Pyper, author of The Damned

It’s one thing to die alone and con­fused, trapped with your pants down around your ankles in the filth­i­est bus restroom in his­to­ry. It’s quite anoth­er to wake up dur­ing the autop­sy, attack the coro­ner, and flee into the win­try streets of Toron­to.
It’s not like Shel­don Funk didn’t have enough on his plate. His last audi­tion, for the real­i­ty series House Bin­go, had gone dis­as­trous­ly wrong. His moth­er was in the late stages of demen­tia. His sav­ings were deplet­ed, his agent couldn’t care less, and his boyfriend was lit­tle more than a nice set of abs.
Now, Shel­don also has to con­tend with decom­po­si­tion, the scent of the open grave, and an unend­ing appetite for human flesh. Plus anoth­er audi­tion in the morn­ing.
For Shel­don to sur­vive his death with­out falling apart at the seams, he must find a way to bal­ance fam­i­ly, career, and can­ni­bal­ism.
If only he can hide his secret.
If only he can stop killing hoboes.
If only.
Husk; the sto­ry of the every­zom­bie.
Short­list, Best Nov­el, 2013 ReLit Award
“A superb blood-splat­tered com­e­dy. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll puke!” — Andrew Kauf­man, author, All My Friends Are Super­heroes
“A wild vicious romp through pop cul­ture, Husk rips the heart out of the rot­ting zom­bie genre and shoves it down your throat. Infec­tion nev­er hurt so good.” — Peter Dar­byshire, author, The Warhol Gang
“Camus meets Palah­niuk in a dark­ly com­ic, but sur­pris­ing­ly light-heart­ed, mind-meld in Corey Redekop’s Husk. Sure, the pro­tag­o­nist is a zom­bie, but this is 2012, and as Redekop right­ly observes, we’re all zom­bies now.” — Andrew Pyper, author, The Damned
“You’ll laugh so hard, brains will come out your nose. But are they your brains, or some­one else’s?” — Kevin J. Ander­son, author, Clock­work Angels
“No one watch­ing such things in Cana­da doubts his voice or his vision: Corey Redekop has emerged as one of the writ­ers to pay atten­tion to over the com­ing few years.” — Jan­u­ary Mag­a­zine
“A com­ic, picaresque nov­el that is fresh, orig­i­nal, and engaging…The sto­ry rol­licks along with Redekop sup­ply­ing a steady stream of laugh-aloud moments.” — The Lit­er­ary Review of Cana­da
“Despite all the vio­lence and jokes about vis­cera, what grad­u­al­ly emerges is a ten­der por­trait of a pro­found­ly lone­ly man who finds love and accep­tance only after his body has betrayed him … an enor­mous­ly fun­ny book that has real emo­tion­al heft under­neath all the blood.” — Quill & Quire
“Redekop toss­es so much into this zom­bie stew that instead of wear­ing out his premise quick­ly it almost seems as though he needs a big­ger pot. By the time we get to the end, which involves a reclu­sive billionaire’s bid for immor­tal­i­ty and an apoc­a­lypse that stirs togeth­er pages torn from Philip K. Dick and H. P. Love­craft, one feels there’s no more ground to cov­er. Zombiedom’s entire pop cul­ture her­itage has been thrown against the wall in bleed­ing chunks, where much of it sticks.” — The Toron­to Star
A Best Fall Read of 2012 — The Toron­to Star
“A vis­cer­al, body nov­el with philo­soph­i­cal pon­der­ings on existence…Despite the deep­er philo­soph­i­cal impli­ca­tions of explor­ing the mind and the body as a site of the mind as well, Corey Redekop infus­es his work with humour, rec­og­niz­ing the inter­re­la­tion­ship of hor­ror and humour, the lit­tle bub­bles of laugh­ter that arise when one is tru­ly ter­ri­fied, and the exag­ger­a­tion of emo­tion­al expe­ri­ence that comes when one faces true hor­ror.” — Spec­u­lat­ing Cana­da
“Very fun­ny and full of nifty surprises…packs a seri­ous emo­tion­al wal­lop. High­ly rec­om­mend­able — per­haps to more than zom­bie geeks.” — Book­list Editor’s Choice, Best Books of 2012
“Fans of trans­gres­sive U.S. writer Chuck Palah­niuk or Jer­ry Stahl’s gonzo nov­el Painkillers…will appre­ci­ate Redekop’s dark humour and the wild twists and turns Husk takes…As much as Redekop’s lan­guage is intend­ed to shock, it nev­er seems overblown. If any­thing, it’s just thor­ough. Redekop is telling a sto­ry from the zombie’s per­spec­tive, he needs to be as metic­u­lous as pos­si­ble or it wouldn’t seem real. Plus, it’s super inter­est­ing. Who doesn’t want to know how the undead defe­cate? Indeed, Redekop pos­sess­es a black wit, but wit nonethe­less, most of it culled from the sheer ridicu­lous­ness of the sit­u­a­tion at hand.” — The Win­nipeg Free Press
Husk is a book you will not want to miss.” — Port­land Book Review
“For the zom­bie lover in us, this is a great piece of lit­er­a­ture.” — Rhubarb Mag­a­zine

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Audio ver­sion:


Mis­ter Funk (Les Édi­tions XYZ, 2013)

Shel­don Funk est couché sur une table d’autopsie. On vient de sci­er sa cage tho­racique, mais voilà qu’il se lève, ramasse son cœur tombé par terre et ren­tre chez lui. Il est devenu un zom­bie ! Il lui faut donc réap­pren­dre à vivre. Mais com­ment par­ler quand on ne respire plus ? Où trou­ver de la chair humaine quand on en ressent une irré­press­ible envie ? Et que faire des exploiteurs, qui veu­lent obtenir gloire, richesse et immor­tal­ité à nos dépens ?

Mis­ter Funk n’est pas qu’une his­toire de zom­bie; c’est une satire sociale grinçante.