The Husk Chronicles, Episode Three – The First Reveal! (of the cover and such)

If you’ll look to your right — go on, twist your neck a little, get some exercise — you’ll see a fairly odd-looking gentleman of the plastic face and blank eyeholes variety.

Yes, he’s not much to look at, but it’s undeniably creepy, which makes it the perfect cover for Husk.

Once again, as he did with Shelf Monkey (and many others since — check out his web page for some hints on how his career took off after working with me, and yes, I do attribute his success directly to me), designer wunderkind David Gee delved deep into my manuscript, sinking through the layers of subtext and fighting off the twin demon leviathans of Bad Puns and Awkward Metaphors to arrive at images at once esoteric and yet ideally suited to the story.

I think it works, in other words. And while it may undergo changes before the final proof, I gotta say, I’m in love with it. There is something uniquely off-putting about a blank Halloween mask. It gives you a sense of menace, a mild-mannered visage that disguises untold horrors (or, once you pick up the book, told horrors). Is it my hero Sheldon? I don’t think so, but if it helps you, well, this ain’t a movie, give the characters any face you want. And even if, as my wife suggests, it looks a little like the guy who plays Phil Dunphy in Modern Family, well, Ty Burrell was in the remake of Dawn of the Dead, so there’s still a zombie parallel.

There’s also some catalogue copy, written by me and cleaned up by the copy elves at ECW. Sadly, I am not able to put a pdf on a website, and the catalogue itself isn’t up yet to link to. So below, true in verse but lacking in the visual pleasure of the well-formatted page, is the copy:

An outlandishly funny, unambiguously bloody novel about fame, love, religion, politics, and appetite.

It is one thing to die, alone and confused, trapped with your pants down around your ankles in the filthiest bus restroom in existence. It’s quite another thing 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 television 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 literally falling apart at the seams, he has to find a way to balance family, career, and cannibalism, which would be a lot easier if he could stop eating hoboes.

Husk, the story of the everyzombie.

Corey Redekop has been many things: actor, waiter, disc jockey, cameraman, editor, lawyer (almost), and now the fabled trifecta of publicist/librarian/author. His debut novel, Shelf Monkey, is either a work of insane genius or an intolerable left-wing screed, depending on which review you read. Stunningly handsome, supremely talented, superbly gifted at hyperbole, Corey abides in Fredericton, New Brunswick.