In true Splatterpunk style, John McNee’s Hail Santa combines relevant social commentary with all the red mayhem and over the top violence you can shake a razor-sharp candy cane at. While the grueling gore is kept front row center this holiday season, it walks a fine line with a fully fleshed out story that’s as engaging as it is daring. Every page keeps our eyes glued to its frenzied pace even while the author leans in on gruesome details that are certain to leave even the naughtiest of elves blushing at the sheer insanity of it all.
As McNee explains, “I like a story that’s interesting on its own without any horror element. When we come into the story there’s already conflict because of this town losing its identity. Especially when you’re writing a novel, it’s good to have a setting where everything’s not perfect and then the horror comes in and screws everything up.”
Of course, screwing everything up only works if there’s enough for us to care about when things start going wrong. Thankfully, Hail Santa has us covered in spades on that front. As if transported straight from a Hallmark postcard, rosy cheeks and an even rosier Christmas spirit washes over the northern town of St. Nicholas and the blossoming hearts of its sweet children and their doting parents. Change is in the air, and not just because Coldwell Corporation has begun turning this quant little town into a world-class skiing destination like no other. There’s something else in the air, an almost electrical charge ready to spring forth from the shadows to spread its own incarnation of Jolly Saint Nick no matter who might stand in its way.
While some town folks are excited for the pending rejuvenation, many are aghast that the far-reaching arms of the corporate world, led by the ultra determined Ming Wong, have come to crush the sanctity of their humble home. Caught between the polarizing reactions of the adult population are the children, especially those who’s lineage dates back to the very beginnings of the town’s origin as a gold rush-era mining camp. So dedicated are the children to uphold the spirit of their town’s namesake, they’re willing to do most anything to protect their Santa Clause, even if it means killing every neighbor, parent or any other adult who opposes him.
Taking center stage to the unfolding onslaught are two other complete outsiders: Shona the new schoolteacher and Curtis the new custodian. While not always seeing eye to eye during the strange and horrific situations they find themselves in, they provide real world perspective and a humanistic flourish of dynamics. The resulting effect makes the impact of hell to come all the more gut-wrenching if not entirely traumatic.
As McNee puts it, “It’s good to have characters who are already in conflict and can have different points of view so they’re engaging on their own, and then you take it to the next level by having blood and guts and entrails flying up the walls and stuff. That’s why I’ve always liked splatterpunk, because it was always about something a bit more than a monster comes to suburbia, upsets these people’s happy little lights. There’s always more to get your teeth into it.”
Surprisingly, McNee never set out to write a Christmas-themed story. Inspiration for this book was wrought from a completely different monster.
“It wasn’t my initial intention to write a book about Santa Claus or even a Christmas horror story,” McNee confirms. “My original conception was I wanted to write a Slenderman story because I love Slenderman. I was thinking, how would I do a knockoff Slenderman story? What creature could I create that everyone’s not gonna come back on me and say that’s just a rip-off of Slenderman? Who’s capable of doing all these things? Who’s capable of winning over children and convincing them to do anything he wants, even terrible things and promises them the world. Well, Santa Claus. The thing about Santa Claus is we tell children he’s real. They’re free to believe in God or not, for the most part, but fairies aren’t real. Monsters aren’t real. All this other stuff they’re told about is not real. The one thing that is real is Santa Claus. We’ll even provide evidence.”
McNee further explains why Santa is the perfect killing device for what his story needed. “When you think about what he is, he is a Dracula figure because he’s omniscient. He sees you when you’re sleeping. He can get into your house at any time. You’re not safe. He can go anywhere he wants and do anything. He’s unreachable by law or anything else. There are no consequences for him and if you do something wrong, you’re going on a list. It’s all of the things we tell children about and he’s real. That’s the main thing. He’s real.”
Whether you once believed in Jolly Saint Nick, never have or still do (no judgment here), chances are you’ll be analyzing your reality on repeat the further down this entrail-laden slope you travel. In fact, as intense and articulately delivered as the progressing violence is, you’re going to feel like you got some on you before being mildly disappointed you didn’t. The author’s ability to keep the scales balanced with fun-filled blood and guts mayhem and making us care about the consequences of each brutal death is what truly elevates our reading experience.
McNee clearly understands the importance of writing a story worth remembering long after the last entrail has slid down the page and withered up. “Violence in all its forms,” he informs us, “is always the most fun stuff to write. That’s the stuff I really enjoy. I can write the first draft and it’s done no problem. It’s the ‘boring bits’ I struggle with and have to re-draft and make them interesting to keep people’s interest. As entertaining as I think the lulls are — I’m happy with them and everything — if a reader is going to work their way through them, I feel like when it gets to an action point, they deserve a reward. My reward is to give you some serious violence.”
Once the children start to morph psychologically and physically under the undeniable allure of ‘ol Saint Nicholas, it’s easy to feel at war with our emotions. We become torn between wishing for the ambitious little monsters to be ripped apart limb by limb if only to get what’s coming to them, while simultaneously feeling awful knowing they were recently sweet little boys and girls. We see this war of emotions reflected in the reactions and decision-making on full display with our main characters, Shona and Curtis as they battle to survive their unexpected plight. The pair must find a way to combine their strengths and mutual ideals to combat mutant children and a Santa Clause from hell of unknown origin. Between Shona’s headstrong independent nature and Curtis’s passivity and tendency to overthink everything, expect to yell at and cheer on our unlikely heroes within the same chapters.
Traversing this unapologetic, gleefully joyous bloodbath, one might question what in Krampus’s name did John McNee suffer to have created such a vengeful monster out of Santa? Turns out, Santa has some explaining to do as far as the author’s childhood is concerned. As McNee remembers, “there’s a picture taken of me when we went to the shopping center to Santa’s Grotto to meet Santa Claus. Obviously, I would have been incredibly excited about this because I believed very much in Santa Claus. I would have been insanely overcome with excitement to finally get there and meet him and get a gift in person, but the look of furious disappointment on my face. I mean, I met this guy and he’s given me a cookie or something and I’m just the most incensed. Like, what is this? What are we doing? This is not what I was anticipating.”
The author’s disappointment at the lackluster “magic” of Santa’s measly cookie on that fateful day may well be our greatest gift. After all, whether you get everything you wanted for Christmas or ended up with another sack of coal or, worse yet, some ill-fitting underwear, your tinsel laden holiday will never be the same again. But hey, at least this is one slay ride you can enjoy all year round whether you believe in Santa or are just here for the cookies.
And so, from John McNee to all you naughty kids, “Merry Christmas. Reject God, Hail Santa.”
(Article by Rick Hipson)
