Mr Bad Face

There are horror novels with haunted houses. There are horror novels with monsters. And then there is Mr Bad Face, a title that sounds faintly ridiculous until you begin reading and realise that Mark Morris is entirely serious about making you uncomfortable.

Published in 1997 by Piatkus, this unsettling and imaginative horror novel comes from one of Britain’s most accomplished modern horror writers. Morris has a particular talent for taking ideas that initially seem strange, eccentric or even slightly absurd and transforming them into something genuinely sinister. After all, many of humanity’s worst nightmares sound rather silly when described in broad daylight.

The story centres around the mysterious and terrifying figure known as Mr Bad Face, a character whose very name feels as though it emerged from a childhood fear that refused to stay safely buried in childhood. It is a reminder that some of the most effective horrors are rooted not in elaborate mythology but in simple primal anxieties.

What follows is a fast-moving blend of suspense, dread and dark imagination. Morris steadily draws readers into a world where familiar certainties begin to crumble and where danger lurks just beyond the edge of understanding. The horror is not merely in what happens, but in the growing realisation that events are becoming increasingly difficult to explain.

There is a wonderful irony in horror fiction’s relationship with fear. Readers voluntarily purchase books specifically designed to unsettle them, then complain when they find themselves reluctant to turn off the bedside lamp afterwards. Authors such as Morris have built entire careers around exploiting this curious arrangement.

One of the novel’s strengths lies in its atmosphere. Rather than relying solely on shocks, Morris allows tension to build gradually. The result is a creeping sense of unease that follows readers through the story and occasionally persuades them to glance over their shoulder for no particularly rational reason.

The book also reflects the rich tradition of British horror fiction, where the ordinary world is often invaded by something deeply wrong. Streets, houses and everyday settings become fertile ground for nightmares. Horror, Morris suggests, does not require ancient castles or remote graveyards. It can arrive perfectly well on its own.

Readers familiar with the author’s work will recognise his skill at balancing strong storytelling with memorable characterisation. The supernatural elements are effective precisely because they unfold around believable people rather than cardboard victims waiting to be frightened on cue.

There is something delightfully old-fashioned about a horror novel that trusts imagination. Long before digital effects and cinematic jump scares became commonplace, writers relied on atmosphere, suggestion and carefully crafted dread. Mr Bad Face demonstrates that these methods remain remarkably effective.

This 1997 Piatkus edition remains in good condition and comes from the shelves of Crappy Old Books. It has survived the decades admirably and remains a solid, readable copy of a modern horror novel that deserves a wider audience.

An excellent acquisition for horror enthusiasts, collectors of British supernatural fiction or anyone who enjoys stories that begin with a curious premise and gradually evolve into something far more disturbing. Creepy, imaginative and memorably unsettling, Mr Bad Face proves that sometimes the most frightening things have the simplest names.

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