Reviewing: Barry Maher's The Great Dick and the Dysfunctional Demon

It’s 1982. The narrator, Steve Witowski (an alias), is a failed songwriter and fugitive, already trying to escape his past. One night he intervenes to save a woman named Victoria from a brutal assault by a seemingly unstoppable attacker.

Rather than moving on, Steve becomes entangled with Victoria, who has just purchased a dilapidated church with a dark, haunting past. As Steve stays on to help with the renovation and the mysteries of the place, he discovers that Victoria--and the church--are at the center of something far more sinister: occult rituals, grave-robbed secrets, a sorcerer’s bones, and a demon growing desperate.

At the same time Steve’s own guilt and haunted past draw him deeper: the face of a man he killed appears on his arm, blurring the line between what is real and what is nightmare. The result is a wild ride through supernatural horror, dark magic, and personal reckoning, with Steve forced to question whether the strange phenomena are delusion—or far worse.

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From the opening pages, The Great Dick pulled me into its raucous world with unexpected force. The 1982 setting, with its faded rock-star dreams and neon-tinged desperation, gives the story a gritty, off-kilter flavor that sets it apart from standard occult noir. The author’s decision to center things around an abundantly flawed protagonist — a failed songwriter on the run; a scruffy, seedy descendant of Manly Wade Wellman’s Silver John — allows for genuine tension: you don’t trust him entirely, but you’re invested in how he handles the chaos he stumbles into.

What I appreciated most is the way the narrative blends humor and horror. Steve’s sardonic voice (he knows he’s not a hero) gives many of the early scenes a darkly comedic edge, yet the story steadily shifts into something deeply unsettling. The moment when the supernatural elements start to bite — when Steve begins to see evidence that the occult is real, grief and guilt converge, and the church’s buried past literally rises to haunt him — that’s when the book hit full throttle. The oscillation between “this is absurd” and “this feels terrifyingly real” is handled with confidence. For a reader wanting thrills, wild turns, and some laughs in the mix, it delivers.

Characters are messy and unpredictable, which works beautifully here. Victoria is especially intriguing — initially a damsel-in-distress figure, but soon you realize she may have her own agenda, her own secrets — which makes their shared journey into the occult all the more compelling. Steve’s internal struggles (running from his past, questioning reality, facing uncanny horrors) are rendered with enough texture to feel real even in the wildest moments. The book’s willingness to be loud, wild and uncompromising is one of its strengths.

Yes, the plot is ambitious — and at times it may feel a little sprawling. But for me that was part of the charm. The mixture of grave-looting, haunted architecture, demonic rituals, a killer’s ghostly visage, and a supernatural parasite-type entity creates an atmosphere of disorientation that suits the story’s themes of guilt, fear, and the boundaries of belief. The book isn’t subtle, and it doesn’t pretend to be a quiet psychological horror — it’s a roller-coaster. If you go in expecting calm, you’ll be surprised; if you want bizarre, relentless fun, you’re in for a treat.

The plot is operatic in scope -- almost Wagnerian (or Meat Loaf-ian, to be more precise). While that complexity might feel a little wild at times, for me it added to the immersive feeling of being pulled into something strange and unsettling. The author doesn’t shy away from bold imagery, creepy moments, or a sense that the world is tilting unpredictably. Characters are flawed, messy, and real in their own odd ways. The supporting elements (past crimes, occult threads, the eerie setting) feel well-layered. It can feel busy, smug, self-satisfied, and overwhelming, and its style will be an acquired taste for some – or, alternatively – it might feel like tasting mama’s home-cooking for the first time in a long while if this is the kind of madcap, irreverent horror you grew up on.

In short: if you’re looking for horror with attitude — dark humor, an 80s flavor, supernatural dread, a narrator who’s more anti-hero than saint — this book delivers. It may not be the quietest or most contemplative read, but for what it is — a fast-paced, oddball, entertaining thriller-horror mash-up — it succeeds. I’d definitely encourage others to give it a try.

If you’re looking for a horror novel that has attitude, heart and no shortage of weirdness, this is definitely one to pick up. It balances its absurd premise with genuine atmosphere, strong narrative voice, and a final sense of payoff that feels earned. I’d happily recommend it to anyone who enjoys supernatural thrillers, 1980s nostalgia, flawed heroes, and creeping dread with a grin. Like its protagonist, it’s not perfect — and who is? – but for what it sets out to be, it’s a very satisfying ride.

You can find it HERE