Mark Jaskowski, a Florida transplant now lurking in eastern Kansas, has graced us with his third book, Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth, published by Weirdpunk Books, a Minneapolis press devoted to raw, unconventional voices (we recently got to sit down with their head honcho, Sam Richard). Jaskowski’s prior work reflects a writer who thrives on unsettling readers with raw, unconventional narratives. Jaskowski’s shift from Florida’s humid sprawl to the Midwest’s flat expanse seems to shape his narratives, infusing them with alienation and decay. His output is sparse, suggesting a writer who prioritizes precision over prolificacy, shunning the churn of formulaic horror. Backed by Weirdpunk’s mission to amplify the strange, Jaskowski crafts stories that feel like a deliberate rejection of polished, predictable fare. His work resonates with readers who crave fiction that’s unapologetically weird, making him a standout in the indie scene for those who like their horror raw and unsettling.

Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth follows Dusty, a broke drifter stumbling through a drug-hazed Florida suburb, where a run-in with Alex, a slick hustler flush with cash, sets off a nightmarish spiral. A shady job offer and a chaotic party lead to Dusty’s body… changing. Jaskowski blends body horror with cosmic dread, crafting a feverish tale of a man losing his humanity to something ancient and predatory lurking beneath suburban pools and pipes. The story is a gritty plunge into a world of sticky floors, chlorinated water, and sharp teeth, where the boundaries of self and environment dissolve. It’s an unsettling, visceral dive into a suburb hiding a hungry, primal presence that feels far too close to home.

Jaskowski’s novella is a grimy ode to the rot festering beneath suburban facades, where the systems sustaining normalcy breed monstrosity. The core theme is transformation, with Dusty’s grotesque shift into something inhuman reflecting a loss of identity in a world that grinds down the marginalized. Sewers and pools serve as potent symbols, embodying the hidden machinery of addiction, economic despair, and conformity that poisons society. The teeth beneath the pool evoke a primal, near-Lovecraftian terror, hinting at an ancient, predatory force embedded in the everyday. Unlike cosmic horror’s detached grandeur, Jaskowski roots the weirdness in visceral body horror, making it feel raw and intimate.

The prose is jagged, tactile, and unapologetically gross, with sprawling sentences that slither like Dusty’s tentacles: “My body, readjusting in its new gooey way to the sausage-grinder manner of my entrance, bounced out from the compression and the stretching.” It’s repulsive yet poetic, mirroring the disorientation of a dissolving self. Philosophically, the book grapples with what it means to be human when your flesh betrays you, echoing Kafka’s Metamorphosis with a punk snarl. It skewers suburban homogeneity, casting Florida as a microcosm of late-capitalist despair, where hustlers scrape by while something older watches from below. Culturally, it resonates with those on society’s edges, broke, queer, or adrift. Dusty’s transformation into a sewer entity suggests a perverse liberation, but one that obliterates humanity, probing survival in a world that demands deformation. Jaskowski’s refusal to tidy up these tensions crafts a bold, bleak meditation on identity and systemic decay, leaving readers to stew in the discomfort of an unresolved nightmare.

Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is a daring, original horror novella, transforming a broke drifter into a monster in a premise that’s as bizarre as it is unnerving. Jaskowski sidesteps clichés, crafting a hybrid of body horror and cosmic dread that feels fresh all in a crusted suburban underbelly. The atmosphere is suffocating, with sweaty party floors, chlorinated pools, and claustrophobic sewer pipes painting a sensory hellscape that’s both repulsive and immersive. The prose shines in its grotesque lyricism, especially during Dusty’s transformation scenes, where descriptions of oozing flesh and splitting skin make you wince: “I pushed the tenacles out ahead of my splitting body and rode up them to the lip of another tub.” The thematic depth, tying personal alienation to suburban decay, elevates the story beyond shock, offering a scathing critique of systems that devour the vulnerable.

Dusty’s sarcastic, desperate voice grounds the surreal horror, making him a compelling, if not fully fleshed-out, protagonist. Supporting characters like Alex, Megan, and Trevor verge on archetypes, sleazy dealer, loyal friend, recovering addict, but their voices within Dusty’s mind add depth post-transformation. The pacing is relentless, hurling readers from seedy parties to sewer chases, but some passages drag with repetitive sewer descriptions that sap momentum. The horror lands hard, particularly in the pool-tooth encounter and the brutal bathroom showdown, where Jaskowski’s visceral detail makes your skin crawl. Yet, the cosmic entity, all teeth and vague presence, can feel frustratingly undefined, risking disconnection for readers craving a clearer threat.

The novella’s boldness is its greatest strength, tackling alienation and transformation with a raw, philosophical edge that feels punk and uncompromising. It stumbles when sensory overload overshadows narrative clarity, and the abrupt ending, while haunting, leaves the entity’s nature too ambiguous, potentially alienating those who want resolution. Still, Jaskowski’s commitment to a grimy, existential nightmare makes this a standout. Tighter pacing and deeper characters could have pushed it closer to greatness, but its refusal to coddle or overexplain is refreshing, delivering a slimy, unsettling experience that lingers like chlorine in your lungs.

Beneath the Swimming Pools the Teeth is fearlessly original with an oppressive atmosphere, a gem in indie horror. Jaskowski’s grotesque prose and unflinching exploration of alienation and transformation craft a suburban nightmare that’s visceral and thought-provoking. Vivid details, slimy sewers, toothy pools, create a unique horror experience. Yeah, there’s some uneven pacing, with repetitive sewer sequences slowing the momentum, and characters that, while functional, lack the depth to fully anchor the cosmic dread. The entity’s vagueness, though evocative, risks a bit of frustration due to lack of clarity. Still, this novella is proof positive that indie presses can deliver bold, unsettling fiction that challenges and disgusts in equal measure. Its raw ambition and refusal to play it safe make it a must-read for those who want their horror gross, weird, and unapologetic. You should check this shit out.

TL;DR: A grimy, surreal dive into body horror and cosmic dread, Beneath the Swimming Pools, the Teeth follows Dusty’s grotesque transformation in a Florida suburb’s seedy underbelly. Vivid, bold, and unsettling, it’s a standout indie horror novella.