`[W]hen you have eliminated the unsaleable plotlines, then whatever remains, however tasteless, must be the truth!'
(Guts, page 51)
Well, if this is the truth, I'd hate to hear about the unsaleable plotlines...
Guts is a spoof horror novel, and tasteless it most certainly is. The plot (if that's the right word!) runs a little something like this: a scientist hypothesizes that the human stomach is intelligent, finds a way to communicate with it, then the stomachs rebel (literally) and start killing people in various unpleasantly gory ways.
Still here? If so, Guts may well be your sort of book! The trouble with reviewing something like this is that, awful as much of the book is, it's all deliberate. So we can note the cardboard characters, the flour-and-water plot, the excessive amounts of bodily fluids, the howlers (`After the research paper on termites which had brought him his master's degree in etymology...'); but we can't criticise them because they're supposed to be bad.
So we're just left with the jokes then. And, luckily, the jokes are very good. No horror cliché is left untouched and the whole thing is just gloriously silly. The one downside is that, since the object of most of the satire here is a certain kind of book, there's a lot of reference to the fact that this is a novel, which can grate after a while. But there are enough other jokes to make up for it.
In short, if you can stomach gross-outs, there's a good read to be found in the bowels of this book. It will be at-tract-ive to some... okay, that's enough.
Another plus point is that the book is quite short. I wouldn't have the guts for any more!