Richard Corben’s Dimwood: A Final Gothic Nightmare from a Horror Art Master

When Richard Corben died in December 2020, I felt that gut-punch sensation you get when someone irreplaceable vanishes from the world. The man was a titan—an artist who could make you squirm and marvel in the same panel. His work on Den, his underground comix like Fantagor, his Heavy Metal contributions… the guy was untouchable. Unique. A master of visceral, unsettling horror that burrowed under your skin and stayed there.

So when I heard about Dimwood—his final graphic novel, completed posthumously—I’ll admit I approached it with trepidation. How often do “final works” actually work? How often are they cobbled together by well-meaning estates and end up feeling like Frankenstein’s monster (and not in a good, Corben-esque way)?

But damn. Dimwood is the real deal.

This 120-page gothic horror tale isn’t some incomplete fragment or rough draft that got pushed out the door for a quick buck. Corben had written and illustrated the vast majority of this book before he passed, with only the final 14 pages needing completion. His daughter Beth Corben Reed scripted those pages, longtime collaborator José Villarrubia handled art direction and additional color work, and the result is… seamless. Hauntingly seamless.

Published by Dark Horse Comics as part of their gorgeous Richard Corben Library series, Dimwood clocks in at 136 pages in a deluxe 8″x11″ hardcover format. It features Corben’s signature grotesque imagery, atmospheric dread, and—here’s the kicker—some plant-based body horror that’ll make you think twice about your next nature walk.

This is gothic horror done right. A woman returning to her ancestral mansion to confront buried trauma and family secrets. A decaying house full of twisted corridors and darker memories. A forest that feels alive with malevolence. And at the center of it all, something monstrous that refuses to stay dead.

SPOILER WARNING: Full Synopsis Ahead

Alright, steel yourselves fear fans. I’m about to walk you through the entire story of Dimwood, so if you want to go in fresh (and honestly, you should), maybe skip ahead to the review section. But if you’re the type who needs to know what you’re getting into—or if you’ve already read it and want to see if I caught all the twisted details—read on.

The Return Home

Xera’s coming home for her mother’s funeral, and right from the jump, things go sideways. A shroud—or maybe it’s just a rag, but come on, this is Corben, it’s a shroud—smacks into her windshield and causes her to crash. She walks through the woods toward Dimwood Mansion, and the forest is exactly as welcoming as you’d expect: dead animals hanging from trees like macabre ornaments.

At the cemetery, her brother Noah meets her. There are gothic statues everywhere (of course there are), mourners milling about, and this little girl—Karen—lurking around like she wandered out of a different horror story entirely. Xera reconnects with Henna, the old housekeeper, and Furbol, the groundsman. Karen drops a bomb: her parents were murdered by a monster.

The Carnage Spreads

One of the mourners takes Karen home, only to discover a scene straight out of a slasher film. Blood. Carnage. Missing bodies. Karen, naturally, escapes again because this kid is either incredibly resourceful or just drawn to disaster.

Noah and Xera head to Dimwood Mansion, which is every bit as creepy as they remember from childhood. Henna and Furbol prepare a meal (because even in gothic horror, someone’s got to keep up appearances), and Xera starts exploring the house. She finds a portrait of her stepfather—and let me tell you, Corben’s rendering of this thing is nightmare fuel. She hates him. The portrait makes it clear why.

Nightmares and Revelations

That night, Xera has a dream. Or maybe it’s a memory. The line blurs. Her stepfather threatened to murder and eat them when they were children. In the dream, he succeeds—she’s eaten alive. She wakes up to find Noah missing and when she sees him again, his face looks corpse-like.

Things escalate fast. Xera ventures into the woods and stumbles upon a woman being attacked by this simian-like gray monstrosity. She shoots it. Does nothing. Furbol shows up with a shotgun and blasts the thing, revealing what locals have suspected for years: there’s a killer in these woods, and it’s not human anymore.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Karen appears again (this kid gets around), and she dives into a literal rabbit hole. Xera follows because apparently, she’s either brave or stupid—possibly both. The hole leads to tunnels beneath the cemetery, and it’s exactly as pleasant as it sounds: rats feeding on corpses, darkness pressing in from all sides. Furbol follows. Xera fights off monstrous rats with rocks (badass), and eventually, the tunnel leads right back to her house.

The Fungus Truth

Here’s where Corben goes full body horror Lovecraft. Furbol explains that Xera’s stepfather was a mycologist—a fungus expert. He ingested some Lovecraftian fungus that drove him completely insane and turned him into a cannibal. The monster in the woods? That’s stepdad. The mutations, the madness, the murders—all thanks to some spore-based nightmare.

Flashbacks reveal that Xera and Noah were nearly killed by him as children. Furbol saved them. But their mother wasn’t so lucky—the stepfather drowned and ate her in a frozen lake. (And you thought your family had issues.)

Ghostly Assistance

The family lawyer shows up to read the will, leaving the estate to Furbol, Henna, and Xera. Oh, and here’s a twist: Noah’s been dead this whole time. He’s a ghost. Xera’s been seeing and talking to her dead brother throughout the entire ordeal, and he’s been trying to help her from beyond the grave.

Their mother’s will has specific instructions: kill the monster. Xera and Furbol find the creature’s lair hidden behind that horrific portrait, complete with the mother’s body.

The Final Battle

Corben doesn’t hold back here. It’s brutal. Visceral. Furbol clubs the monster repeatedly until it’s finally dead (or so they think). Xera and Karen prepare to leave for the city while Furbol and Henna stay behind to burn the house down—because of course, you have to burn it. You always have to burn it.

But Dimwood has one last nasty surprise. A fallen tree blocks the road. They detour. The house is burning. And then, stumbling out of the flames like something from a EC Comics fever dream, comes the desiccated stepfather. One. Last. Attack.

The shroud from the beginning—remember that?—wraps around the monster’s head. It stumbles. Falls into the flames. Burns to ash. Good riddance to the fungi-eater of YUCK-goth, I say.

Furbol and Henna appear. It’s over. Xera credits Noah, her ghostly brother, with saving them one final time.

Corben’s Final Masterwork

Let me be blunt: Dimwood is fantastic. This isn’t a legendary artist coasting on reputation or phoning it in at the end of his career. This is Richard Corben working at full power, demonstrating exactly why he was one of the medium’s most distinctive voices.

The art is quintessential Corben—grotesque, beautiful, unsettling, and meticulously detailed all at once. He experimented with 3-D model heads as references for some of the character work, and the result is this deliberately uncanny, doll-like quality to the faces. They express emotion while simultaneously making you uncomfortable. It’s brilliant. It’s disturbing. It’s exactly what horror should do.

The color work deserves special mention. Corben handled colors and finishes for the first 97 pages himself, with Beth Corben Reed providing color flats and preliminary work, and Villarrubia completing the restoration and additional coloring. You can’t tell where one ends and another begins. The palette is murky, earthy, with occasional bursts of sickly green and deep crimson. It feels organic and rotten—perfect for a story about fungal body horror and family decay.

What strikes me most about Dimwood is how confident it feels. This isn’t Corben trying something radically new or experimental. This is him taking a classic gothic horror framework—traumatized woman returns to family estate, confronts buried secrets, fights literal and metaphorical demons—and executing it with absolute precision. The pacing is deliberate. The reveals are earned. The horror escalates naturally from psychological dread to visceral terror.

The plant-based body horror is genuinely innovative. I’ve seen zombies, vampires, werewolves, demons, and every other monster imaginable. But a mycologist driven mad and mutated by Lovecraftian fungus? That’s new. That’s disturbing in a way that feels fresh. Corben taps into something primal—our fear of contamination, of our bodies betraying us, of nature itself becoming hostile.

The story also works as a metaphor for inherited trauma and the rot at the heart of dysfunctional families. Xera’s blocked memories, the decaying mansion, the literal monster in the basement—it’s all about confronting what we bury and refuse to acknowledge. But Corben never lets the metaphor overwhelm the visceral horror. The monster is real. The threat is tangible. The violence is immediate.

I grabbed the digital edition first (impatient as always), and while it’s perfectly readable, some sections felt slightly blurry. Do yourself a favor and get the hardcover from Dark Horse Comics. It’s beautifully bound, the paper quality does justice to Corben’s art, and the package includes a foreword by Joe R. Lansdale and an afterword by Villarrubia that provides valuable context about the completion process.

Speaking of that completion—if I hadn’t known going in that Corben didn’t finish the entire book, I would never have guessed. Beth Corben Reed clearly understood her father’s voice and vision. The final pages feel seamless, maintaining the tone and momentum right through to that satisfying, fiery conclusion.

Is Dimwood Corben’s best work? That’s tough to say when you’re comparing it to Den, Bloodstar, his Hellboy collaborations, and decades of groundbreaking material. But it’s certainly among his best, and more importantly, it feels complete. It feels definitive. It’s exactly the kind of story that showcases what made Corben special: technical mastery married to genuine imagination and a willingness to disturb his audience.

The Wrap-Up

Dimwood is a gift. Not just to Corben fans (though we’re grateful as hell), but to anyone who appreciates horror comics done with craft, intelligence, and genuine artistic vision. It’s a gothic nightmare that honors classic conventions while subverting them in subtle ways. It’s a family drama wrapped in monster terror. It’s a reminder that Richard Corben could make you feel things—dread, revulsion, awe, wonder—sometimes all in the same panel.

I’ll be honest: I expected to read this with sadness, knowing it was Corben’s final work. And there is melancholy in these pages—the melancholy of any ending, especially when it comes too soon. But mostly, I felt grateful. Grateful that Corben left us something this complete and accomplished. Grateful that his family and collaborators treated his vision with such respect. Grateful that I got to spend 120 more pages in the twisted, brilliant mind of a horror art master.

If you’re a Corben completist, you obviously need this. If you’re a horror fan who somehow missed Corben’s work, Dimwood is an excellent entry point—gothic, accessible, and genuinely scary. And if you just want to read a damn good horror comic that’ll stick with you long after you close the covers, pick this up.

Richard Corben’s gone, but Dimwood remains—a dark, beautiful, unsettling reminder that some artists leave us too soon, but the beautiful nightmares they’ve gifted us live on forever.

Rest in peace, Richard. Thanks for all the scares.