short fiction

Short Fiction Roundup: July/August 2022

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Last year I ambitiously tried to include reviews of all the short fiction I had read. It quickly became too much. I hesitated doing a roundup of selections, because I often have trouble deciding whether to include a title or not. And sometimes stories grow on me, or I may think worth mentioning even if they weren’t a personal favorite. But, given that covering everything is simply out, I’m going to try this up, starting halfway through 2022 with coverage of some of my favorite short fiction reads from July/August. We’ll see how this continues.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine Vol. 67, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Linda Landrigan)

It’s been awhile since I subscribed to the mystery short fiction magazines, but with both literary magazines I regularly read folding, I felt in the mood to fill the space with mystery. In this issue I felt drawn most to two stories that were more subtle and required some processing of information provided.

“Florence Uglietta Solari: A Full Life in 19 Fragments” by J. M. Taylor – An elderly immigrant widow passes away, and through a series of texts the reader discovers events that transpired within the building she owned: the passions, and crimes, of a life.

“Five Bullet Friday” by Mary Angela Honerman – The hard-working boss of a travel agency is killed early one morning with five shots. In a series of vignettes the reader gets a snapshot of the morning from the perspective of the victim, each of her co-workers, and the detective who arrives on the scene of the murder. The detective might not figure it out, but the reader may.

“The Confession” by Linda Mannheim – A group of South African ex-pats process the news that one of the women they worked with to fight against against Apartheid had actually been feeding information on their activities to the South African government. I wish the truth behind these events had been kept for the end of this story, rather than revealed from the start. However, the story was an excellent foray into the gray areas of politics and choice.

Analog Science Fiction and Fact Vol. XCII, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Trevor Quachri)

“In Translation (Lost/Found)” by Kelsey Hutton – I love a good story about language and the complexities of communicating with one another, and this speculative use of the theme into a compelling plot works wonderfully. The indigenous Métis perspective was also both educational and organically built into the story. The Astounding Analog Companion has a great interview with Hutton that’s also worth reading.

“The Dark Ages” by Jerry Oltion – An amateur astronomer and telescope enthusiast looks to use time travel technology to escape a future Earth and visit an earlier period before light pollution. This is a ‘grass-is-always-greener” kinda story, a straight-forward fun adventure that also turns reflective, that I simply enjoyed.

“My Nascent Garden” by Melanie Harding-Shaw – There isn’t much to this story in terms of themes that haven’t already been covered by dystopian-flavored AI tales of cold logic. However, this is told in such a magnificently chilling way that I loved it all despite a lot of familiarity.

Apex Magazine, Issue 132 (Edited by Jason Sizemore and Lesley Conner)

“Have Mercy, My Love, While We Wait for the Thaw” by Iori Kusano – I am ready to read more set in the world of this short story. I can’t recall reading Kusano before, but I’ll be looking out for them now. I adored the careful world-building and delicate reveals in this story of two individuals, former enemies, linked in guilt and atonement stemming from past crimes of rebellion, and continued silence for politics. It’s a tale that resonates on scales of individuals and of colonies/empires.

Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine Vol. 46, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Sheila Williams)

“Pollen and Salt” by Octavia Cade – An ecologist works at the edge of a salt marsh and mudflat, sifting through sediment and memories with microscopes literal and figurative. Cade does stunning work here connecting the biology and ecology of a littoral zone with painful transition writ large from climate change and personal loss, and the onset of loneliness in knowing what once was. Marvelous and melancholy.

“The Tin Pilot” by K.A. Ternya, translated by Alex Shvartsman – Golems were created by society to end a devastating war in space. Rather than welcomed home, they were outcast as something less than human, having served their purpose and now only wakening painful memories that should have died. But a Machine has been invented to identify the golem among society, and the hunt has gone on regularly to eradicate them. Friar Yakov has called the last hunt, for the final remaining golem. Noah looks at his life and starts to wonder if he himself might be that golem. A very interesting, enigmatic tale of politics, identity, memory, and subjugation that bears multiple reads.

“The Big Deep” by Annika Barranti Klein – All but one member of a crew on their way to Mars wakes prematurely from stasis, and things just don’t seem to be right. I love the tension in this short story, what it builds from the unconscious wariness of its main character.

Asymptote Journal (Edited by Lee Yew Leong)

“The Ayah of the Throne” by Habib Tengour (Translated by Bryan Flavin) – In very extensive translator notes, Flavin summarizes this lovely and powerful short story more succinctly and admirably than I would have. It’s an auto-fictional tale that “takes place in Tengour’s childhood near the beginning of the Algerian War of Independence in order to explore French colonial power over education and religion, as well as the power of storytelling.” A lovely complex dose of sadness and humor.

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Issues #360 – 363 (Edited by Scott H. Andrews)

“A Once and Future Reckoning” by Rajan Khanna (Issue #361) – A version of the King Arthur myth that mixes classical elements with a cosmic horror core and a battle of wits between two mortal instruments of human control. Well composed and engaging.

“The Shapeshifter’s Lover” by Autumn Canter (Issue #362) – A disquieting short fantasy on the themes of a girl coming into adulthood and male attempts to use and abandon a woman. It’s a type of story I’ve seen plenty before, but Canter really composes a magical version of it here.

“The Death Artist” by Adam Breckenridge (Issue #363) – An imaginative and captivating fantasy on mortality and perception that merges fable with familiar tales of Death coming to call. The writing flows with lightness and wit to contrast nicely with the dark themes.

Clarkesworld Magazine, Issues 190 & 191 (Edited by Neil Clarke)

“Carapace” by David Goodman (Issue #190) – Intelligent armor suit SM-14 gains programmed sentience after the death of its human pilot and fellow soldiers during a brutal battle. However, after taking an injured enemy combatant as prisoner for questioning, SM-14 begins to learn more than its programming. AI stories are a type that aren’t an instant sell for me, yet this issue had two of them that hit the spot. The insights and sincerity of SM-14 and the story’s ending made this one stand out.

“The Sadness Box” by Suzanne Palmer (Issue #190) – Amid a future war with nanobot weapons and a dangerous biotechnology-infested environment, a young boy lives with his mother and step-father, but still visits with his biological father, an eccentric and self-occupied inventor. One day, the inventor gives the boy a box he has designed with an AI designed to be frightened of the world. When opened like a jack-in-the-box, the AI reaches an arm/hand out to close the lid and shut itself back away. While the inventor finds this a brilliantly hilarious commentary, the boy finds it a bit silly, if not cruel, and decides to just keep the box rather than giving it back. What follows is a perfect novella of friendship, family, and the risks/rewards possible amid bravery in facing a dangerous world.

“Tender, Tether, Shell” by M. J. Pettit (Issue #191) – After a human dies in an accident in space, an alien adopts her augmented space suit to survive the loss of its biological exoskeleton. It’s a very poignant tale of loss and memory from both the alien’s perspective and the human colleagues of the person whose ‘skin’ the alien now inhabits.

“The Pirate’s Consigliere” by Bo Balder (Issue #191) – An engaging and rapidly paced story about ruthless pirates that think to take advantage of the seemingly naive inhabitants of a generation ship. One of the pirates has a change of heart, and finds the intended victims aren’t so clueless as the others may think. I love the animalistic grim of the pirates in this.

“The Scene of the Crime” by Leonard Richardson (Issue #191) – A classic mystery story with a science fiction setting, and time shenanigans. I enjoyed the mashup and a bit of detective fiction thrown into the mix of this issue.

Daily Science Fiction (Edited by Michele-Lee Barasso and Jonathan Laden)

“Rummage Sale Finds” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman (15th July) – A lovely little tale of witches and sadness that illustrates how amazingly writer’s prompts can be, creating gold.

“Vs. The Giant” by Matthew F. Amati (23rd August) – Amusing and cleverly written fable with social insights that could be taken in diverse ways by different readers. Daily SF at its best.

The Dark Magazine, Issues 86 & 87 (Edited by Clara Madrigano and Sean Wallace)

“Fisheyes” by Ai Jiang (Issue #86) – A gruesome bit of prosaic horror that resonated with the quivering gut reaction I have to the texture of eyes. The story captures the rebellious, shock-inducing nature of teenage years, here with a boy feeling betrayed by his mother’s new lover.

“A Game at Clearwater Lake” by Gillian Daniels (Issue #86) – A unique twist on slasher film horror that focuses on a victim of a killer and what dares to persist even after a life is taken. The story captures the ambience of a classic horror staple while also making it much more deeply complex and humanizing.

“Shape-shifter” by Frances Ogamba (Issue #87) – Beautifully creepy and disquieting tale of a man whose body is changing in fearful and gruesome ways that serves as allegory of alienation from community and society, a life falling apart. Or perhaps other interpretations? Regardless, stunningly written and captivatingly dark.

“Father’s Flow” by Phoenix Alexander (Issue #87) – A father tries to keep an unconventional boat running to keep himself and his sons afloat after the departure of their mother. Another dark and allegorical tale in this issue. Less creepy and heavier on plot with the appearance of trouble, this story shines with rich imagery-laden language and poetic constructions.

Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Vol. 160 , Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Janet Hutchings)

“Myrna Loy Versus the Third Reich” by William Burton McCormick – I’m not a huge fan of alternate reality histories in SF, but what I enjoyed about this story is that it gave off the vibe in a pure historical crime/mystery story, without the detraction of alternate mix-ups and inversions. I also adore Myrna Loy’s films, and didn’t know about her activism and the bans on her work by the Nazis.

“The Secret Sharer” by W. Edward Blain – My regrettable familiarity with Zoom and trying to teach with it during the pandemic certainly helped me connect to this story, but the building of a mystery plot behind Zoom technology/use would have succeeded for me even without the experiences. Nice tying of themes in this short story to the short story being discussed in the class as well.

“Quiet Pol” by Raoul Biltgen – A man sits on a park bench recording statistics of crows and children throughout an aging industrial German city. There is a creepiness to the story that works very well amid all the facts and figures observed: a nice subtle dark vision of crime.

Fantasy Magazine, Issues 81 & 82 (Edited by Arely Sorg and Christie Yant)

“The Memory of Chemistry” by Sabrina Vourvoulias (Issue #81) – It’s rare that I find the wonders and magic of chemistry brought out in fiction, and this is an exceptional case at that. A powerful and poetic tale of a chemist and her female friends/colleagues from youth to old age, with politics and insects and ghosts across time mixed in. It’s a poignant use of science fiction and magical realism that really makes me want to find a copy of Vourvoulias’ novel Ink that this tale connects with.

“A True and Certain Proof of the Messianic Age” by P H Lee (Issue #82) – I adored the recursive structure of this meta story, an AI fable of sorts around personhood and component identity.

FIYAH Literary Magazine of Black Speculative Fiction, Issue 23: Food & Cuisine (Edited by DaVaun Sanders)

“The Pastry Shop Round the Bend” by Makeda K. Braithwaite – A debut publication in a phenomenal issue from FIYAH. A village witch becomes concerned when a younger, rival witch sets up shop across the street. What concerns the more experienced witch is not so much loss of business or prestige, but the harmful effects the brazen and power-hungry newcomer might have on the everyday people. It’s a well done story about how the things people want for themselves may not include the wisdom of knowing what they need.

“Just Desserts” by A.M. Barrie – A historical fantasy written as the recollections of Hercules, George Washington’s slave cook. It’s a well done and engaging look at the incongruities between slavery and American ideals that the Founding Fathers well knew and its an educational read from a vital perspective (albeit fictionally portrayed.) The blend between magic and the culinary arts here is also well done. A must-read in an issue that shouldn’t be missed in general.

Flash Fiction Online, Issues #106 & 107 (Edited by Emma Munro)

“Dr Daidalo’s Kouklotheatron” by Nathan Makarios (Issue 106) – In a little alleyway theater, children are entertained by the dances of a man’s amazing wooden clockwork son. But, the magic becomes threatened by the religious hatred of a mob, forcing decisions by the wooden boy.

“No one sleeps on an empty stomach” by Lucy Zhang (Issue 107) – Eating bitterness and enduring hardship amid memories of the dead and uncertain futures during Hungry Ghost Month. Beautiful and insightful.

Lightspeed Magazine, Issues 146 & 147 (Edited by John Joseph Adams)

“Critical Mass” by Peter Watts (Issue #146) – As typical for a Watts story of any length, there’s a lot of depth here to unpack and detail to enjoy over multiple reads. The plot deals an artist whose works are being vandalized while his daughter abides in a coma awaiting cure from a disease. I was hoping for more biology in the story given it’s Watts, but the worldbuilding and characterization that is here is so rich and well-realized that I didn’t mind too much.

“Ursus Frankensteinus” by Rich Larson (Issue #146) – A very short and interesting story of an ill-advised plan to save polar bears from extinction by using genetically-engineered microbes to slow down their metabolism. A nice speculative biology.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction Volume 143, Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Sheree Renée Thomas)

[Did not receive before September]

The New Yorker (Edited by Deborah Treisman)

“A King Alone” by Rachel Kushner (July 11 & 18, 2022) – A song-writer transient drives to reconnect with his daughter, picking up hitchhikers along the way up and down the south central US. Kushner is a writer where I never have any particular draw to the subject or plot of her writing, but the characters and writing captivate. This fascinating look at a man’s connection to strangers and their allure nails tones of regret and longing.

“Perking Duck” by Ling Ma (July 11 & 18, 2022) – With a structurally meta (and recursive) narrative, Ma offers a profoundly deep take on the stereotypical first generation Asian female story of dealing with cultural displacements and generational gaps. The structure and analysis leading up to the final ‘tale’ make the whole a rich and revelatory read.

Nightmare Magazine, Issues 118 & 119 (Edited by Wendy N. Wagner)

“What the Dead Birds Taught Me” by Laura Blackwell (Issue #118) – A serial killer unwisely chooses to set his sights on a young woman skilled in necromancy. Though there are no surprises in how this story goes, the writing is great and the orphaned protagonist and her sister are a compelling twist on the familiarity.

“Skitterdead” by Mel Kassel (Issue #119) – I love a ghost stories of many varieties, and I definitely appreciated this piece of flash fiction for its take on the movement of ghostly spirits, as well as its musical text.

Omenana Speculative Fiction Magazine, Issue 22 – Positive Visions of Democracy (Edited by Mazi Nwonwu & Iquo DianaAbasi)

“Agu Uno” by Chibueze Ngeneagu – Arguments for the extension of ‘human’ rights to non-human animals have long existed, and it’s a lovely theme in this straight-forward and well constructed short story of afro futurism. A ‘masquerade’ controlled by the story’s narrator infiltrates the palace of an emir, but not for what the reader or palace guards might suspect. I love how this story doesn’t over-explain and provides just the right amount of context and clues to work.

“The Coward of Umustead” by Nnamdi Anyadu – In an urban future, a group of teens come to appreciate an odd-ball outcast who they consider distant and cowardly. The story shines with a strong voice and an argot with a syntax that bewitches in how well it fits the tale.

Strange Horizons/Samovar Magazine (Edited by various)

“Bonesoup” by Eugenia Triantafyllou (11 July) – Another story of food and magic that I enjoyed from these two months, this one with a deliciously dark twist to it. An old woman cooks enticingly sweet treats for the children in town, but insists on cooking her granddaughter only meat, specifically “the body part you want to grow stronger”. Not quite folk horror, it’s well written, subtly dark fantasy that invites interpretations on the themes of relationships with family and friends.

“A Cloudcutter’s Diary” by Chen Chuncheng (Translated by Jack Hargreaves) (25 July) – The character of this story’s title is employed by a future authoritative society to shape clouds into approved, basic shapes of non-whimsy to dissuade imagination. But this doesn’t stop him from yearning for more in his life. Stories about stories and reading always go down well for me.

“Wok Hei St” by Guan Un (29 August) – A very enjoyable mashup of fantasy, crime fiction, and the culinary. A binder called Compass works to find Aunty Ping’s missing wok before a big televised cooking competition. The non-linear narrative structure works really well here.

“Clockwork Bayani” by EK Gonzales (29 August) – A Filipina adopts a clockwork son from the Manila dollhouse where she works, but is fearful of letting him follow his wish to join the resistance against Spanish rule as her husband had. Though a straightforward fantasy, it’s written beautifully. Touching.

Terraform (Edited by Brian Merchant and Claire Evans)

“The Fog” by Elvia Wilk (1st July) – Biology in speculative fiction at its best. This story of biobots and their keepers touches on concepts of genetics, evolution, and the basic (but hard to pin down) qualities of life.

“Fostering” by Ray Nayler (11th July) – I’ve been looking forward to Nayler’s upcoming debut novel, The Mountain in the Sea, and this lovely and bittersweet story of parenting, coming to terms with hard realities, and letting go, cemented my eagerness. The well done mixture of artificial and biological into the overall tone of this story also really captured my interest.

“The Binding of Issac” by Tochi Onyebuchi (18th July) – Wow, some superb fiction in Terraform this month. Speculative horror with kink here. It’s an unsettling and disturbing look at power and the treatment of others, twisted yet woefully familiar.

Tor.com (Edited by various)

“This Place is Best Shunned” by David Erik Nelson (Edited by Ann VanderMeer) – Perfectly chilling tale that starts out with folk horror vibes that play on the dark lyricism of warnings for radioactive waste sites, but then goes into a lovely cosmic horror twist.

“Porgee’s Boar” by Jonathan Carroll (Edited by Ellen Datlow) – A gangster coerces his favorite artist into recreating an aged and fading beloved photograph from his youth as a painting. Little does he know that there is a magic to the insight that underlies her talent. It’s a great story about art, control, and fear.

Uncanny Magazine, Issue Forty-Seven (Edited by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas)

“At the Lighthouse Out by the Othersea” by Juliet Kemp – Beautiful and touching. At the dangerous edge of normal space and the otherspace of a wormhole sits a lighthouse, a warning beacon for travelers, but also the last stop for thrill seekers looking to surf the tumultuous energy waves at the transition. There, the lighthouse keeper greets a visitor seeking to honor the memory of a sibling who never had the chance to brave the waves. The two learn about one another, and through the conversation, more about themselves.

“If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You” by John Chu – A superhero story with weightlifting that is one part story of friendship and homosexual romance, and another part commentary on racism and bravery. An engaging and uplifting story.

“To Hunger, As with Perfect Faith” by Radha Kai Zan – “Every morning I clear the virgins from the stairway.” So begins a powerful a powerful and magical story full of dark atmosphere and a bold character who seizes opportunity and agency. I don’t think I’ve read anything by Radha Kai Zan before, but looking into them and their work I can tell I’ll be a fan: “As a writer, their fiction skews towards the speculative with a particular interest in exploring the macabre, erotic, and adventurous. Their first name is pronounced “row+a” from the Gaelic word radharc meaning “a vision.” Fittingly, this story is like a vivid vision.

World Literature Today Vol. 96, No. 4 (Edited by Daniel Simon)

“Penance” by Octavio Escobar Giraldo (Translated by D. P. Snyder) – This short story is the first English translation publication of a well regarded Columbian writer, and with such power in a very short length, it’s a must read about guilt and the conflicting human emotions of celebration and mourning. An extensive translator’s note gives added cultural and political backdrop to the story and Giraldo’s style to appreciate.

BLOOD MOUNTAIN: Stories by Brenda S. Tolian

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Blood Mountain: Stories
By Brenda S. Tolian
Raw Dog Screaming Press — June 2022
ISBN: 9781947879416 — Paperback — 212 pp.

With this collection of interlinked short fiction, Brenda S. Tolian should immediately go onto the noteworthy list of top authors for horror fans out there. The depth, intensity, and compelling voice of her writing would make these stories stand out in the leading horror/dark fantasy market magazines or a Datlow best-of anthology/themed collection. The only explanation I have for my not having come across Tolian’s name yet is that she is new enough to have not yet submitted to larger outlets. Tremendous gratitude should go to Raw Dog Screaming Press for making this available. Their taste and eye for talent is impressive, so it doesn’t surprise me that they’d be responsible for unleashing this unflinching, macabre brilliance of Tolian on readers like me – and hopefully you.

The cover of Blood Mountain (featuring the usual stunning art by Daniele Serra) describes the book as ‘stories’. Indeed, this is a collection of short fiction. However, interlacing threads of character and setting make the book equally definable as an episodic novel. Tolian further connects the twelve chapters with another story, divided into thirteen short ‘vignettes’ to bookend and bridge each tale. Such a structure very effectively provides readers of Blood Mountain fulfillment both in its fragments and as an overall reading experience.

Tolian’s stories are fully grounded in their setting: the Sangre de Cristo Mountains that extend through Southern Colorado and Northern New Mexico. Tolian personifies this setting into a character itself, a primordial Goddess whose essence reflects in the landscape, whose will transcends normal realities, and whose hunger for revenge manifests through grisly manipulation of mortal transgression.

The citizens who live in the region defined by these mountains know that something is darkly off here, but remain helplessly drawn to its ethereal call of the inexplicable, the strange, the spiritual. New Age cults spring up around the potential for power the mountains seem to promise; others flock to it in search of the economic power of gold that vein beneath its surface. But, the bloodthirsty land will extract its price and enact penance, creating monsters and taking lives.

No one appreciates and fears the nature of the area more than Undersheriff Blackwood, a man reflects brokenly in his later years on the horrors he has witnessed, the old legends passed on from his grandfather, and the despair over his complete lack of power over the terrors that have consumed his life and home.

A moment during a lonesome, contemplative night in Blackwood’s squad car comprises the vignettes interspersed through Blood Mountain. They’re written uniquely in the second person to contrast with the third- and first-person voices that populate the twelve main stories of the book. Those who’ve read many of my reviews may know that text in the second person really drives me nuts. While I didn’t enjoy its use in Blood Mountain, I did manage to get through it. The fact that each Blackwood fragment is only a page or two helped in that immensely. Moreover, I see why Tolian chose to write these this way, set uniquely from the other perspectives. I still would’ve preferred them in the first person.

What most impressed me about Blood Mountain has to be Tolian’s ability to precisely conjure the most appropriate voice for each story. For example, the eponymously titled opening story is one of murder, and cannibalism in the 19th century, spurred by the possession of a greedy prospector by the Goddess of the mountains. It’s a modern day rendition of cosmic horror whose plot would fit perfectly in the contemporary weird fiction genre. Tolian uses relatively complex and ornate language to paint a poetic and uncanny portrait for the landscape and its supernatural bedrock heart. The stylistic flourishes and evocative bursts of gory horror map squarely to the formidable, primal force that shapes the land and its people.

Later stories set in the more modern to present day have reduced flowery affect and an increase in gritty realism, again with tone to match the protagonist’s perspective and experiences. Stories with the educated or higher class of society feature more vocabulary to contrast with the short sentences and slang in stories featuring a criminal lower class, such as a seller of illegal rattlesnakes. Everywhere, Tolian imbues the characters of her tales with text to match: the shadowy Red Women with esoteric vibes, perverted killers with crime fiction twists, monsters with bursts of language conveying the inexplicable and insane.

On its whole, Blood Mountain reminded me of Welcome to Nightvale, a premise based on a location warping time, space, and all of its inhabitants in baffling and frightening ways. However, whereas Welcome to Nightvale runs on the more light-hearted side of weird, Blood Mountain goes right for the jugular. There is no ironic humor or paranormal fun here, this is uncompromising horror, with no one spared.

Though dubbed Southwestern Gothic Horror, I found this closer to Folk Horror than anything Gothic. Tolian’s overarching theme to her horror seems to be that pain and darkness are unavoidable, yet must be lived through. Several of the stories also show a focus on feminist themes of power and the body, but Tolian clearly doesn’t need to limit herself within the collection, or even a single story, to just one subject or inspiration. Beyond entertaining, frightening, or stunning in their horror and dark beauty, the stories also easily could evoke reflection and ranges of interpretations.

Blood Mountain exceeded my expectations, even with second person perspective and less of the Gothic atmosphere in the vein I’m a sucker for. It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it so effectively and unabashedly does what it actually is, despite first expectations. Like the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, it transforms those who enter its valleys and approach its slopes, according to its desires.

I fully expect to see Brenda S. Tolian’s name shoot through the horror community with success – if not for this book then for her future work and evolution as a writer. I’ll be very eager to read whatever comes next. Similarly, Raw Dog Screaming Press, you continue to rock it.

LIFE CEREMONY: STORIES by Sayaka Murata (Translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori)

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Life Ceremony: Stories
By Sayaka Murata
(Translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori)
Grove Press — 5 July 2022
ISBN: 9780802159588 — Hardcover — 256 pp.

I’m new to Sayaka Murata’s writing, though many English language readers may already be familiar with her work through the prior translations of her novels Convenience Store Woman or Earthlings by Ginny Tapley Takemori. Takemori continues the commendable and celebrated work of translating Murata’s fiction here with a first collection of short stories rendered into English: Life Ceremony.

As with Earthlings, the stories of Life Ceremony fall into that literary category of magical realism. Though they may all be set on a relatively contemporary Earth, they also almost all have some outré element placing them within perhaps some other universe, world, or near-future. Though employing elements appreciated in conventional literary fiction, Murata’s work here also mines the speculative fantasy genre in ways that would make the stories equally recognizable in genre magazines like Uncanny or Asimov’s (to name a pair.)

Specifically Murata uses subtle dark fantasy in this collection of stories to explore the inherent subjectivity and permeability of cultural taboos across places and time: customs that seem fixed at any moment yet shift in the grand scheme of humanity according to societal contexts and individual revelations. The characters populating the stories in Life Ceremony are navigating those conventional literary realms of self discovery, realization, within worlds that seem confusing, without any irresolute compass of tradition to steadfastly rely upon.

Murata expressly voices this theme through the words of her protagonist in the title story of this collection. Here, they may apply to ‘instinct’ and ‘morality’, but ‘custom’ or any other related term remain equally applicable through the swath of stories in Life Ceremony.

I feel like pointing out that until a moment ago they had been talking about a different human instinct. Instinct doesn’t exist. Morals don’t exist. They were just fake sensibilities that came from a world that was constantly transforming.

Now, not every story in Life Ceremony deeply delves into the same echoed theme or dash of weirdness. A few more conventional, and at times bright or sweet, tales are mixed in along those darkly deviant ones. For those interested in some detail on the specific contents, here’s a basic rundown of the twelve stories that make up the collection:

“A First-Rate Material” – A superb start to the collection to set the tone and themes that unite all to follow. A couple debate their comfort with incorporating parts of humans into objects for recycled use. What once was only normal to do with other animals, has now become fashionable and accepted for the human source as well: organs, hair, nails, etc. being used to make everything from bags to furniture to clothes, etc. Taking Victorian mourning jewelry trends and morbid appreciations to logical extensions, this story also uniquely makes readers consider what we consider as perfectly untroubling in our use of fellow animals.

“A Magnificent Spread” – Reading this reminded me of a criticism in the newspaper I came across awhile back regarding viewer objection to a recurring segment on a late-night comedy talk show where the host would have guests eat some sort of ‘disgusting’ food and watch to watch their revulsion and reactions. The issue of course is subjectivity. One culture’s ‘disgusting’ is another’s ‘delicacy’, and branding something of non-European tradition that is respected elsewhere as ‘disgusting’ is fraught with issues. This story delves into that idea over a dinner where a dating couple is about to ‘meet the parents’. It works well with more humor and light-heartedness than some of the other stories contain.

“A Summer Night’s Kiss” – A shorter work approaching alienation/belonging through an elderly character who is a virgin and was herself conceived without sex, through in vitro fertilization.

“Two’s Family” – A tender tale where the outsider aspect of it has already become more accepted in the world: non-traditional families. Two female friends who have decided to platonically live together after each failing to find a romantic partner by the age of thirty look back on their life and family at later age, facing mortality.

“The Time of the Large Star” – Another shorter, and largely atmospheric piece, with the most other-worldy setting within the collection: a land of night where no one sleeps. It’s a story of adapting to a staggeringly unfamiliar world, composed in a haunting, almost dream-like way.

“Poochie” – I actually recently watched a classic Kids in the Hall sketch that shares the basic premise of this amusingly absurd short story: some children adopt a wayward businessman as a pet. Canada or Japan, TV or book, the humor translates just as effectively.

“Life Ceremony” – If the morbidity of human body parts being repurposed doesn’t put one off in grotesque shock from the first story in the collection, this title story may. The society of this story exists comfortably with a tradition of ritualistic cannibalism as a quasi-symbolic practice for libido enhancement and mating rituals. It’s a change brought on by alarming falls in global birth rates. Though the protagonist of the story has great qualms with what was taboo being now so quickly accepted, her journey and interactions lead her to begin reconsidering her visceral response and what meanings the rite might actually hold.

“Body Magic” – I’d consider this the weakest of stories in the collection. Like the previous story this is set in a world where traditions of sexual interaction are different, here told from the perspective of high school girls.

“Lover on the Breeze” – The curtains on the window of a young girl serve here as a very unconventional narrator, in a love-triangle sort of story with the arrival of a boyfriend who begins to visit her room as she grows older.

“Puzzle” – An extremely bizarre story with a woman who seems to actually? be a building, but who is in search of biological fluids of others. I think this is one I’d need to reread to try and grasp further.

“Eating the City” – I loved the ecological concepts in this story, which addresses botanical traditions societies may have over what is considered food or not – if it is grown wild, or not; a weed, or not; grown on a farm versus grown in an urban landscape.

“Hatchling” – With the final story Murata subverts the idea of a world or culture in constant flux into the concept of a person in context flux, a character who has no real personality, but is rather an amalgam of ersatz personas built and arranged in a way to simply fit into society as the situations of life may demand. It’s a nicely philosophical way to end the collection and tie up the overarching theme of the stories herein, full-circle.

The characters within Life Ceremony are riding the waves of transformative societies and self maturation, trying to find compromises – something assured – within the bouleversements of human existence. Murata’s stories demonstrate that moments of stability become possible by learning an openness to curiosity and adaptation, and through celebrations of life and death that define our mortality.

This is a collection that should be picked up by speculative fantasy fans and conventional literary readers alike. The offbeat, sometimes grotesque or shocking nature of some of the stories may cause some members of the latter group to pause. But expanding of horizons and looking at things from a slightly off-kilter perspective is exactly what the appropriately titled Life Ceremony collection is all about.

Thanks to Grove Press and NetGalley alike for the opportunity to discover more fantastic literature in translation.

THE BLACK PHONE: STORIES (20th CENTURY GHOSTS) by Joe Hill

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The Black Phone: Stories
(20th Century Ghosts)
By Joe Hill
William Morrow & Company — December 2021
ISBN: 9780063215139 — Paperback — 480 pp.

First published in 2005 as 20th Century Ghosts, Joe Hill’s debut collection of sixteen short stories has been reprinted and rebranded as The Black Phone to coincide with another short story found within, now adapted into a film by Blumhouse Productions and directed by Scott Derrickson of the original Doctor Strange film. Blumhouse debuted the film at a festival in September 2021, with Universal slating it for broad release in January of this year. The film tie-in version of the collection therefore released just prior, in December. However, the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic pushed the film into February, and then ultimately until now, June 2022. With the film now finally released to strong reviews, it seemed the right time for covering this copy I received. There is currently a new Goodreads giveaway for the collection as well, for anyone interested in winning a copy.

Of all the stories found within, “20th Century Ghosts” works the best as a representative title for the whole collection. “That Black Phone”, not so much. But, the latter does make some sense for adaptation into a film. It’s the most conventional horror story within the collection, with a plot that calls to mind real-life, serial-killer horrors and fictionalized retellings alike. And the characters of “The Black Phone” are closest to what one might find in something by Hill’s father, Stephen King.

The story of “The Black Phone is very simple. A young teen is abducted off the street by a fat man who works as a clown. The man gets the boy close to his van by drawing his attention after clumsily ‘losing’ a cluster of black helium-filled balloons from his van. The boy awakens locked in a basement, with only an old-style rotary phone hanging from the bare walls. The man seems on edge, both from keeping the abducted boy hidden in his basement, and from hallucinations of the phone ringing. But that can’t be possible. The phone doesn’t work. They boy hears the phone ring himself, and when he answers he hears the voice of one of the man’s past victims, a voice offering encouragement and the hope of escape.

Even with how well this general plot fits the mold of standard horror film plots, it remains unclear reading the few pages of “The Black Phone” of how it could be effectively expanded into a full length movie. And Ethan Hawke is a far, far cry from descriptions of the abductor in the short story. The short story is good, but its clear that the film is taking the basic plot and some visual elements of the story to craft something more complex, and perhaps more interesting, though also more derivative of King’s work in the opinions of some reviews I’ve read.

Though “The Black Phone” is good, other stories in this collection are clearly superior, with more originality and emotional resonance. Many fall into the category of horror, some simply the darker side of fantasy, and one of the best is actually on the conventional side of literature, and sweet. Hill also employs darkness and horror with a varying touch. Some stories, like “The Black Phone” are full-on horror from start to finish, while others only give a small dose of dread or terror, even just subtly implied.

And that calls to mind the stylistic tendency that does seem to unite most (if not all) the sixteen stories in the collection: Hill’s penchant for leaving things implied, for reader’s to form a complete image of their own, constructed from the pieces he provides. For some casual readers this could make the stories here feel unfinished, cut-off just when a clearly stated resolution or final image should be divulged. Hill’s stories typically lack any sort of coda, and even leave off directly telling the reader how things ‘conclude’.

However, this should not equate to the stories being interpreted as ‘unfinished’. Hill does provide plenty of details and contexts on how things will likely proceed from the moment the text of the story stops. His literary endings easily segue into film-like images that should spool through the reader’s mind. Often those ending moments also involve that little injection of horror, in a frightening realization and grim interpretation of where the story really has gone, despite expectations and assumptions.

The highlights of this collection for me were “20th Century Ghosts”, “Pop Art”, “You Will Hear the Locust Sing”, “Abraham’s Boys”, “Dead-Wood”, and “Voluntary Committal”. The last of these is a novella that concludes the main collection. I’ve written before how I dislike novellas, with their long length, at the end of things when my instincts call for a winding down. Despite this, the slow build unease of the plot and its understated horror were a success. “Dead-Wood” is on the opposite end of the length spectrum: a flash fiction done very well, touching on an aspect of ghosts I’ve often wondered about as a biologist. “Abraham’s Boys”, taken from an anthology on Van Helsing, is a powerful take on the effects of horror and trauma on the Dracula character, and his family, well after the novel concludes. It looks at the absolute violence and horror that define that character traditionally considered heroic and ‘good’. “You Will Hear the Locust Sing” is a wonderful creature horror-Kafkaesque mash-up, with bits of gore and humor alike. “Pop Art” is a touching story of friendship that shows Hill has talent well beyond the fields of horror genre tradition (which, interestingly, father King has often showed as well with works like “Rita Hayworth and The Shawshank Redemption”.) Finally, “20th Century Ghosts” is a well done ghost story of longing and memory – not ghosts for terror – that also displays a nostalgic love for the ‘ghost’ of cinema past.

Besides these stories, “Best New Horror”, the aforementioned “The Black Phone”, and “The Last Breath” were solid tales with a lot going for them, but also limitations. Like “The Black Phone”, “Best New Horror” felt very familiar, and predictable. Featuring a writer protagonist also seemed too well worn in this genre of horror, or any. Nonetheless, it’s still an entertaining horror read. “The Last Breath” has great atmosphere and is a fun idea, but falters at the end with predictable inevitability. It’s a case where Hill could have (and probably should have) ended it sooner, leaving the obvious conclusion unspoken and implied alone.

“In the Rundown”, “The Cape”, “The Widow’s Breakfast”, “Bobby Conroy Comes Back From the Dead”, and “My Father’s Mask” all failed to really captivate me, though they had moments of inspired brilliance (“The Cape”) or a fun foundation from horror geekdom (“Bobby Conroy Comes Back From the Dead”).

If you are counting along, that’s fifteen stories, and I mentioned at the start that this a collection of sixteen. Don’t skip the acknowledgements, because Hill places a meta flash fiction within, “Scheherazade’s Typewriter” like a hidden CD bonus track. It’s worth the quick read.

While all the stories of The Black Phone (20th Century Ghosts) may not connect for readers, short horror fiction fans should find several tales within that make it worth reading, particularly when Hill’s general style works for personal tastes. If you only know of Hill vaguely and indirectly through the Blumhouse The Black Phone movie, or another of his numerous TV/film adaptations (and enjoyed any of those) you should definitely give his writing a look.

SCREAMS FROM THE DARK Edited by Ellen Datlow

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Screams from the Dark:
29 Tales of Monsters and the Monstrous
Edited by Ellen Datlow
Tor Nightfire — June 2022
ISBN: 9781250797063 — Hardcover — 496 pp.

Amid a period of lots of horrible news, the 2021 debut of the Tor Nightfire imprint has provided a lot of literary relief as a major new outlet for horror fiction. The deeply respected editor and anthologist Ellen Datlow has long acquired short fiction for the Tor.com site, and its more fantastic news that she’s expanding that role into the Nightfire realm.

With Screams from the Dark: 29 Tales of Monsters and the Monstrous, Datlow compiles an impressively diverse array of dark fantasy and horror stories from an all-star lineup of authors. Indeed, reading this collection feels like the literary equivalent of watching an all-star sports team under the management of a venerated Hall of Famer. Screams from the Dark is a celebration of achievement in dark fiction. It takes a simple theme, gathers a broad panel of award-winning artists under Datlow, and lets them all do their thing. Like in a sports all-star game, some play as seriously as they normally would, some show off a bit, and some just have fun.

For casual fans, or people looking for a specific brand of the game of horror, the results might vary. But, there will surely be something to enjoy. For devoted fans of the genre whose tastes enjoy sampling across the range of the genre, there is unlikely to be a more successful anthology than Datlow and the authors provide in Screams from the Dark.

The theme of this collection, Monsters, is not a new one for Datlow. In 2015 she published The Monstrous, an original anthology for Tachyon Publications that I reviewed here back then. Screams from the Dark serves thus as a thematic sequel, bringing some authors back, but also bringing in new voices that give this a more modern vibe consistent with the latest in dark short fiction. Additionally, whereas that older collection mostly fell within the horror genre, Screams from the Dark, I would argue, draws equally from dark fantasy as horror. For me that is no problem at all. But some may wish for chills – or screams – from the horror side. The only criticism I have of the collection is actually its title. I feel it’s too generic for the specific monster theme, and a bit distant from the style and effects of the stories within.

29 Tales of Monsters and the Monstrous makes a better lead title, even if less evocative. But that number in there, 29, does reflect the hefty amount of text that this anthology gifts to its readers. Few of the stories here are very short, and also few are super long. Most fit into that perfect short story length to exert their spell. And for discerning readers with diverse stylistic or genre tastes, all 29 of these stories should captivate.

I started the anthology with plans to simply review/mention only my favorite stories. Though I did have favorites, I soon found that would be too difficult, or would shortchange a lot of stories/authors still deserving note. All the contributors in Screams from the Dark offer high quality tales that show off their talent and speculative, dark vision.

So, to the individual stories:

“You Have What I Need” by Ian Rogers – A perfect start to things, an entertaining story of the attack on a hospital ER by viral-infected vampires. The characters and setting, with pandemic relevance, play with the idea of exactly what a ‘monster’ is.

“The Midway” by Fran Wilde – The question of who and what are monstrous develops even more in this story of having to work a real lousy summer job at an amusement park where the electrical power and crowd draw come from sacrifices to an eldritch sea creature. Loved the combining vibes of nostalgia with something just a bit off.

“Wet Red Grin” by Gemma Files – A truly horrific tale set in a nursing home. Vividly written and grim, it delves into family and magic through the threat of a parasitic essence within a dying old woman. One of my favorites for emotional depth, language, and imagery.

“The Virgin Jimmy Peck” by Daryl Gregory – Should be among the favorites for anyone who likes humor with their horror. A cult has implanted a monstrous creation within the eponymous protagonist. The horrific set-up is played lightly, though still darkly, with character silliness and fun nods to horror classics.

“The Ghost of a Flea” by Priya Sharma – Fascinating and well composed historical dark fiction inspired by Robert Hooke’s early micrographs and William Blake’s painting that gives this tale its name. As a microbiologist I was excited to see something alluding to Hooke. Though I’m unfamiliar with Blake, the story here of a couple investigating strange, supernatural killings works even without the historical references as a dark fantasy/crime mash-up.

“The Atrocity Exhibitionists” by Brian Hodge – Another story with connection to the pandemic, this shows even more timeliness in its treatment of self-harm and the allure of the fleeting nature of fame. Such an intense and dark story, that will truly haunt readers.

“”The Father of Modern Gynecology”: J. Marion Syms, M.D. (1813 – 1883)” by Joyce Carol Oates – Here, Oates goes the route of dark details from history to reflect on the fears and terror of today. You can look up the real J. Marion Sims, but the fictionalized autobiographical story here shows the monster just as well, with clear parallels to contemporary politics.

“Here Comes Your Man” by Indrapramit Das – Here is a perfect example of how to build tension and make that suspense pay off in a short story. Wit the tale of a young couple who leave their rural home for a festival in the city, Das makes the reader feel the discomforts of culture shock and displacement among things that still have the air of familiarity and safety. Exceptionally well-rendered characters and brutal story telling.

“Siolaigh” by Siobhan Carroll – Set among the Outer Hebrides off the coast of Scotland, this story grabs the reader with “A man’s severed arm lay in the surf” and doesn’t let go. Is it a legendary sea serpent that is the monster responsible? The local color of setting and the customs of lore give this tale an eerie, briny atmosphere as it considers what a monster may be.

“What is Love But the Quiet Moments After Dinner?” by Richard Kadrey – A date between Caleb and Patti seems to be going along swimmingly, heading for the bedroom, until they each reveal surprising secrets. Kadrey takes an absurd moment that could be played for humor, but twists it into a splendidly macabre romance of the monstrous.

“The Island” by Norman Partridge – The action of the story opens with a vampire aboard a ship, forced to flee hunters in his homeland, in dire and gruesome battle with the sailors. The vampire Count washes onto island that is not an island, shores that seem to gather monsters. The story has a vintage tone that ties to its allusions to the cast of the classic Universal monster films of old Hollywood.

“Flaming Teeth” by Garry Kilworth – Another story with a hidden island to follow the previous, this harkens back to old Hollywood adventures in exotic lands where monsters abound, in this case a corner of the southern Pacific where a giant creature known by a local name that translates into “Flaming Teeth”. It’s an entertaining look at natural predation and what we consider (hypocritically?) ‘monstrous’ from our point of view in the food chain.

“Strandling” by Caitlín R. Kiernan – This story paints a picture of a bleak future sadly too believable, saturated with the “hydrocarbon debris of a thoughtless world.” A lonely, exhausted desolation where mutant monstrosities are born from our monstrosity, and two women cling to one another against seeming inevitability. A beautiful, if dark, tale that features some lovely nuggets on the parasitic – mutalistic continuum of symbiosis that stands at the center of life and the the themes here.

“The Special One” by Chịkọdịlị Emelụmadụ – “They named her Joy, an ordinary name for a child who became extraordinary, at least in childhood.” Filled with luscious text, this story presents itself as a fable on expectations and the pressures one bears to meet them. On the dark side of fantasy, it turns into horror with an unsettling ending that masterfully closes things.

“Devil” by Glen Hirshberg – A second modern-day tale that plays upon classic stories of exotic exploration. Here, the devil refers to the Tasmanian devil, a creature some tourists seek sight of in the wilds of the island, in a place where only train tracks remain from the colonizers who attempted to conquer the wilderness. Predator-prey dynamics and the ghosts of history haunt the unsuspected interlopers.

“Crick Crack Rattle Tap” by A. C. Wise – One of the most impactful stories of the collection, troubling and brutal, yet compassionate all at the same time. A young mother grapples with post-partum emotions, her desires conflicting between nourishing and exasperated. Shamed as flashes of tendernesses give way to resentment, her mind nonetheless turns in horror to a fairy tale rhyme, to rid her aching of its burden. Hardly an easy read in its emotion, this is just a brilliant fable of darkness and melancholy.

“Children of the Night” by Stephen Graham Jones – Light fare from Jones that embraces silliness and humor to have fun with the monster theme. The title evokes the classic line from Tod Browning’s Dracula (or was it even in Bram Stoker’s novel?) However, this one is actually about Bigfoot, and plays fancifully with the typical explanation of sightings of the cryptid as people in ape costumes.

“The Smell of Waiting” by Kaaron Warren – Such a touching and bittersweet story of a girl who discovers she has the power to resurrect life after the death of her puppy, and later, a vicious attack/murder of her mother. While she has this extraordinary power that others might view as ‘monstrous’, Warren forces readers to confront what such abilities might be like when able to provide relief to others, but never oneself.

“Now Voyager” by Livia Llewellyn – Wow, ummm, what? This was my first reaction to this genre-bending offering by Llewellyn. Then I reread it and loved it even more. The story is a science fiction dark fantasy that imagines a far-future Earth where a Princess, member of a deformed royal family looks out over a caldera considering the approaching death of the human Camera of the Gods and the selection of a replacement from among potential novitiates. This gem does so much, and so subtly, with exquisite prose. Are the monsters the alien Gods, or the Princess and her family who look the part and knowingly sacrifice others to a form of slavery? The richness of the story allows interpretations and new discoveries with rereads. An unconventional horror amid the rest of the collection, but superbly uncanny.

“The Last Drop” by Carole Johnstone – A tale that echoes the earlier offering from Oates, this is a fictionalized retelling of historical events and (at least some) characters. Set in the mid/late 19th century, it involves a woman put on trial for murder. In it, Johnstone includes details from actual court transcripts. The modern reader’s uncertainty of the woman’s guilt of the monstrous crime becomes accentuated by appreciations of societal blindness and atipathy toward women.

“Three Mothers Mountain” by Nathan Ballingrud – I have adored everything I’ve read by Ballingrud I think, and this was no exception. I still haven’t read his recent (now maybe old?) collection and really need to. Anyway, this story about witches, repercussions of magic, and the painful choices/sacrifices people make for family has familiar tones and themes for any dark fantasy fan. Yet, somehow Ballingrud manages to make it all seem fresh and evocative.

“Widow-Light” by Margo Lanagan – Fans of modern feminist recasting of fairy tales should adore this short fantasy from Langan. It stands unique among the other offerings of the collection in having perhaps the most hopeful, happy of endings. This is not to say it doesn’t touch upon darkness or horror in getting there, with themes of relevance to today’s reality as much as a fantasy world. I particularly appreciated how this is an original story in the fairy tale style, rather than something based off any particular fable or trope.

“Sweet Potato” by Joe R. Lansdale – The neighbor of an old woman who likes to set out bird seed, sit on her porch, and then shoot the birds who come each day, decides to take up gardening. When he discovers the perverted old lady dead and decomposing in her yard, he considers whether her body might be put to better use. This reads like a fairly standard contemporary short horror, but Lansdale’s talent keeps it engaging and fun.

“Knock, Knock” by Brian Evenson – A man kills his uncle, but soon a knocking comes on the door, revealing the murder may not have quite taken. This plays well both as a literal horror and as a psychological one of a man being tormented by his monstrous actions. In either case it is another familiar horror theme, but again one handled in just the way, with just the right atmosphere and structure, to make it enjoyable.

“What is Meat with No God” by Cassandra Khaw – I believe this is the shortest story within the collection, but Khaw does a lot within its fitting length. Heavy on hypnotic atmosphere, with an equally dazzling title, the story is a simple one of a monstrous soldier who cannot be killed, whose path of bloody carnage has no deviation until complete. The short length leaves a great deal of ambiguity to the background of the story and its interpretations, leaving a lot of room for the reader to draw conclusions.

“Bitten Himself” by Laird Barron – This one is a follow-up to one of Barron’s most known stories, “The Procession of the Black Soth.” I haven’t actually read that one, to my memory, so can’t comment on connections beyond the reappearance here of the title entity. In this, the protagonist is a deprived criminal/murderer who encounters his doppelgänger, and then cosmic-horror-vibed Black Sloth, to face his eternal punishment. Fans of Barron’s horror won’t be disappointed.

“Burial” by Kristi DeMeester – Something about DeMeester’s writing tends to hit the right notes with me. They are windows into the dark and pain that women have faced, and continue to face in life, tales of finding power and agency in that. Even so distant from my own experiences, the passion of her writing still resonates with me. No different here, a tale of a girl trying to save her sister and herself from a selfish, abusive mother, and her creation of a new mother from that agonizing desperation.

“Beautiful Dreamer” by Jeffrey Ford – In a time of increased partisanship, mistrust, and rancor between those on opposite ends of the US political expression, it is nice to see this short monster story of a horror that might help bridge the divide. Despite its themes, the story is a simple, unadorned one of people protecting themselves/hunting a dangerous mutant creature. Not very dark in tone, it is gory and splatter filled, an entertaining story that creature feature horror fans should enjoy.

“Blodsuger” by John Langan – Datlow saves the longest story for last, a practice that seems common to collections and anthologies. But, it’s one that I don’t really care for much, I’d rather a shorter sip to end things. The title of this one is an Anglicization of ‘bloedzuiger‘, the Dutch word for ‘leech’. (Advanced copies of the anthology used the Dutch spelling for the title from what I can tell.) A horror author tells a tale about an ice fishing experience with his grandfather where he lands a monster from Danish lore, that proceeds to unleash terror. Though I personally found the text too long, Langan certainly does a great job balancing an atmosphere of dread/horror with the nostalgia/mundane of family life.

Screams from the Dark is an anthology I could see easily returning to. Many of the tales bear rereading, and I am sure that personal favorites (or ones that resonate most strongly with me) might vary with time and age.

Datlow concludes her introduction to the anthology with these words, which I find just as fitting here:

What’s most interesting to me as a reader is the range of monstrousness that exists within ourselves and that we impose on the creatures unlike us that we name monsters. Monsters are our mirrors: in them, we see who we hope we are not, in order to understand who we war.

This is why the diverse range of authors, styles, and sub-genre are so integral to the success of Screams from the Dark. Monsters are deeply personal beasts, and the monstrous will change over one’s life experiences, through the political and social upheaval that surround us. Not every story here will likely resonate with you. But, which do, may change. And even at this moment of now, they all offer an empathic glimpse into what others see lurking in their mirrors, darkly.

YOU HAVE A FRIEND IN 10A: STORIES by Maggie Shipstead

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You Have a Friend in 10A: Stories
By Maggie Shipstead
Knopf Publishing Group — May 2022
ISBN: 9780525656999 — Hardcover — 272 pp.

A debut collection of short fiction written over a span of ten years, You Have a Friend in 10A highlights Maggie Shipstead’s versatility of fiction and empathic range. Readers are likely to be familiar with Shipstead’s name through her multiple-award-nominated novel Great Circle, out last year. I haven’t read that, or any of her short fiction prior to receiving this collection.

The power of a collection like You Have a Friend in 10A lies in its survey of an author’s depth and range over the span of years. This summation of Shipstead’s short fiction reveals a literary craftsmanship and keen insight into human identity that none of her individual stories can completely reveal on their own.

Yet, this power comes along with the risk that some readers might find the stories within the collection to be uneven, particular with the broad spectrum of setting, plot, and voice that Shipstead employs. I appreciated the majority of the stories in the collection. They sparked reflection, stimulated emotional connection with their everyday characters, and evoked wonder with turns of idiosyncratic language that fit those characters perfectly. Many entertained. Only in a couple cases did the style of the story leave me less engaged. Readers who enjoy a variety of literary short fiction, or who are fans of Shipstead, would find this worthwhile as well.

The title of the collection comes from one of the stories within, but the number 10 seems fitting. Besides the roughly 10 year span of time of publication, 10 stories fill the pages. “The Cowboy Tango” opens things strongly with a story of a love triangle on a Montanan dude ranch between the owner, a young female employee, and his nephew. It’s a beautiful story of rejection, told with a simple honesty that reveals the discomforts and complexity that people abide in relationships of life.

This theme of loss echoes through many of the other stories in the collection, perhaps the only thread that ties the disparate tales. Shipstead’s frank depiction of difficulties and resilience of characters through it reminded me of the short stories of Katherine Anne Porter that I’ve also recently read. It may be solely due to the correlation of timing in my reading these, but the familiarity strikes me in their foundational core of hardship/pain, with Shipstead’s stories being more modern and global in setting.

Unfortunate burdens and complications of life/relationships appear in other stories that I adored. “Souterrain” moves through time to reveal the connections – real and perceived – between an American woman and a French man in Paris, two young people whose past, present, and dire futures link to a wealthy, older, blind man who has just died. It’s a story might be most accessible to readers who crave plot and appreciate mystery and twists, even in short fiction. “Angel Lust” likewise features a character dealing with a recent death, in this case his father. The experience leads to symbolic unloading of emotional weight alongside handling the father’s physical possessions.

The standout story for me was “La Moretta”, a devastating tale of a couple on honeymoon in Europe. The growing antipathy and rancor between two people who realize they might not actually love one another overflows into tragedy. The dissolution of the marriage partnership into dark isolation contrasts with a world where people put value and power in community. It’s a literary horror tale, subtle even in the darkness.

The eponymous “You Have a Friend in 10A” completely changes tone and style from many of the other stories. Though still featuring the theme of loss and missed opportunities in life, there is a humor and parody to this story that makes it lighter. It features a character on a plane who ruminates on her experiences as part of a cult. Though Shipstead changes all the vocabulary, it’s a very clear allusion to Scientology. Though I think the story is largely successful, the ersatz details within really broke my connection to it, and made it sillier than I feel Shipstead intended.

“Acknowledgements” represents a solid literary story whose character of an author reflecting on publishing their first novel and the relevant impact of past relationships also made the story a little less engaging. A tad overlong, its metafiction really felt like an obligatory writing class exercise as opposed to heartfelt.

The remaining stories: “In the Olympic Village”, “Lambs”, “The Great Central Pacific Guano Company”, and “Backcountry” were ones I appreciated less, particularly the closing “Backcountry”. “In the Olympic Village” is a short and simple take on relationships, featuring two athletes hooking up for sex during the international games. Their relationship felt empty, and their likewise seemed to be less depth to the story than Shipstead usually achieves. “Lambs” succeeds very well in its atmosphere around the theme of loss of life. I only would rank it lower compared to other entries due to its relative simplicity. Which, for some may be a strength.

Although I now look forward to reading her novels, I also hope that Shipstead continues to produce short fiction that can be enjoyed in literary magazines and future collections. The successful experimentation and evolution in her writing displayed in You Have a Friend in 10A promise substantial achievements to come with continued maturity in the short form.

Tara Bush Cover Art for Luna Press Harvester Series Debut Collection by Steven J Dines

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Upcoming from Luna Press Publishing

Cover Art by Tara Bush

In the most recent mailing from Luna Press Publishing I noticed this stunning cover art image by Tara Bush for an upcoming entry in their Harvester Series, a debut collection from Steven J Dines.

From Tara Bush writing about her cover art:

“I knew early on I wanted to use the colours and tones to portray emotion and feelings, and during the process, I allowed the colours to wash organically over the face. Colour was mainly applied digitally, enabling me to keep the detail of the underdrawing. I knew I wanted yellow tones in the image and the blue washes felt right as the artwork was nearing an end.

The result is a combination of traditional and digital, which I think can work in harmony with each other. Steven’s writing is so evocative and haunting, that it really helps translate those deep emotions to the page for an artist.”

You can read more about this cover on the Luna Press Blog, or on the artist’s site.

I’m also looking forward to this book. From the publisher:

“Look Where You Are Going Not Where You Have Been is a stunning debut collection of dark literary fiction exploring grief, regret, and hope. A family is torn apart by tragedy and misadventure, their future creaking under the weight of judgment. Old men play at being ghosts while a young boy sees real ones wherever he turns. A wandering immortal desperately seeks an end to his pain. Intimate, unflinching, and poignant, these eleven tales of the broken and the unmade include the two previously unpublished novellas, dragonland and This House is Not Haunted.”

You can read more about the collection here.

FARTHEST SOUTH by Ethan Rutherford

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Farthest South
By Ethan Rutherford
A Strange Object (Deep Vellum Press) — 13th April 2021
ISBN: 9781646050482 — Paperback — 184 pp.
Cover Design: Nayon Cho; Illustrations: Anders Nilsen

I have such a fondness for surreal short fiction, stories on the edge of familiar and unsettling. If dreams are the product of the mind’s processing of events and emotions, dream-like fiction represents an ideal format for writers to pierce the veils of the human condition, the assumptions and ignorance of our everyday interactions that shroud from insight. In Rutherford’s new collection Farthest South, his stories provide a foundation for magical lyrical prose intermingling with a frugal simplicity. Like bedtime stories, his style cuts to the core of the mundane while still meandering into asides, conveying tantalizing flashes of the fantastic.

Rutherford frames the collection with two stories that integrate that concept of a child’s bedtime story into the plot itself, with the same characters. Both are outstanding stories that start and conclude Farthest South in a perfect way, introducing readers to Rutherford’s style and leaving them with uncertainties to ponder. In some respect, the stories feel more unsettling after their conclusion, as they stick with you.

“Ghost Story” (originally published in Tin House) begins things, where a father is asked by his son to tell a scary story before bed. Prior to this ghost story getting underway, the father and mother discuss normal marital concerns; the father considers the art of telling a story, how to strike the right balance between something being ‘scary’ for a child, but not over so, and how to still include a valuable lesson. Soon the story settles in with the father telling his story of the ‘Seal Woman’, a witch-like creature he encountered when younger while working one fishing season on his dad’s boat. “Ghost Story” is two stories in one, meta-fiction in a way; though I enjoyed all the parts (the relationship side between the parents, the father-son interaction, the Seal Woman tale) I still am not sure how they all fit together.

The final story in the collection, “The Diver” (originally published as “The Soul Collector” in Conjunctions) returns with the same story for another ocean-set tale featuring ‘Old Gr’mer’. Shorter than “Ghost Story”, “The Diver” doesn’t feature the mother-father interactions as much, and that tighter focus made it seem more cohesive in comparison.

These, and the other stories in Farthest South, are reminiscent of fairy tales in style, but with important functional distinctions. Most focus on adults, over children without guardians. And they aren’t written to convey a morale, so much as invite insights, subtly. The stories all revolve around family matters, the anxieties of people not acting just for themselves, but also for a unit, a pack. “Fable” takes this most literally in a story where a fox couple without any kits of their own adopt a human child. However, like in “Ghost Story”, this fable becomes nestled within a larger framework of friends coming together. One, a translator and storyteller, relates the fox fable to her friends.

The uncertainties and unease of families, of parenthood in particular, crop up again and again in Rutherford’s stories. “Family, Happiness” delves into that specific theme in a very short, but lush and emotive handful of pages. “The Baby” (originally published in Post Road) uses the same theme from an opposite, almost nightmarish, perspective. A couple bring their feverish child into the hospital emergency room:

“The weather outside is feral and snow-clotted. And when the doctor says hold the baby, they do.”

In probably my favorite story of the collection, Rutherford depicts the frightening unease of any patient putting their trust into a doctor, having no choice but to do what the doctor says, even amid doubts or evidence that the doctor can’t be expert in all. The story is the most absurd of the collection, with details that will ring familiar to anyone who has ever faced a medical bureaucracy that seems to prioritize everything but patient care and communication.

“Holiday”, approaches the parenthood theme from yet another angle, the haunting of possibilities and chance encounters. This eerie tale almost reads like a horror story, but never goes into full darkness.

A couple of stories do focus on the childhood perspective of the family relationship. In “Pools, I am a Hawk” a young girl goes with her mother to a fancy club where the woman’s more affluent friends have invited them as guests. There, the girl goes off on her own and encounters other children who think she’s a ghost of a dead classmate. In “Angus and Annabelle”, two siblings deal with the trauma of a lost mother. Amid a flutter of sparrows, Annabelle practices a skill that their mother had taught them, making stick-and-berry dolls that disquiet Angus (and perhaps the reader.)

The title story of the collection, “Farthest South” first published in BOMB can still be read there. It’s a fitting one to pick for the title of the entire book, as this story combines many of Rutherford’s elements into one tale. It’s surreal and has bits of comic absurdity, yet also is chillingly haunting. It also is a story nestled within another, though done far more quietly. It recounts the experiences of a man across the inhospitable terrains of Antarctica, a survivor among children and animals that inexplicably were among an expedition team. The survivors are plagued by the ghostly skulls of those from the team who died. But the man has a companion to help him in this ordeal: a talking Emperor Penguin named Franklin. Told from the perspective of a grandchild of this man, only a brief line(s) of the story suggest that what the tale in reality represents. While that detail may not be essential, it is a touch that lends added layers of appreciation to “Farthest South”.

Layers of appreciation is something that all of Farthest South offers readers. It’s imminently readable, neither dense nor pretentious. It capitalizes on key tricks of genre fiction to build something that’s certainly more in the literary camp – entertaining but giving things to intellectually unpack and ponder, even over multiple reads.

Ecotheo Review, a blog on ecology, theology, and art hosts an interview with Ethan Rutherford on Farthest South and his other work. It offers additional insights into the collection and what readers might take from the stories. It’s something that could be read after reading the book, but might also be useful to potential readers who still haven’t made up their minds if this is for them. There are also multiple upcoming events with Rutherford, including one at Madison’s Books in Seattle. If you happen to live near there, you can find more information on the event here.

LOVE. AN ARCHAEOLOGY by Fábio Fernandes

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Love. An Archaeology
By Fábio Fernandes
Luna Press Publishing — 26th March 2021
ISBN: 9781913387426 — Paperback — 164 pp.
Cover: Francesca T Barbini

What exactly is a translation? For a multilingual writer, does every piece become a sort of translation within the creator’s mind, or is each story pre-filtered though one linguistic route of the brain?

These question came to mind as I read Love. An Archaeology, the first collection of short fiction from Brazilian writer Fábio Fernandes, just released from Luna Press as part of their “Harvester Series.” The books in this series intentionally gather a collection of old and new works from a writer, along with authorial reflections as an appendix. For Fernandes’ stories, language becomes another layer to that harvest of past and new works.

Two of the stories in Love. An Archaeology were originally written in Portuguese and translated into English by Fernandes for the collection. One of those two was translated into Spanish for its original publication. One, Fernandes wrote in English for submission to an anthology. When it didn’t make the cut, he then translated into Portuguese and published that. Though the majority of the stories in the collection were written and published originally in English, they still exude an aura of being cultural hybrids. While the characters and plot do contribute, Fernandes’ English also adds to that flavor. Though technically correct, he often turns his phrasing in a way that feels slightly off from that of a native speaker. And that is absolutely wonderful, fitting perfectly with the unexpected turns of his stories, and those moments of surreal wonder particularly found in his forays into New Weird.

But as Paul Jessup notes in his introduction to the collection, the stories here are more than a literature of atmosphere. They are “an exploration of idea with depth. Each story is poetic, at times spiritual and transcendent.” That depth permeates into realms both emotional and intellectual. Love. An Archaeology will make you think. Though pointing out the uniqueness of Fernandes, Jessup also compares his writing to that of Gene Wolfe, Jorge Luis Borges, Eugène Ionesco, Jeffery Ford, and Ted Chiang.

The name that pops to my mind first, however, is Samuel R. Delany. In part that’s because I first encountered Fernandes with “Eleven Stations” in Stories for Chip, edited by Nisi Shawl and Bill Campbell. Reading Love. An Archaeology I increasingly noticed the shared fundamental elements between Delany and Fernandes: the intensity, the intellect, the curiosity, the subtle complexity exploring a basic idea. Both can leave readers disoriented one moment, only to lead them to startling revelation the next. Throughout that all, a love for – and power over – language.

I didn’t appreciate all this when reading “Eleven Stations” in Stories for Chip. I ended up relatively ambivalent to the story then, certainly not disliking it, but not enjoying either. Starting Love. An Archaeology I at first felt similarly. The opening story “Seven Horrors” revolves around a fascinating premise taking the idea of time travel in truly unique and mind-bending directions. A man simply called the Time Traveller and a woman known as the Assassin hop across the eons of time, locked together in an immortal struggle for/against death and love for one another. In this tale Fernandes takes the contradictions inherent to time travel stories and simply runs with the trope’s bewildering anti-logic. The framework becomes an opportunity to meditate on themes of spirituality, love, and persistence.

On the one hand, I loved the concepts of the story and its gentle luscious prose, which contras with the apocalyptic settings and chaos through time. On the other hand, I found it dense to get into with a formality to its tone that almost clashes with the personal nature of the character interactions at its heart. A lot of the references were lost on me. (The first section of the collection contains four stories ‘to the memory of Harlan Ellison’ and this must be Ellisonesque in some way I wouldn’t be able to grasp.) It’s a hard story to start things off with, yet appropriate and easier to appreciate as one digs deeper into the collection and becomes familiar with what Fernandes is doing.

Aside from showing how he approaches classic speculative fiction themes, “Seven Horrors” introduces readers to the themes of metaphysics/spirituality that Fernandes draws upon, especially Buddhism. Both “Eleven Stations” in Stories for Chip and “Seven Horrors” that opens Love. An Archaeology represent titles that invite speculation for numerical symbolism. Fernandes uses this type of title in additional stories in this collection, and dates. These numbers are yet another example of the cultural depths that he digs for details in his stories. Numbers mean something equally as much as words, and they are in some ways the purest form of science fiction, even more so than physics as they underlie the language of the universe and the sciences.

By the second story of Love. An Archaeology, I became hooked. Its plot is more conventional, yet still contains the elements that Fernandes plays with so effectively. It’s also a fantasy/horror as opposed to a science fiction, and I feel they are so much easier for me to get into. “The Emptiness in the Heart of All Things” may be my favorite story of the collection. It draws from the Matinta Pereira folklore of the Brazilian ‘northern wilderness’, but Fernandes works with political and feminist themes inspired by the legend of this witch-like creature, and he casts it into a crime plot. Though it contains elements of Weird, the linear narrative gives the early reader a bit more stability in navigating Fernandes’ references and themes. I wish he wrote more in this genre, because this is exceptional.

Though still in the section dedicated to Ellison, “The Remaker” is a meta-tribute to Borges, a near-future remake of Borges’ “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” The original apparently being a story about a fellow (Menard) who recreates (not copies) Cervantes’ classic. So this is a remake of a remake concept, and we are several recursive layers deep here. Again the concept is intriguing, and now a few stories in, I had begun warming to Ferndandes’ style. As the backdrop to that, Fernandes gives his “Pierre Menard” lovers, allowing rich character development while also tapping into diversity of sex and gender. Originally published in a collection titled Outlaw Bodies, the rawness of biology, love, and sex in the story again recalls Delany. Such a wonderful ending for this story as well, and though the title has no numbers, the numerical fascination continues within chapter headings and the remade books of the plot.

A cyber-punk story that mashes up 3D printing technology with dreamscape exploration follows in “WiFi Dreams” to conclude the first section of the collection. It’s another trippy one, where I had a hard time seeing how the 3D printing idea actually integrates in.

The next two sections of stories in the collection consist of relatively shorter works. The first, dedicated to Cordwainer Smith, includes “Tales of the Obliterati”, a series of connected stories Fernandes writes about ‘lost discoveries’ and future eras where humanity faces annihilation. “Nothing Happened in 1999” is a piece of solid, if not remarkable, flash fiction. My interest really picked up for “Mycelium”, a story set in a hidden enclave of surviving humanity where a fungal symbiosis might be the key to save the human remnant. “Nine Paths to Destruction” approaches spiritual, existential matters of an individual and a species facing extinction. Beautifully and emotionally resonant.

The second of short fiction sections bears dedication to Fredric Brown and presents “Three Snapshots”, further flash fiction. Fernandes comments in the appendix that he feels very short fiction is one of his strengths, and with these I’d largely conclude. “Other Metamorphoses” is great and “Who Mourns for Washington?” is a profound take on the persistence and loss of memory.

“Archaeologies” the fourth and final section of Love. An Archaeology contains additional stories on love and includes the short story that gives the collection its title. “A Lover’s Discourse: Five Fragments and a Memory of War” returns to surreal New Weird tones, with a plot that’s hard to peg into any particular sub-genre. “The Unexpected Geographies” is notable in that it is another fantasy, darker than the prior one and more firmly in the realm of horror. Though I liked the story overall, I felt this was the most uneven and in need of further editing to make it cut more effectively.

The concluding story “Love. An Archaeology” ends things with another high point. Sisters use a new device that allows experience of alternate history timelines to discover what may have happened between their father and mother. But alternate, after all, is a relative term. The story reinforces what Fernandes excels at: taking well-worn SF ideas for a ride in new and fascinating directions. Some of those may verge into confusing dream-like realms, and others – like this one may be more standard. But they all use that platform to delve into base human relationships/emotions, like family, partner, love to see both the ecstasy and the cracks.

Fernandes is both a graduate of the prestigious Clarion West course, and a former slush reader for Clarkesworld Magazine. His appreciation for classics of the SF genre and of literature, mythology, and philosophy in general should be obvious. This is a debut collection that literary speculative fiction fans should not pass up, and I believe they will look forward to seeing more from him in the future as much as I do.

THE DARK MAGAZINE #69 (February 2021) Edited by Sean Wallace

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Another issue with three of four stories to read. Those three fit the billing of dark fantasy, and were notably good, with one particularly sticking with me to lead off the issue:

“Laughter Among the Trees” by Suzan Palumbo — An immigrant to Canada with her parents from the West Indies, Anarika has mixed feelings about the birth of her sister Sabrina, an immediate citizen of this new land, her only home in contrast to the rest of the family. But, when Sab goes missing on a family camping trip, Ana deals with the guilt and the pain of her parents for the years to come. The eerie story combines familiar conventional themes of sibling rivalry and the immigrant experience with elements of classic horror (ghosts) and the monstrosities of colonization in very effective ways.

“The Yoke of the Aspens” by Kay Chronister — I do not read you.

“One Last Broken Thing” by Aimee Ogden — Liv’s mother has abandoned her and her father, who now live on an unproductive farm where her father shoots any animal that he sees in the fields. At school Liv is mocked and outcast. But as HS graduation approaches, Liv yearns to depart for college, though her father remains set against it. An apt title for a story showing how people can be broken by the past and loss, but also the power of staying true to oneself.

“A Resting Place For Dolls” by Priya Sridhar — A baker who is distraught over the suicide of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain uses a doll-making hobby – and power – inherited from her grandmother to help friends and acquaintances in her life who struggle with depression and stress. An anti-Voodoo doll kind of concept here, in a brief but good short story.

The issue also features cover art “Angel Fire East” by Tomislav Tikulin.