Monday, September 19, 2016
Strange Books, 2016
Huge and head-down, tail-between-legs apologies to the author for not getting to this book sooner. The truth is that it somehow got wedged in between two other books on this year's must-read shelf and sort of got covered up. Oh well. At my house books go missing all the time and it could be months before I find them.
The back cover says that these are "weird and wonderful stories for all that ails you," and not only are they weird, they're downright odd, offbeat, and strange, making them just what the doctor ordered at this particular moment in time.
Sometimes I find myself craving stuff like this -- short, almost koan-like stories that make me stop and think after each one before moving on. Even though there are just 141 pages in this collection, you really have to take your time with each tale because author Mike Russell seems to enjoy writing in riddlespeak, which I actually happen to like when I'm wanting something different and off the beaten path. At the same time, each story also has a point, which in some cases took longer than others to figure out, but then there's that aha moment when the lightbulb goes on.
My favorite story in this collection of eight tales is "Seventy-Two Bricks," a sad, poignant tale in which we discover what it takes to break down walls; "Mr. Dennis and the Universe" is also quite good, in which a man hates the whole universe for reasons I won't divulge, and I also really enjoyed "Brain," in which a professor opens an Institute for the Propagation of Rational Thought. Actually, I liked them all, but these three stood out for me. Also included here are a story about man who goes to work each day and follows a routine even though he has no job, a lighthearted tale about a series of telephone conversations, another about a spate of mime suicides, a very short one "The Spy" which made Paul Auster's New York Trilogy momentarily flash in my head, and finally, a strange tale about a girl with a fish growing out of her shoulder. Looking through them, these stories may seem sort of nonsensical, but they're good for people who enjoy thinking through what they read rather than having everything laid out for them.
I always look forward to Mike Russell's work -- he's so out there that it's refreshing.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Secker & Warburg, 1960
"Wouldn't you say that a quiet old house like Eltonsbrody is the right setting for mysterious happenings? For gruesome, blood-curdling goings-on?"
"Wouldn't you say that a quiet old house like Eltonsbrody is the right setting for mysterious happenings? For gruesome, blood-curdling goings-on?"
Mittelholzer throws out a warning to potential readers of this book on the very first page, saying that the tale we are about to read is a
"shocking story -- a story of real horror -- and anyone who feels that he can't stomach real horror had better go no further than here."After reading that introduction, in my head I figured things could go one of two ways here: either I'm going to be happily surprised with what's coming next, or I'm going to be really disappointed and never trust Mittelholzer (or at least Woodsley, his narrator) again. Well, I'm happy to report that Eltonsbrody turned out to be just as the author had promised: "a story of real horror". Unlike the other Mittelholzer novel in which I first met Woodsley, My Bones and My Flute, Eltonsbrody is not an outright tale of the supernatural, but it is extremely frightening exploring the horrors that dwell within the human mind.
Set in Barbados, this book begins with the arrival of our narrator Woodsley (a commercial artist), arriving at Eltonsbrody, the old house owned by the eccentric Mrs. Scaife. Woodsley had been "stranded" in the area after travelling from Bridgetown, and the bus driver had suggested he try the old house, since according to him, Mrs. Scaife is "a koindly lady," who would be "sure to help you out for the night." He has been invited to stay on, an invitation he accepts, since he's decided that the house will become the subject of his next painting. So the one night turns into a few more, and over the course of his time there, Woodsley becomes witness to several bizarre and horrific events. But really, nothing is stranger than Mrs. Scaife herself, who has a particular affinity with those people upon whom she sees the mark of death; woe be unto he or she who comes to Eltonsbrody without it.
|from Loop Barbados|
The wind moans and howls throughout this novel, which like most books I end up absolutely loving, is immersed in atmosphere, and as in My Bones and My Flute and his Shadows Move Among Them, the Caribbean landscape also figures importantly here. Furthermore, as in both of these books, there is much here regarding race and class integrated into the story as well as art. But I'm posting it here because as Woodsley notes, it is a sort of horror story, albeit one that doesn't rely on standard horror/supernatural tropes in favor of the horrors at work in a dark, twisted and downright warped psyche. To me, that makes this novel all the more frightening, and even scarier is the question of how someone's insanity can seem so normal in the mind of the person who is afflicted. As Mrs. Scaife says,
"There are many strange people in this world, you know. Some are laughed at, and some are treated as mental cases -- simply because the normal run of people don't understand their strangeness."Trust me -- by the time the last page is turned, the "strangeness" in this book will have left its mark.
I am a sucker for stories that take place in old, isolated houses, especially those near the sea, and I was not at all disappointed with this one. It does take a while for the scary stuff to get rolling, but once it starts, it just doesn't let up until the novel is over, and I guarantee that things will play out in your head as you search for a rational explanation. Each new creepy occurrence is more tense than the last until finally, all is made known at the end. I will say that for some modern readers, the things that happen in this novel may seem a little tame, perhaps a bit laughable, but for me, it was a page turner. I just love this old stuff, and I'm also starting to really appreciate Mitteholzer's writing and storytelling abilities.
Recommended, mainly for those who've read Mittelholzer in the past and for people who enjoy older books with lots and lots of atmosphere.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
I absolutely had to chuckle at one reader's two-star review of this book -- "charming, but surprisingly old fashioned." Well, hello -- this collection was published in 1933, so go figure. He's right on one point, though -- the book is definitely charming, and once you're into the eerie, strange tales, positively hackle raising. Let's put it this way: I enjoyed the supernatural stories enough to invest a chunk of change in a "used, like new" copy of the Tartarus edition of Walpole's Tarnhelm, the Best Supernatural Stories of Hugh Walpole, but I also appreciated the not-so-eerie tales enough to want to look into more of Walpole's work.
Strangely enough, it wasn't a story with a supernatural bent that won the day for me in this book, but rather "The Silver Mask," which is probably the darkest tale in this book. When I find a story like this, my overactive sense of empathy kicks into high gear, making the main character's plight just plain horrific to read, and I'm sure I stopped breathing for a bit as things continued to slide downhill out of control for this person. I refuse to give up any details, but in this case, calling this entry a "horror" story is beyond appropriate, even without any supernatural elements.
So, let's take a peek at the book as a whole. The introduction to this book (which I saved for last as should anyone planning to read this collection) notes that Walpole's tales
"are transactions with the transitory, with something glimpsed, with the inward and spiritual its counterpoint with the outward and solidly physical."That is precisely how I would describe it if I had the same writing talent as John Howard who wrote the intro, and to continue, I'd also agree with his statement that
"Walpole tries to comprehend the living as much as the dead and their revenants,"since it really shows here in each and every story.
Speaking of stories, there are sixteen, given here with absolutely NO spoilers (*denotes the eerie):
"The Whistle," positively spot-on for people who love dogs;
"The Silver Mask", about which I will say nothing, not even the slightest hint
"The Staircase," another one where to tell is to spoil, but I will say that it's rather unique *
"A Carnation for an Old Man," I've seen this sort of thing done before but Walpole does a fine job here *
"Tarnhelm," which is just plain creepy no matter how you slice it. I don't generally like this sort of thing --"the classic werewolf story" as they call it on the back-cover blurb, but this one had me spooked. *
"Mr. Oddy" -- a story for book lovers and one that reminds me of modern readers who don't bother to read anything older than what's currently in vogue.
"Seashore Macabre" made me wonder if this was based on something strange that happened to Walpole as a child.
"Lilac" -- although not so eerie, definitely has some supernatural overtones *
"The Oldest Talland" -- an absolutely delightful tale of an old woman who has tyrannized her family over the years, until one day ... -- not scary, but very well done. It's one where I couldn't help but laugh.
|Land's End, Cornwall, 1930s from picclick.co.uk|
"The Little Ghost" -- worthy of inclusion in a volume of the best British ghost stories. Mum's the word on this one, but oh, that ending!! Yow!! *
"Mrs. Lunt" -- Whoa. Need I say more? *
"Sentimental But True" -- could be viewed as scenes from a marriage. This one really gets into its main characters' heads, and it's also lovely, if brief, look at Cornwall.
"Portrait in Shadow" -- you'll never look at a wall portrait the same way again. This one, like "A Carnation for an Old Man," takes place in Spain.
"The Snow" if revenge from the grave is your thing (not a spoiler, on the back cover) -- look no further. Very nicely done. *
"The Ruby Glass" is another that could possibly reflect incidents from Walpole's childhood; the intro notes that the characters appear in other works he's written, so highly likely. This one I think is a mismatch to all of the rest of the stories here, and doesn't really seem to belong, but that's just my opinion.
"Spanish Dusk," like two others I've mentioned here, is set in Spain, where unrequited love can be a real bitch.
Unlike some of the characters in "Mr. Oddy," who read only what's trendy and modern because "everything that's old is out of favour with our set," I have this deep and abiding love for these older tales, and I was not at all disappointed with All Souls' Night. As is the case with every single anthology I've ever read, some are great, some are good, and some are just so-so, but which ones fall into these categories are really a matter for the reader to sort out. I liked all of these stories, some more than others, and there really is a wide range here. However, if you're in it for just the creepies, well, they're definitely worth the cost of the entire book.
More Walpole in my immediate future, thanks once again to Valancourt.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Valancourt Books, 2016
originally published 1935
Returning to short-story form once again, last night I finished Night-Pieces, a lovely little book of eighteen tales by Thomas Burke. Burke is quite well known for his Limehouse Nights, but Night-Pieces is my introduction to this author. It comes at a good time in my reading life -- I've been reading different books on this year's Booker Prize longlist and my brain is completely befuddled. What better way to unwind than by picking up a Valancourt book? And this one was definitely aaahh inspiring -- it's a mix of stories that include crime and the supernatural -- I mean, really. What more could I ask for?
I was drawn in right off the bat with the first story, "Miracle in Suburbia," where a young man is commissioned to retrieve a certain object. Reluctant to do so, even for the huge amount of money he's being paid, the younger man is convinced when the older man offers him his full protection. This is a story with a great twist, and really set the tone for the good things that were about to come my way.
And come my way they did. One thing really sticks out here -- in every single story that's in this book, somehow landscape, be it urban or rural, has some sort of role to play either actively or passively, with most of these stories taking place on London streets. It's very clear that Burke has some sort of affinity with and love for this city; a brief look at other books by this author reveals titles that include The Streets of London, Rambles in Remote London, Nights in London, etc. And as I read through each and every story that played out on these streets, I found myself visualizing them, which is a sign of a good writer. A second and very important thing is that Burke seems to know the darker side of human nature quite well, and this becomes very obvious in pretty much every story in this book.
From "Miracle in Suburbia" the book moves through seventeen other little tales -- presented here without any spoilers, just appetite whetters:
"Yesterday Street," in which a man roams through the streets of his childhood with unexpected results, followed by "Funspot," where the name of a particular street holds enough fascination for a money collector that he conjures up a story built around it -- a tragedy, "Something out of the inkwell of Beaudelaire or Poe, or De Nerval." "Uncle Ezekiel's Long Sight" is another good one. Let's just say that if you wait until your elderly uncle dozes off, life might just get better all around for everyone. Another nice quirky twist is found in "The Horrible God" where a man who "isn't easily scared" is frightened out of his wits by the feeling he's being followed and that a strange, disembodied voice is talking to him. "Father and Son" finds a son at odds with his dad and desperate after dad cuts off his pocket money. One very much in keeping with themes I look for in my reading is "Johnson Looked Back" -- a truly creepy story that takes the reader into the alleyways of the city that "hold fear more firmly than open streets" as a man makes his way toward an abandoned house. "Two Gentlemen" plays on the idea of honor and obligation between friends that Young Fred finds useful. And then we come to one of my very favorite stories at the midpoint of this collection, "The Black Courtyard," where a man finds himself fleeing from "fear of a courtyard thick with darkness, deaf to noise, and alive only with the eyes of blind houses" that serve as witness. To what I won't say, but yikes. This is a really, really good one.
Continuing on, "The Gracious Ghosts" may help you if your house happens to be haunted; then, with "Jack Wapping" we get an interesting little story of a day in a working-class man's life. This one to me fits within its historical time frame quite nicely -- a bit more on the political side but still well done. Back to crime once more with "One Hundred Pounds," where Granpa should have really placed his faith elsewhere. And then we come to another story I just loved, "The Man Who Lost His Head." The moral of this story is be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. This one was outstanding. Once again moving into the crime zone we come to "Murder Under the Crooked Spire," followed by my favorite story of the entire book, "The Lonely Inn." To me, this one steals the entire show with its delightful eerieness that creeps up ever so slowly until BOOM - gotcha. I happened to be reading this one during a huge thunderstorm which only amplified the creep factor. "The Watcher" is up next, and really, it's just one of the saddest little stories in this book, although very dark and atmospheric. I can't say anything about this one without giving it away, so I'll just move on to "Events at Wayless-Wagtail," another one that won't allow even the briefest brief. And last, but by no means not least, "The Hollow Man" closes the book on a high note of creep factor when one old friend seeks out another and finds himself unable to leave.
All in all, Night-Pieces is a fantastic collection that any lover of old British tales should read. While it's definitely a mixed bag where genre is concerned, it ends up not mattering one whit since they all seem to blend nicely together here because of Burke's atmospheric writing style. Then, of course, there's the added bonus that with only one exception, all of these stories center around the streets of London and as noted on the back cover, "that immense city's dark back alleys, shadowy courts, and mysterious houses."
I hadn't read a Valancourt book for some time now, and this one I chose at random from my shelves while looking for something I knew would be good. I wasn't wrong. Once again, Valancourt delivers. I ought to throw roses at their feet or something for the books they publish. Kudos and keep up the great work.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Hippocampus Press, 2016
"Their power is their invisibility, the illusion that they don't exist, the illusion that they stand for something if they do exist ..."
Extremely challenging, but well worth it, as are all of Michael Cisco's works that I've read, both in short story format and novels. If you google the author, the phrase "avant-garde" comes up a lot, and that pretty much sums up his style of writing. The Wretch of the Sun is a demanding read, which calls for active reader participation, since he's certainly not going to be handing out answers in a clearly-defined way.
Trying to explain this novel is probably as challenging as reading it, so I'm not even going to attempt it. It is and isn't a haunted house novel; it is and isn't a ghost story, and it definitely has a dystopian feel to it. It's a book about secrets and different forms of terror, and at the center of it all stands the house known as Sanglade. It's a place where "there are ghosts in the house," yet
"it's as if the house were a spirit itself. Artificial intelligence. Edifice intelligence. The other ghosts are like its guests or disciples."And while a student named Trudy Bailey is trying to find out all she can about the house and the ghosts of Sanglade, little by little the reader comes to realize there are ghosts on the streets of this city as well, in the form of a secret organization working in the background against any form of dissent (i.e., the truth). This group has its own secret prisons, where horrific things happen, "all entirely legal; one way or the other everyone voted for this." I think, though that another important component of this story is how truths are disseminated here, for example: one man sees visions of the future during his migraines, history plays a role in the revelations about the house, and there's one man who wants the story of his arrest and imprisonment to be told, but can't do so openly, so he resorts to a series of terrible puppet shows/short plays to get the word out about "el miserable del sol," doing so in a sort of code. As the narrator tells us,
"Or to be more precise, it is in as many codes as could be managed."Sadly, the performances are so badly done that the audiences leave before the truth gets out, which adds an intensely tragic note to the whole thing.
As I said earlier, this book is very challenging, to the point of brain-frying frustration, but there is a wonderful novel underneath it all. It really does take a while to put everything together, but by that time I was just left with my mouth hanging open because of how really good this story actually is. There are some truly excellent moments here, for example, when Celada (the man who sees visions during his migraines) compares the haunted house, "the shrine where life triumphs over death, perfection actually manifesting itself," its ghosts, which are "frightening because they are too perfect to see without going insane or being injured somehow by intensity of adoration," and the secret organization Ukehy, which is frightening because they will torture and kill you; they are elementals of sordidness and cruelty."
There is so much more here to be experienced, so I'll leave it there. If you get to the end of this book and you say "WTF did I just read," well, maybe Michael Cisco isn't your cuppa. But if you get to the end of this book like I did and think "oh my god, what a creepy story, all the more creepy because he nails it," then go on and read the rest of his work. I'm planning a reread of his The San Veneficio Canon sometime soon, but he has a lot more to offer as well. Cisco is definitely not a mainstream writer relying on standard tropes or same-old same-old (which is a good thing for me), and his writing takes a lot of work and time. But patience is its own reward in this case.
By the way, a very special thanks to the person known as Seregil of Rhiminee at Risingshadow who told me about this book in an online group we're in together at goodreads. You were right. I loved it.
Monday, August 8, 2016
Pushkin Vertigo, 2016
originally published as Sankt Petri-Schnee
translation by Eric Mosbacher
When I got to the end of this book, my first reaction was a very jolting "what?" but in the space of a couple of seconds, it changed to "ah, I get it."
Saint Peter's Snow was originally published in 1933 by Austrian publisher Paul Zsolnay, whom the Nazis labeled as a "Jewish" publisher, causing many of his writers' works (including that of Perutz, also living in Austria) to be banned in Germany. I mention this little tidbit of information because it might help to put the book in historical context, which is very important in this case, and also so that anyone who may be interested in Saint Peter's Snow won't have the "what?" reaction I did because I'd completely forgotten about it. Enough of that, now briefly to the book.
I was seriously caught up in this strange book from the beginning because as the novel opens, the main character, Georg Amberg, has evidently been in a deep coma, and on coming out of it, has lost his memory. First, what he thinks he remembers and what he's told is the reason why he's laid up in a hospital bed are two different animals; second, he thinks he's been there five days but he's been told it's been five weeks, and third, he's absolutely positive that the hospital porter attending him is a disguised Prince Praxatin, "the last of the house of Rurik." Huh?? So right away the reader feels a sense of disorientation along with the main character, and that feeling continues throughout the rest of the book. The story then launches into Amberg's recollections about the time leading up to his hospitalization, but the reader doesn't quite know if this is a product of his damaged memory or if what he's saying is actually what happened. It's a balancing act where the reader walks a fine line -- you have to decide if what Amberg remembers is actually true and if you go that route, then you have to wonder why the doctors, nurses and others may be trying to insist that he's delusional. It's an interesting scenario, for sure, and I found myself trying to find clues to support both sides of that argument, and there are a number of them scattered here and there throughout this story.
I think that's about all I'll say for the time being except for the fact that the word "sinister" can most definitely can be applied to this book, along with twisty, dark, and strange. If anyone's at all interested in trying this novel, don't read anything that may spoil it. The back-cover blurb, in my opinion, gives a bit too much away, but I will repeat and agree with the part that says
"Saint Peter's Snow is a conspiratorial, politically charged tale of suspense about the mysterious workings of memory, and the lies we choose to believe."It's a novel just steeped in paranoia, and it's right up my reading alley, one I can recommend to anyone who loves obscure fiction stepping well off the beaten path.
I'll also say that even if Perutz himself wasn't Jewish, or even if his publisher hadn't been labeled as such, the Nazis likely would have banned this book from publication strictly based on the subject matter. Perutz's work, according to several sources I've read (not limited to but including the "Did You Know" section of this edition), was highly regarded by Borges among other people, so you know it's going to be different and well worth reading. It's a very satisfying read, but do try to remember the historical context to avoid the shaking-my-head reaction at the end.
Pushkin Vertigo keeps coming out with some great books (Vertigo and She Who Was No More for starters); I had to buy this one from the UK but it was totally worth it.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Chizine Publications, 2015
I've just read my favorite modern horror novel of the year thus far, and that is Gemma Files' Experimental Film. Not only is it a book that pushed every single one of my horror-loving buttons, it is also a story very well told, one that grabbed my attention on the second page of chapter one and didn't let up, not for one instant. And it was done without tentacles, walking dead, or splatter, although, as the main character of this story reveals more than once, there are most certainly cosmic forces at work in this tale:
"...the world is full of holes behind which numinous presences lurk -- secrets no one should ever have to see, or want to. And those who do will never be the same."In downtown Toronto, Lois Cairns is on hand to review the newest ten-minute offering of film maker Wrob Barney, a guy who "rubbed a lot of people the wrong way." She's seen his "collage art" movies before, so she's pretty much ready for anything. However, this time things are a bit different -- a certain bit of imagery in Barney's Untitled 13 sparks some memory in Lois, unsettling her and reminding her of "something, ... Not a movie." It takes her a while but she eventually finds what that "something" is -- a particular story written by a Mrs. A. Macalla Whitcomb, originally printed in a collection of "Wendish Legends and Folklore." She studies this story "line by line,"
"... seeing almost every phrase of it reflected in my memories of Wrob Barney's Untitled 13..."Already "disturbed" with what she saw in the film, now she's even more so. She knows that the "best parts" of Barney's work have always been "stolen from somebody else," so she's curious about that particular bit of imagery and where it may have come from. A little research reveals the origins of the clips, setting Lois on a path of discovery that she hopes will eventually become a much-needed project of her own that will connect the writer of the original stories with those bits of film. What she doesn't realize as she begins is that a) there are those who aren't at all happy about what she's doing and b) that her work will eventually have major implications that will move well beyond the realm of the cinematic world.
And that is where I'll leave things because to tell is to certainly spoil in this case, and well, that would just be a shame for potential readers.
|silver nitrate film clip, from "Nitrate Nocturne 2," at 50 Watts|
Not only is the haunting story here an absolute hackle raiser that had me flip flip flipping pages, there are also a LOT of interesting things going on here outside of the creepy elements. There are Lois' experiences as the mother of an autistic child, the novel's focus on films, on writing, on art in general and much, much more. After reading about the author just briefly, it seems that she's pouring out parts of her own story into these pages, something that when done well tends to augment an author's work, and here it brings an added layer of life to this book. I loved one line in particular where she says that
"doing your art -- your work -- can help you save your own life,"and that idea most certainly comes across in this book.
There are a number of excellent professional reviewers of this novel out there who do so much more than I can in talking about this book, but as a plain old reader person, I'll just say that this book is definitely one any horror novel lover should have on his/her shelves. While it's probably on the tame side for a lot of readers in this genre, it has everything that I could possibly want. Considering it's a modern novel and given how much I prefer works from the past, well, that says a lot.