The Darkest Side of the Night: The Darker Side: Generations of Horror (ed. John Pelan): Part 2

                                                                             

We're back on the Darker Side today with the back half of John Pelan's second "Darkside" anthology. This is a low floor, high ceiling situation, with some masterpieces and some gravely flawed trifles, and everything in between. I like these Pelan books, and I'm going to keep reviewing them, but the quality is really all over the place. That's exacerbated by the fact that the first half of the book is the stronger half by far, although we have some heavy hitters here who bring up the average. 

Also--it's been a while since I've added one of these content warnings (and overall this book is much tamer than the first Darkside, which is not to say that it's at all tame), but my discussion of the Lucy Taylor story and why it's good gets into what's understandably a no-go area for many people (child sexual abuse and the resulting trauma), so heads up if you think you'd rather not read about that today. 

The Plague Species by Charlee Jacob

Synopsis: The Adriatic island of Timnah is rumored to be inhabited by angels, a slice of heaven on Earth compared to the rest of the war-torn, polluted Balkans. When the mainland finally imposes itself, what happens next is Hell on Earth.

Thoughts: Incredible. I wrote about this before, but suffice to say this is very Clive Barker (in some ways, obviously so: "Body parts go off on their own" is "The Body Politic" and "colonizers receive brutal body-horror payback from the natives" is "How Spoilers Bleed"). It is graphically violent and unrelentingly imaginative. It also plays around with notions of fallen angels and transgression. It's a story with lush language and lovingly grotesque description that isn't overkill, but appropriate to the artistic and intellectual (hell, moral) content within. A masterpiece. 

Ten Bucks Says You Won't by Richard Laymon

Synopsis: Jeremy is trying to impress his potential girlfriend Tess and win a bet by crapping on mean Mrs. Flint's gravestone. But his old teacher was much nastier than he ever realized.

Thoughts: The standard slasher movie hijinks are a little less entertaining (and a lot less sexy) when you know that two of the characters are trying to take a dump most of the time. Still, this is Laymon being Laymon, and even if this is weaker Laymon, it's still as implausible, sleazy, and compelling as you might want (and I want it!). If you don't like Laymon, well, this won't improve your opinion. And I get not liking his work, I do, but who else can deliver lines like "Tess, overhearing his anus remark, had laughed and started talking to him". Dick Laymon Library of America edition when?

Armies of the Night by John Pelan

Synopsis: The strange events surrounding the untimely deaths of a military diorama enthusiast and his wife.

Thoughts: This is a nicely old-fashioned story, with a club/pub framing device. The horror is exceedingly slight--a few scratches from a model sphere here, a stab from a tiny bayonet there. Stephen King's "Battleground," the short story which this most resembles, had more bloodshed than this.  The other one this reminds me of is the Vault of Horror story "Strung Along," where a kindly old puppeteer's marionettes revenge themselves upon their creator's wife  Even that story, though, had a nastier edge,

Note the shout out to Howard Wandrei's "The Smoking Leg" in the name of the pub--Pelan later included the same story in his excellent, two-volume Century's Best Horror Fiction. 

Unspeakable by Lucy Taylor

Synopsis: Renowned psychiatrist Peyton Eads systematically abused his stepchildren. Part of the abuse involved conditioning them to associate certain innocuous words with sexual desire, which torments Christine and her siblings even into adulthood. Her boyfriend Ricky, no stranger to harming abusers, has a plan to break Eads' power. 

Thoughts: Yup, this is the rough one. Luckily, Taylor is a writer I trust to handle the rough stuff; it's what made me a big fan of her in the first place.

This is a story which doesn't try to hide its metaphorical/allegorical nature, in which the after effects of childhood abuse and trauma bleed always into the present, ruining and staining everything with grief and sadness and maybe even inappropriate, unwanted, hated lust. This is a story full of excesses, but every one of them is justified; each plays a part in completing Taylor's picture of the impact of abuse.

Now, I know that just a couple weeks ago I derisively referred to this kind of story as the "Hooray for metaphors!" school of writing when I reviewed Kaaron Warren's "Bitter Skin," so I feel bound to justify my praise for this story: When I get snippy about the "trauma is the real monster"/"elevated horror" sort of material, it's because it often seems to be rehashing generic horror content and then throwing in some (often unearned) backstory of family trauma or a link to a social issue and calling it a day. It's subjective, of course, but I've seen too many movies and read too many stories that do that, and the effect tends to cheapen the real and important issues the work wants to address (and also doesn't deliver the goods on a visceral level). To be clear, that's not how I feel about "Bitter Skin" (I still think about that story and I like it more and more as time passes. So, go figure), but it's definitely not how I feel about "Unspeakable."

Why do I feel that way about "Unspeakable?" It's because Taylor doesn't take the easy way out of telling us that child abuse and trauma are bad and make people feel bad; she plunges into the depths where things like shame and desire and disgust may all mingle together in messy ways. In Taylor's best stories, sexual trauma is a bullet, but not a clean in-and-out with an exit wound; it's a nasty hollowpoint that tumbles around in the victim and screws things up. It's powerful, it's uncomfortable, and it serves the highest end of extreme horror, which I think of as empathy. 

Standing Water by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Synopsis: It's just a puddle outside a used bookstore in Birmingham, AL. Only, it's summer and it hasn't rained in 17 days. . .

Thoughts: McElligot's Pool done as a Weird Tale is a great idea, and this is a lovely riff on/tribute to one of my favorite children's books. However, where Seuss went for his usual overkill, Kiernan's story focuses more on menace and implication.

In fact, the dark fantasy here takes a back seat to her setting of a hot Southern summer and the very Gen-X people who work at a used bookstore, and their failed relationship. It's great, and here's a taste (this actually did make me laugh out loud on public transit): 

"Sometimes Elvin gets a bunch of them out of order on purpose, ignores Mr. Culliver's obsessive categories and alphabetizing, and sticks Bleak House under the B's or Gravity's Rainbow under "New Age" just so they'll have something to do. Once he hid all the Ayn Rand and Germaine Greer together under "Ichthyology," but it was almost two months before anyone even noticed." 

Grave Song by Brian A. Hopkins and Richard Wright

Synopsis: William Murphy is trudging along through his dreary life when an encounter with his own grave brings out his youthful ambition. 

Thoughts: A story that benefitted from a re-read. The first time I went through, I thought to myself, "how does it take two people to write less than half a story?" And, you know, I still don't *love* this one, but I was too harsh the first time. 

Part of it was a slight bait-and-switch with respect to genre: Although there's plenty of macabre imagery, this story is even gentler than Pelan's--I don't really think it's horror at all. Instead, it's a dark-ish fantasy in the redemptive tradition of The Twilight Zone--William reconnects with the best parts of himself, and in a fantastic (both senses of the term) way. William's characterization was what I considered the story's one saving grace the first time; on re-reading, it's still strong, but now gets fully paid off by the reveal. At least, conceptually.

I'm not totally converted because this is still an inconsistent story--some of the writing is great, other parts are wonky--which might be due to having two authors. 

Twenty Mile by Ann K. Schwader

Synopsis: Cassie Barrett comes home to Montana to confront her brother's plans to sell off the family ranch. But the family's friend and employee, Frank Yellowtail, warns her of impending, otherworldly doom. 

Thoughts: It sounds like a Hallmark movie--girl comes back to the country to take care. . . But here, we have cattle mutilations (although 'mutilations' is mild for what happens to the poor cows). 

Otherwise, though, it is a bunch of familiar situations: 1) Wise old Indian who knows the dark secrets of the land. 2) Greedy real estate developer getting what he deserves. 3) Cursed bit of land that demands sacrifice (and the quisling locals who feed it). It's fine; the writing's competent, the threat is spooky, and there is a good sense of place that conveys some dread (turns out that wide open skies can be just as scary as claustrophobic woods and caves). It's fine, it just seems a bit stock. 

Nothing quite as stock as a Hallmark Christmas movie, though. 

All the World's a Stage by Brian Keene

Synopsis: The city's plagued with missing persons cases, but Jim still braves the downtown in search of paperbacks and vintage finds. A rescue mission on behalf of the latest kidnapping (if that's what it is) leads him into the decaying Majestic movie theater. . . 

Thoughts: An early-ish one from Keene here, and one which I think evidences the influence Joe R. Lansdale's The Drive-In had on him (and led to him co-editing an excellent anthology based on the same).  The set-up is aces; "people are vanishing in the city and now our hero is getting caught up in it" is familiar, but it's pleasantly familiar. I also love the grotesqueries at the concession stand. 

I think I see what Keene's up to here--it's kind of a film version of Stephen King's "You Know They Got A Hell Of A Band." It's a fun idea--but it ends about as soon as it gets going. One thing that Keene's tale does better, though:  King's story labors mightily to make a town of dead rock icons into a threat, and although he succeeds (that King fella is a damn good writer, y'know), it's by a small margin. Keene's tale, on the other hand, begins by maxing-out the menace, which sells the horror of the final reveal and finesses the fact that, as unknowable hideous fates go, audience-in-residence in celluloid heaven isn't the worst. 

What God Hath Wrought by Randy D. Ashburn

Synopsis: The Bauer family is on a cabin retreat to save George and Margaritte's marriage. Problem is, George is still convinced that their daughter's crib death was actually the result of his wife's witchcraft.

Thoughts: A weak one, particularly marred by a chokeable little kid who talks like Elmo. This is a time-waster, just full of graphic violence without much point and without any taste.. 

There is a great, messed up idea lurking in here (a kid determined to keep his family together in the face of divorce no matter what misshapen form that takes), but this is just a mess.

We're All Bozos on This Bus! by Peter Crowther

Synopsis: Before his dad died, Frank learned the importance of being tough. So, when some foster parents come to the orphanage looking for a son, Frank beats and bullies his way into pole position. On the bus ride to a holiday celebration with his new family, though, Frank starts noticing things are amiss. 

Thoughts: Just as the back half of the book is slumping, Crowther comes in to punch it up. Crowther is reliable for high-quality horror, and this is a good, weird one.

What keeps the weirdness grounded is that the story is, at its core, a classic EC plot: Bad guy does bad things to get what he wants, except it's not what he wants after all. Think stuff like "Top Billing" and "Beauty Rest." This guarantees that the story never gets too off the rails or loses us--we know what the final destination of this bus is, but, you know, getting there is half the fun. Or maybe more. 

Because I am culturally illiterate and have never listened to The Firesign Theatre, I can't say whether the Firesign reference in the title has anything to do with the story.

The Whirling Man by David Niall Wilson

Synopsis: Artist Mason languishes alone after dynamiting his relationship with the promiscuous, manipulative Jesse at his latest gallery show. 

Thoughts: Not really a horror story (there's a little bit of the horrific that comes in at the end, but it's the weakest point).

This is a mixed bag, and is the sort of thing you get in these Pelan anthologies it seems--an unpolished gem. The description of Mason's painting of Jesse and her social circle in all its hideous glory is the fulcrum for the whole story (the point around which it whirls and spins, you might say), and it's magnificent. 

However. . . there isn't  much that you can do with that. I feel this would have been a stronger story if it were told linearly--give us a sense of our dude and his relationship, make us see the world he's living in, and culminate with the unveiling of his masterpiece. It wouldn't be a horror story then, but I don't feel like this is a horror story anyway. 

Asian Gothic by Shikhar Dixit

Synopsis: An Indian family in the 1950s is tormented by a ghost. 

Thoughts: I have mixed feelings on this one: The setting of post-independence, post-partition India is done well. Like all stories with a strong sense of time and place, there are enough little details along the way to reward you for reading. Additionally, Dixit's prose is good, with a pleasant literary quality. Here's my favorite passage (and there are many of such quality throughout), in which our narrator encounters his drunk father.

"He was not the pleasant, swaying, loudmouthed drunk we so enjoyed playing with during Diwali, that lovable patriarch who would carry us about on his shoulders and playfully wrestle with us until we each grabbed a wrist, an elbow, a hand, and dragged him to the ground with us. This was quiescent darkness. Pinpoints of light jabbed out at me from beneath sleek, heavy lids. The rank odor of scotch reached across the room and froze me in the doorway."

So the writing is good. How's the horror?

The horror is a bit disjointed and confusing; Dixit ties it together at the end with a twist that's chilling, although I'm not totally satisfied. That's the thing about twists: If you leave too many clues and hints, you make it obvious and undercut some of the shock at the end. But if you really don't see the twist coming at all, it'll be a shocker that seems arbitrary. I'm not sure Dixit sets it up well enough, although it has lingered with me. 

Hell Came Down by Tim Lebbon

Synopsis: A rainmaker's attempts to cure a wasted land of drought make things worse. Now his mentor is in town to take him out. 

Thoughts: I love this story; it's a great choice for a closer. Some of it is personal: A few years ago, I set out to write a novel which now sits about half-finished, in the way that attempts at first novels will tend to do. But, one of the key elements in the story was the same "master of mystical arts has to stop his protege, who is spreading misery in his cocksure attempts to help people." So, reading this story reminded me of some of the stuff of that old project I liked the best. 

Enough about me, let's talk about Lebbon. This story kicks ass; it nails the intersection of dark fantasy and Weird Western elements the same way King's Dark Tower books do, and it also captures that feeling of a world that's "moved on." Lebbon does no more world-building than we need, and brings his setting to life not with exposition dumps but with visceral details. Including a disgustingly literal version of the saying "raining cats and dogs."