Book Review: The Serpent's Shadow by Daniel Braum

I've been away from this blog for a long time, especially when it comes to reviews, which I've had little to no time for unfortunately. However, when the (hopefully one day) legendary Daniel Braum sends you his new book to review, and it's released by Cemetery Dance, you make exceptions. Because you know you're in for a treat.

Before The Serpent's Shadow, Braum has proven himself to be a master of dark magical realism in the short story form. I'm always disappointed when certain writers are only masters of this particular form, and the novels they release end up being a tad lackluster. Though this tale is more of a novella than a novel, it's longer than Braum's other work, and the point I'm trying to make is that he is still able to pull of the vibe he's become known for, yet he manages to concoct a few surprises along the way. 

Set in Cancun in the mid-80s (those familiar with Braum's work will certainly not be surprised by the setting), a young, naive, inexperienced American named David is on vacation with his family. He meets a young woman named Anne Marie at a club, and as their relationship grows, so does the mythology of the story, which relies heavily on Mayan culture (whether the impetus for this story is based on actual mythology or is a creation of Braum's, I am unsure and too lazy to look up). Pyramids are explored, visions are had, and a dreaded killer known as the White Lady stalks the land. You know me...I don't discuss plot much in these reviews, and that's really all you need to know before diving in. Whether you're diving into the clearest water at one of Cancun's beaches or something far murkier, Braum is reticent to share. Which is a good thing. I always appreciate a little ambiguity in fiction.

One of the major pluses of Braum being allowed to spread his literary wings a little more in these 100+ pages is that the character development is much deeper than could be managed in a shorter story. Braum has always managed this better than most lesser writers in his shorts, but the characters in The Serpent's Shadow are given plenty of breathing room, and with David telling the story in first person, we are really able to get inside his head.

The greatest surprise of this book is that, at times, it is a smidge more violent than what I'm used to from Braum (especially the climax of the story). It never goes overboard, as that would be a major tonal shift from the rest of the book, but it still shocks when it occurs. Though much of Braum's work walks a fine line between magical realism and horror, it is in these moments that the latter prevails.

There's a lot to love about this book thematically, and I've got plenty of thoughts about that element of the book, but this isn't a literature class, so I'm going to let you read this and make up your own mind as to what those themes are (I believe there are more than a few). Your assignment is to write a paper exploring these themes and turn it in to me later.

If you think magical realism begins and ends with South American authors such as Márqez and Borges, think again. Try a little taste of Braum's interpretation of this genre, and you won't be disappointed.

Book Review: The Wish Mechanics by Daniel Braum

I’ve sung the praises of Daniel Braum’s work enough both in person and on this blog at this point that some of my sentiments might come off a bit redundant here, but I’m not stopping until many, many more people convert to the Church of Braum. If you’ve yet to read my thoughts on the genius work of a writer who deserves to be far more well known than he is, this review will hopefully serve as a suitable introduction.

The Wish Mechanics is Braum’s second full collection of short fiction (his first being The Night Marchers). Unless, of course, you count the much shorter collection Yeti. Tiger. Dragon., which only features three stories. I’ve read enough of Braum’s work at this point that I’m guaranteed two things when opening one of his books: 1. I know what to expect & 2. I honestly have no idea what to expect.

Allow me to clarify. My first statement is regarding consistency of style. Some writers are chameleons, deciding their prose should take multiple forms depending on the story’s needs (I count myself as a member of this particular group). Others maintain a strong, steady voice so invariable it leaves you breathless at the ability to accomplish such a feat. Now, I don’t think one approach is necessarily better than the other, but Braum falls firmly in the second camp, and it works as nothing less than a major strength in his case. As for comment #2, despite having a pretty good idea of how Braum’s words will appear on the page (or how they will sound if read aloud), I never know where those words are going to take me. It is this combination that makes Braum a true visionary of modern fiction.

The quality of the stories never wavers, regardless if Braum is attempting magical realism (“Tea in the Sahara”), introspective horror (“Tetsuya and the Ranagareet”), science fiction (“Resolution Seventeen”), or whatever else he chooses to write. His stories are always threatening to transcend genre, skirting around the hallmarks one might expect and instead opting for an emotional rawness that cannot quite be described. Sometimes the tales are deceptively normal, then take a turn for the weird when you least expect it (“This Is the Sound of Your Dreams Dying”). There is always something not-quite-right going on, almost Twilight Zone-esque, but looking toward the future. In fact, I’d love to see one (or more) of Braum’s stories adapted into a Black Mirror episode (the title story, for instance, might be an especially great fit).

In this collection, Braum’s writing is (as always) earnest, poignant, dark, and moving. If you’re a fan of literary fiction that operates on a fantastical level, I can’t think of another living writer who pulls it off with greater finesse than Daniel Braum.