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.

Book Review: The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant

After seeing Taylor Grant read at two StokerCons in a row (one of which I was graced with the privilege of sharing the reading slot) and being quite impressed each time, I knew I needed to pick this book up at some point, so I finally ripped it out of my mental to-do list and bought the damned thing. And it does not disappoint.

Throughout this collection, Grant proves his talent as a short story writer. Writing short stories that are satisfying for both the writer and the reader can be a challenging task. Grant mentions in his introduction that he wrote the majority of these stories for his own personal enjoyment with no real yearning to have them published. Thankfully his senses were slapped into him and he pursued publication, because it would be a shame to have these tales rotting in some dank drawer, whimpering to be read by the craving eyes of the horror public. These are no self-indulgent, masturbatory tales. Quite the opposite. They deserve to be read and enjoyed.

The book starts out strong with “Masks,” which deals with a man who doesn’t quite feel like himself anymore. This is immediately followed by what is likely my favorite piece in the collection: “The Silent Ones.” Such a depressing story that addresses the topic of loneliness in a way I’ve not seen done before, and it gets pretty damned weird along the way. “Dead Pull” is a fun and satisfying story, especially for someone such as myself who loves animals dearly and abhors those who mistreat them. “The Infected” takes a clever approach to tackling the drudgery of being a working stiff versus following your creative dreams, which intersects with a peculiar “fiction” manuscript passed down from grandfather to father to son that begs to be completed. There are no stinkers in the bunch. It comes as no surprise that this book was a finalist for a Bram Stoker Award.

Grant has an enviable command of language, his stories and the ideas that spawn them are unique, and he doesn’t stick to one type of horror. Some of these stories could be referred to as “quiet horror,” while others are far more brutal. Some have a sci-fi edge, and there are occasional hints of the black humor you might find in a classic E.C. Comics story. Being able to hop genres while maintaining quality and style is a commendable feat, so pick up this book and see how it’s done.

Book Review: Baby Powder by John C. Foster

I always love a good single-author short story collection (not bad ones, though…keep those far away from me pretty please). I especially enjoy collections in which each story stands apart from the next. Welcome to the latest perfect example of this, Baby Powder by John C. Foster.

There’s a lot to dig into here. This does not mean the collection is dense and/or difficult to get through. In fact, it’s a fairly quick read despite being 300 pages. But the ideas, and very often the well-crafted language, will stick with you in way flavor-of-the-month genre books will not. A good mix of horror and science fiction-ish pieces here. I’m not going to go over every story in the collection, but I would like to highlight a few faves.

The opener, “Highballing Through Gehenna,” comes out swinging. A very bleak and strange tale, leaving most of the facts to the imagination, letting the mind get used to an apocalypse of a different sort. Stressful on the level of Train to Busan. However, the threat these train passengers face is not of the zombie variety.

“Talk to Leo” is an unsettling piece about ventriloquism. Sort of. The creeps don’t let up much during this story, and I believe it’s because Foster doesn’t over-explain the situation. I love when authors make this choice. Sure, things can still be a bit scary if you know exactly what you’re facing, but I believe frights you can’t conveniently put in a box are far more powerful.

“Meat” is killer. Trees that eat people. ‘Nuff said.

I’ve always wondered why there aren’t more horror stories that deal with the death penalty, and “A Lamb to Slaughter” does so beautifully. It will make you think without feeling like you’ve been preached to. It also heads in unexpected directions.

But the real treasure of this collection is the final story, which also happens to be the title story. “Baby Powder” is where Foster’s true magic as a writer has comes together to create something special. The story focuses on a “haunted house,” for lack of a better term, but it goes much deeper than that. The prose is wonderful throughout, the characters are memorable, and the vibe of the whole story left me rattled for a couple of days after I read it. I don’t want to say anything else for fear of spoiling the wonder, but it’s worth buying this book for this story alone (plus, you also get a lot of other really awesome stories, so you really can’t lose.) Just one of those “wow” moments. I knew after reading Mister White that Foster was a good writer. After reading “Baby Powder,” I now see how great he is. His finest moment so far. No pressure.

Reprint Story Available in New Anthology

A new anthology just came out featuring one of my short stories. This antho is full of dark and weird stories somehow related to the treatment of Mother Earth. My story is a reprint called "Acquired Taste," which was previously only available in electronic form. Now it's available in this print anthology release by Scary Dairy Press, which is perfect if you're like me and don't read e-books. Check it out here:

https://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Revenge-Bizarre-Anthology-Proportions/dp/0996052739/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1497215033&sr=8-2&keywords=mother%27s+revenge

Review: Angel Meat by Laura Lee Bahr

Where do I even begin with a writer like Laura Lee Bahr? If you’re unfamiliar with Bahr, it’s safe to say you’re missing out on something special. But do not fret—there’s still time to hop on this train and catch up. I first learned of the talented Laura Lee Bahr when I picked up her debut novel last year (Haunt, a brilliantly bizarre supernatural noir book published back in 2011). Next was another novel in 2015 titled Long Form Religious Porn, which is currently in my To Be Read pile, but I imagine it’s really damned good. Now, however, I’d like to focus on her most recent effort, a short story collection released earlier this year, enigmatically titled Angel Meat.

What I love most about Bahr’s fiction is that it isn’t easily classifiable. Depending on the story, it may be dark, funny, sexy, poignant, horrific, strange, or something else you can’t quite put your finger on. Often, it is some combination of these qualities. Ultimately, I’d classify it as literary fiction sans pretension, the type of fiction that can take you anywhere if you’re willing to embrace it, the tales where the language matters just as much as the story. Exactly the type of fiction that hooks deeply into my flesh and pulls it tight until I feel pain and pleasure equally.

These stories in this brief collection are all distinct in tone and tale, yet they are still united through Bahr’s consistent voice. Ranging from subtle science fiction (“The Cause’) to possible parable (“Rat-Head) to arguable autobiographical account (“In the Desert”), you never know what you’re going to get from a Laura Lee Bahr story. Though all nine stories are worthwhile, I’d like to focus briefly on my two favorites in the collection. First, “The Liar,” an uncomfortably dark tale that deals with a peculiar moral grey area surrounding victim and offender. A perfect blend of innocence and corruption. My other top was “Happy Hour,” which deals with the idea that there are strange and possibly horrible things we are willing to live with when the alternative is utter loneliness. Darkly humorous, but also tender in its on weird way.

There’s nothing else I can really say at this point except that you should buy this book (and all of Bahr’s other books). If you’re looking for something satisfyingly unique, you’ve come to the right place.

Book Review: A Collapse of Horses by Brian Evenson

Just when I think I’ve already discovered every fantastic writer I’m ever going to love, along comes someone like Brian Evenson. To be fair, he’s been doing this whole writing thing for quite some time now, but his work is new to me. Better late than never, because I’m hooked on this short story collection and, like a freshly converted heroin addict, now I need more.

The easiest way to describe the stories in this book would be “literary horror.” However, even that somewhat broad description seems somewhat limiting for Evenson’s work. I hate to use the term “elevated genre,” because that implies other contributions to the genre are less worthy (which may be true in some cases, but ultimately this is not an opinion I stand behind). However, if ever this term has been appropriate, it’s for a book like this. These stories often go to some very dark places, but from a different angle than the average writer might approach them. I can’t easily pinpoint what makes them so horrific. Evenson feels no need to over-explain anything. The worlds he creates are as they are. And what they are is some varying degree of wrong. It’s that little bit of something “off” that sticks with me after reading each story, leaving me wondering what might be flawed in our own world. Well, what else might be flawed, rather. It is as if the gruesomeness of our reality has been twisted ever-so-slightly into the reality that Evenson envisions, so much so that the lines between fact and fiction can become blurred if the reader allows such a transgression. I don’t truly feel scared until after completing each story, like having a nightmare that was quickly forgotten at daybreak, but then remembered when alone in a public restroom located in a no-name town off a deserted highway. How else can I describe my reaction to the final scene of “Black Bark,” or the entirety of “Seaside Town”? All of the tales are filled with despair, lost acuity, indecision, beautiful dark emptiness, or some combination.

Evenson’s prose has a minimalist feel, but it is crafted in a somewhat poetic manner that manages to avoid pretension (a difficult feat that many so-called “literary” writers fail miserably at). Not a word wasted, and his cadence and many of his chosen beats are stunning. I was often left wondering what actually transpired, but I was completely content with that because the subtleties are what make these stories so raw and unsettling.

Very rarely do I describe authors as “brilliant,” even those whose work I adore dearly. However, I think Evenson might be worthy of such a title. These are stories that should be remembered a hundred years from now, required reading for anyone seeking the cream of the crop from this era of dark fiction.