My contributor copies of the stalwart Aussie digest Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine #44 arrived today, and it looks great.
My story “The Moonshine Flame Grill” also received praise from Rod MacDonald in his review at SF Crowsnest here.
He describes it as his favourite piece of fiction from the magazine, and “a very colourful story with black humour in abundance”. Which was exactly my intention. Thanks, Rod!
My new story “Ternskull Point” will be apearing in Dead Bait 2, an anthology of aquatic horror to be published by Severed Press.
Set on the frozen coastline of Greenland, the tale follows a couple who live in an isolated lighthouse with a gruesome past, and are beset by a strangely aggressive colony of arctic walruses.
“Meg” author Steve Alten, as well as Ramsey Campbell and Guy N. Smith are also scheduled to appear in this anthology, so it’s great to rub shoulders with the writers who formed my love for the genre.
“Short Fiction by Various Authors” reads the pleasingly simple cover. This book has the air of something that is comfortable with its quality, and doesn’t need a corny byline to carnival-bark you into purchasing.
Null Immortalis contains 26 stories presented by steadfast editor D.F. Lewis. It is volume ten of the quietly intelligent Nemonymous series; anthologies of weird fiction in which the listed authors are not assigned to the stories until the subsequent instalment. As this is sadly the swansong of the series, the mystery is no more and the authors are credited in the traditional fashion.
The loose theme is simply the cover photograph and title, to be interpreted in whatever way the authors saw fit. The submission guidelines also required a character named Tullis, or Scott Tullis: the winner of a previous Nemonymous competetion to be immortalised in this way.
But on to the actual content. The first thing to say is that there are no weak links. All are thoughtful, precisely composed pieces – these authors take pride in their work, as does the editor – but I will mention a few that particularly appealed.
“Lucien’s Menagerie” by David M. Fitzpatrick certainly stood out for me. One of the longer works, this is a taut ride of impending doom. In order to inherit her cruel ex-husband’s house, a woman has to spend a night there with several creepy exhibits and memories of her miserable past. It’s genuinely unsettling and I love the way it keeps us guessing as to whether the events are supernatural or trickery.
In “Love is the Drug” by Andrew Hook, the title is quite literal. Told via a futuristic interrogation, this is off-kilter SF about the nature of love and conflict, and one of those sharp stories that leaves a chill and draws you back for a second curious peek.
Mike Chinn’s “A Matter of Degree” is one of the more simplistic tales in which a disgruntled employee attempts to human spider across a dangerous bridge. A compelling read, it neatly ties in the theme of the anthology.
“Only Enuma Elish” by Richard Gavin finds a reclusive man whose life changes course when an elderly neighbour draws him into a world of arcane knowledge. It’s immediately engaging and the magic sits comfortably with themes of self, inevitability and our place in the world.
Joel Lane’s “The Drowned Market” is a short tale about a damaged writer. Before you groan, it rises from the swamp of this particular cliché with a haunting and original finale. Conclusions are definitely a strength of this anthology. Other examples include “Holesale” by Rachel Kendall – which concerns an ex-con market trader who sells miniature black holes – and “FIRE” by Roy Gray: the ruminations of a man facing execution by firing squad. I finished both with a wry smile of admiration.
Another peak is “The Toymaker of Bremen” by Stephen Bacon. In this polished work, a boy loses his parents on a trip, and is strangely adopted by a rural family and their house of toys and creepy artefacts. The 8-year old’s innocence regarding the sinister descent makes for a powerful read and I didn’t want it to finish.
Speaking of point of view, “The Green Dog” by Steve Rasnic Tem is an exquisitely told piece about the eponymous dog, its ageing master and a ghostly mirror. It’s a reflective and poignant journey, and the 3rd-person perspective of the dog is a joy.
Special mention also goes to a couple of stories that capture the essence of Nemonymous. The concept of D.P. Watt’s “Apotheosis” involves a mysterious collective of writers of which the protagonist is, or a least yearns to be, a member. Also, “Haven’t you Ever Wondered?” by Bob Lock stars our uncredited editor, DF Lewis. It’s a referential and dark story that draws together the previous anthologies; a tasty gift for the series faithful.
I would recommend this book to anybody who enjoys an anthology to savour. The subtleties, the synchronicity, the love of language. It cares not for genre, other than the general blanket of weird fiction, and blends imagination with startling humanity. The stories are ordered so that themes sometimes leak from one to the next, but best of all, they credit the reader with intelligence. There is no unecessary explanation of thread or coincidence. Null Immortalis is a respectful equal, not a weary teacher.
As well as here at The Hellforge, I will also be reviewing in other genre-related places. The first (Tim Waggoner’s Dead Streets) is at Hub Magazine, a weekly pdf of SF/fantasy/horror reviews and fiction, sponsored by Abaddon books. Subscribe, and they email each issue to you for free!
The latest of issue of the horror writer’s digest contains my story “Meltdown”, as well as excellent tales by Anderson Prunty, Andrew S. Fuller, Jodi Lee and more.
It’s available from the Necrotic Tissue store here.
I hadn’t read any of this author’s work before, so I thought I’d begin with something light-hearted.
The star of this ostentatious title is William Brown, an ordinary bloke who is abducted by an alien from Tau Ceti 42. Although hideous in appearance, the xenomorph goes by the name of John Smith, and turns out to be polite, slightly indignant and affectingly naive with a passion for reruns of the earth show “I Love Lucy”. The two become friends, and he takes our protagonist on an adventure across the galaxy.
This is a strong novella that wrings a giggle out of every SF staple and abduction cliche. There are bawdy misunderstandings (such as the shaking of an alien’s “hand” that turns out to be a much more intimate appendage), gross-outs and comedy of manners. And as you’ve probably guessed from the title and cover, the aliens have an unhealthy and inexplicable obsession with anal probes. I was going to post a paragraph as an example, but was too spoiled for choice and couldn’t decide. Which says it all, really.
The dialogue is crisp, and there’s plenty of slapstick buffoonery, including the accidental destruction of an entire planet. Even the minor characters bring something to the party. My favourite was a pompous, megalomaniac brain that achieved its glory in a spelling test that lasted thousands of years during which its opponents died of boredom. Neurotic baddies – especially those that are completely unaware of their own absurdity – are always good for laughs.
With its “Which Ray Gun?” magazine and irreverent banter, this is SF very much in the vein of Red Dwarf. The raw science takes a back seat to the gags, and while some of them are pretty obvious, they’re well-timed and relentless.
My only complaint is the language of our narrator. I suspect his slang is used to contrast with the comically well spoken alien, and to inject a distinctly English flavour. Although this worked overall, the overuse of “bloody” seemed unecessary and somewhat intrusive after a while.
But despite this, the pace never lags, and an amusing set of appendices rounds it all off very nicely. Throw in a strong sense of otherworld place, some adept greyscale artwork and a wry smidge of politics, and you’ve got a perfectly entertaining way to spend an hour or so.
EDITED TO ADD:
I was very sad to learn that Barry passed away at 9 am on Saturday 26th June after a battle with terminal cancer.
RIP.
This wonderfully titled book comes courtesy of Avant Punk, an imprint of the trusty bizarro kings, Eraserhead Press.
The tale begins in McDonaldland, a futuristic dystopia in which the fast food corporation has absolute power and bland conformity is king. We meet our hero, Daniel Togg, a bored machine operator who brews illegal alcohol and soon finds himself banished. Beyond the towering city walls, he finds a dangerous wasteland populated by female biker werewolves, genetic mutants and other renegade fringes of society.
As the story progresses, we discover that the city has terrible secrets regarding the origins and history of the wolf women. Daniel is captured by a heavily armed faction named Warriors of the Wild, not realising that his loyalties will soon be tested.
The post-apocalyptic wasteland has been rightly compared to The Road Warrior. There’s modified vehicles, plenty of weapons action, explosions, tribal atrocity and gruesome deaths. We come to meet many of the individual wolf women, each presented with lascivious artwork courtesy of the author, but there is depth to the characters too. My favourites included the cool and pragmatic Slayer, and the twin axe-wielding, dog-snouted Talon, a very powerful but sensible alpha female who is one of the warrior chiefs. And I’ll never forget the psychotic and terrifyingly childish Pippi whom I grew to love and loathe in equal measures.
As well as the violence, there are some guiltily arousing wolfish sex scenes, and a deftly handled angle of lost love that is surprisingly poignant.
It’s not a faultless book. There are several glaring text errors, which are always disappointing. And while the action is mostly a blast, a prolonged swordfight near the end didn’t work for me on the page, and I ended up skimming until I found its conclusion.
I was also slightly disappointed when we left McDonaldland behind. It’s a fascinating idea. Here, the smiley, brightly-coloured facade of a fast-food environment – that masks the disillusionment or brainwashing of its automaton workforce – now infects every walk of life. The opportunities aren’t wasted, whether they be light-hearted fun or deeper social commentary, and I would’ve loved to have seen this concept explored further.
But the matriarchal wasteland itself is a fresh and exciting vision, and there’s considered gender politics at play; it’s not just cheap thrills for the boys. This author always manages to blend twisted bizarro japery with substance.
Despite its minor flaws, Warrior Wolf Women of the Wasteland is one of Carlton Mellick III’s stronger works. The conclusion is unpredictable, but without resorting to contrived twists, and nicely seals a subversive, intelligent and entertaining read.
Having visited San Francisco and its infamous Tenderloin some years ago, this book caught my eye. That district has a distinctive air of desperation and damage, and I was delighted that Mr O’Neill has captured it. Perfectly.
This attractive little book from Apex Publications contains 8 exceptional tales all set in the Tenderloin in which we meet some interesting and broken people. My favourites included “Tombstones in his Eyes” in which an addict attempts to hoodwink a terrifying new dealer on the block. “Balance” features an obsessed Vietnam vet on a homicidal mission of restoring order to the world. In “Bushido”, a hideously scarred homeless man meets Samurai culture in a story of guilt and redemption. I’ll also mention “The Apotheosis of Nathan McKee”. Here, a middle-aged drunk discovers he has powers of invisibility in a tale with a rare light-hearted tone. But there isn’t a single weak link in this collection.
With such a niche theme, I feared it could become samey. On the contrary, while the flavour and atmosphere of the Tenderloin is present throughout, I actually yearned for more once the last story was concluded. The evocation is so strong, I could smell the trash, feel the drug-sweat against my skin, taste the Wild Irish Rose whiskey.
There are several recurring characters, such as the legless bum Short Stuff, and Sweet Jane: the prostitute on the beautiful cover. They provide a very human and reassuring familiarity to the deprivation, but it is the ‘loin itself that is the antihero of the book. A character in itself.
Even if urban, superntural horror is not to your taste, I would still recommend Taste of Tenderloin. It is written in a leisurely, uncluttered style that engages immediately whether the tales begin with a bang or a whisper. Gene O’Neill has presented us with a small but perfectly formed fictionalisation of one of the western world’s most fascinating city districts – or at least how it used to be – and the lost souls that populate it. Enjoy.
The latest issue is available and contains my story “The Bunker”, a story inspired by (and utterly humbled by of course) Stephen King’s “Apt Pupil”.
There’s also juicy stuff courtesy of the brilliant Jeff Strand, MontiLee Stormer, Colm Mc Geever and plenty of others.
I love the neat, digest format and pulpy layout of this magazine. Hopefully it’s a stayer.
Bag one at their website here.
Just heard that Bards and Sages Quarterly are to publish my tale Psi-Mage for Hire in their October issue later this year. Hooray!
Although my true love is horror, I don’t control what ideas stick. Recently they seem to have been more light than dark, and it would be stubborn and counter-productive to argue with my own imagination. Most importantly, writing comic spec-fic is fun, and a welcome break from trying to be scary.
But the horror will be back, oh yes…
Welcome to the Hellforge 