October Horror Round-Up
We Used to Live Here - Marcus Kliewer (Atria) Pick of the Month
The best horror begins with the same premise: something feels a little off, and it’s about to get weirder. A young couple is flipping a rural home when a family stops by. The father claims to have grown up here and wants to show his family. What follows becomes increasingly strange as the family, for some reason, will not leave, and the house and the memories we hold of it start to shift. What Marcus Kliewer achieves with this premise is an almost perfect balance between clarity of storytelling and hiding the mechanics of the universe, even past the final page. This would have been one of the best horror novels of the past several years, complete with wonderful “documents” that launch each section, but the final chapter of the book feels tacked on by order of the publisher. It over explains some pieces of the story (but mercifully leaves others to our imagination), and couldn’t help but remind me of the final scene of Psycho where a police detective narrates everything that has just happened in an effort to talk down to the audience. Regardless, this book is nearly impossible to put down with magnificent characterization and with a keen eye to just how frightening feeling untethered from reality, even with regards to the mundane, can truly become.
A Mask of Flies - Matthew Lyons (Tor)
Matthew Lyons is an incredibly skilled novelist and his latest book A Mask of Flies is an expertly written, fast-paced and an exceedingly violent “road horror” story drenched in crime ephemera. It leans into a cosmic horror angle, just as his last book, A Black and Endless Sky, did, but is more caught up in the plot conventions of bank robberies and its subsequent follies. While a great read throughout, A Mask of Flies is not insubstantially longer than it needs to be and would have benefited from stripping out some extra characters, particularly that of the defecting police officer who never reads as authentic and only adds unnecessary complications to scenes that are already cluttered with characters and motivating action. There is also little difference to be found here, even compared with Lyons last novel, but it’s hard to say that’s a criticism when he does “same” with such expert craftsmanship. I would like to see him take a step beyond his comfort zone stylistically and thematically with his next effort since it’s clear he can handle difficult plotting already, I think we’ll to see just how much he can stretch. I would recommend picking this up for a road trip, though you might need a few hundred extra miles to actually finish.
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Good Night, Sleep Tight - Brian Evanson (Coffee House Press)
Brian Evanson’s latest collection shows perhaps the greatest amount of evolution in his work, particularly in the extensive number of speculative fiction tales it includes that focus on the estrangement living as a robot must incur. As with any collection, there is a range, but you will find more actual plots, often longer stories, and a little less retread then in his last two collections. There is also a certain amorphous melancholy, particularly in his stark vision of the future, which seems stripped of humanity and notably lonely. Fans should obviously pick this up, but I think people should expect this to move past a singular focus on literary horror, and since Evanson’s voice is so distinct I think this is the perfect opportunity for readers to encounter something new. We often understand the discomfort of Evanson’s work as centered on terror, but even when he abandons the genre entirely there is still a gasping anxiety that lies under every character observation and stylistic flourish. The best stories of the collection are “The Sequence” and the title offering, “Good Night, Sleep Tight,” and while I liked the overwhelming majority of the stories, more than I have with any other anthology from him, there were not any that I think stood out as the defining offering or a true homerun. Maybe next time.
The Darkest Night is the kind of book that comes out several times a year, always has something to offer, but rarely rises above the pack. The book is a collection of winter-themed horror stories, some focused on Christmas, while others simply match the season. The strength of a book like this is in its offerings and this simply does not have enough firepower to read as significant. Several stories rely on tired comedic devices regarding Santa, such as “Being Nice” by Jeff Strand and “Nice” by Nat Cassidy, which are so similar and trite that I am surprised they were allowed to stand. Eric LaRocca has a nice period piece framed as a series of letters called “I Hope This Finds You Well,” and Haily Piper and Gwendolyn Kiste have meaningful contributions, though both were a little light on the narrative. Ironically, the best story of the book barely registered as horror, but was the heartbreaking tale “Bruiser” by Jamie Flanagan. Some stories, like “Wintry Blue” co-authored by Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon felt formulaic and unnecessary, as did the random poem by Jessica McHugh in the middle. Overall, I would rather recommend Ellen Datlow’s Christmas and Other Horrors from last year, and it was a little disappointing to see a seasonal anthology that includes no holiday other than Christmas.