Robert Dunbar's Blog, page 2

On February 22, a gentleman named Sebastian Mueller-Soppart posted this on his Facebook page:

“The rise of this blusterous man bewilders the educated among us, conjoins opposing politicians, agonizes our international allies, threatens minorities, spits on the disabled, and touches the hearts of those who just don't know any better.”
~ Liselotte Hubner, Berlin, 1929

Topical, eh?

The quote was (and is) fairly devastating. Superimposed on a photo of Donald Trump, it went viral faster than a cat video. This prompted many people to denounce it as fake on the grounds that Liselotte Hubner does not appear to have been a historical personage. Of course, Mr. Mueller-Soppart never claimed she was anything of the sort, explaining instead that the lady in question was his grandmother … who survived two years in a concentration camp.

The post struck a lot of folks as pertinent. But, perhaps predictably, many people have also demanded to know what any of this has to do with Donald Trump. Apparently, they just don’t see a connection. (The rest of us should probably resist the impulse to roll our eyes.) Can we take courage in the fact that some people see it perfectly well?

“Like any number of us raised in the late 20th Century, I’ve spent my life perplexed about exactly how Hitler could have come to power in Germany. Watching Donald Trump’s rise, I now understand.”
~ Professor Danielle Allen, Harvard University, 2016

Dr. Allen is a political theorist at Harvard. Read the rest of her comments here:
“Trump is rising by taking advantage of a divided country. The truth is that the vast majority of voting Americans think that Trump is unacceptable as a presidential candidate, but we are split by strong partisan ideologies and cannot coordinate a solution to stop him.”
https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinio...



God help us all.

I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter.
~ Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden



Plenty of firewood, but we’re almost out of kindling. I’m so not going out to gather any: the temperature is single digit. (We’re talking Fahrenheit here.) And that wind could take your flesh off. (I wonder if the husband will notice if a chair suddenly goes missing.) It’s the kind of day that makes you conscious of the sheer luxury of being indoors.

A couple of deer are huddled just outside. They see me in the window… and don’t care. (Did you know deer like ginger snaps?) I may need another cup of tea. Perhaps a blanket. And a stack of books.

Above all things a stack of books.

“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and dead.”
~ James Joyce, The Dead

“It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted…”
~ Truman Capote, Miriam



Is it ever going to stop? The yard already resembles some alien landscape…

“And the mist of snow, as he had foreseen, was still on it – a ghost of snow falling in the bright sunlight, softly and steadily floating and turning and pausing, soundlessly meeting the snow that covered, as with a transparent mirage, the bare bright cobbles. He loved it – he stood still and loved it. Its beauty was paralyzing – beyond all words, all experience, all dream. No fairy-story he had ever read could be compared with it – none had ever given him this extraordinary combination of ethereal loveliness with a something else, unnameable, which was just faintly and deliciously terrifying.”
~ Conrad Aiken, Silent Snow, Secret Snow

“There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky…”
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley


I’m a little overworked this season (poisoning candy and putting razorblades in apples, it never ends), so I thought a medley of excerpts from previous Halloween blogs might be fun. Enjoy.


First up, it’s …

MONSTER LOVE, which appeared for the first time at the wonderful Layers of Thought site.

“Never forget that personal demons may have as much to do with secret desires as with secret fears. All those things we’re not supposed to want…”

What monster suggested your secret self? Choices like this can prove so revealing. As kids, we all invested countless hours in watching old horror movies. It’s only natural we felt more affinity with some creatures than others, only natural that they flapped and crawled and howled through our dreams. Half the little boys I knew wanted to be Dracula when they grew up, mostly so they could bite girls, but quite a few seemed instead to go through a Frankenstein stage in their teens, lumbering about and appalling everyone. A Wolfman phase could be even more problematical. (“I don’t remember a thing about last night.” Oh please.) I can’t imagine what little girls fixated on. Surely no one truly yearned to be The Astounding She-Creature or Bride of the Gorilla. And it wasn’t just movies. I could never warm to any of those irksomely wholesome novels grownups were forever trying to foist on me. Remember those books? The ones they approved of? They always seemed to involve a courageous pony or some plucky drummer boy who saves the platoon. Even back then, I could barely conceal my contempt.

I knew what I wanted. Where were my monsters? Where was the gloomth? I missed the considerations of mortality and suffering, loneliness and decay. So I might not have been the most cheerful of children – I doubt I was the only one around who preferred moonlight to sunshine. Maybe we’re a different breed of people, the monster lovers. Perhaps we’re somehow innately perverse. Maybe we’re just braver.

Read the rest of the blog here:
http://www.layersofthought.net/2014/1...


“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it…”
~ George Eliot


Then let’s head over to The Readers’ Advisory Guide to Horror:

“True art seldom celebrates conformity. Literature should transgress, not reassure…”

For me, the monster is always the lonely one, unloved and unwanted, the outcast. And even as a child I knew where my sympathies lay.

Always.

Dracula wasn’t a monster so much as a villain out of Victorian melodrama – foreign and sinister – a stale template even then. Of course, the hero would rescue the damsel. Was there ever any doubt? Ah, but with the Frankenstein monster … nothing could be certain. Adam was soulful. He was abject. He remains the classic outsider, the suffering archetype at the heart of so many truly great novels. What could be more terrifying than all that pain? Even now the monster is among the most supremely tragic – and most intensely human – of literary characters. All he wants is to belong. And he never can. No one will ever acknowledge his humanity. He suffers because he’s different.

Find the full blog here:
http://raforallhorror.blogspot.com/20...


“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.”
~ Francisco de Goya


Next up: ESSENTIAL OCTOBER READS at The October Country site:

“Halloween is the climax of an eldritch season…”

More than any other book I can think of “Something Wicked This Way Comes” captures that atmosphere, the sheer essence of autumn. Recently, I had the opportunity to revisit Ray Bradbury’s masterwork with the Literary Darkness group I moderate on Goodreads … and found the experience strangely moving. So many years had passed since I’d read it. I was so young. Imagine finding an old photo of the first boy you fell in love with. There he is – forever wild and beautiful, despite the passage of years. You might not remember the passion or the tenderness. You may have long since forgotten all the negative aspects – the jealousy, the fights, his mother – but this sudden glimpse becomes a knife in your heart.

Pain can be a good thing. It means you haven’t turned to stone.

Over the years, so many writers I admire have told me that Bradbury’s classic was the book that taught them to love the darkness. Yes. Exactly. It meant a lot to me to encounter his intoxicating language again and to remember how it set my imagination on fire as a kid. Still, there was a not-so-wonderful facet this time around. Admittedly, the Literary Darkness group has close to 3000 members. Nevertheless, I was shocked by the number of people who complained about Bradbury’s prose style being “difficult.” (This? Difficult? I have to wonder what such folks would make of Joyce’s Ulysses or Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, you know, something actually challenging.) But I mustn’t dwell on that. So many members of the group reveled in the text. Many of these readers were quite young, discovering Bradbury for the first time, and I felt privileged to be the one guiding them through it.

There are only so many first times in life.

Every so often, things get to you. The "talents" who glut the genre (and the naked politicking that has so come to define it) can leave you wondering why you ever got involved in the first place. Then something like this reminds you.

Way back, there was love.

See the complete blog:
https://theoctobercountry.wordpress.c...


“Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.”
~ Robert Browning




Check out SEASON OF THE WITCH at Where the Dead Fear to Tread:

Wise up. It’s not about the candy corn. Halloween is as political as a brick through the windshield of a cop car.

We have always been at war. First the Romans marched, then authoritarian religious armies – pious and intolerant – slaughtered and burned in their footsteps. What else could you call it but war? Adherents may have been tortured and maimed. Priestesses may have been put to the sword and temples sacked, but the old beliefs won’t stay buried. Even now, they lurk just beneath the sanitized surface, ready to claw their way up. Once a year, the prevailing culture acknowledges this fact … without ever admitting what it is that’s being acknowledged.

Neat trick. Never mind. The wild grace does not fade. Jack-o-lanterns still burn as brightly as any heretic. Hags cackle, and skeletons cavort. But don’t be afraid. It’s all in fun.

Isn’t it? Listen for the cries of “Satanism!” According to so many sectors of the culture, this day represents a challenge, even an outrage. In many circles, Halloween is still referred to as “the gay holiday,” and this alone offers effrontery to the status quo. Dissidents have perished on the rack for less. Much less.

This is not just war. It’s history. And which side writes the history books?

The name Halloween is a corruption of All Hallows Eve, one of many calendar events grafted onto pagan celebrations, in this case Samhain. (Doesn’t it always come down to power? Appropriating the old gods and turning them into saints and angels, even erecting shrines to them, has proved to be an excellent means of exerting control.) Wiccans still consider Samhain – the day when the spirit world and the mortal world make contact – the highest of holy days. As celebrated in queer society, Halloween becomes a transgressive festival: flagrantly unorthodox, a night of revels for the most marginally accepted (and often brutally oppressed) citizens. All Hallows Eve leads into All Saints Day – a cattle call of mythological personae, traditionally including figures like Saint Demetra and Saint Mercurius, supposed martyrs adapted from the Roman gods Demeter and Mercury, themselves based on the Greek gods Ceres and Hermes. This list includes Saint George (and his dragon), Saint Christopher (a giant), and Saint Valentine (Cupid/Eros) as well as celestial hosts of fabled others, so many in fact that early Protestant reformers could attack All Hallows Eve for being both Pagan and Papist. Another neat trick.

Then as now, propaganda and superstition remain potent weapons. Witches rarely burned alone, and never because they possessed magical powers. (The very word “faggot” refers to kindling.) However meager their possessions, every heretic rendered to ash owned something to be commandeered by church and state. If one sought true cause for outrage, one need look no further.

And the war never ends. Bats flap. Phantoms moan. No, it’s not about the candy corn. Everything is politics. It’s all about power. This Halloween take a stand; do something revolutionary. Here, have a brick. Just be sure to wear a mask.

Visit the site here:
http://wherethedeadfeartotread.blogsp...


“Heroes need monsters to establish their heroic credentials. You need something scary to overcome.”
~ Margaret Atwood


Lastly, it’s an excerpt from an interview at Dark Media:

“To this day, readers are passionate about THE PINES … and more than a few are still incredibly provoked by it.”

You have been very critical of the current trends in the horror genre. Can you elaborate on your perspective of the market right now?

Critical? Oh dear. Have I? People are always advising me to be more positive in interviews, but that’s not always easy. Or possible. Do you know the Edgar Allan Poe story where the lunatics turn out to be running the asylum? No, I’m not critical of the genre. I love the genre. What I decry is the veneration of mediocrity that’s been like a stake through its heart.

It was a huge struggle to get MARTYRS & MONSTERS out, yet it was critically acclaimed. Why is there this barrier between the industry and the readers that keeps great books from reaching the shelves?

It really was a struggle. How do you even know about this? The original publisher scheduled and canceled its release five separate times that I’m aware of, finally preferring to forfeit the advance rather than to bring the book out. (Personally, I believe they bought the manuscript based on the impact my other books had made, without realizing the extent of the queer content. When they finally read it, they freaked.) Not good. And talk about bad press. Continuing concerns about who owned what rights very nearly suppressed MARTYRS & MONSTERS entirely, and few of the other genre houses would even look at it, despite my track record. What a nightmare! I ended up working with the tiniest of micro-presses. The book should have sunk out of sight without a ripple: I was prepared for it. But then the strangest thing happened. The reviews, all those incredible raves, they saved it. Critic after critic called it “a masterpiece” or a work of “genius.” What writer doesn’t want to hear this?

WILLY is a haunting evolution from childhood to adulthood and both the child-voice and the adult-voice are equally powerful. Elaborate on this process. How did you capture the authenticity from child to man?

This book is all about the voices, and I’m not sure how to describe the process of channeling them except to say that it was hard work. Real writing always demands so much. You have to be willing to confront things deep within yourself, things any normal person would have sense enough to avoid. I mean, we all put up barriers. We need to. But a writer has to strip away anything manipulative or evasive, anything false. Have you ever encountered a person who doesn’t understand what a novel is … or who can’t grasp the concept of fiction? You’ll get comments along the lines of “so you just make stuff up?” (If you slap these people, you’ll get into trouble. Trust me on this.) They’ll never comprehend that, no, making stuff up would be lying, not writing, whereas literature must be true on a higher level. Always. Each detail. Regardless of the plot. Every word. Every emotion. Absolutely honest. I swear this book almost killed me.

You do not shy away from erotic elements and gay themes in your work. How do you use these elements to shape your stories?

We’re back to honesty here. Any artist needs passion as well as discipline. This is too hard a life otherwise. What else would carry you through? I’m speaking of the characters’ passions now, not just my own, because I tend to write about people in extreme situations. They have desperate needs, desperate longings. The erotic, the emotional – that’s all part of it. A vital part. In my work anyway.

How has your work evolved over the years? How have the changes in the horror genre shaped your writing? Do you even classify yourself a horror writer?

Good question. No, I don’t consider myself a horror writer any more than I consider myself a gay writer. I’m a writer. Period. You’d be amazed by the kind of outrage this remark has been known to incite. (At my lectures, audiences have been known to turn into lynch mobs, though that might just be a natural response to my personality.) Do you understand what I mean? My beliefs, my desires, my artistic and personal goals, these all shape the kind of writer I am, naturally, just as they shape the kind of man I am, the kind of human being. If my work has evolved over the years – and I like to think it has – it’s because I’ve become more fiercely myself, less invested in pleasing others. I’ve worked hard at this. Curiously enough, as my writing has become more personal, my readership has grown. Go figure.

The interview can be found in its entirety here:
http://www.darkmediaonline.com/into-t...


“Where there is a monster, there is a miracle.”
~ Ogden Nash


Thanks for checking these out. Trick or treat, everyone. Have a great holiday.




“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”
~ Werner Herzog

Just as there are broken people, there are broken places on this earth.

Some have always been broken.

All cities have such neighborhoods at their edges, and this city is all edges … block after block of bleakly hopeless outskirts.

People don’t bury dead cities. They abandon them. They abandon them to the poorest of the poor, to the lost and the doomed.

A few streetlights may still glimmer, but the life of this city ebbed long ago. It might resemble the site of some cataclysm or look as though chains of time had tightened, crushing it; yet it is not truly old, not as such things are measured. No true cataclysm occurred, and the extinct civilization that built it staggers on, even now, unaware of its own demise.

Rot phosphoresces where wounds are deepest, and here decay is well advanced, but some form of life festers still. Things scurry. They twitch in shadows. They splash through flooded alleys and lurk along the docks. And they travel in packs.

~ from the Prologue to THE STREETS



Talk about long, strange trips. I can remember starting to write THE PINES the way one might recall a past life experience. Could that really have been me? Could I really have been that young? (Ever?) I remember beginning it as a sort of parody of a horror novel, lampooning everything I thought was wrong with the genre. (Because no one understands everything about everything the way a twenty-year-old understands everything about everything.) Then the strangest thing happened.

I started to get sucked in.

Before reaching the end, I swear, I inhabited that moldering old house in the pine barrens to a more intense degree than I inhabited my own horrible apartment in that terrible neighborhood. (Has anybody here read my collection Martyrs and Monsters? Remember the story GETTING WET? Imagine if Tim dragged himself in from the streets every night and then sat up till dawn working on a novel. Imagine if Con became jealous of it, jealous enough to break a few of Tim’s bones, then throw the manuscript out a window. Picture Tim, barely able to stand, scrambling around in the street, gathering pages. Better still, don't imagine it. I've spent my adult life trying to block it out.) Then an even stranger thing happened: a publisher wanted the novel.

Seriously? I thought I was having a psychotic break. (All right, so I’m not ruling that out.) Suddenly, there was this actual book with my name on the cover. Soon a handful of critics championed it, and it began to snowball.

Jesus. Who the hell expected that?

It’s a different world now, and I’m a different person. But I think the seeds of myself were planted on all those late nights – still the most vivid and terrifying chapter of my life – as I fought to realize my vision of that sad, evil house and the people trapped within.

Horror fans were more innocent then, I think. A lot of folks were sort of shocked by my work. Even today, readers are put off by the fact that my characters are the walking wounded: difficult souls in bad situations. Crippled (maybe) but groping toward the light, they learn to accept themselves, and they learn to love… and to fight for the people they love, to protect them.

To save them.

Amazing – the things we learn as we go along (if we live long enough). I couldn’t have realized it at the time, but THE PINES was my story, my life story, I mean. It might have been a horror novel, full of fire and monsters, but it was, at least metaphorically, about the world I was learning to live in, about the self I was learning to inhabit.

God, I hate insight.



Poor Matty: ten years old and wandering the woods, visions of blood filling his head, his only friend a phantom voice in the trees. Such a singular image. The amazing thing was how many people found that this book spoke to them. At any rate, it amazed me.

I remember that readers kept asking when the sequel would be coming out. “Are you nuts?” I would politely inquire. (I’ve always been good with people.) No way, I insisted – there would be no sequel. Besides… I encountered so many detours. Poetry and theater. Articles to write. Then radio and even, gods help me, television. But, one day, as though from nowhere, I found myself writing THE SHORE.



One of the characters from THE PINES became central to the plot of THE SHORE. (Others entered the story only tangentially.) Still blighted. And struggling. But still trying to grow.

This was another, very different sort of vision: hushed and snowbound. From the start, I wanted to construct it like a British mystery, full of complex characters in an isolated environment, and – at the heart – almost apocalyptically intense.

“Apocalyptic” became sort of a key concept. (That hurricane at the end…) I never dreamed there would someday be a third volume. Sometimes you just can’t stop these things.

They rise.

People who read my novella Wood, may find they recognize some of the atmosphere of THE STREETS, at least, some of the milder aspects. (The characters from WOOD would never survive THE STREETS.) And there may be echoes of my other books as well. In THE STREETS, the teenage inmates of The Whitman Center, a nearly derelict asylum on the outskirts of Camden, New Jersey, are the spiritual siblings of the students at the Decatur Institute in Willy. But I did something else as well. I brought in all of the (surviving) characters from both THE PINES and THE SHORE for this ultimate confrontation with the monsters that have dominated their lives.







The Pines
The Shore
THE STREETS

Legends linger … in the dark places of this earth.

In a desolate city, as ravaged and dangerous as any post-Apocalyptic wasteland, a ragtag gang of demon hunters must battle to save humankind itself. But is mankind worth saving?

THE STREETS is the final installment of THE PINES TRILOGY:


Part I
THE PINES

An evil force draws ever nearer to the farmhouse where a lonely woman struggles to raise her strange, disturbed son.



“Dark, foreboding, menacing, eerie … seductive.” ~ The Philadelphia Inquirer

“Nor only a superb thriller but a masterpiece of literature.” ~ Delaware Valley Magazine

“Astounding ... a brooding tale told with haunting grace ... a work of art.” ~ Shroud Magazine

Part II
THE SHORE

As a winter storm tightens its grip on a half-deserted town, the locals cower from more than just the pounding waves.



“A classic of modern horror.” ~ Weird New Jersey

“Full of chilling surprises.” ~ Cemetery Dance Magazine

“This intense and wholly original novel is one of the best to come out of the horror genre in years.” ~ Dark Scribe Magazine

Part III
THE STREETS

Do the streets offer salvation? Or death?




“THE STREETS is like ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST, shot directly into your veins like a speedball.”
~ Greg F. Gifune, author of THE BLEEDING SEASON

“Robert Dunbar has the unique personal vision, command of language, and atmospheric style to enrapture you in the wildest, deepest nightmare.”
~ Tom Piccirilli, author of THE LAST KIND WORDS

* * *

It’s exciting, waiting to see how people will respond to a new book. THE STREETS is available both in paperback and as an ebook. For more information, visit Uninvited Books:
http://www.uninvitedbooks.com/

The world has changed.

Is changing.

Constantly.

We’re all floundering. Well, the writers anyway. None of us has a clue. This way? That one? Is that a shark? Swim faster! But be careful: that might not be land ahead so much as a fog bank. You might actually be heading further out to sea.

Scary thought, right?

Even on the beach, it’s murky enough these days. Remember publish or perish? More like publish AND perish. We’re all in trouble. Chain bookstores (even the ones still open) won’t carry indie titles, and independent bookstores have become an almost mythical rarity. Mainstream media rarely considers books anymore, and even the tiniest of weekly presses are swamped by review copies. Hundreds, even thousands arrive each month. It’s rough. In an ocean of new titles, only authors who are already household names (or have serious financial backing) have much chance of attracting attention. What’s a writer to do?

There are theories.

The experts all tell you that social media is the key to marketing yourself, completely overlooking the fact that most of the people in your “network” are there for the same reason. (You may have 5,000 friends on Facebook, but 4,999 of them want you to buy their book… or at least accept a free copy in exchange for a review or a blurb.) It’s all about self-promotion. For everyone. I saw an interesting question posed on a popular blog the other day: Where’s the benefit in being a great writer? Does anyone care about that stuff anymore? How many five-star ratings will that even get you?

I don’t drink enough.

Does any of this sound familiar? If so, you’re not alone. We’re all in the same (sinking) ship. But there are people who might actually want to help. You know the ones I mean, right? Passionate, appreciative, enthusiastic readers – the sort who keep a poor writer going. They’re out there. And here’s the thing. They can help.

But they might require a little guidance. (Civilians. Go figure.) Of course, various self-marketing gurus have already posted all sorts of tips… mostly hilarious. Have you seen some of this stuff? Much of it comes down to “if you like my page, I’ll like yours.” Very useful. And so professional.

I don’t drink enough. Have I mentioned that?

Okay, let’s try and be positive about this. There ARE a few thing readers could do that might actually be beneficial for an author. So this is what you tell them: First of all, buy the stinking book already.

Seem obvious? (And, yes, you might consider phrasing that a tad more diplomatically.) I'll sometimes get nice notes from people who rave about one of my books... before telling me all about how they found a good used copy for under a dollar. Many people are surprised to discover authors don’t receive a penny from secondhand sales.

It’s a strange world.

The first fan letter I ever received was from someone who'd borrowed my book from a prison library. (I’ve cherished that. My target readership at last!) But if you want to keep your favorite author solvent, buy a copy. New. (Resist the urge to steal it.) In fact, buy two – give one as a gift! But there’s something else that might be even more important.

Write a review. Let me say that again. WRITE A REVIEW. Even if it’s quite short, post it on Amazon where it will do the most good. Then post it on Goodreads. Tweet about it. Chat it up on Facebook. It’s the mystery of the algorithms: a book can’t sell if people don’t see it. You can do other things of course, but those are the main ones.

Pass the shark repellent. These seas are getting rougher all the time. If there’s a writer whose work you care about, throw out a lifeline.

No, not a chum line!!!!

* * *

For further reading, there’s a great article on this subject at HuffPo:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/penny-c...

And a really fun blog here, full of terrific ideas, though I would not suggest posting a photo of your baby reading one of my books. (The child welfare people will be after you like a shot.)
http://www.triciagoyer.com/sell-more-...

LITERARY DARKNESS is a lively book discussion group on Goodreads with over 2700 members, many of them teachers, librarians, writers – passionate readers all. Now in our sixth year, our knowledgeable and enthusiastic membership continues to analyze and appreciate dark literature. This annual list of notable books is in no way intended as an award, nor is it meant to imply exclusivity. It is a reading list, pure and simple. Many wonderful books are out there, and we hope to experience them all. Our goal is to help others discover them as well.



Come.

Explore with us.




Some books become lights in the eternal darkness. What follows is a list of recommendations and commendations… combined with heartfelt gratitude to the many fine writers who keep readers awake at night.


Fresh Blood:
These are new titles recognized by the group as having made a considerable impact during the past year.
THE WATER KNIFE by Paolo Bacigalupi
BROKEN MONSTERS by Lauren Beukes
THE CORPSE EXHIBITION by Hassan Blasim
BITTER WATERS by Chaz Brenchley
THE SHAPE OF EVERY MONSTER YET TO COME by Brian Allen Carr
THE QUARANTINED CITY by James Everington
ORPHANS OF WONDERLAND by Greg F. Gifune
AFTER THE PEOPLE LIGHTS HAVE GONE OFF by Stephen Graham Jones
PRAYING DRUNK by Kyle Minor
BURNT BLACK SUNS by Simon Strantzas


Contemporary:
These may be collections of short fiction or literary essays, anthologies or novels. All are from the recent past and all are extraordinary.
NORTH AMERICAN LAKE MONSTERS by Nathan Ballingrud
IN THE HOUSE UPON THE DIRT BETWEEN THE LAKE AND THE WOODS by Matt Bell
MOTHER BOX AND OTHER TALES by Sarah Blackman
THE NATURAL DISSOLUTION OF FLEETING-IMPROVISED MEN by Gabriel Blackwell
THE ROAD TO LONDON by Adriano Bulla
THE DAZZLING DARKNESS by Paula Cappa
BOTTLED ABYSS by Benjamin Kane Ethridge
MIRA CORPORA by Jeff Jackson
VAMPIRES IN THE LEMON GROVE by Karen Russell
THE CRIMSON THREAD OF ABANDON by Shuji Terayama


Vintage:
Calling a book a Classic can be like entombing it. Many readers would sooner pry open the lid of a coffin than peer between those musty pages. Often this represents a sort of tragedy: some books seethe with life and emotion… and cry out to be read. These are among our favorites.
FICCIONES by Jorge Luis Borges
DRAWING BLOOD by Poppy Z. Brite
NAOMI by Douglas Clegg
LORD OF THE FLIES by William Golding
THE KINGDOM OF EVIL by Ben Hecht
THE CEREMONIES by T.E.D. Klein
THE MONK by Matthew Gregory Lewis
MELMOTH THE WANDERER by Charles Maturin
THE ELEMENTALS by Michael McDowell
THE OTHER by Thomas Tryon


Buried Treasures:
This is a list of titles, some celebrated, some obscure, that in so many ways evoke the finest qualities of literary darkness.
EMPIRE OF THE SENSELESS by Kathy Acker
GODS AND MONSTERS by Christopher Bram
THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE NEST OF SPIDERS by Samuel R. Delany
THE OBSCENE BIRD OF NIGHT by José Donoso
STABS AT HAPPINESS by Todd Grimson
HOUSE OF WINDOWS by John Langan
THE FIFTH CHILD by Doris Lessing
A SEASON IN HELL by Arthur Rimbaud
THE MOON WILL LOOK STRANGE by Lynda E. Rucker
THE ROOM by Hubert Selby Jr.




LITERARY DARKNESS is dedicated to an appreciation of important works of literature, both classic and contemporary, that happen to fall into the category of Dark Fiction. We tend to avoid the big, banal blockbusters (and more lurid fare) in favor of beautifully written explorations of the unknown, many obscure, all extraordinary. In addition to maintaining hundreds of ongoing conversations – on topics ranging from favorite classics to cutting-edge subgenres – LITERARY DARKNESS features a popular group reading series.

We are currently reading In Cold Blood by Truman Capote






and Narrow Rooms by James Purdy.






We have also recently begun a successful series of short story readings. Discussions have included fiction by Robert Aickman, Jorge Luis Borges, William Faulkner, and Edith Wharton. Join us.

GROUP READING:
Over the years, we have discussed hundreds of titles and authors. In the past year, the following books were selected by the membership to be read within the group, and the links provided should help clarify some of the criteria involved.



STRANGERS ON A TRAIN by Patricia Highsmith
http://literarycornercafe.blogspot.co...



NO NIGHT IS TOO LONG by Barbara Vine
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-ent...



BEST GHOST STORIES of Algernon Blackwood
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2007...



THE GOLEM by Gustav Meyrink
http://www.theguardian.com/books/book...





BLOOD MERIDIAN by Cormac McCarthy
http://www.nytimes.com/1985/04/28/boo...



THE GREEN MAN by Kingsley Amis
http://mookseandgripes.com/reviews/20...



TOURS OF THE BLACK CLOCK by Steve Erickson
http://www.nytimes.com/1989/03/05/boo...



ANCIENT IMAGES by Ramsey Campbell
http://shroudmagazinebookreviews.blog...




THE LITTLE STRANGER by Sarah Waters
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/31/boo...



BOY’S LIFE by Robert R. McCammon
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-re...



SAVAGE NIGHT by Jim Thompson
http://www.mulhollandbooks.com/2012/0...



THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE by Shirley Jackson
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/29/boo...



Previous group readings have included:
THE SECRET HISTORY by Donna Tarrt
REBECCA by Daphne du Maurier
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY by Oscar Wilde
THE GRAVEDIGGER’S DAUGHTER by Joyce Carol Oates
THE WINE-DARK SEA by Robert Aickman
GHOST STORY by Peter Straub
THE COLLECTED STORIES of Elizabeth Bowen
WILLY by Robert Dunbar
HOUSE OF LEAVES by Mark Z. Danielewski
CONJURE WIFE by Fritz Leiber
HOUDINI HEART by Ki Longfellow
THE NIGHT STRANGERS by Chris Bohjalian
SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES by Ray Bradbury
GARDENS OF NIGHT by Greg F. Gifune
VERLAND: THE TRANSFORMATION by B. E. Scully

For more information, visit the LITERARY DARKNESS group here:
https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...


Savor the darkness.

Seriously? Maybe it’s just me.

I’m always a little suspicious of people who profess not to be offended by Lovecraft’s racism. Come on. This really doesn’t bother you? You can just overlook it?

I’ll never be able to. For one thing, I’ve seldom met a member of a minority who shared this tolerance. No, it’s pretty much a white thing and usually preceded by a complaint about “pretentious” snobs, you know, them with their fancy grammar and their punctuation. Loud factions within the genre are nothing if not anti-literary.

That’s part of it.

But… why aren’t more people offended? I just don’t get this. Why does old HPL get a free pass when it comes to hate speech? Is it because of the genius of his prose style?

“Cthulhu still lives, too, I suppose, again in that chasm of stone which has shielded him since the sun was young. His accursed city is sunken once more, for the Vigilant sailed over the spot after the April storm; but his ministers on earth still bellow and prance and slay around idol-capped monoliths in lonely places. He must have been trapped by the sinking whilst within his black abyss, or else the world would by now be screaming with fright and frenzy. Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men. A time will come – but I must not and cannot think! Let me pray that, if I do not survive this manuscript, my executors may put caution before audacity and see that it meets no other eye.”

Does that passage truly inspire anyone to read further? Anyone who hasn’t sustained a cranial injury? Brought into contact with Lovecraft’s writing, even the most erudite scholars fairly gibber. Peter Damien’s recent comments on Book Riot (which nearly caused an actual riot) are not atypical: “A godawful writer. He was so bad. I really cannot stress this enough.” Nor was Edmund Wilson’s famous remark about HPL: “The only real horror in these fictions is the horror of bad taste.” Academics just can’t seem to believe that adults read this sort of thing. I have the same problem.

There must be some reason people support it, because support it they do. Rabidly. A few months ago, someone in the Literary Darkness group made a dismissive remark about Lovecraft and “casual racism.” Leaving aside (for the moment) that the phrase itself is appalling, does this sound casual to anyone?

“The only thing that makes life endurable where Blacks abound is the Jim Crow principle, and I wish they'd apply it in New York both to Niggers and to the more Asiatic types of puffy, ratfaced Jews!”

Or this?

“Of the complete biological inferiority of the negro there can be no question he has anatomical features consistently varying from those of other stocks, and always in the direction of the lower primates.”

Both examples are from HPL’s voluminous letters to editors. (He apparently wrote thousands of these, like some troll who never logged off.) And it’s not as though these attitudes did not bleed over into his fiction. They gushed.

“The negro had been knocked out, and moment’s examination shewed us that he would permanently remain so. He was a loathsome, gorilla-like thing, with abnormally long arms which I could not help calling fore legs, and a face that conjured up thoughts of unspeakable Congo secrets…”

What about this do people admire? And, please, don’t anyone start going on about his “ideas” again. Which inventions seem so brilliant? The giant elbow? The invisible whistling octopus?

In a recent New York Review of Books article, regarding “The New Annotated H.P. Lovecraft,” edited by Leslie S. Klinger, Charles Baxter raises several interesting points. This one in particular struck me: “Klinger notes that Lovecraft’s “support of Hitler’s eugenic programs, including the ‘racial cleansing’ advocated by Ernst Rüdin and others, is well known.” This reader had not known it but upon being informed was not particularly surprised.”

Nor was I. It seems very much in character.

The problem is not that HPL was a product of his time – an excuse I’m also sick of hearing – but that he was a vile product of his time. Sadly, that time seems not to have passed so much as cycled back. The Southern Poverty Law Center tracked nearly a thousand active hate groups in the US last year. Sorry, but I will never not mind. I will remain outraged and disgusted. And that but everybody was a racist back then argument is unpersuasive. Other writers of the period committed themselves to passionate anti-Fascism. Why does Horror continue to make a patron saint of this creep? I can’t help feeling he’s not just getting a pass. It’s almost as though Lovecraft’s bigotry somehow excuses his terrible writing, even justifies it.

I know many people agree: you should see all the private messages praising my courage. Not that I don’t appreciate the support, but come on already. My courage? In voicing an opinion? They have a point though, all these oh, you're so brave to say this out loud folks. To publicly express such sentiments is to antagonize the zealots, and they will come after you. This remains in many ways a cult, complete with an elaborately delusional belief system. For instance, accepted dogma holds that HPL eventually repudiated his fondness for the Nazis.

"By God, I like the boy!"
~ H.P. Lovecraft (about Adolf Hitler), November 1936

HPL died in March of 1937, just a few months after making that statement, so the spasm of sanity must have been brief, if it occurred at all, but pointing this out provokes the fanatics to renewed levels of frenzy, so be careful. These are the same people who claim that his lifelong demented hatefulness has no relevance to his "art." Why then do they insist on painting him as a reformed character? Logic is not the order of the day. Also beware of experts who hyperventilate over HPL's supposed literary merits. Such individuals have an agenda.

Not convinced about the political connection? Check out some of the people who become incensed over any criticism of their idol. Any moment now, comments are sure to start piling up. Just wait. Look at who their other favorite authors are. How shocked will you be? Oh, and don’t forget to check out the list of books they hate as well.

Try to act surprised.

Trust me, it only gets uglier. Fan culture can be deeply reactionary, and the genre has catered to this particular contingent for a very long time. No, I’m sticking with the disgust. Plus there’s that aspect where this is all just so fucking embarrassing. Horror writers often complain about the lack of respect accorded us by the rest of the literary community. Ever think maybe there’s a reason? Or that it might be time for Horror to grow up?

Shudder.

"Of course they can’t let niggers use the beach at a Southern resort – can you imagine sensitive persons bathing near a pack of greasy chimpanzees?" ~ HPL

Any questions?

* * * * *

Martin Luther King Jr. Day (and the recent epidemic of racist violence) prompted me to post this blog. It seems fitting to conclude with this quote.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.


Notes & Links:

For more information, see this article by Charles Baxter in the New York Review of Books:
"Racism is not incidental to Lovecraft’s vision but is persistent and essential to it."
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archi...






And don't overlook this essay by Laura Miller in Salon:
"His venomous racism is self-evident; it’s right there on the page."
http://www.salon.com/2014/09/11/its_o...

An "in-defense-of" article by Samuel Goldman appears in (where else?) The American Conservative:
"To criticize his stilted dialogue or Gothic affectations is to miss the point."
http://www.theamericanconservative.co...

Also Phenderson Djeli Clark's article – THE ‘N’ WORD THROUGH THE AGES – at Racialicious should not be missed:
"It’s always perplexing to watch the gymnastics of mental obfuscation that occur as fans of Lovecraft attempt to rationalize his racism."
http://www.racialicious.com/2014/05/2...

Daniel José Older's passionate and insightful piece in The Guardian constitutes required reading:
"The fantasy community cannot embrace its growing fanbase of color with one hand while deifying a writer who happily advocated for our extermination with the other."
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014...

Readers might also enjoy taking this quiz.
Who said it? Hitler or Lovecraft?
http://www.beesgo.biz/horp.html
Some of the answers may surprise you.

This bit is from CREATING A DISTURBANCE, my article about the reactionary forces still so prevalent within the genre. It’s in the current issue of Primeval, a Journal of the Uncanny.

“Everything is political, every aspect of life, and all forms of dissent begin in misery. No individual secure within a free society ever hurled a brick at a tank. Only the oppressed know this kind of rage. There are many ways to resist, large ones and small ones, and even reading can be an act of rebellion. The immersion of the self in forbidden thought manifests a quiet defiance. Often, this constitutes the first step… and a dangerously liberating one. On a basic level, horror fiction suggests an exploration of the unknown, but other impulses often dominate, among them a regressive factor apparently built into the foundation of the genre, an aspect grounded in both fear of the unfamiliar and hysterical loathing of difference.”
http://www.amazon.com/Primeval-Journa...







And this is from my introduction to Enter at Your Own Risk: Fires and Phantoms, a queer-themed anthology of horror stories from Firbolg Publishing.

“There existed a whole universe of such material hidden in plain sight upon the dustiest of library shelves. Edith Wharton’s ghost stories, for instance, fairly vibrated with sexual tensions, even when all the characters were men. As a child, I devoured it all, impressing the hell out of the local librarian and quickly learning to eschew more obvious fare, like H.P. Lovecraft’s luridly paranoid ravings. After all, I empathized only too strongly with the “other” that so terrified him. Plus his prose style always seemed more suggestive of mental illness than artistry.”
http://www.amazon.com/Enter-Your-Own-...

Everything is political, every aspect of life, and all forms of dissent begin in misery. No individual secure within a free society ever hurled a brick at a tank. Only the oppressed know this kind of rage. There are many ways to resist, large ones and small ones, and even reading can be an act of rebellion. The immersion of the self in forbidden thought manifests a quiet defiance. Often, this constitutes the first step… and a dangerously liberating one.
~ from CREATING A DISTURBANCE



Just in time for Election Day, my article “Creating a Disturbance: the Politics of Dread” is out today in issue #2 of Primeval, a Journal of the Uncanny. This is an extraordinary publication: if you haven’t encountered it yet, order your copy now.

http://www.amazon.com/Primeval-Journa...



Just a few other things this month...

Readers seem to be enjoying this new interview with me that appeared yesterday:

The Seven Question Interview:
“My process? Barely controlled hysteria with alternating periods of bone-crunching depression and wild exhilaration.”
http://douglasdhawk.com/wp/?page_id=502

Check it out.

Also... MONSTER LOVE – my guest blog at the excellent Layers of Thought – may make you smile.

Growing up, we all invested countless hours in watching old horror movies on television, despite how much our parents complained. It’s only natural that we felt more affinity with some creatures than others, only natural that they flapped and crawled and howled through our dreams. Half the little boys I knew wanted to be Dracula when they grew up, mostly so they could bite girls, but quite a few seemed instead to go through a Frankenstein stage in their teens, lumbering about and appalling everyone. A Wolfman phase could be even more problematical. (“I can’t remember a thing about last night.” Oh please.)

You can find it here: http://www.layersofthought.net/2014/1...

And remember to drop by the Uninvited Books site for excerpts, reviews, interviews, links, and much more.
http://www.UninvitedBooks.com

Thanks!

Forget your favorite movie star or sports figure. What monster did you identify with as a child? Maybe we need a stronger word than “identify.” What monster suggested your secret other self? Go on. You can tell us. No one will judge.



Growing up, we all invested countless hours in watching old horror movies on television, despite how much our parents complained. It’s only natural that we felt more affinity with some creatures than others, only natural that they flapped and crawled and howled through our dreams. Half the little boys I knew wanted to be Dracula when they grew up, mostly so they could bite girls, but quite a few seemed instead to go through a Frankenstein stage in their teens, lumbering about and appalling everyone. A Wolfman phase could be even more problematical. (“I can’t remember a thing about last night.” Oh please.)


Read the rest of MONSTER LOVE at Layers of Thought.

http://www.layersofthought.net/2014/1...

“Heroes need monsters to establish their heroic credentials. You need something scary to overcome.”
~ Margaret Atwood

We couldn’t very well let our favorite holiday pass without doing something to celebrate.

Now through Halloween, prices on all Uninvited Books titles for Kindle have been, well, slashed.

Visit our site and click on any cover.
http://www.UninvitedBooks.com/



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Why would a demon want a child?
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Blessed is the creature that knows its purpose.
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WARNING: These books may cause nightmares, but that scratching at the window is just your imagination. Probably...