Rumbullion

 

Rumbullion by Molly Tanzer
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I keep telling myself I don't like epistolary novels, which seems a bit odd, as I do truly love to handwrite letters to a select few friends, so it's obviously not the format itself. Perhaps it's that many novels of letters completely miss the "show, don't tell" bandwagon. So, I'm always a little leery when it comes to these kinds of novels.

My misgivings, in this case, were misplaced. I loved Rumbullion.

It started out slowly. Another Goodreads reviewer noted that it took them two months to read the slim volume, and I can see why. Though it's short, it's not a quick read, at least not at first. This probably has to do with the stodgy views of the narrator and his need to explain in great detail with several asides - much as you would expect from a novella that is, at its heart, poking fun at the societal mores, the "morals," and even the writing style of 18th-century England. Once one cottons on to what is being said (without being said), the story rolls out like a well-maintained red carpet, and off you go down the promenade.

I had caught whiffs of Tristram Shandy right from the beginning (a book that I need to re-read and review, truth be told - it's been far too long). About halfway through, the influences were clearly apparent, but not in a way that interfered with the reading. Cloudsley's letter had me laughing out loud, something I don't often do while reading. "I loved that horse," indeed! Tristram Shandy meets Bertie Wooster meets a Shakespearean comedy. The Bard (whoever he is) would be proud!

And to top it all off is another trope that I normally hate: Vampires. But here, one is never quite sure about whether the vampires are truly vampires (though I interpreted them that way), and the subtle allusions to the possibility of vampirism (and cannibalism) are in lock step with the conversational propriety of the times. "Necromantic diabolism" is the watchword of that day. There is a fair amount of diabolism, subtly introduced, to go around.

Now, to be fair, there is one trop that I do love that also figures prominently in the whole narrative(s), that of a Bacchanalia (I was going to say "Dionysian Bacchanalia," but that's kind of overkill, isn't it?). Yes, several characters may or may not have been possessed by Panic (in it's true, Greek sense) forces. Seemingly superhuman achievements of various, sometimes sordid sorts, are reached due to the fact that the characters might not all be . . . well, themselves.

If it sounds like a confusing riot, that's because it is a glorious mess, and I mean that in the most positive way possible.

This one's worth your time, slow start or not. You will, in time, be carried away.



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Rogue's Gallery: Gameholecon 2024

 

9 years now, I've attended Gameholecon in Madison, WI. It helps that I used to live in Madison and am about 40 minutes away now. Also helps that my son lets me crash on his apartment floor. Not the most comfortable arrangement, but hey, it's free, and best of all I get to see my son every day, if even for a short time before I crash out. Love that guy.

This year Gameholecon was a little earlier than in past years. If I remember correctly, last year it was on Halloween weekend (or maybe that was the year previous - I forget). So it was just a touch warmer, which suits me fine. I have memories of earlier Gameholecons, when I lived in Madison, walking home in the bitter cold at stupid o'clock (yes, I was within walking distance). So, yay for global warming, I guess . . . 

Below is my "Rogues Gallery" AKA, the masks I wore for the various games. My schedule was like this:

Started off playing Dark Ages Cthulhu, which was just like modern Call of Cthulhu, but with different skills. The rules were essentially the same. It was a good scenario in which my character ended up becoming one with Shub Niggurath, which is de rigeur for such scenarios, no? There was supposed to be a chase scene, but the Keeper generously skipped that or we would have been there all day. 

Next up was an Empire of the Petal Throne game run by my friend Victor Raymond. I always want to squeeze in an EPT game if I can get in. This one played out as a very pulpy adventure, like something from a 1930s radio drama. It was kitsch, but in all the good ways. And, of course, I'm always happy to immerse myself in Tekumel - it's such a great setting. If you haven't played and get the chance to, jump in, but don't be overwhelmed, as Tekumel is thoroughly-recognized. I can guarantee, though, that if you're playing at Victor's table, you will get everything you need. He is very keen on, and very good at, introducing new players to the world.

Last game Thursday was "Catastrophe Island" for Dungeon Crawl Classics, run by another friend of mine, Doug Kovacs. I've been playing with Doug for a long time now, so I knew what to expect: utter insanity. And so it was. I played a punk kid who ended up as a unicorn-riding skeleton. That's . . . never happened to me before . . . that I want to talk about . . . ever.

Friday started with Achtung! Cthulhu! in which I played a special forces type infiltrating behind enemy lines to discover what some Nazis were doing and what they were digging up (whether intentionally or ignorantly). Yes, there was Nazi-punching. Lots of Nazi-punching. It felt cathartic. 

Next was a Classic Traveller adventure: "Death Station". It's a classic adventure, but I'll be honest, I've never played in it or read it before. Reminded me mostly of Pandorum, for those who know that movie. The best parts came at the end, actually, when we were able to carefully manipulate a no-win situation into something we could not only live with , but which was a satisfying resolution. Things looked very grim, but in-character roleplaying, which involved not a little threat of blackmail, won the day. 

And from there, I played a Boy Scout. Yes, a Boy Scout in a Call of Cthulhu adventure. This was a "black letter" adventure put on by the crew at You Too Can Cthulhu (bless their souls). I learned that a lot of ttrpg nerds were also Boy Scouts in their youth, including yours truly. I have fond memories of playing D&D by flashlight in a tent on a few campouts. This Boy Scout service activity, however, only created horrific memories for all involved. Given the timeline of the adventure, though all the Boy Scouts survived, it's likely they all got killed later storming Japanese-held islands in the Pacific. That's what we thought, anyway. I guess it's good when you speculate together on what happened to the characters later on in life. Wait, did I say "good"? I think I meant "horrible".

At every con, I try to play at least one game I've never played before. This time, it was Warhammer 40K RPG, which I was excited about. I've got to say, though, that it just fell flat for me. The system did not live up to the hype, as far as I am concerned. It was a fine adventure, but the emphasis on tactics just felt a little too video-gamey to me. I suppose the character sheet was cool. Your mileage may vary.

Saturday morning I was up early for a game of Troika!, which is, let's face it, very Saturday-morning-cartoonish. In other words, it was the perfect way to start the day! The scenario was rather simple, but because the Troika! system is also fairly simple, things flowed quickly and we had a good, goofy time. I'm a big fan of the system. It's stripped down the essentials, and the initiative system adds an element of chaos to everything that is a welcome change from going down the numbers list to see who goes next. 

That afternoon, I played Battletech. Now, I was a fairly early adapter to that game, first playing back in 1986. I played a lot (along with the Mechwarrior RPG) for a couple of years, then moved back to the States from England, and just kind of fell off the bandwagon. The last few years, I've enjoyed a renaissance of sorts. No, I'm not crazy about the game, but since I always try to get into at least one miniatures game per con, I saw the slot and took it. This one was a tournament-style wherein once you lose, you are then brought back on to the board in a bigger mech. Then, if that one gets toasted, you move on to a yet larger mech. It was a lot of fun. I put a photo below of my mech about to be absolutely destroyed by the opposing (and much larger) mech's axe. That was the last thing that happened in my participation in the free-for-all. Good fun, getting your head split open (and your pilot crushed to pulp) by another mech. It was pretty epic. 

In between sessions, I went to the dealer room. I was on a mission: I had played Never Going Home at a previous con and absolutely fell in love with it. So, I headed more or less straight to the Wet Ink Games table and barfed up a wad of money for these beauties:

Can't wait to dig in more on those! Given the way I'm trying to structure my time next year (more on that in a later post), I should be able to cook up some craziness and maybe even run a game at a con?

I also stopped in to see Marc Miller, the creator of Traveller. As always, I had a very pleasant conversation with him about games and life in general. I've stated before that it was a childhood dream come true to play at his table a couple of times and other conventions, and now he recognizes my face and knows my name. That might not seem like much to you, but to the 10-year-old that lives deep within my heart, that creates a great deal of excitement and gratitude within. I'm not afraid to say that he's a hero of mine (though he would likely try to brush that off as too-kind).

In any case, I stopped and bought some Traveller dice, something I've needed since childhood, but didn't know I needed. He also proffered a great deal of schwag, for which I'm grateful, including a comic about the Beowulf class of starships and a Beowulf all-access badge. Then, a week or so after the con, I received an envelope from Marc with a(nother) nobility card, among other goodies. To say that Marc's generosity is off the charts is an understatement.

The phrase "saving the best for last" has been so over-used as to become trite. But in the case of Gameholecon 2024, it really was saving up the best for last!

I was lucky enough this year to get into two games run by the You Too Can Cthulhu crew. The last game of the con for me was "Black Sun Rising". If this is ever published, I will destroy anything in my path preventing me from being first in line for this one. Our party was composed of Interpol agents. I played Vitali Kovalev, a Russian ex-pat whose specialty was busting organ trafficking rings. This proved critical in getting clues (i.e., calling in favors) to figure out how the illegal sale of Nazi artifacts co-terminated with a criminal organ harvesting operation. This was a complex, twisting trail of clues that culminated at a pagan folk music festival. You can guess what baddy was involved (hint, I've mentioned her already in this post). I don't want to give anything away, since you might very well play in this scenario at a later date, but this was absolutely THE BEST rpg experience I've had (as a player) at a con so far. I don't have enough superlatives. The scenario was a real test of the player's intelligence and problem-solving skills. The group of players (several of whom I've gamed with before) was just an amazing group of gamers, the kind of table one would die for to be able to play with on a more regular basis. The keeper was (as is always the case) on the top of his game and slipped into character easily. There was more dialogue and ROLEplaying than I've ever participated in for one game. It was absolutely PERFECT! Special thanks to the YTCC crew, who always do a great job, but absolutely knocked this one out of the park. And, yes, many Nazis were punched and shot and killed in the production of this gaming session. And it makes me smile, unlike my character, who, as you can see here is all business.

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Opeth: The Last Will and Testament: A Pithy Review

 I am no music critic (and an even worse photographer - see below). But I've been listening to music, particularly heavy metal and hard rock, for a long time. Back in about 2004, after having felt jaded and mainly disappointed by the grunge era, I had a revelation. A stumbled on the song "The Grand Conjuration," by Opeth, from their then newly-released Ghost Reveries album. I was blown away in a way that I hadn't been in many, many years. Then one of my coworkers turned me on to their 2001 album Blackwater Park. Again: Mind Blown!

So now, almost 25 years later, Opeth releases The Last Will and Testament, which feels, at once, very familiar, and very new. 

To quote the presser: "The Last Will and Testament" is a concept record of sorts. A restless musical journey in a way mirroring my own relationship with music as a consumer of it," narrates band leader Mikael Åkerfeldt. "I pick up something here, dismiss something there. I worship and I hate music at the same time. This ambivalence leads me down some type of creative path of my own and then, all of a sudden, a collection of songs has been written. Best case scenario, these songs are good enough to impress the band. Good enough for the "powers that be" in terms of the industry. Good enough for "you"?! I love this record. I have to say it (write it). Maybe I'm proud even? There are some familiar ingredients in there I suppose. Most of our music has sprung from the same source, so I guess it's not much of a shocker if it's going to sound like "us". I'm a bit in awe of what we did with "The Last Will and Testament". It feels like a dream. There is some "coherence" and " songwriting skills" I hope, but what do I know? I tend to favour the "strange" over the "obvious", but I feel like I'm in the minority, and that's fine. So... fair warning! Don't expect an instant rush (as per usual), but if you do "get it" (have you got it yet?) right away, that's ok too!"

Yeah, I get it. There are strains of Heritage here, but the demon beneath Blackwater Park and Ghost Reveries is there, too. There's even a touch of Damnation there (still my favorite Opeth album, by the way). Yes, the flute, that heaviest of heavy instruments, makes a return, but it's perfect in its place, which happens to be Song 4 - in my opinion, the strongest piece of the entire album. If anything it reminded me of, not Jethro Tull, but. . . Kansas? But a Kansas with a more powerful underbelly, a devil dancing with hope, if you will. The progressive nature of the track (and of several others on the album) is unmistakable and irresistibly magnetic, but the growling, doom-laden counterpoint serves to create a strange storm of contrast and provides, dare I say it? Meaning.

Because at it's heart, this album is about meaning, about who we are, about what we do in relation to what we know that determines our legacy, in time. There's a story behind the story, a way to tell tales that Opeth has been brewing for some time now. What is not said (or sung) is as important, if not more important, than what is. It's in the interstices that the music becomes something beyond mere transition, another realm, between your expectations, a slipstream between death metal and progressive fusion; a universe of its own.

 

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Appendix N: The Eldritch Roots of Dungeons and Dragons

 

Appendix N: The Eldritch Roots of Dungeons and Dragons by Peter Bebergal
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

First off, thanks to Peter Bebergal, editor, who graciously sent me a review copy of this book. I've long admired Peter's work and he is definitely one of the better human beings on the planet. That said, I've been careful to keep a critical eye on the ball here.

The question to be answered is: Did the book hit its mark? Of course, the answer depends, in part, on the audience. For me, a reader, a writer, an editor, and a long-time gamer, the answer is yes, with some slight caveats. They will be registered in the reviews of the stories themselves, below.

Those who have been playing D&D for some time (I've been playing since 1979) and those who have read extensively in the fantasy genre will, likely, approach with caution. All of us old-skool gamers have read Gary Gygax's "Appendix N" from the first edition of the Dungeon Master's Guide (still, as far as I am concerned, one of the best helter-skelter amalgamations of gaming tools and even some gaming wisdom - though the absolute best guide on how to run a game is found in the Call of Cthulhu 7th edition Keeper Rulebook: Chapter 10). We all know about it, but how many of us have read those works in their entirety? Not me! That might have something to do with a lazy streak, because digging up all those titles is a lot like real work, especially with some of the older, more obscure works.

So, here, Bebergal has done the work for you, and then some. Okay, not every work is collected here (that would take entire volumes), but he has picked out some of the best short work mentioned in Appendix N, and mingled in some pieces not specifically mentioned, but that may have influenced the game, and definitely have influenced players and dungeon masters for decades. But you won't find many direct corollaries with D&D spells, monsters, classes, magic items, or dungeons. No, outside of a few notable exceptions (all noted in the Introduction or Afterword), you'll have to extrapolate from the material provided - you'll have to use your imagination! After all, TSR, the founding company for D&D and many other tabletop roleplaying gems, told you right up front that these are "Products of your Imagination" all the way back in 1983. So, get with it! Get reading and get imagining!

Here's what you have to look forward to:

Right as I started reading this book, my next turn on the Play By Mail game Hyborian War arrived. I read the report on how my Darfarian armies and heroes were doing (not well, honestly - and since then, things have gotten worse). Then I read Lin Carter's "How Sargoth Lay Siege to Zaremm" and I couldn't differentiate between the two. I count that as a very good thing. I can use a lot more epic sword and sorcery on that scale (and yet, in such a short story) in my life.

"The Tale of Hauk," by Poul Anderson: Viking undead undead undead undead. Three stars. The epic "poetic" language came across stilted to me. Even ten-year-old-OMG-I'm-new-to-D&D-and-everything-is-so-awesome Forrest would have balked at the choppy only halfway-historically-accurate prose. What can I say? I was a jaded snob at a very young age. I blame Lewis Carroll. So, not bad, not great. But do not let this stop you from reading more of Anderson's work. He really is an excellent writer!

I've read my share of Leiber's Fafhrd and Gray Mouser tales, but not "The Jewels in the Forest," until now. These are not mere Murder Hobos, but people with real emotion. I could have used these role models in my early TTRPG days (I started when I was 9): Adventurers, but not sociopaths. It's the humanity of the two that I love. There is some genuine pathos here, and Bebergal has slipped other stories into this volume with more emotional impact than you might expect ("Tower of Darkness" and "Black Gods Kiss" most especially). But the pulp-action adventure and mystery here is also up front and real.

Clark Ashton Smith's "Empire of the Necromancers" may be the absolute highpoint of grimdark sword and sorcery (with an emphasis on the sorcery, though swords are utilized). It's difficult to find a darker story, where the level of vengeance would make Poe pale and Evenson blush. The voice is Dunsanian, but a Dunsany gone horribly wrong, which makes this tale horribly right. Machen might have loved this.

I've read "Turjin of Miir" before, but this reread did not tarnish the experience at all. On the contrary, now, more than ever, I can see the subtle genius of Jack Vance's work. There's a cleverness that never becomes self-seeing, a burbling sense of unaware-of-itself humor and a phantasmagoric atmosphere that's weird enough, but not crazy

I have to admit that I haven't read much Tanith Lee. But after the outstanding "A Hero at the Gates," I want more. Cyrion, the protagonist, uses his keen power of observation and quick decision making with even more skill than he shows as a swordsman. Steel may finish the deal, but the critical analysis is made in the hero's head long before a blade is unsheathed. A fantastic character study. In my mind, I couldn't help but picture Erol Otus' D&D character Valerius as I read.

I've read and enjoyed Howard's "Tower of the Elephant" thrice before, and I know why it was contained in the current volume. Still, it's not without it's faults, and I would like to have seen some other Conan story, maybe "Rogues in the House," which, to me, is more of a D&D adventurer's tale. Still, the volume would be incomplete without "Tower," I think, at least for someone new to Sword and Sorcery. So, it's really a must-have. Shame that another Conan piece couldn't have been squeezed in.

Poetry? In Sword & Sorcery? Well, of course. What do you think the old epics were? Here, in Saberhagen's "The Song of Swords," poesis and evocative epic storytelling meld perfectly. This would make any bard proud.

I've had the chance to talk with Michael Moorcock a few times on the phone, while co-editing the Leviathan 3 anthology with Jeff Vandermeer. Mike is a scholar and a gentleman, and I enjoyed some long conversations with him about the writer's craft and his time working with Blue Oyster Cult and Hawkwind. One wonders how he could create such an anti-hero as Elric, but when you read carefully, you realize that Elric might have been a "good man" once. But his world, as shown in "The Dreaming City" is broken. The dream has shattered, and so, the man, who is a shell of his former self, driven by his evil sword.

"The Doom That Came to Sarnath" is one of those tales in which a deep lore is established. Here Lovecraft paints the picture of a lost city saturated by a long-duree history of corruption and fear. Just the sort of place adventurers might go to seek treasure, and just the sort of place where they might meet their own doom!

David Madison's "Tower of Darkness" is amazing. The protagonists, Diana and Marcus, are thoroughly-realized characters that might have been every bit as well-written as Fafhrd and Gray Mouser, had Madison not died an untimely death at age 27. I want to read more of his work. Much more. Absolutely fantastic fantastical work, and such a loss to the world of Sword and Sorcery.

I've often mused on where Gygax found his monsters. I think that Manly Wade Wellman's "Straggler from Atlantis" might be a source for what later became the gelatinous cube (I'm certain his ochre jelly came from Hiero's Journey). Regardless, Wellman crafts a good tale of sword sorcery, and even a crashed flying saucer here. Expedition to the Barrier Peaks , anyone?

Margaret St. Clair's "The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles" holds no surprises, nor does it need to. This is one of those rare stories where you can sense what's coming, what is almost inevitable, but it is so cleverly written that you gladly come along for the ride. This was a joy to read, alas for Mortensen, and the ending was a delightful (for us, not for the salespoerson) cherry on top. I loved this little story.

I've ,read my fair share of Ramsey Campbell's work, especially his Cthulhu mythos fiction. I didn't quite know what to think when I saw that his story "The Pit of Wings" appeared in this collection. Now I see that it's a brilliant mix of Sword & Sorcery and outright horror; exactly the type of game I like to run! If you've ever worried about stirges, don't read this story. Oh, and stirges are one of my favorite things to throw at a party of adventurers!

I will run out of words before I can explain how absolutely marvelous C.L. Moore's "Black God's Kiss" is. Jirel of Joiry is so well-realized in this one story that I immediately ran off to find more of Moore's work. She is a complex character who encounters turns of emotion and morality that reflect an inner reality absent in most Sword and Sorcery. And Moore's Hell is truly a Hell; terrible, yet beautiful. The image of a herd of fleet-footed blind white horses stampeding through hell will probably never leave me:

As the last one of all swept by her, sweat-crusted and staggering, she saw him toss his head high, spattering foam, and whinny shrilly to the stars. And it seemed to her that the sound was strangely articulate. Almost she heard the echoes of a name - "Julienne! Julienne!" - in that high, despairing sound. And the incongruity of it, the bitter despair, clutched at her heart so sharply that for the third time that night she knew the sting of tears.

"The Fortress Unconquerable, Save for Sacnoth" is everything you'd expect from Lord Dunsany. I have to admit that his penchant for hyperbole in all of his stories is simultaneously endearing and annoying. But he wrote in a epic mythological register, so it's to be expected. Still a great story, especially if you haven't read Dunsany before. Plenty of inspiration here for dungeoneers old and young, though! Note that Stormbringer isn't the only great sword of fantasy fiction. I'm going to venture a guess that Gygax took his idea (or was it Arneson's?) for intelligent swords both from Moorcock and from Dunsany.

I have heard A. Merritt's "The People of the Pit" as a great exemplar of pulp weird fiction. That may be true, but the telling of the tale felt off to me. The mimicry of Lovecraft's prose wore thin, and the high vocabulary of a character that clearly wouldn't use it was also a hindrance, throwing me out of my willing suspension of disbelief. So, it might be iconic, but it isn't particularly good. Didn't hate it, didn't love it.

As much a morality tale as an adventure tale, "Legacy from Sorn Fen," by Andre Norton is told in a register one step down from Dunsany's high flights. This suits the story more, with a grit that will appeal to most gaming tables. The biggest takeaway is to be careful what you wish for. Anyone who has been playing D&D long enough realizes the potential pitfalls of fulfilled desires. "Is that what you really want?"

Following these prose pieces are two comics. The first one is "Crom the Barbarian," a comic from 1950 that reads and looks like, well, a comic from 1950, with all that implies. The plotline definitely informed that of a certain '80s movie staring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The final piece is "Sword of Dragonus," from 1971, three years before the appearance of the epic black-and-white adult comic series The Savage Sword of Conan. I have a special place in my own Appendix N for Savage Sword. This is where I cut my teeth on sword and sorcery fantasy. While living at San Vito AFB, Italy, my parents dropped me off one night at the base day care so they could go watch Superman. I was 7 or 8 years old. Someone, probably some half-drunk airman, had left a copy of Savage Sword in among the kids books and comics that people had donated to the child care. It was there I read my first Savage Sword story, The Slithering Shadow. I had no idea why the women hardly wore any clothes, but I didn't really care. I was all about the swords and monsters! Thankfully, the guy running the Stars and Stripes Bookstore on base thought I was just buying comics when I bought my own issues of Savage Sword. This was what set me on the path that prepared me for my encounter with D&D about a year later. But that's a different story.

In summation: I'm impressed by the breadth of the collection. The varied tones and excellent writing make this not just a book about stories for gamers, it is a collection of good to outstanding writing in and of itself. What ties it all together is the imagination and the potential for collaborative imagining, riffing off the themes, characters, settings, plots, monsters, and, of course swords (lest we forget them). The book itself is an experience that rewards both the non-gaming reader and the long-time gamers.

I can't end without noting that though this copy is a paperback, there is fold-out endpapers that are - you nerds guessed it - an old blue dungeon map! Would you expect anything less from Strange Attractor Press? If not, you obviously haven't read enough of their books. So, intrepid adventurer, start here!




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Lost Estates

 

Lost Estates by Mark Valentine
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'm not shy about my opinion of Mark Valentine as one of the best writers of strange tales penning today. Or maybe he's "quilling," yes, that seems more like his protagonists, most of them people who you can't help but like, from the book collector of "Worse Things Than Serpents" to the four quirky mystics of "The Readers of the Sands" to the curious amateur historian of "The Fifth Moon," his protagonists are just so darned likeable. I think this intensifies their rather strange encounters (some of them downright horrific). I'd like to think that they reflect aspects of the author's personality, but you know where that gets us when assessing fiction. And, having never met him, I can't say if these are projections of his inner life or not, but if not, he does have a convincing way or portraying people, like myself, whose curiosity can get them in a bit of trouble, innocent as they may be. And perhaps that's why their various discoveries and predicaments carry such a sense of immediacy. I could easily see myself, or people I know, blissfully blundering into situations with the beyond that they can barely comprehend, let alone deal with in any kind of meaningful way. These are not stories of highly-competent detectives who flippantly "figure it all out". If you want that, I'd point you to Valentine and Howard's excellent The Collected Connoisseur or his Herald of the Hidden . No, these are not the same as the highly-competent Connoisseur or Ralph Tyler, these are rather ordinary people with strange interests thrust into extraordinary circumstances. And I am all for it. My notes for each story (with some post-note-taking embellishment as always) are here presented:

"A Chess Game at Michaelmas" is classic Mark Valentine, but with an air of folk magic, like sage hanging heavy in the air, a consecration to a sort of tale that Valentine has avoided, or at least minimized, in the past. It's a new "look," but with the same rigor and steady hand that Valentine practices so well. The horrific element is quick, a flash in the pan, but it turns the tale completely, capturing the reader.

Valentine is a connoisseur (note the lack of capital leading letter - see above) of rare and strange books, and "Worse Things Than Serpents" has this avocation on clear display. The wandering narrator enters a bookstore called "Brazen Serpent Books" wherein he finds a rare book, not a grimoire or antique tome, but a book that piques his interest. His presence at the bookshop, in turn, piques the interest of something else. Something he doesn't want to take an interest in him. No one would . . .

How to place my finger on "Fortunes Told: Fresh Samphire"? I can't do it. I'm reminded of a recent substack post by Matt Cardin about the need for mystery in writing. I told him he's gonna love this Robert Aickman guy I heard about. This story is much the same. A mystery. But not a mystery to be solved, a mystery to be savored. Let the prose poetry wash over you and wander for awhile. But don't get lost along the way.

As I read "The House of Flame," I kept thinking "this sounds like it was almost lifted directly from Machen's Hill of Dreams," only to find that the story was written for a volume in homage to Arthur Machen. I have to admire that it even matched Machen stylistically; no easy feat. But then I ask, for the first time ever, "did Valentine do anything new here"? Maybe not. But to be blunt, I don't care. This is still a worthy and well-crafted tale, and maybe it will lead others down the Machen road.

"The Seventh Card," like its protagonist, ambles along at a slow pace, languidly moving, then melding with a soft sense of the strange, not sudden or harsh, but gently enveloping him (and us) into a softly spoken, but inevitably odd new reality.

I'm not fond of the title "And Maybe the Parakeet Was Correct," but I am quite fond of the story. A side-passage into sports journalism leads to a side-passage into a sport that has no heroes, only villains. The stakes here might be much higher than your standard football match and there is no willing audience and no cheering. On the contrary, no one wants to be a part of this match, though some must. If you've ever walked down the wrong alley in the wrong neighborhood - and I have done this many times in my travels - you'll relate to the awkwardness and dull sense of background dread in this story.

"Laughter Ever After" strikes a hopeful tone for a book collector's story. And it's set in Biggleswade, not far from where I lived in England. It's on the dull side, but that's kind of the whole point of the story.

"The Readers of the Sands" is a strange, yet subtle tale, the sort of story that balances in a razor, but never falls one way or another. It is a quiet tale of four individuals, each with an affinity for sand, each with their own insights and talents, all of them distantly cognizant of something Other in the shifting patterns, something sentient and, perhaps, inimical to them, individually and collectively. I think this story, surprisingly, has stuck in my head the most out of all of the stories in this volume. It was one of the least horrific of the stories, or perhaps one of the more "triumphant" stories, but this contrasts rather sharply with the strange ouvre of the tale, a sort of, well, shifting, slithering something that underlies . . . well, everything. Maybe it's the ontological questions that arise long after the story is read that have captured my lingering attention. I shall have to go read it again and again, as there's something expansive beyond just the events portrayed here. Something . . . I don't know . . . just . . . more.

What starts as a dry, treatise on pub signs and their origins slips from the academic to the folksy to the downright hallucinatory. This is a path that Valentine sometimes embarks on, but doesn't always finish the journey. Here, I am glad to say, we are plunged into phantasmagoric visions that might drive the bookish seeker after fact and data completely over the edge of madness. I was happy to dive off that cliff and swim in strange waters.

I suppose every short fiction collection has one - that previously-unpublished piece with an amazing title and mysterious premise that just doesn't quite connect with the reader. "Lost Estates" was that for me. A "minor piece" as the literati say. It just didn't jive with the rest of the collection, which is strange, given the story is about the creation of music, at it's heart, maybe even ironic, if unintended.

The next tale, "The End of Alpha Street," has the signature marks of Valentines work that I so love: a warmth of character, a hint of witty humor, a fascination with the outre and the neglected sides of life, and a mystery left mysterious. The story is eerie and yet so human; the juxtaposition pulling the reader in, even while alarms are going off in your head. But is there really need to be alarmed? Maybe.

Take "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" and add ten layers of sinister intent. James was just scratching the surface, but Valentine goes all in, even if his protagonist is incredulous. If you think King John wasn't evil, your naivete won't save you. This is folk horror taken to the next level by Valentine's deft hand. A nod to James, but a story that is completely Valentine; well, outside of a sprinkling of The Bard's work. Five stars for "The Fifth Moon"!

I can't end without mentioning the absolutely beautiful presentation here. The dust jacket is, obviously, striking, but strip that thing off for a minute and just admire the even-more-striking hardcover. The aesthetic of this book is complex in its simplicity. Swan River keeps producing elegant hardcovers in limited editions that one must keep one's eye on, lest they sell out and you are left with a gaping hole on your bookshelf that could have been filled with a true gem. I've regretted missing more than one Swan River title, and I plan on snatching them up more often. If you're on the fence, splurge!

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Aurorae

 I've seen the Northern Lights a few times in my life, all of them since I moved to Wisconsin in 1996. The most spectacular displays I saw were back in the early-2000s. Unfortunately, phones didn't have cameras back then and digital cameras were expensive and finicky, so we never got pictures of those. But they were visible enough in the middle of Madison that we woke our kids up to come out and see them. I think we were home-schooling them at the time, so we could let them sleep in the next day. There were vivid blues, bright greens, and the occasional pink, and they fluctuated wildly across the sky. We could see all of this with the naked eye, they were so intense.

A few weeks ago, we caught a display, this time with our phones. Unlike the flashing display we saw back in the early aughts, these were difficult to see with the naked eye, but looking through our phone cameras, we were able to catch them. I'm including a couple of the better pictures below, along with a short video, for your viewing pleasure. It's worth staying up late and going out and seeing these displays (though we caught these right in our back yard). Enjoy.

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Greener Pastures

 

Greener Pastures by Michael Wehunt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The blurbs that introduce this collection are a who's-who of writers whose work I greatly appreciate: Gemma Files, Steve Rasnic Tem, Brian Evenson, Nathan Ballingrud, and S.P. Miskowski, among others. So, I had high expectations going into this lauded collection.

Unfortunately, things started slowly.

"Beside Me Singing in the Wilderness" takes the old tropes of vampirism and twists it up a bit. It's good, smoothly written, but not extraordinary to me. Your mileage may vary.

"Onanon" was more the sort of thing I expected from all the blurbs and praise I've read. Cosmic horror of the natural world told in a sparse, unforgiving voice.

And from here on out, the stories were incredibly strong, outside of one dip, which I'll mention below.

The title story is strong. Very strong. Like "could have been an episode of Rod Serling's original Twilight Zone" strong. It's the power of the unspoken and the unseen between the words that is so unsettling. The words only mark the boundaries. It's the gaps in-between where the horror dwells. I have a few friends who are truckers that I'm going to recommend this story to. Or maybe I shouldn't . . .

"A Discreet Music" is subtle and strange, but mostly not horrific. And this is good. I actually like the calm weirdness of this transformation, of the shedding of an old life for the new. It's not without its painful moments. On the contrary, there is deep pain in Hiram, the protagonist. And there are jarring revelations about the self, as well. But the metamorphosis is profound and moving.

"The Devil Under the Maison Blue" is such a gently-delivered story that one embraces the horror as, well, just fine. A horror story needn't be stark or harsh or jarring in any way to elicit a powerful response. This is a clear case in point. Sometimes it's the devil you don't know that makes the biggest impression.

I, too, am a sucker for lost footage stories. "October Film Haunt: Under the House" is a melange of the weird and the eerie, full of things that ought not to be, but are, and empty of things that should be, but are not. The lines between fact and fiction and between observer and observed are smeared beyond recognition, resulting in a kaleidoscope of horror that will haunt the reader for a very, long time. And if you're wondering what the cover art is all about: this is it!

"Deducted From Your Share in Paradise" defies expectations in every way. It's a story of maintaining innocence while in a maelstrom of selfish choices, about endings and new beginnings, and possibly about heaven and hell. But it's not so cut and dried as these pairings. One must worm their way between these things and question the very meaning of their outmost bounds. Or maybe, boundaries need to be ignored.

"The Inconsolable" presses deep on the depression button, then asks "what is faith?" and "what is comfort?" It's a poignant tale about breakups and new beginnings, along with the caveats inherent in leaving a piece of one's old life, and a piece of one's own soul, behind.

"Dancers," while weird, was just too soft-spoken for my tastes. It might even be an (gasp) "ineffective" story, trying too hard to be too many things at once. This was the one gap in this collection. I guess every collection has to have one.

"A Thousand Hundred Years" pushes even further through the boundaries of Mark Fisher's "Eerie" and "Weird", namely "that which should be there, but is missing" and "that which is there, but should not be," to great emotional effect. The story is a strange admixture of tears and fears, of melancholy and hope, a tale of being pulled in multiple directions, some good, some bad, all at once. It is life and loss in all its complexity, and reveals the true, confusing horrors of the world. Like many of the stories in this collection, this injects a great deal of emotion, without becoming sickly sweet or cynical, into a tale that squeezes the breath out of you.

Oof (again). "Bookends" is a poetic, sublime, beautiful gut punch. Grief is at the heart of it all, grief and loss, both of which I've experienced in bucketloads over the course of the last few years. Do not read this if you are dealing with an open emotional wound, specifically the death of a close loved one. This story will absolutely wreck you. Then again, it might just open some doors. Approach with caution.

The blurbs are deserved. Minus one miss, this collection hits on all cylinders. I will be reading more of Wehunt's work, for sure. But that's for the future, after I've recovered from this one and the deep emotional grooves it cut in me start to smooth out. For now, I am left scarred, but better for it. Kind of like . . . life.

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