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First off, I haven't read much Ligotti. Specifically I've only read Teatro Grottesco, the Vastarien short story, and as of now am only about three quarters into the Conspiracy against the Human Race, but I do have a firm grasp on the ideas and themes present in the man's work.
Said themes can be rather confronting to read about. As someone who's suffered from depression and the darkness that comes with that, to this day, reading these tales has sometimes been too much, and at other times it's been almost therapeutic.
I have an affinity with this type of stuff and when I saw the lovely cover art on this one I immediately bought it, together with the Seasons in Carcosa anthology, despite me never having read all the King in Yellow short stories... I really should remedy that somewhere this year.
Now, apart from The Grimscribe's Puppets I've also read all 4 issues of the Vastarien magazine that are out right now, and I've found that, occasionally, writers who take their influence from Ligotti don't exactly tread lightly when telling their own stories, and that the themes that Ligotti subtly (but clearly) weaves throughout his fiction, will by them be splashed on the page in an explicit and sometimes even quite shocking manner. Whether this a good idea or whether this devalues the thing in the way of common shlock-sensationalism, is for each individual reader to say. Needless to say, whether this is for you or not, there are always times one just simply should stay clear of this type of fiction.That's just a little warning: If you're depressed, Ligottian fiction will find a fertile soil in you.
For some this can be a help, for others it won't be.
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That's just a bit of an aside. Without any more prattling from me; here are the top 5 short stories from The Grimscribe's Puppets.
5. Gailestis - Allyson Bird
At number 5 Gailestis, by Allyson Bird, is the story of Gerda and her twin Kay, who, bereft of their parents, try to survive in relative isolation. It's a story that's got more going for it in terms of imagery than in any competency of style or skill at storytelling. There's barely any story to speak of even. We follow around Gerda for a while, listen to her thoughts, learn of her being different from the people around her, but I'll admit, as it continued I found among its elements intriguing oddities that implied more than that they stated outright, hints of strangeness, dangers that might've been supernatural, or not, it's hard to say because the story just ends, kind of.
I can't really say why this one's in my top 5. It was this one or Diamond Dust, which was also very good, and for some reason I chose this one. Diamond Dust was more sensational, way more active, whereas this one had something more placid going on.
I didn't think I would like it as, at its beginning, it seemed to me to be one of those pretentious stories where the author just foregoes telling a straightforward narrative, in favour of something more experimental, with sentence structure delivered in a complicated manner, jagged and disconnected, in a way that hampers the read itself, rather than something with a coherent vision or idea in mind.
But after a while, lo and behold, it actually clicked. Maybe it was the titillation stuff, not outright erotica mind you, but still: to imply is sometimes better than to make explicit, and there also seemed to be something definitely nefarious going on with this particular element. Anyway, whatever the reason, though there might be better stories in here, this one managed to stick in my head and so gets my fifth spot.
4. Where We Will All Be - Paul Tremblay
This one struck a chord with me.
A young man is different from everyone around him. It's been known all his life; troubles at school required him to have consultations that eventually pin-pointed the problem; that his brain just seems to work differently. And maybe this might turn out to be a good thing. Because when Zane wakes up one day to find his father storming out the front door to join what seems to be a mass exodus of humanity, in response to a kind of summons Zane himself can not hear, he can not help but tag along on the journey, of his own accord and in curiosity, unbeholden to the terrible signal that seems to compel the rest of the teeming masses.
A young man is different from everyone around him. It's been known all his life; troubles at school required him to have consultations that eventually pin-pointed the problem; that his brain just seems to work differently. And maybe this might turn out to be a good thing. Because when Zane wakes up one day to find his father storming out the front door to join what seems to be a mass exodus of humanity, in response to a kind of summons Zane himself can not hear, he can not help but tag along on the journey, of his own accord and in curiosity, unbeholden to the terrible signal that seems to compel the rest of the teeming masses.
It's implied that main character Zane is autistic, and that this is the reason why his brain doesn't receive the same 'signal' everyone else seems to pick up and this, of course, is quite interesting to me, as someone with Aspergers.
But I also liked this tale because of the sheer shock and gore factor, and some very nice and nasty apocalyptic imagery at its ending.
It also reminded me of some of Clive Barker's tales. Frequently labeled and dismissed as Splatterpunk, Barker's work often uses supernatural elements not just to horrify but also to evoke a sense of awe when finally a higher power stands revealed. Think of The Midnight Meat Train, or Cabal. Although maybe Tremblay's story has more akin to In the Hills, the Cities, where the level of gore on display is of such scale that it simply becomes awesome, and mind-numbing.
Either way, the gist of the thing is that something bigger than mankind has touched it, and in Where We Will All Be the consequences of that touch are undeniably malign, or at least inimical to humanity's well-being, and their presence can not be denied. And their demand can not be stopped.
But I also liked this tale because of the sheer shock and gore factor, and some very nice and nasty apocalyptic imagery at its ending.
It also reminded me of some of Clive Barker's tales. Frequently labeled and dismissed as Splatterpunk, Barker's work often uses supernatural elements not just to horrify but also to evoke a sense of awe when finally a higher power stands revealed. Think of The Midnight Meat Train, or Cabal. Although maybe Tremblay's story has more akin to In the Hills, the Cities, where the level of gore on display is of such scale that it simply becomes awesome, and mind-numbing.
Either way, the gist of the thing is that something bigger than mankind has touched it, and in Where We Will All Be the consequences of that touch are undeniably malign, or at least inimical to humanity's well-being, and their presence can not be denied. And their demand can not be stopped.
3. Furnace - Livia Llewellyn
Furnace is the very first story in this collection and it's a great opener, immediately hooking you with a variety of horrors.
I've done a separate post on this one already as I didn't really expect to be giving the book its own post too, but the short story bears an extra little bit of attention nonetheless.
There's enough stuff in here to constantly keep the reader engaged. Under the guise of the familiar 'Dying Town' theme Llewellyn introduces us to a young girl's experiences with growing up in this kind of setting. And though it might seem familiar and even a little comfortable (quite reminiscent of childhood nostalgia) at its beginning, soon we're introduced to some really horrific stuff, courtesy of the girl's grandfather, who's been keeping an eye on some of the town's stranger goings-on.
As the townspeople move away (or disappear) from their residences, violent and shocking things begin to happen, but what might be stranger still is how that this is simply expected, as if it's not all as fucked up as it really quite obviously is. And you do get the feeling that the longer this goes on, the more reality itself will begin to unravel.
The story's ending is quite something, though there are multiple possible explanations for what exactly might be happening. There is added value in such an ending, inviting re-reads and analysis.
And usually I can come down easily on my preferred possibility, but here I found that the two possible explanations of what was happening were both rather plausible, and genuinely interesting.
But these things operate according to their own rules in any case, so I'm not going to try to explain and instead I'll just recommend you read this one for yourself.
I've done a separate post on this one already as I didn't really expect to be giving the book its own post too, but the short story bears an extra little bit of attention nonetheless.
There's enough stuff in here to constantly keep the reader engaged. Under the guise of the familiar 'Dying Town' theme Llewellyn introduces us to a young girl's experiences with growing up in this kind of setting. And though it might seem familiar and even a little comfortable (quite reminiscent of childhood nostalgia) at its beginning, soon we're introduced to some really horrific stuff, courtesy of the girl's grandfather, who's been keeping an eye on some of the town's stranger goings-on.
As the townspeople move away (or disappear) from their residences, violent and shocking things begin to happen, but what might be stranger still is how that this is simply expected, as if it's not all as fucked up as it really quite obviously is. And you do get the feeling that the longer this goes on, the more reality itself will begin to unravel.
The story's ending is quite something, though there are multiple possible explanations for what exactly might be happening. There is added value in such an ending, inviting re-reads and analysis.
And usually I can come down easily on my preferred possibility, but here I found that the two possible explanations of what was happening were both rather plausible, and genuinely interesting.
But these things operate according to their own rules in any case, so I'm not going to try to explain and instead I'll just recommend you read this one for yourself.
2. Into The Darkness, Fearlessly - John Langan
I am absolutely going to read more of John Langan's work. There's a quality to Into The Darkness, Fearlessly that I absolutely loved, and it might be my favourite short story in here.
"The morning after the police found the final piece of Linus Price, Wrighton Smythe, his frequent editor and occasional friend, opened the front door of his apartment and saw a manila folder lying on his doormat." Within is Linus' last work; A grammar of Dread, A Catechism of Terror, a previously not even hinted at volume, that swiftly reveals itself to be an autobiographical work, primarily focusing on the 6 last months of Linus' life. The novel is undoubtedly by Linus' hand, and following up on the mystery of who left it at his front door leads Wrightson into something more dreadful than even Linus' darkest imaginings.
It has a great opening line, the focus on the literary world is delicious, and I absolutely adore the story conceit of a writer whose darkest work is uncovered after his death. However, I found that the finale was a bit off. Not a dud, exactly, but less than what could have been, certainly. Still, the writing is hugely enticing, and of a higher level than the bulk of contemporary authors writing today.
1. By Invisible Hands - Simon Strantzas
A once-great puppet maker sits alone in his basement, tormented by the decline of hands once capable of crafting true masterworks. When he is requested for another project he can not help but have his reservations. But a forced visit to his would-be client makes him decide otherwise, even though he can't actually remember much from the visit itself.
As his newest masterwork begins to take shape his old pains fade away and the joy of the craft becomes paramount. But he's losing more and more moments of his day, and whole hours pass without notice or remembrance. He seems to space out, or forget. And worst of all, there's an acute sense of dread for what comes when the puppet will be completed. And slowly the craftsman begins to understand that a dreadful revelation might be waiting for him up ahead.
It's a great story, with uncomplicated prose, an eerie, alien atmosphere and capped off with a perfect ending, what more can I say?
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There's definitely more stories I could talk about, but this month's been an impossible slog for me in the writing department so I'll leave it at just giving honorable mentions to Diamond Dust, The Human Moth, The Lord Came at Twilight, Basement Angels, The Holiness of Desolation, The Prosthesis and Oubliette.
