The Grimscribe’s Puppets: Stories Inspired by Thomas Ligotti

Cover of The Grimscribe's PuppetsIf you’ve read some of my previous posts, you may know that I am a big fan of Thomas Ligotti. So, I was super excited to hear about The Grimscribe’s Puppets, a collection of Ligotti themed stories edited by Joe S. Pulver. I was definitely not disappointed by this book and highly recommend it!

As indicated by the title, the theme of this collection has to do with puppetry — manipulations both real and existential — and this theme is approached from a variety of perspectives. The stories here are often from the point of view of the puppet or the puppet-master, but many times this aspect is explored at the larger, more terrifying level, such as who is out there and how are they controlling me? The collection has a well-selected mix of this overall idea presented in ways that are a tribute to both Ligotti’s themes and his atmospheric settings.

My favorite in what I might call the “puppet viewpoint” category was Cody Goodfellow’s “The Man Who Escaped This Story,” in which a man discusses various dreams, or fugue states, with his psychiatrist where he seems to be just a player in a drama put on by some force greater than himself. This idea of being captive to the whims of an unknowable godlike creature and used for their amusement over and over again is unsettling and will stick with me. In “Furnace” by Livia Llewellyn, a young girl watches her town slowly eaten away by forces that she cannot understand, and it is only slowly that she comes to the realization of the role that she plays in a slow destruction of the world. Daniel Mills explores religious fervor with a twist in “The Lord Came at Twilight,” when a dangerous “revival” consisting of dark beliefs sweeps through a town. In “Diamond Dust” by Michael Griffin, a man slowly makes connections between strange occurrences and the odd art his girlfriend has been creating. And, Paul G. Tremblay’s “Where We All Will Be” explores the viewpoint of a single, clear-headed observer during a mass infiltration of human minds.

A few authors look at the topic from the viewpoint of the puppet-master, and the most clear-cut of these would be Jon Padgett’s “20 Simple Steps to Ventriloquism,” which provides some basic, and more advanced, how-to in puppet mastery. However, sometimes the role of puppet and puppet-master can dovetail, something that the puppet maker in Simon Strantzas “By Invisible Hands” comes to realize first-hand. And, Jeffrey Thomas’s “The Prosthesis” explores a situation in which the puppet created may have been a job done just a little too well.

I really enjoy some of the more grotesque elements of Ligotti, where we see characters that are either not quite human or so corrupted as to be verging on less than human. Two of the stories in this collection do this exceptionally well. Both involve female characters who struggle to survive, and who each somehow become both prey and predator. Kaaron Warren’s moth girl in “The Human Moth” has a hard time satisfying her basic needs, while Allyson Bird’s protagonist in “Gailestis” attempts to work out some more traditional methods for survival, but things don’t quite turn out as expected.

There are also some stories in which we see the familiar post-industrial landscapes from Ligotti’s work. Darrell Schweitzer’s protagonist in “No Signal” struggles to reach those he loves even as he watches his world change and fade. A young girl in Nicole Cushing’s “The Company Town” is uprooted by her father and moved to a strange new town where it seems that her future existence will be paid for on the installment plan. And, in “The Holiness of Desolation” Robert M. Price gives us the viewpoint of a man making his way through a strange, dystopian world where the end of humanity may be contained within the written word.

Possibly one of Ligotti’s most powerful areas of writing is that which combines a character’s alienation with loss of self, or someone close, in some existential or physical manner. My absolute favorite of these stories was the haunting contribution by Eddie M. Angerhuber,”The Blue Star,” in which a man takes us through his annual visit to a strange city where he lost his love to an alien force years ago. I also really enjoyed Gemma Files contribution, “Oubliette,” which used a variety of formats — diary entries, IMs,  emails, etc. — to tell the story of a suicide survivor haunted by cult member ghosts with a mission. John Langan’s “Into the Darkness, Fearlessly” puts a new twist on the idea of getting lost in a text, and Richard Gavin’s “After the Final” explores the inner workings of a fanatical and delusioned mind.

Some of these stories have some very dark, existential implications, such as “The Secrets of the Universe” by Michael Cisco, which relates a discussion on life, the universe, and everything between master and victim. “The Xenambulist: A Fable in Four Acts” by Robin Spriggs examines an increasingly strange and out of control world, one that the protagonist will not escape from. And, in “Eyes Exchange Bank,” by Scott Nicolay, a man on the verge of a breakdown over loss of love and a stagnant dissertation comes to the realization that there are darker things out there to fear. There are many dark things to fear in this book, many shadows. Michael Kelly’s character in “Pieces of Blackness” is haunted by a shadow from the past that won’t forgive or forget, and in “Basement Angels” Joel Lane’s character finds that his shadow is a much more important part of him than he ever realized.

The Grimscribe’s Puppets won the 2013 Shirley Jackson Award for Edited Anthology for good reason. Joe S. Pulver has selected some excellent authors and put together a significant contribution to the genre, which is packed full of stories that will challenge your assumptions and haunt you for years to come. Be sure not to miss this one!

Joe Hill’s Horns Has Teeth

Cover of HornsRecently I read and was blown away by Joe Hill’s NOS4A2. So, I decided to write something up on Horns, too. The short summary of the book is that a guy wakes up with horns on his head and things get weird. However, this book is a lot more than that. It does some intricate footwork with childhood and fantasy, the difference between good and evil, and horror and comedy. The characters feel real, even when the weird stuff starts happening. Ig is clumsy and honest and often less than likable and, through it all, completely human. Hill pulls you in immediately

Ignatius Martin Parrish spent the night drunk and doing terrible things. He woke the next morning with a headache, put his hands to his temples, and felt something unfamiliar, a pair of knobby pointed protuberances. He was so ill — wet-eyed and weak — he didn’t think anything of it at first, was too hung-over for thinking or worry.

But, when he was swaying above the toilet, he glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink and saw he had grown horns while he slept. He lurched in surprise, and for the second time in twelve hours he pissed on his feet.

Ig’s day continues to get worse, and we learn that he has been accused — but never convicted — of the murder of his ex-girlfriend, Merrin, almost a year before. Small town life has made it hard for him. Many believe that he is guilty, and so he pretty much has had to deal with his grief on his own. On top of this, he now has the horns to deal with, which seem to compel whoever he is around to tell him — in complete honesty — all of their deepest, darkest desires. People seem to notice the horns, but not really find them unusual, and they kind of forget about them as soon as they’re not around him anymore. As Ig goes from family members to friends in search of help, he begins to learn more about the truth behind Merrin’s death.

Woven between the present day situation are flashes back to Ig’s childhood when he and Merrin first met in church (he thought she was flashing him a message in Morse code with her gold cross), and to a summer filled with cherry bombs (the real, old dangerous kinds), wild rides down a hill in a shopping cart (naked on a dare), and his first interactions with the third member of their little group, Lee.

The contrast of the raw feelings from childhood — first love, the efforts at fitting in — with the darker and more disturbing feelings of Ig’s present is interesting. Ig and Merrin seem to be made for each other, and at one point find a magical treehouse where they spend a few snatched hours together. They can never find that treehouse again, and it seems that the time they shared there was a doorway, or at least the beginning of what will happen to both of them as they grow into adulthood.

Ig’s transformation into the physical representation of what we typically would consider The Devil, is in marked difference to his all consuming, righteous need to find and punish Merrin’s killer. Hill works this transformation incrementally throughout the book, and there are aspects of it that are very clever, such as how Ig obtains red skin and a timely scene involving a pitchfork.

Throughout the book,  though, there is the horror of loss of love, loss of world, and loss of self. Ig has to deal with losing everything, piece by piece, and he has little control over what is happening to him. Hill brings the book to closure with a bittersweet finale that I will not forget.

I am looking forward to seeing what the new film of the movie will bring, but I would highly recommend that you read the book first!