Author: John C Adams

As an author who has acted as inspiration to the (now several) generations of horror writers who’ve followed him, and who in many ways is just starting to earn the critical attention he deserves in the realm of literature in general, HP Lovecraft’s works bear frequent re-reading. For those discovering his work for the first time, I offer a mixture of, ‘There’s something special ahead’ and an uncomprehending, ‘Where’ve you been, and why are you so late arriving at the party?’ 

The Cthulhu Mythos was laid out in the world Lovecraft developed in “Dagon”, “The Call of Cthulhu” and other stories. It has been developed by countless other writers since, and adapted into films, roleplaying games, and computer games. 

Authors such as English horror writer Ramsey Campbell have worked within the mythos extensively, in addition to creating their own universes. There appears to be no limit to the fecundity of this fictional world a century after its invention. In the last decade, Campbell’s Great Old Ones Mythos, itself derived from the Cthulhu Mythos, has in turn received homage from a new generation of writers. A mythos that spawns a mythos, which then takes on a weird identity all its own, is something very Lovecraftian in essence, reminding us of the insignificance of one person in the span of cosmic literature in a way that I’m sure would have delighted him. 

Independent publishing houses continue to produce novels, novellas, short story anthologies, and collections of flash fiction set directly in Lovecraft’s world (although copyright restrictions vary across different legal jurisdictions). They also offer open submission calls in related universes and writing opportunities inspired by Lovecraft in a wider sense (perhaps set not within his settings but still utilizing the key features of weird and cosmic horror he honed to perfection). 

This volume is a great place to start with Lovecraft’s work. It features key longer pieces such as “At the Mountains of Madness”, “The Shadow Out of Time” and “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” (to name but a few), and includes shorter stories such as “The Cats of Ulthar”, “The Terrible Old Man” and “Polaris”. The Necronomicon, an invented book on forbidden magic, has entered the lexicon of popular culture. It is referred to throughout this volume, and it has its own “History” here, too. 

Lovecraft’s influence on horror fiction is so pervasive that it is easy for readers and writers to absorb his style and tone via other authors, but there is simply no substitute for reading his works directly. Indeed, to do otherwise is to miss the very best of weird fiction. The shortest stories are bursting with discomfort and oddity, and Lovecraft’s breadth of the universe’s capacity for evil (and how far it is prepared to travel to subject mankind to it) is perpetually unsettling. 

The longer fiction immerses the reader in weird events, gradually ratcheting up the tension until insanity represents a welcome release from the terrible truth about to be uncovered, or a gruesome death acts as merely the beginning of the narrator’s suffering. 

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In the arena of genre fiction, ‘Penguin Books of’ have a tendency to be quite historical, almost academic, in their choice of authors and stories, with a strong focus on how the (sub)genre began and precisely how it became established in its early years. For the writer of genre fiction this can be enormously helpful, since many subgenres (for example the ghost or vampire story) operate within well-understood parameters. 

In deference to this tradition, The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories begins with “The Beggarwoman of Locarno” by Heinrich von Kleist and “The Entail” by ETA Hoffman. The rest of the nineteenth century is then represented by a plethora of household literary names. Writing ghost stories was a popular addition to Victorian writers’ portfolios, and authors such as Henry James and Alexander Pushkin (better known for their literary novels and poetry) could easily expand their repertoire to include them. The importance of the inner life to the ghost story means that writers such as these have done a great deal to the shape the subgenre. 

Some of horror’s best-known names are included here, such as Ambrose Bierce and Algernon Blackwood. Naturally, no volume of ghost stories is complete without a piece from MR James (the master of the subgenre), but perhaps more of his work could have been included. If any writer of ghost stories deserves the rule of ‘one author, one story’ to be relaxed then it is James. Unexpected voices from elsewhere in genre fiction such as HG Wells are included, together with contemporary masters like Ray Bradbury. The individual choice of pieces for each writer was impeccable, for instance “The Return of Imray” by Rudyard Kipling, “Mr Justice Harbottle” by Sheridan Le Fanu and “Afterward” by Edith Wharton. 

For my taste, the modern section was a trifle weak. There just weren’t enough stories from writers who specialise in ghost stories, or even just in horror writing. The career path for horror writers, including those who write almost entirely ghost stories, is very different in the modern world to that of the nineteenth century and very early twentieth century. However, this shift in the literary dynamic in genre fiction was not reflected here. 

In this regard, this volume was notably less impressive than its sister volume the Penguin Book of Vampire Stories edited by Alan Ryan. He didn’t miss a beat right up to the cut-off point, and he deftly selected even the most modern vampire fiction with the loving care and confidence of the true genre fan.

The strengths of this book lie in its earlier sections and in the turn-of-the-century writers such as Blackwood and Bierce. For these alone, it is well worth reading and will provide the reader with considerable enjoyment.

4 out of 5 stars.

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Stephen King is quite simply a publishing phenomenon. I’ve never known him to disappoint, and his sheer versatility lies at the heart of his ability to satisfy readers nearly half a century after publishing his first novel. Peter Straub is one of the twentieth century’s best-loved horror writers. Unsurprisingly, given that mutual success and longevity, these two urbane men are very good friends. 

Fear is grounded in the unknown, which can be at its most powerful when it involves having everything you’ve known snatched away, leaving you to step into a bleak landscape: the world you’ve always taken for granted is now entirely different and altered. In this most emotionally engaging horror tale, the crushing change that engenders terror in the principal characters is that 12-year-old Jack’s mother is dying of cancer. His father has already gone, and he’s left to fend for himself in a deserted coastal town. 

Jack then begins his quest to find The Talisman so that it can cure his mother, doing so in the company of a complete stranger. They journey across The Territories, so the novel (while clearly horror) is also easily capable of being classed as a work of dark fantasy. Like much of King’s recent fiction, it straddles a number of genres to produce something new and distinctive. 

I’m a fan of both King and Straub even though their writing styles are quite different. The technical genius of this book lies in its melding of two distinct authorial voices into one seamless unity. Writers are quite an individualistic bunch on the whole, so it is rare for a collaboration to achieve such a perfect blend. 

The Talisman is a very distinctive book by reason of its sincerity. Both authors gave of themselves and their lives in a way that is simply unforgettable. The pain of doing so, its cathartic nature and the emotional openness of the writing made reading the novel a powerfully moving experience. The fact that two authors were working together impressed me even more than if a single writer had achieved it, and it speaks of the strong trust they placed in each other. 

I found the story touchingly life affirming. Its strength lay in its honesty. By the end, I’d glimpsed a little more of the inner lives of two of my favourite writers and come to appreciate them both even more. 

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A most welcome development in the vampire subgenre—the increase in the number of writers of colour. In My Soul to Keep, Bram Stoker Award finalist and Miami Herald columnist Tananarive Due draws upon her Ethiopian heritage to craft vivid vampire characters within this new tradition. 

Jessica is a journalist in Florida keen to advance her career, raise her daughter Kira, and maintain her marriage to David; not an easy balance to strike, especially when David’s behaviour becomes increasingly challenging and concerning. They met when he was her Spanish tutor at university. Jessica was bowled over by the sophisticated man who seemed to know everything. It’s a familiar idea, but David has kept from his wife that he’s a vampire—so, ‘older man’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

David’s work provides an opportunity to pursue his second life. This includes sneaking over to the nursing home where his other daughter is drawing her last breath, decades after she last saw him, to be with her at the end. Courtesy of his longevity, most of the women he’s loved in the past are long dead, though he hasn’t forgotten them and has barely changed since. Centuries ago, David abandoned the vampire order home in Ethiopia. Since then, he’s been cast into slavery and transported to America, freed himself, and made a new life. However, he is still pursued by members of his order determined to remind him of his pledge and punish him for breaking it. 

Much of this novel’s tension comes from David’s physical violence. It can be very gruesome but never gratuitous. Some rationale for killing—the urgent need to conceal his identity, and to silence those who have (accidentally or otherwise) uncovered the truth. Gradually, the killing circle engulfs their close family; the price of David’s vampire condition is laid bare. Bloodlust supplies the remainder of his motivation. 

As vampire stories go, this is toward the literary end of the spectrum. The writing is excellent. Much of the reader’s time is spent with David as the point-of-view character, which means we experience both his ruthless love of killing and his yearning for those he has loved and lost. Jessica is the other main point-of-view character, and through her the more affirmatory story aspects are told: the bravery of standing up to David, her care and love for Kira, and her determination to establish a truth ever closer to home, and to face the consequences head on supported by the strong women in her family. 

The story’s vibrancy is partly due to superb characterization. I mostly enjoyed the development of a full and impressive backstory based upon David’s Ethiopian heritage, and his personal experiences since leaving his vampire order to go it alone. Vampire traditions exist all over the world, and writers of colour are only getting started in sharing their cultural richness within the subgenre. There is much for them yet to draw upon and this bodes well for one of horror’s best loved subgenres.

5/5 stars

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Ray Bradbury is an unusual author; he straddles multiple genres with ease and is as likely to be acclaimed for his SF novel Fahrenheit 451 as for his horror narrative Something Wicked This Way Comes. 

Stephen King said in Danse Macabre that ‘the carnival is chaos’. I’m still recovering from the shock of reading Thomas Ligotti’s short story “Gas Station Carnivals”. Did these bizarre places really exist when I was a child? It is scarcely surprising that with their identification with the subversive, carnivals are a regular setting for horror stories. 

There’s no better time of year to stage a horror story than Halloween, and no better time to stage the arrival of “Coogar and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show” as it rumbles into Green Town, Illinois upping the ante for protagonists Jim and Will. The lads are busy taking their first steps into adolescence and embracing independence as they turn fourteen. They’re ready to tackle danger and evil unaided. The pair proves to be impressively adept at doing so without alerting their families to the odd happenings that are engulfing their small town ever since the carnival’s arrival. 

This is quite an action-filled novel, but it is also an emotional profile in growing up. Like many horror stories, it fulfills a rite of passage function. 

There’s nothing scarier than growing up and leaving childhood behind, something Bradbury understood since it was at precisely this age that he moved from small town Illinois to LA. Something Wicked This Way Comes is therefore partly autobiographical; it represents the snatching away of innocence by a cruel world where you either grow up and toughen up or get dragged under the surface forever. 

The library that features so heavily in the story is based upon the real Carnegie Library in Waukegan where Bradbury spent much of his youth. It all feels as real as yesterday. The creation of Green Town is an act of homage to his boyhood years. 

There’s a pervasive sadness to this novel, a sense of childhood slipping away. Perhaps that sadness arose from a forced move during a vulnerable time for a lad. He moved away from everything he had known

Horror narratives that utilise the trauma of an author’s real life offer something profound in addition to their action and characterisation; they tend to earn a well-deserved place in the horror pantheon. This was absolutely the case with Something Wicked This Way Comes. 

Review the reviewers! If you’ve read this novel, or just have some thoughts on any point made in this review, tag me at @JohnCAdamsSF on Twitter to share them.

Enjoy! 

5/5 stars

Available from Gollancz, Bookshop, Banana Books, and Amazon.

Ramsey Campbell is one of (if not the) best practitioners of horror in Britain today, so his work creates endless enjoyment for readers and writers alike. He’s spent much of his professional life in good company, and it shows. 

When he was fifteen, Campbell submitted a short story to August Derleth at Arkham House. Derleth had brought HP Lovecraft’s work to (long overdue) worldwide attention, and was now expanding the Cthulhu Mythos to include newer voices. Arkham House went on to publish an anthology of Campbell’s early work not long afterwards, establishing a direct link between the master of weird and cosmic horror and a new generation. Some of the tales from that book (The Inhabitant of the Lake and Less Welcome Tenants) are included here. 

This anthology of short fiction is set within what is recognisably the Cthulhu Mythos, but located in a fictional universe that draws upon the Cotswolds/Herefordshire/Midlands area of the UK. It is as drenched in bizarre detail as Lovecraft’s portrayal of New England, and it represents an interesting choice of locale, given that Campbell is from Merseyside. 

Each story is a stand-alone narrative, which makes it easy to dip into here and there. I often return to this volume on that basis for an occasional read when I have half an hour to spare. The unity of setting in one vibrant fictional universe gives it an overall coherence that enhances dramatic tension. It’s been so popular that it has spawned enormous amounts of fan fiction. 

As a writer, Campbell has his finger on the pulse of modern horror, as he has done ever since he became a full-time writer in 1973. As an emerging writer still developing, I’ve learnt an awful lot from the way he takes the best acknowledged features of the horror genre, and then continues to improve and develop them. He keeps producing stories that are original and intriguing. He does so by knowing his genre inside out, and by bringing his own powerful imagination and consummate English identity to bear upon the creative process. 

In a world where it simply isn’t getting any easier for fledgling authors to break through (even by tapping the pulse of ‘now’ and balancing it with the tried and tested features of the horror genre), there are lessons to be learnt from Campbell’s career. His work continues to reward careful study by the developing writer, as well as delighting the perennial horror fan. 

Campbell’s style is relaxed and pleasant to read. It is thoroughly modern and has effectively stood the passage of almost sixty years. I personally love Lovecraft’s style, but here is something entirely fresh. I’ve always admired Campbell’s role in bringing the Mythos out into the contemporary world and spreading it around the globe. 

5/5 stars.

Available from Amazon UK.