The New Weird, edited by Ann & Jeff VanderMeer

The New Weird, edited by Ann & Jeff VanderMeer, is a veritable case study in anthology-making. Divided into several sections, it offers readers an analysis of recent precursors and their quintessential representatives such as H.P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, and Mervyn Peake, and stories from the likes of such writers as M. John Harrison—author of Viriconium, Light, and Nova Swing (awarded the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 2007)—Michael Moorcock, and Clive Barker—considered primarily a master of horror but whose tales (particularly the short ones from The Books of Blood) are more strange than terrifying, or perhaps terrifying because of their strangeness, in the Shklovskyan sense of estrangement.

The first section (titled Stimuli) opens with M. John Harrison’s “The Luck In the Head,” one of the tales from Viriconium. It’s a good choice, for it introduces us to that universe, not so much putting us there as throwing us right in the middle of its streets, disorienting us and sickening us in such subtle ways that by the time we finish reading, we give thanks to whatever god we believe in that it’s just a story, and we don’t have to live in the cities of Harrison’s imagining.

From our newest SF Grand Master, Michael Moorcock, creator of that most weird of characters, Jerry Cornelius, there is the classic “Crossing into Cambodia.” A story of World War III, it fits more than adequately into our present-day world, maybe because it’s so true that we have no disbelief which requires suspension.

“In the Cities, the Hills,” Clive Barker’s golemnesque tale of giant fighters made of people roaming the countryside of Yugoslavia, is still scary after all those years, even if Yugoslavia doesn’t exist now—which perhaps makes it all the more scary, but for other reasons entirely. It is one of the few stories in this anthology that deals with a once existent world which is definitely not in our time-stream anymore.

Simon D. Ings’s “The Braining of Mother Lamprey” is a beautiful and melancholy tale, exquisitely written, in which we glimpse (along with the Viriconium stories) fragments of what China Miéville would later create in his New Crobuzon tales. But that is to be expected; after all, strange cities are for the New Weird what implants were for Cyberpunk. There’s no lack of cities in our world, nor is there a lack of imaginary cities in the Platonic world of ideas (Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities come to mind).

“The Neglected Garden” by Kathe Koja, however, takes place in our own world, or one very similar to ours, but seen through surrealistic lenses. Weird Feminism at its best; Koja shows us how a man can be stupid and utterly clueless and at the same time how revenge can be sweet, even if it takes time to make it flourish.

“A Soft Voice Whispers Nothing” by Thomas Ligotti is reminiscent of the Gothic literary tradition evoking Bram Stoker (but the Stoker of The Lady of the Shroud instead of Dracula). It’s an intricate story, where the words are the warp and weft of the narrative. Take one word off, and it would probably all come tumbling down. A beautiful story, but it failed to touch me in some way.

The second section, Evidence, presents the new generation of writers of the New Weird. Reminiscent of the cult movie, Russian Ark, readers are conducted—not forcibly, but in a friendly manner—as though through the course of a conversation. The first offering, “Jack”—a fast-paced story of Bas-Lag—is from China Miéville, author of the already classic Perdido Street Station.

Next up, Jeffrey Thomas, creator of the cyberweird Punktown and author of Deadstock and Blue War, practically smacked me in the face with “Immolation.” The main character reminded me strongly of Robert Sheckley’s Specialist and erased the not-so-good impression left in me by the “Oscars,” a kind of security robot presented in Deadstock, and which I likened to characters in the Batman Animated Series of the 1990s in a review in my blog. My public apologies to Mr. Thomas.

Strange cities are the forte of New Weird fiction, and the City of Ooze, created by Jay Lake in “The Lizard of Ooze,” is one of the weirdest. Don’t be fooled by the funny pun in the title; this story is anything but funny. It follows the adventures of a Shadow warrior in a city under the Earth where eating in public is not only forbidden but also punishable by death (a similar reversal of habits can be seen in one of Luís Buñuel’s most famous films, The Phantom of Liberty). Add on the Lovecraftian appearance of the Lizard itself in the depths of the city, and this is one of the most stunning stories in the anthology.

Brian Evenson’s “Watson’s Boy” also appears to be influenced by Latin-American fantastic literature (not magic realism), but this time, that of Jorge Luis Borges’s. It’s the moving tale of a boy who grew up inside a labyrinth and his obsession to find the right keys to the doors that plague the walls of the construction, to the extent that he wears a harness that threatens to break his spine as he adds to it the keys he finds in the empty hallways. A deeply sad tale reminiscent of the works of a Brazilian writer, Victor Giudice, who, to my knowledge, had only one short story translated to English, “The File Cabinet” (1978).

“The Art of Dying,” by K. J. Bishop is a good story—but how can a good story compete stuck in the middle of such excellent ones? The narrative of a famous duelist/swashbuckler and her need to die seemed a little bit out of place here, even if the description of the city is intriguing. A taste of Joseph Conrad hangs in the air, but it’s just a whiff.

In “At Reparata,” Jeffrey Ford spins an interesting tale of former thieves who joined forces to build a utopian city where everyone can start over—until an untimely death threatens the delicate balance of the king’s mental health and, thereby, the entire kingdom. The royal retinue must do everything it can to restore the lost equilibrium—a fable that would fit well into an alternate Arabian Nights.

The New Weird contains two novel excerpts. Leena Krohn’s “Letters from Tainaron” (from Tainaron) is the only story not originally written in English. Translated from the Finnish by Hildi Hawkins, “Letter” also reminded me of Borges, especially his “The Babylon Lottery,” as it transports the reader to a quick tour of the city. Beautifully done but lacking in sustenance—a small appetizer for a hungry reader&mdashI would have liked more. (Of note, the translation seems to be a very good job. Even though I can’t read Finnish, I’m also a translator, and I’m well aware of the difficulties of such a task.)

One of the best stories in the book is the other excerpt, Steph Swainston’s “The Ride of the Gabbleratchet” (from The Modern World, the third book in her trilogy). It reads as a fully self-contained story, a roller-coaster of a tale and a hell of a ride (literally), with elements of Stanley Weinbaum and John Varley plus Octavia Butler. A weird mix but effective in this tale of the mad escape of two humans and a vermiform collective being from a creature like a living hurricane. I definitely want to read more of Swainston’s work.

“The Gutter Sees the Light That Never Shines” by Alistair Rennie closes the Evidence section on a high note. The stench of the killer known as the Gutter is close, hovering over our nostrils. Rennie does a fine job balancing gore with humor, provided by a duo of lesbian killers, The Sisters of No Mercy (a tip of the hat to the cyberpunks, I reckon?). A twisted tale with a clever ending.

There is a gratifying surprise for readers at the end: “Festival Lives,” also known as “The New Weird Round Robin,” written by Paul Di Filippo, Cat Rambo, Sarah Monette, Daniel Abraham, Felix Gilman, Hal Duncan, and Conrad Williams. As the VanderMeers say in the Preamble, it’s a kind of laboratory experiment.

“Festival Lives” takes place in a strange city (apparently in India) where city-dwellers are preparing for a great festival which is threatened by an unknown terrorist menace. Di Filippo sets the tone, presenting us with the terrorist and at least one weird kind of creature: the salps—sentient ectoplasmic beings that use dogs as hosts, commanding their minds and making them able to talk…and attack humans to feed on. The cadre of writers does a fine job introducing other characters and situations: Sarah Monette’s POV of the mind of a salp is pretty good; Cat Rambo and Daniel Abraham prefer to explore the minds of ordinary people that are not what they seem to be, but their pieces are on the short side; Felix Gilman’s introduction of pulp magazines in that universe is a treat; Hal Duncan’s view of the Golden Songboys is beautifully done and keeps the story up and running; and Conrad William’s action-packed narrative reads a little far-fetched at times, but does a good job taking the story to its climax.

But that’s not the end—not exactly. Tachyon Publications offers online for free a more definite ending, “Tangled in the Nets of the Gods” by Paul Di Filippo. But read the book first. It’s worth buying. The New Weird is definitely a milestone in the world of anthologies.

Publisher: Tachyon Publications (Feb. 2008)
Price: $10.17
Paperback: 320 pages
ISBN: 1892391554