The Paramental Appreciation Society, edited by P. Alan Beatts

The Paramental Appreciation Society, edited by P. Alan Beatts, is a chapbook of stories by the members of a San Francisco writing group, known as the Paramentals, who take their inspiration and their name from the work of Fritz Leiber.

At only 57 pages, this anthology is short, as you’d expect from a chapbook, featuring three complete stories of varying length, interspersed with a collection of “fragments of a Barbary Coast” by Claudius Reich. The first fragment, barely half a page long, is a sketch of some ghostly, miniature people of the Edwardian era who are merely glimpsed rather than fully apprehended. The second, on the same page, concerns the “mushroom lady,” who seems to be a personification of the city’s infrastructure. Then, turning the page, we come to the first of the more substantial stories, albeit a short one, by Loren Rhoads.

To describe “The Shattered Rose” as a vignette about a witch in love with a vampire would be to miss the subtleties of the prose and the intensity of the relationship. In a mere nine pages, we get a comprehensive insight into the motivation of Alondra, the viewpoint character, and her relationship with Jordan, her vampire lover. The mix of modern-day San Francisco with the obscure mythology of witchcraft and vampirism, along with the earthy portrayal of the physical relationship, makes reading this story an intensely engaging experience.

In the next batch of Claudius Reich’s fragments, longer at just over a page, we learn firstly of a woman’s repeated encounters with a “building spirit” who offers her spells (though he calls them blessings) in exchange for cash. Then we have a single paragraph on the BART train, sentient in its flight from an unnamed hunter. Another paragraph speculates on the imminent sentience of computer code, biding its time until a critical mass is reached. Rounding off this batch of fragments is a further speculation on the origin of ghosts.

Seth Lindberg’s “Ascalon” is the next substantial offering, an urban fantasy with undercurrents, where our protagonist, some kind of mystical detective, is hired by a business magnate because a dragon is stalking his daughter. But dragons in this alternative San Francisco can be disguised as human. Who can distinguish between the dragons and the humans? The motivation of both sides is murky at best, but the whole set-up is realistically presented, even if the story does end abruptly.

In the first of the next two Barbary Coast fragments, a radio station offers advice on trapping water spirits. In the second, a young man visits gay bars, in search of something he doesn’t find.

“The Neon Coffin” by Lilah Wild appears to be a story of vaguely dysfunctional people inhabiting the seedier side of San Francisco—a toxic mix of sex and mysticism. It’s written in a sympathetic style, with occasional hints of something darker. Mostly set in a magick shop, it concerns Donae, the daughter of Cookie, the shop’s owner. Mother and daughter live a constricted life together, though Donae is keen to develop her mystical talents. She does get away, but as the story moves to what looks like an enlightening ending, it takes a surprising and not entirely believable turn for the worse. Nevertheless, it’s a good, multilayered read, literate and involving.

Claudius Reich’s final two fragments deal firstly with the spectral reappearance of demolished buildings, and secondly, in an echo of the first fragment in the anthology, with the fleeting apparition of dancing architecture, rounding out these fragments’ preoccupation with spirits trapped within the built environment.

The Paramental Appreciation Society may mean more to residents of San Francisco, but as someone who has visited only once, I found this chapbook engaging, literate, and wholly worthwhile.

Publisher: Automatism Press (2007)
Price: $5.00
Chapbook: 57 pages