A wonderful, wonderful fellow writer was the first person to
introduce me to Laird Barron. That weekend, I lost myself in his strange world,
both horrified and fascinated by the mythos he’d created.
The Children of Old
Leech succeeds in paying homage to Barron in all of the best ways. I had to
read this book in small sips, delaying gratification so that I didn’t squander
any of the pleasure. The worlds built in each story vary but that makes them no
less terrifying. So many of the stories are incredibly told, but I’ve focused
on only a few of my favorites.
“The Harrow” by Gemma Files takes us under the earth, into a
place of darkness, a place of old holes filled with things we can never
understand. Perhaps one of my favorite stories of this collection.
Orrin Grey’s “Walpurgisnacht” took us inside the shimmering
line between that which is seen and that which isn’t and peers closely into the
occult world that is just behind that veil. Loved it.
“Good Lord, Show Me The Way” by Molly Tanzer was one of those
stories I simply did not want to end. In fact, at its conclusion, I stepped
away from the book for a few days because I wanted to stay in that place she
had built, the Church of the Broken Circle. Another one to number among my
favorites.
T.E. Grau’s cosmic horror in “Love Songs from the Hydrogen
Jukebox” was a tripping balls kind of experience that isn’t often replicated in
the written word. One of the more specific connections to Old Leech. Fantastic.
It took me a minute to get into the non-tagged dialogue of
Richard Gavin’s “The Old Pageant,” but when I did, this story blew me away. The
inscription on Donna’s footboard had me shivering from the outset, but that
ending. Wow.
Paul Tremblay consistently knocks it out of the water, and
his Notes for “The Barn in the Wild” is no exception. Everything here
coalesces, rises together to form a perfectly tight story.
Michael Griffin’s “Firedancing” was yet another story that
bathed us in cosmic horror. Everything in the center of the earth opened and
laid bare.
Daniel Mills’ “The Woman in the Wood” left me shivering. It’s
a difficult thing to pull of period dialect in a subtle manner, and Mills hit
the nail on the head. Not to mention some truly terrifying imagery. Rushed off
to buy his collection immediately after reading this story.
I’d previously read “Brushdogs” in Stephen Graham Jones’ After the People Lights Have Gone Off. I
loved it then, and I love it now. Jones may be one of the most talented writers
I’ve read lately.
Overall, the collection is stellar. A few stories weren’t
exactly my cup of tea, but this is due to personal taste not lack of talent. A
worthy representation.
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