By Bizarre Hands by Joe R. Lansdale

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By Bizarre Hands (1989) is a somewhat uneven but very enjoyable and at times downright grueling collection of brutal and comic bizarro and horror tales.

Lansdale floats around several recurring themes: the brutality of human nature, racism in the South (even though I think he goes back to the well of characters casually using the n-word a bit too often), and misogyny. He likes his monsters human for the most part but throws several weird beasties in, too.

I expected to outright love this collection based on my reading history with Lansdale but found it didn’t turn my wheels like I thought it might. But it’s still an excellent collection of stories overall, and entertaining throughout. A good read but not as great as I hyped it up in my mind.

However, there are a few tales that rise to masterful:

“Fish Night” – The opening story is a nicely wrought character study of two traveling salesman crossing through a desert that takes a poetic bizarro turn.

“The Pit” – An absolutely brutal look at two slaves, one white and one black, captured by backwoods hillbilly maniacs and forced to fight to the death. There is some difficult imagery here but Lansdale keeps a steady hand and brings us to a vicious end.

“Duck Hunt” – A vivid portrait of a young man’s induction into hunting culture turns blacky absurd and horrific. Hell of a central image.

“By Bizarre Hands” – Darkly comic Southern Gothic tale of a preacher with an unhealthy interest in preaching to mentally handicapped girls. Reminds me of Flannery O’Connor a bit – horrible and funny and sad. And fucked up, very fucked up.

“The Fat Man and the Elephant” – Another traveling preacher story but this preacher is considerably less psychopathic – he just gets visions from hotboxing elephant shit. Didn’t say he wasn’t still crazy.

“Down By the Sea Near the Great Big Rock” – Perhaps my favorite. A short but fantastic story of a family vacationing by the sea where intrusive violent thoughts build in each of them. Very pulpy and strange turn at the end.

“Night They Missed the Horror Show” – A masterpiece of pitch-black horror. A pair of racist assholes save their black football captain from a beating only to run into some truly sick shit. Drenching with the darkness of real human evil – no one is good here – even racist assholes don’t deserve this.

“On the Far Side of the Cadillac Desert with Dead Folks” – Epic of fucked up bizarro zombie madness. Scumbag bounty hunter and psycho pedophile run into mad scientist messiah who’s controlling zombies and more than enough and maybe too much said. Weirdo wildness.

By Bizarre Hands starts well and ends very well but overall I do think it’s a little padded out for its own good. Yet the heights are truly tremendous. Reading Lansdale is like reading no one else in the world.

The Nightmare Chronicles by Douglas Clegg

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The Nightmare Chronicles is a fantastic, weird and transgressive collection of horror short stories.

Clegg is a master of characterization – there are no cardboard tropes here. Each setting is fully realized, seemingly authentic and feeling very lived in. He doesn’t bog his monsters down with much in the way of explanations and spares his readers clumsy exposition. A nightmare dream logic pervades throughout. Clegg reminds me of Clive Barker with his mixture of terror and sensuality and transformative otherness.

A frame story, about a group of far-left radicals who have kidnapped a child who, it turns out, is more of a monster than a normal child, bookends the collection and intrudes as interludes here and there, as well. The framing device is what I assume to be One Thousand and One Nights-inspired but unfortunately I haven’t actually read that. It’s decent but the stories themselves are much, much better.

Highlights among the collection include:

“O, Rare and Most Exquisite” – A fully realized period piece and character study of a cad of a gardener having an affair with his boss’ wife and his finding the perfect, and very strange, flowers to give her. The revelation of where the flowers come from will be revisited in some form or fashion throughout much of the rest of these stories. Clegg is fascinated with body transfiguration and sex.

“The Fruit of Her Womb” – An older couple move into a house that was once the site of a brutal mass family murder. The husband becomes more and more obsessed with the crime and the occultism that lead to that crime. A work of folk horror here, tied up heavily with Greek myth, and a finely tuned spin on a ghost story.

“The Ripening Sweetness of Late Afternoon” – A work of true bizarro. A faithless preacher returns to his hometown to atone for a horrible crime he committed in his youth. I won’t give away the weird element of this one but only say that it is superbly introduced and brilliant.

“Damned If You Do” – A truly fucked and excellent story that drops us right into the mind of an retired schoolteacher and serial killer. A disturbing tale. Probably the most horrific in the book.

“I Am Infinite; I Contain Multitudes” – In an asylum for the criminally insane, a new convict navigates his psychopathic lover and the old timer who claims he’s God and says he knows the way out. One part suspenseful crime story and one part sci-fi weirdness with an ending of mystic body horror madness.

There are seven more stories in the book and all of them are good. (Years ago I read Clegg’s The Hour Before the Dark and Red Angel and enjoyed them.) The Nightmare Chronicles has impressed me and entertained me and challenged me in a way that makes me want to seek out more of his work very soon.