I’ve known Chris Kelso for a while now, and we’ve discussed everything from horror fiction to the ups and downs of the Scottish Premier League. This time out, our conversation was about the evergreen topics of books and movies: specifically, Kelso’s book about the film Possession and its lingering effects on him.
I’ve known writer Jeff Jackson for quite a while now, and one of the pleasures of that has been seeing his creative endeavors expand. To wit: the work that he and his collaborators in the band Julian Calendar have released in recent years: haunting post-punk with an expansive set of influences and a penchant for deconstruction. I spoke with Jackson about the group’s new album Speaking a Dead Language and their evolution since 2020.
To read a Nick Mamatas novel is to encounter literary references and pulp storytelling smashed headlong into one another, then recombined in eminently compelling ways. His latest book is the novel Kalivas! Or, Another Tempest, which transposes elements of a certain Shakespeare play to a post-human California. I asked Mamatas some questions about the novel’s genesis, what drew him to The Tempest, and some of his other unlikely literary cross-pollinations.
The guiding principle of Six Ridiculous Questions is that life is filled with ridiculousness. And questions. That only by giving in to these truths may we hope to slip the surly bonds of reality and attain the higher consciousness we all crave. (Eh, not really, but it sounded good there for a minute.) It’s just. Who knows? The ridiculousness and question bits, I guess. Why six? Assonance, baby, assonance.
1. Say you’re a zebra. Well, OK, say you’re an anthropomorphized zebra with the power of speech living in a world populated primarily by anthropomorphized zebras. Not all anthropomorphized zebras are created equal; nor, it seems, are they all the herd-focused equines we might imagine. Take you for example.
The guiding principle of Six Ridiculous Questions is that life is filled with ridiculousness. And questions. That only by giving in to these truths may we hope to slip the surly bonds of reality and attain the higher consciousness we all crave. (Eh, not really, but it sounded good there for a minute.) It’s just. Who knows? The ridiculousness and question bits, I guess. Why six? Assonance, baby, assonance.
Author Chelsea Sutton’s Krackle’s Last Movie, out now from Split/Lip Press, is one monster of a novella – a post-modern Prometheus, if you will (you don’t have to).
The book itself is a patchwork of found footage, oral history, and the inner thoughts of our reluctant protagonist, Harper. It’s the story of a mentor gone missing, a tragic death onstage, and interviews with “real-life” monsters whose lives glance, sometimes violently, off the human world. As she splices, rewinds, and reconstructs Krackle’s decades of encounters with werewolves, mermaids, invisible dancers, and desert sea monsters, Harper finds herself piecing together truths behind her own life secrets, as well as those that led to both Krackle’s disappearance and the Great Merlan’s last trick.
My introduction to Ruyan Meng’s work came via her novel The Morgue Keeper, which follows a man named Qing Yuan — the titular morgue keeper — who becomes fixated on one of the bodies that he encounters. (Literary Hub recently published an excerpt.) Soon enough, his interest in this case (which reminded me a bit of Derek Raymond’s harrowing I Was Dora Suarez) takes him to increasingly unsettling places. I spoke with Meng about this novel’s origins and the moments in history that she seeks to chronicle.
Much of Aaron Burch’s writing explores the myriad ways our past affects our present. Now, over two decades after founding the indie lit journal Hobart, and after publishing a novel, a novella, an essay collection, a short story collection, a craft anthology (and numerous short stories and essays, plus founding two additional literary journals), Burch is back with Tacoma, an autofiction novella that takes themes of nostalgia and the past to a wild new level.