Sunday Shorts: Three from Uncanny #41

I love short fiction, and Sunday Shorts is the feature where I get to blog about it. Posts will range from flash to novellas. At some point, I might delve into individual stories/episodes of anthology formats in other media, like television and comics, but for the time being, I’m sticking to prose in print and audio.

Today I’m taking a look at three stories from the chock-full-of-greatness Uncanny Magazine #41, their July/August 2021 issue, edited as always by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas. Seriously, there’s a ton of great stuff in this (and every) issue of Uncanny. Go back their current Kickstarter to fund year 8 of the magazine.

“From the Archives of the Museum of Eerie Skins: An Account” by C.S.E. Cooney

Sometimes when reading a story narrated in first person, I find myself wondering to whom the narrator is speaking. C.S.E. Cooney neatly addresses the issue by positing this whole story as a transcript of an interview with Firi Kanaphar, former wolfcaster in the city of Doornwald, as she relates how the loss of her wolfskin resulted in a societal shift in the relationship between wolfcasters (and other shifters) and witches. This is a wonderful slow-burn story, told conversationally, that builds to a horrific climax where revenge is achieved but the narrator’s life has already been irrevocably changed. The loss of Firi’s wolf-skin is a potent metaphor for rape or dismemberment, and the treatment of wolfcasters by witches is an equally obvious metaphor for racial prejudice. The story also addresses power dynamics – the abuser’s ability to continue to harm the abused even from a distance – and the ability of art to foment social justice and social change when the structures that are supposed to do so fail. It’s a powerful story that I am sure will reveal more layers and inspire deeper thinking each time I re-read it. (Side note: fans of Cooney’s “The Witch in the Almond Tree” and “The Bone-Swans of Amandale” will notice some familiar names in cameo appearances as well as place names.)

 

“The Wishing Pool” by Tananarive Due

“The Wishing Pool” is about the power and costs of wishes, in the finest fairy tale tradition. Joy ventures out to her family’s remote cabin to check on her ailing father, who is not doing well since his wife’s passing. The sights and sounds remind Joy of a brief childhood friendship centered around a “wishing pool” located between their cabins, and how their few wishes came true but went wrong (as is expected in this kind of story). Joy is desperate for her father to be happy and healthy again – but is she desperate enough to risk wishing on the pool and savvy enough to craft the wish in such a way to avoid it going wrong? Due imbues the story with all of the modern frustrations of dealing with an ailing parent who will not seek out the medical attention they so clearly need: carving out time from regular life and work to travel a great distance to check in on them, the realization that their health has deteriorated far more than suspected (in this case, lung disease and cognitive/memory decline), shouldering the decision-making burden when other siblings fail to step up. All of this adds great depth to Joy as a character and to the memories that bring her to her ultimate decision. I also appreciated Due including what ‘Nathan Burgoine sometimes refers to “that slight nod to reality that makes some people uncomfortable.” In this case, it’s a mention of how the family came to have this remote cabin: built by her grandfather to “hide from lynch mobs roused by their envy that a negro businessman could afford a shiny new Ford Model T.” It’s a throw-away line, but a reminder of history and a moment that ties this story with fantastical elements to our reality.

 

“Immortal Coil” by Ellen Kushner

Students of drama have been as fascinated by what we don’t know about the life of William Shakespeare as what we do know of his work, and it’s always fun reading genre stories that investigate that life. I personally also tend to be a little obsessed with genre stories about writers that explore their relationship with craft, process, and legacy (see, for instance, my “Top Ten-ish Stephen King Books”). Ellen Kushner brings both of those interests together in “Immortal Coil,” which gives us a mid-career(ish) William Shakespeare seeing what seems to be the ghost of his deceased friend and fellow playwright Christopher Marlowe. The figure leads Will on a merry chase across town using book titles as clues to where to go next, and when they finally are face-to-face, the truth of the situation is laid out and Will is made an offer. Kushner beautifully addresses the question every creative person asks themselves eventually: is it preferable to walk away/retire/die at the height of your career or to stay in the game/live a longer life and watch your skills, and reputation, deteriorate? I won’t spoil Will’s choice, nor the delightful coda Kushner gives the story. But I will say that I wonder if, given the opportunity, I would make the same choice.

Series Saturday: Frank Schildiner's Frankenstein novels

This is a blog series about … well, series. I love stories that continue across volumes, in whatever form: linked short stories, novels, novellas, television, movies, comics.

The Frankenstein novels (3 volumes)

Written by Frank Schildiner

published by Black Coat Press (2015 – 2019)

 

Titles:

·       The Quest of Frankenstein (2015)

·       The Triumph of Frankenstein (2017)

·       The Spells of Frankenstein (2019)

 

Mary Shelley’s classic creation Frankenstein has spawned more sequels and reinterpretations than I have the energy to count at the moment. Back in 1957-58, French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière wrote a series of novels featuring Frankenstein’s Monster, now named Gouroull and traveling the world following an agenda of his own making. Gouroull has utter disdain for humanity as a whole and is as likely to murder temporary allies as he is enemies. I’ve never read the Carrière novels (English translations appear to be out of print and highly priced on the secondary market), but I have read Frank Schildiner’s three sequels published by Black Coat Press, which are the subject of today’s post.

Frank Schildiner is a wonderful “new pulp” author whose work runs from pulp adventure (The New Adventures of Thunder Jim Wade) to sword-and-sorcery (The Warrior’s Pilgrimage) to espionage (The Klaus Protocol) to westerns, science fiction, and horror. Much of his work mixes genres, and the Frankenstein novels are no exception. Primarily horror, the books also include elements of classic pulp adventure (scientific or occult investigator type characters) and espionage thrillers (the political machinations of the fictional South American country in which The Triumph of Frankenstein takes place).

Gouroull himself is a far cry from the sympathetic Monster of Shelley’s original novel (who simply wanted to understand his place in the world and have a mate to love) and the childlike force of nature of the early Universal Studios films. If any connection/comparison is to be made, I’d say the Monster as played by Bela Lugosi (when evil hunchback Ygor’s brain had been transplanted into the Monster’s body) comes closest tonally to Carrière/Schildiner’s Gouroull. But where Lugosi’s Monster simply had the potential to be a Force of Evil, Gouroull IS that force. We are meant to be afraid of a creature made by Man but unaffected by human emotions of love and want. Gouroull’s search for someone capable of creating him a Mate is powered by the biological imperative to propagate the species as much as by his disdain for weaker/lesser humanity – there’s not a speck of sentiment or loneliness to be seen. This makes Gouroull a hard character to sympathize with – which is not the same as making him a hard character to root for.

On the contrary, throughout the three books I found myself mostly wanting Gouroull to succeed, mostly because the other characters he encounters and does battle with are even less friendly/sympathetic. (I say “mostly” only because Gouroull’s quest in The Spells of Frankenstein involves bringing the Elder Gods of the Lovecraft Mythos back to Earth, and I mean really, who wants that mission to succeed?) Gouroull does battle with vampires (including but not limited to several “soul clones” of Dracula), sorcerers, necromancers, ghosts, mad scientists (paging Doctors Herbert West and Elizabeth Frankenstein) and other supernatural menaces, but even the theoretically heroic characters he meets (monster hunters named Hezekiah Whately and Martin Mars) are reprehensible, highlighting the worst in human greed and hubris. It’s a pleasure to see characters like these get their come-uppance against a force of nature they cannot overcome.

Even though Gouroull is the focus of each book, these are very much ensemble cast novels. Chapters switch between various characters’ points of view as they are drawn into contact with the Monster, and we get insight into who they are before they encounter in (and why they’re searching for him, when they are) as well as how their encounter changes them (when they survive, that is). It’s an effective way to build tension in each book, but is particularly effective in The Spells of Frankenstein, where we meet a pair of heroic human characters of Schildiner’s creation who I would love to see more of in their own books/stories: the Muslim adventurers Faisal and Fatimah. (To a lesser extent, I was also intrigued by  Moraika, the tribal wise woman/shamaness Schildiner created for a sub-plot in Triumph and would like to see her plotline continued as well.)

As is the wont of many “new pulp” writers, Schildiner tosses “easter eggs” liberally throughout these books – nods at classic horror and adventure literary and movie characters. And he does it in ways that don’t distract from the on-going narrative. If you know who is being referenced, great. If not, you can always check the author’s notes at the end of each book. I found those notes inspiring interest in a long list of books I’ve not yet read and movies I’ve not yet seen, especially where the nods were in the form of pastiche or homage rather than outright use of a character.

It’s rare these days for an author to write a series in which the books can be read in any order. Like Seanan McGuire’s Wayward Children series, Frank Schildiner’s Frankenstein books each stand alone, complete unto themselves while still having an obvious place in the overall structure of the series. Read the series in publication order (as I did) or in character chronology order (or, I guess, if you’re one of the lucky folks who have the Carrière novels, read Schildiner’s books where they take place within that chronology), whichever fits your fancy.

There may or may not be further Gouroull novels by Schildiner and Black Coat Press. If there are, I look forward to which gaps in the character’s history Schildiner fills in next. If there aren’t, these books together still tell a trio of tales about a version of Frankenstein’s Monster that is not sympathetic but is compelling.