Black Static #30

Since first real-time reviewing BLACK STATIC fiction a year or two ago, I have learned that the reader can depend on the stories being well-crafted, with great style and atmosphere including a creative weirdness and/or a haunting horror, each story stand-alone yet ineluctably blending into a serendipitous whole. The stories in issue 30 are no exception.

THE PIG FARM by James Cooper presents a bleak farming landscape where  the literal cross of penal crucifixion the girl bears is an actual scarecrow – but with additional crosses formed by members of her family with her stigmata not only  created by metal nails….the moon wonderfully conveyed as potential rescuer.  ALL CHANGE by Ray Cluley presents a railway train as its own Way Station of monsters, being, for me, like a a toy one circling childhood’s track.  This selection of stories seems to contain  monsters exterior to oneself as well as within, reaching out in fear and love towards what I envisage to be Bradbury’s October Moon, the month we’re in today. In THE WAYSIDE VOICES by Daniel Mills, we have the Way Station as the Wayside Inn of old Falmouth – a mixture of souls constituting the ‘crucified’ girl – ever returned to the Wayside by a circular track of points-of-view … The recurrent movie that are Black Static stories, each one different, each one the same, each so utterly a diamond from among the stars above us, bringing us to RECURRENCE by Susan Kim, the claustrophobic House of Leaves, as it were, with critters, beyond the interior partitions, with a car outside, as it turns out, waiting for us to escape that recurrent movie version of, say, The Birds, the Promethean circular track… And in a major novelette SOMETIMES I GET A GOOD FEELING [or SOMETIMES I GET A GOD FEELING (as the magazine’s contents list significantly has it!)] by Carole Johnstone, the House of Leaves has its own crawl space where humanity’s panic-button critters transcend one’s own crucifying cross of closet (literally) orientation in a way that only the Horror Genre can supply. THE ORPHAN AND THE BAD, BAD MONKEY by David Kotok presents that cross or circular track as mines to where disconnected souls  are consigned: ‘mine’ in both senses of crawl space and belonging to me. That transcendence of eating a bodily snake, like the closet release earlier, reaches here nirvana. Stars that surround the rescuing Moon, Money or Monkey…. A nirvana that only literature can reveal from its own darkness.

The above is the third of my new post-real-time reviews (following the recent completion of all my previous real-time reviews ).

All my previous TTA Press reviews are linked from here:

Black Static site: HERE

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