Less Than Pulp, Issue 47

I.

Lots of stuff in the works this past week! I approved edits for Bladejob, my next wrestling-themed horror novella. The story features in-ring blood rituals, alternate timelines, and imps that look like ‘roided up babies. It will be out this summer from Madness Heart Press.

I'm a big fan of wrestling, as longtime readers probably gathered. The first time I caught it on TV, Hulk Hogan was locking up with someone. I was five or six, and my dad told me it was all “fake,” so I was never under the impression that what I was watching was an actual sport. But that didn’t make me appreciate it any less. If anything, knowing how choreographed it all was made me appreciate it even more. Professional wrestling is performance art, men and women using their bodies to tell stories.

And sometimes, the performance is so believable, suspension of disbelief comes easy. To me, getting carried away by the action in the ring, the characters, and the drama is no different than getting invested in your favorite TV show, film, or book. But because of the physicality involved, I actually appreciate it a little more. Injuries can happen and often do. The performers must not only protect themselves during a match, but their opponents as well. There's a tremendous amount of trust involved, and I find that endlessly compelling.

With Bladejob, I hoped to write something that addresses workplace exploitation, something that exists in every profession and sets harmful cycles in motion. Because I'm a pulp writer and not a political pundit, I wrapped that theme in a story rife with horror tropes, bizarro logic, and gory setpieces. There are other themes as well—of family, second chances, and the fluidity of time. It packs a lot into its 120 pages, and I am so excited to share it with you when it's released.

Check out the cover by Jim Agpalza:

II.

I also got my edits back for “Dracula and the Devil Walk into a Bar” from the publisher. The story will be featured in an anthology along with two other pieces by horror names you know.

I just can't say much more than that yet.

I will say that with this piece and Bladejob, I feel my voice and overall style has come into focus. I now know what I do well and how to put that into logical order. This is a big deal for me, as I've long felt that past successes (and failures) came together almost entirely by accident. These last few works feel a lot more intentional, and that's a good thing.

It's worth pointing out, however, that this doesn't mean I will stop trying to stretch, trying different genres, or sharpening my tools. If anything, this means I can do these things more purposefully.

This Fool's becoming a Magician, my friends!

III.

The big news this week, though, is I’ve been re-reading Imajica by Clive Barker. If you’re following me on Notes, you’ve been seeing my updates, but I want to share my thoughts here as well.

I’m about thirteen hours into the audiobook narrated by Simon Vance. It’s incredible seeing how much I remember from my first time reading it. Equally incredible is how I considered this one of my favorite books, despite how much clearly went over my head at the time. The book is ultimately about the structures we’ve built around ourselves (both socially and psychologically) and how they keep us from fulfilling our true potential. It’s a sprawling fantasy about reconciling Earth (called the Fifth Dominion) with the extraordinary alien worlds from which it’s been separated. At its heart are Gentle and Judith, two former lovers who live their lives emotionally adrift and hungry for something beyond the experiences they know, and a genderfluid assassin who sets the story in motion when he encounters each of them.

I say its themes went over my head when I was fifteen or sixteen, but I’m not sure that’s true. Maybe they did on a conscious level, the part of me who just appreciated the beauty of the prose, the exploration of alien worlds, the sex and violence, and the fact that God himself is the novel’s villain. Everything about this book felt taboo and strange, but also so familiar. I may have internalized its themes more than I initially realized. What I am noticing upon this re-read, however, is how perfectly every passage seems to reinforce the novel’s theme. At nearly 900 pages, that’s not an easy feat!

While I do believe the joy of a full-length novel can be in the digressions, I also have to applaud Barker’s ability to weave such a massive tome so tightly together. Somehow, it manages to be a doorstop of a novel written with the focus of a novella. Nothing here feels like a digression.

It’s also a very gay book. Not surprising as Clive Barker is a gay man who grew up in an era much less kind to queerness than our current one. (Yes, we still have lots of work to do, especially in terms of how we treat the trans community, but society has improved overall in that respect since the writing of Imajica). In many of his works, but especially in Imajica, Barker uses his queerness to show a universal expression of feeling trapped in structures that keep us from realizing ourselves and each other. Queer art has always had a unique ability to do that. Many of these works force you to reevaluate the structures around you and the rules you live by. Sometimes, if the text is really good, they might even help you break free.

I’ll have more thoughts on Imajica in next week’s issue. In the meantime, here are some other books by queer authors I’ve enjoyed.

1. Jigsaw Youth by Tiffany Scandal

2. Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite

3. Cities of Red Night by William S. Burroughs

4. Transmuted by Eve Harms

5. Toxic by Judith Sonnet

6. The Mud Ballad by Jo Quenell

IV.

Speaking of Judith, she made a guest appearance on Make Your Own Damn Podcast to chat with us about a movie called Septic. Made over the course of five years and featuring some truly impressive, homemade special effects, Septic is 82 minutes of gratuitous violence and nasty sex. This movie is so punk rock, you can only see it if you purchase the DVD from its director on eBay. Plus, gay undertones in Die Hard, comic recommendations, melt movies, and the shot-on-video (SOV) horror scene.

You can listen to the episode here or wherever you get your pod on.

V.

The last bit of news to share: The Final Gate (written with Wesley Southard) has been re-released with a brand-new cover. You can buy it now directly from Encyclopocalypse Publications. First 25 orders get a free bookmark and audiobook!

From the back cover:

“As long as Mangum and Southard are around, Fulci’s spirit lives on.” - Judith Sonnet, author of Hell and No One Rides For Free.

Something is terrifying the residents of St. Luke’s Orphanage. Gurgling moans echo through the hallways. Hulking shapes lurk in the surrounding woods. And those who wake in the morning will find one less child under their roof…

Brandon and his girlfriend, Jillian, believe his younger brother is in serious danger. Even though the caretakers at St. Luke’s told them that he’s been adopted, Brandon has his doubts. With the help of a friend and a mysterious guide, they will do whatever it takes to find out just what is happening inside the orphanage walls…and at the bottom of the basement steps…

From Splatterpunk Award-Winning author Wesley Southard and Splatterpunk Award-Nominated author Lucas Mangum comes The Final Gate, the ultimate tribute to Italian horror master Lucio Fulci. With blood, guts, and all the nightmarish madness you’d expect from the Godfather of Gore himself, Southard and Mangum present a loving homage to spaghetti splatter and the glory of 1980’s Euro horror.

“The Final Gate plays out like the prose version of an unfilmed Lucio Fulci script. Packed with grotesque imagery, head-snapping twists, and shocking moments, this lovingly crafted tribute to the late director delivers thrills with gusto.” - Bryan Smith, Splatterpunk Award-Winning author of Depraved and Merciless.

You can pick it up right here.