New Arrival: Wounds

One of the biggest complaints I hear about collections is the unevenness of the quality therein. Some stories might be ones that linger. They may be haunting tales that make you check the locks on the doors and the lights in your hallway. Some are the equivalent of a gas station sandwich: it filled you up, and you might have even enjoyed eating it, but it did very little beyond filling your stomach and hours later, you are left hungry. A truly rare collection is one where all stories satisfies (or terrifies) equally. Also rare is the collection where the stories don’t feel like just one tale but an interconnected chain, one that binds together a universe. Nathan Ballingrud’s collection Wounds: SixStories from the Borders of Hell links together not only a universe but an actual mythology.

The book begins with the tale “Atlas of Hell,” which feels almost like urban fantasy, especially  with its central character, a rare book dealer (“rare” meaning books not written or inspired by human being) is commissioned/forced to recover a rare artifact, a whispering skull that serves as the reason for the story’s title. Far from being a demonic Google Maps, in keeping with cosmic horror, its mere discussion of Hell’s geography has adverse effects on those who listen to it. And the demons who populate this realm? Far from the red-skinned, pitchfork-wielding mascots on boxes of cinnamon candy, these demons, as well as angels, come in a variety of forms while not conforming to the traditional Judeo-Christian idea of angels and demons. This tale is brought full circle by the last story “The Butcher’s Table,” a tale that’s basically Pirates of the Caribbean done by Clive Barker, which will leave the reader both satisfied and slightly uncomfortable.

“Skullpocket” seems to be an outlier story that doesn’t mention hell specifically, but it does have monsters, monsters who not only have their own mythology but their own traditions. In this case, it’s the Skullpocket festival that brings together ghouls and humans in a game where the loser’s prize isn’t just a second place trophy. The imagery and creativity in this story, as well as in the whole collection, hearkens back to Clive Barker in his heyday, especially in the story “The Diabolist.”

The standout story in this book is “The Visible Filth,” which is soon to be a movie. It begins with a bartender, after a bar fight he witnessed at work, discovers a lost smartphone.  Stored on that smartphone are images and videos that upset his own world while leading to others, and to the powerful being inhabiting them. Much like Joe Hill’s “Twittering from the Circus of the Dead” and Koji Suzuki’s Ring series, Ballingrud employs now commonplace technology as a storytelling device. Like the technology in these stories, they become participants. Simply pushing “play” on the screen suddenly becomes like opening the basement door in a haunted house or the lid of the vampire’s coffin.

The stories in Wounds show a fevered imagination as well as a knack for storytelling conventions that grounds explorers willing to travel in Ballingrud’s hellish vistas in reality thanks to convincing character motivations. Some of those within come to hell through desire or through curiosity, but what may bring readers to this collection may be the beauty Ballingrud describes his own version of the world beyond.