Every House is Haunted

Every House is Haunted

By Ian Rogers

Note: This is my first review in partnership with the good people over at I Read A Book Once.... Although all the reviews I write for them will also appear here, I encourage everyone to pay the site regular visits as it has lots more news, reviews and author interviews. I'm excited to be part of the team.

A blues guitar player whose name I cannot recall once said that the blues isn't about the notes a musician plays, it's about the notes he doesn't play. Horror works in exactly the same way. A horror writer is responsible for providing a precise amount of detail that is necessary to frighten a reader. No more, no less. Not enough detail and the reader cannot picture the scenario, too much detail and you eliminate the fundamental criteria in all scary stories: the reader's imagination. It's a literary balancing act that is often destabilized by a writer's overwhelming desire to add more (in this case unnecessary) detail. The writer should provide only what is absolutely necessary for the reader to conjure up the most horrifying aspects of their own imagination.

As P.T. Barnum may or may not have said: "Always leave them wanting more." While this is true of virtually every situation in life, this truism is especially true for horror writing. Good horror should end in a hair-raising climax that wraps up enough (but never all) of the story's loose ends. The unresolved (or unrevealed) issues at the end of a horror story are the most crucial. In my humble opinion, horror should leave the reader alone with their own imagination as to what happens next. Does Carrie rise from the dead and terrorize the town of Chamberlain? There should be room for infinite imagined terrors to occur in the readers mind after the last word has been written.

The reader, on the other hand, has responsibilities of their own when entering into a horror story. He or she must enter into a horror story with an open mind, devoid of preconceptions and biases and prepared unequivocally to suspend their disbelief beyond its usual boundaries. Unlike other genres of fiction, I make it a policy to enter into a horror story with no expectations. If you project your expectations onto a writer they are bound to disappoint. I will hereafter refer to this phenomenon as the Late-Era Stephen King Anomaly.

So as you can see, horror fiction is a social contract of sorts between a writer and a reader. A symbiotic relationship that, when it works, results in extraordinarily fun reading but when it doesn't.... egads!

So it was nice to sit down with Ian Roger's new collection of short stories with a wide open mind and be pleasantly surprised to find an eclectic anthology of stories that are not only well-written but also offer the precise amount of detail while leaving all the climaxes as open ended as possible. No awkward reveals, no detailed descriptions of monsters that never, ever live up to expectations and no not once was I disappointed with an ending. That's a difficult feat to achieve.

Every House is Haunted is a loosely intertwined collection of stories that range from paranormal to science fiction to strict horror. I'm not going to summarize over two dozen stories for you, so you'll just have to go find this book yourself if you are interested. I will tell you that it is cleverly divided into five sections, fittingly entitled The Vestibule, The Library, The Attic , The Den and The Cellar. A literary house tour, if you will.

Although Rogers notes in his introduction that his greatest influence was Stephen King (and who am I to question that?) I thought his style throughout the collection was predominantly reminiscent of Robert McCammon's short fiction. However, "The Tattletail" is a nod to J.K. Rowling. H.P. Lovecraft is manifest in "Charlotte's Frequency" and, most tellingly, "Winter Hammock" evokes the ghost of Kurt Vonnegut. Certainly not literary lightweights. If Rogers is running on even half capacity compared to those writers, you can't miss. I'll go so far as to say he's pacing them rather well, indeed.

Of course, I don't want to imply that Rogers doesn't have a distinct literary voice. He most certainly does. But short fiction is a difficult genre. The writer has to get straight down to business, often at the expense of details that either the writer or the reader would have otherwise like to have been privy. Maintaining the trust of the reader is difficult when you are trying to craft as story only 20 pages long. It doesn't take much to disappoint a reader in a short span. So voice and pacing become an especially important aspect, one that Rogers handles adeptly. One does not want the same voice in each and every story. A certain amount of homage is an ingenious way to ensure each narrative employs a different tone and voice.

So what, exactly am I rambling about? Is this book any good or not? Should you go out and buy the damned thing or not bother? Well, like most titles in the horror genre, this is not the sort of collection that is going to win over new fans. There is little to no cross-over potential here. If you like romance, you'll find none of the cross pollination one finds in titles such as Twilight. However, if you are constantly on the lookout for new and interesting work in the paranormal genre, this is a can't miss title. Well crafted stories, well crafted characters, no condescension and boat loads of fun to read. In Every House is Haunted, Ian Rogers doesn't play all the right notes.

Welcome To The Monkey House

Welcome To The Monkey House

By Kurt Vonnegut

Interesting. I just finished Welcome to the Monkey House. Two books ago I read Ape House. This is all part of my challenge to read books that refer to primates (other than humans) in some way. Next up: The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon. It's all opposable thumbs, all the time here at My Life in Books!

OK.... anyway...

Sitting down with a Kurt Vonnegut book is like easing back into your favorite chair to watch your favorite movie while eating your favorite snack food. After months of treading new ground, it's nice to sit back with something familiar. Something unsurprising and solid. Kurt Vonnegut (along with Tom Robbins and Salman Rushdie) are my Rushmore. They are my chicken soup for the reader's soul. They are my safety reads. Goto novels when I feel like I need a refresher on where I came from. I love to revisit these guys and I do so often.

All this revisitation is a bit of a Catch-22, though, because at last count I only have three more novels left before I have read Kurt Vonnegut's entire bibliography. With Robbins, it's one, with Rushdie, it's two. For as much as I read, I have never finished an author's entire career's work (well... except Harper Lee). And while I will be left with collections of short fiction, essays and opinions for all three authors once I complete their bibliographies, as Welcome to the Monkey House shows, this shall be problematic.

Welcome to the Monkey House is one such collection of Vonnegut's early short fiction that I can only assume was published in what he refers to in Breakfast of Champions as "beaver magazines"(actually, after a cursory look on the Wikipedia entry for the collection, most of these stories were first published in reputable sources such as Collier's, Ladies Home Journal and Esquire, but let's not mess with a good story). The stories are predominantly science fiction, although some decidedly not. As with most collections of short stories, the content of Welcome to the Monkey House is uneven. Granted it's the sort of uneven work created by Kurt Vonnegut, which means it's good. But it's still uneven.

Personally, I enjoy Kurt Vonnegut's more traditional science fiction over anything else. Science fiction was the genre in which Vonnegut rarely failed. This turned out to be true on this collection as well. I most enjoyed a story entitled "The Manned Missiles" (1955) in which the father of the first Soviet man in space writes a heartfelt letter to the father of the first American man in space. Their boys' missions, which culminated in each of them dying in space due to the aggression of their respective nations, culminates in a detente between America and the Soviet Union and hints at the end of the Cold War. The story has both heart and social relevance (at least on the date of publication). Furthermore, this story has relevance considering its optimistic view of the future. Many Vonnegut critics have accused him of being overly pessimistic.

The title story, "Welcome to the Monkey House" (which, incidentally is the only story in this collection actually published in what might be construed as a beaver magazine... Playboy) is the centerpiece of the entire collection. It explores the subject of sexuality and overpopulation. In an effort to de-populate the planet people have willingly been robbed of their sexual urges. Furthermore, people are encouraged to visit government sponsored suicide clinics where they are eased off this mortal coil by suggestively clad virgins. When she encounters a Billy the Poet, a man who has not ascribed to the new system, she is shown the nature of this life, which she deems "pointless."The story is rife with sexual and moral tension and is perhaps one of the best stories of Vonnegut's career.

In another excellent story Vonnegut lays out a story about Thomas Edison and his dog that may or may not be a lie to get away from an annoying small town story-teller. In another Vonnegut elaborates on one woman's pathological obsession with home renovation. In yet another he tells the story of the first computer to express human emotions and how it falls in love with a woman.

But there are a few stinkers in the mix here (and no Kilgore Trout anywhere in sight). Like the rockets on the early space program, some of these stories just never seem to get off the ground. They all have that signature Vonnegut style but just don't seem to get anywhere. As one would expect from a collection of an author's early work, the stories read like a young writer trying to find his voice. As a devout reader of Kurt Vonnegut, it was a pleasure to read the trajectory of his young writing and see the origins of the more mature writer that would emerge in the ensuing years. In that sense Welcome to the Monkey House is just as much a piece of literary history as it is a collection of short fiction.

But if you are new to Kurt Vonnegut, I would recommend you pass on this one for the time being and start somewhere more conventional: Breakfast of Champions or Slaughterhouse-Five. As for me, I'm coming full circle. It's just about time I begin my way through Kurt Vonnegut's titles for the second time.

So it goes...

6 x H

6 x H

By Robert A. Heinlein

I think I know who Robert A. Heinlein is. I'm onto him. He wasn't who he said he was. Oh, I'm sure he believed he was who he said he was, but I think he was something a little more. Something a little more culturally relevant. Something more literary that he ever acheived during his own life. Something intangible. More on this in a few paragraphs.

Originally published under the name The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag, 6 x H is a little book of six short stories by legendary science fiction writer Robert A. Heinlein (a man best known nowadays for having written Starship Troopers but back in the day he was considered to be one of the three best sci-fi writers in the world along with Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury although that meant virtually nothing outside the realm of sci-fi, of course). The centerpiece of the book is a novella also named The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag which was originally published in Unknown Worlds Magazine in October 1942 under the pen name of John Riverside (don't ever accuse me of not bringing the facts!). The other five stories are considerably shorter and, on the whole, great deal better.

The stories in this collection are an eclectic mix. They run from abysmal (Our Fair City and They) to excellent (-And He Built a Crooked House- and The Man Who Traveled in Elephants) to the absolutely sublime (-All You Zombies-). -All You Zombies- is one of those rare sci-fi stories that has you guessing right until the end and even when the story is revealed you feel the need to go back and read it again to make sure all the pieces are in place (they are). It will find a place among my favorite short stories of all time.

But don't assume I'm an expert on this subject.

It has only been in recent years that I have discovered old science fiction as a genre. It probably started a few years back when I finally discovered Kurt Vonnegut (my introduction was via Breakfast of Champions and I have subsequently read everything he has ever written except God Bless You Mr. Rosewater) I then revisited Ray Bradbury's excellent collection of short stories The Illustrated Man, a book I was forced to read in high school English and enjoyed a lot more as an adult. This lead me to Fahrenheit 451 and then a glut of Asimov, Jeff Noon, Arthur C. Clarke, as well as Ken Grimwood (Replay is still my favorite sci-fi book of all time).

I can't profess that I am a sci-fi aficionado, but I suppose I have read more than your average reader. I read Heinlein's short novel Methuselah's Children last year and while it didn't blow me away, it was good enough to merit a second book. Heinlein is a master of hanging on, in my opinion. while 6 x H wasn't the best thing I will read this year, it was certainly good enough for me to read one more. But something about the stories really rubbed me the wrong way.

The problem I have with old science fiction stems from my first reading of Breakfast of Champions and Vonnegut's recurring character of Kilgore Trout. Trout is a widely published writer of science fiction but he is only published in pornographic magazines. Trout himself doesn't even know how many stories he has written, and yet there are readers who obsess over his writing.

I got a Kilgore Trout vibe while reading Heinlein's stories and it occurred to me that Kurt Vonnegut may have modeled the eponymous Kilgore Trout after Heinlein. Heinlein was nothing if he was not prolific. Certainly, Heinlein's stories have an absurd quality that matches Trout's. And clearly Heinlein's stories were published in some fairly dubious publications. Heinlein was writing at least a full decade before Vonnegut put pen to paper and while I don't dismiss that idea that Kilgore Trout is a composite of all science fiction writers of the era if you follow Heinlein and Trout's career trajectory from Breakfast of Champions through Timequake you find that while never cracking the mainstream literary world, Heinlein, like Trout, gained a modicum of respect at the end of his career.

Which then begs the question: Is Robert A. Heinlein the real Kilgore Trout? If so, how much of Kurt Vonnegut's career is owed to the career of Robert A. Heinlein? It's an idea that niggled its way into my head while reading but hasn't had time enough to ferment. More on this as I continue to read.