Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror, Vol. 2 — A Review

The Brave New Weird World is here, and it’s an eye opener 

Cover image courtesy of Tenebrous Press
Click on image for where to buy

A brave series of shorts from Tenebrous Press where tales of the increasingly weird don’t feel so outrageously impossible at the dawn of the new world we’re living in. A new world where many of the wonderful stories within it could quite possibly get it banned. That isn’t hyperbole. These stories touch on a broad range of topics from transgenderism to environmental negligence to autonomous healthcare decisions to the advancement of AI for all the wrong reasons. Which is why you should check them out, because the Brave New Weird is here and now. 

Like most anthologies, not every story is going to hit you in the right way, but I didn’t find one story that was less than worthy of a 3 ( the average "I liked it" grade), with most being well worthy of 4s and 5s ("really liked it," or "best read ever!"). The list of the ones that resonated most for me include: 

In That Crumbling Home, by Thomas Ha—A post apocalyptic tale about a girl and a blood tree and the hope that resides in a future generation. 

A Balanced Breakfast, by Eirik Gumeny—A diabetic podcaster summons a demon for an interview by casting a spell with the use of sugary breakfast cereals. 

The Man Outside, by Simone le Roux—He's always present in a young girl's life, beginning at age eleven, and as she grows year after year toward adulthood, he creeps closer and closer. 

As the Music Plays Groovy, by Michael Bettendorf—When the voice of reason comes from Nic Cage through your AI assistant device, maybe you should rethink things. 

The Sound of Children Screaming, by Raechel K. Jones—Because the best defense in a school shooting is a portal to a different world. 

Quietus, by Premee Mohamed—The quest to find meaning through the eyes of an RPG soldier. 

These are by far not the only picks that I enjoyed, but they’re a good sample of what to expect. These thoughtful pieces of horror all have something to say about the world we live in now and the challenges we face in the very near future. Things to think about, things to defend in our lifetime, things to resist if we want to preserve our general humanity. And yes, I am writing this after the disappointing results of our 2024 election. But I was ready to give this book high praise before that. I find many of the stories here all the more relevant.

Click on the cover image for a direct link to Tenebrous Press, or look for the book at most online book retailers.

A Dark and Rising Tide — An entertaining creature feature by Debra Castaneda

Cover image courtesy of
Shadow Canyon Press

 A Dark and Rising Tide is a well written people vs nature story, with a monster akin to those horror movies of the late 70s through 80s to boot. I’m reminded of Tremors. I’m reminded of Jaws. I’m reminded of Aliens. I’m reminded of Chtuthlu, for obvious reasons, and I’m almost certain that I’ve spelled Cthulhu wrong. Again (one is correct, according to autocorrect, so I’ll trust it—just this once).

But I digress. Back on point, this is a fun, casual horror read about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. Carla, a restaurant owner in a seaside tourist town, is just trying to make ends meet after the recent death of her son from a boating accident. She has regulars to her restaurant along the pier. She has a love interest in Peter, a retired lifeguard and park ranger. They make a nice couple, but Carla isn’t ready to commit due to the loss of her son.

Then a storm blows in, and the conspiracy theorist among regular patrons says there are monsters afoot. And he's right. Trapped by the storm, Carla and Peter, and a host of other small town characters are forced to deal with it. If you’re a fan of any of the classic movies that I’ve listed above, you just might like this read.

Check out this GoodReads link for where to find it, and for more reviews.

Short Story Review—Yellow Carousel by Timothy G Huguenin

 Yellow Carousel by Timothy G Huguenin

I don’t often make the time for short stories unless I find them in an anthology, which is a serious demerit for me, I know. But while cleaning out my emails, which are full of read requests for award considerations, I came across this gem from a year ago, written by HWA member Timothy G. Huguenin. It's a cosmic horror piece about the regrets we have, and the past we long for as our time on this earth grows short. It ends on a decidedly weird note, and I’m not going to spoil it, but it’s worth checking out here at the website Cosmic Horror Monthly: 

https://cosmichorrormonthly.com/fiction/the-yellow-carousel/

Timothy G. Huguenin is s new author to me, but after this quick read, he's one I will keep on my radar. His best known title, according to GoodReads, is Little One.

Look for more of his books here: https://tghuguenin.com/

Cover Image found at GoodReads

Horror Fantasy set in Appalachia -- Where Dark Things Grow by Andrew K. Clark

 

Cover image courtesy of
Cowboy Jamboree Press

A well written YA/New Adult piece of folk horror set in Appalachia during the depression. It took me a while to get invested in this story of a rural mountain boy literally just trying to survive with his family during the Depression. Fifteen year old Leo is a meek and obedient kid from the start, trying to earn coin to help pay for necessities for the household that includes a pair of brothers, a sick little sister and a mother who has lost any hope of a better life since her no good husband up and left the family. Again.

Mama tasks Leo with the job of going into town and finding dad, who is probably wasting what little money the family has on bars and brothels. But the first third of the book is Leo avoiding this chore. Instead, he hangs with an old widow who pays him for jobs she can't do, and who feeds him stories of the danger and magic in these woods--in particular, tales of wulvers. Author Clark spends a lot of time setting Leo up as a bit of a shy loser here. Leo avoids sharing his feelings for his crush named Lilyfax, he fails to stand up to bullies, and he kowtows to preachers who are clearly questionable men of the cloth. But he also has a special gift, it seems, when we learn that he has almost a sixth sense relating to wild animals. Enter that magical creature, the Shadow Wulver.

The story picks up dramatically at this point. The connection to this mythical beast changes both Leo and the course of the story, where the wulver could become the power that Leo needs to help his family through heartbreak and hardship, or something more dangerous that both exposes and feeds off of Leo's repressed anger. This dichotomy was what made the overall story most interesting for me. It propels Leo into his real journey, to find out what happened to his dad, which plunges him into another story altogether--to find out why several young women have gone missing--many of them from that brothel dad likes to visit.

Clark could have easily made a misstep here, where the young male lead plays the hero to the helpless beautiful girl, but he manages to avoid that trap. What I'm saying, is that the women in the story are not all helpless, and that's a good thing. Whether Leo helps save anyone or becomes an unassuming participant in their demise is for the reader to find out.

Also, categorizing this book can be tricky. It has young adult characters but may be more suitable for a slightly older readership. It contains themes of rape, and domestic and sexual abuse, but Clark manages to infer these things more than showing them. And the strength of the female characters is well done. In fact, while the story mostly focuses on Leo's perspective, there are a few chapters that jump to certain female characters using a first person perspective, and those brief passages are some mighty fine writing, imo.

All in all, an entertaining read for the folkloric horror fan.

I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

Find a copy of Where Dark Things Grow HERE.

Experimental Film by Gemma Files — A Slow Burn of a Gothic Tinged Folk Horror Tale.

 A slow burn of a supernatural mystery that takes place in the world of film as art (and not standard storytelling), the actual storytelling can be profoundly deep at times. I feel like this piece is meant for a niche audience, and yes, I just happen to fall into that category.

Cover Image courtesy of 
ChiZine Publications

The protagonist is an art film historian, a student and teacher of the movement, and me, having graduated from a state school with a film degree—under the mentoring of the likes of Ken Jacobs and Ralph Hocking, felt comfortable in the environment that author Gemma Files has created.

Within that regard, this is an interesting story. You have a mother, torn between her passion for art and her special needs child Clark. Lois, the mom, finds an important discovery in the world of underground film and film history in general, when she stumbles upon a woman who was present at the start of it all, Iris Whitcomb. But because of her mysterious disappearance, after the disappearance of her own son at a young age, Whitcomb's potential mark on the history of filmmaking has been lost. That is until Lois connects some significant dots and garners a grant to suss out the entire story, and to prove it.

Lois becomes obsessed with the project, leaving the rest of the family —her mom and her overly patient husband Simon, to do the lion's share of caring for Clark. The trick here is empathizing with Lois in her quest to find the story for the sake of film history and women in film history, and I’m not sure Files pulls it off entirely. It’s important to note that the character Lois feels guilty about Clark in some ways, never feeling like Clark quite connects with her as a mom and always feeling like he is the way he is because of her own potentially neurodivergent inadequacies.

Clark, by the way is wonderfully portrayed in my opinion. And the culmination of the secondary story and of what Lois learns and accepts—because of Clark—is worth the time to tackle this otherwise slow paced read. The horror and supernatural elements have more of a haunting gothic quality rather than outright gore, so if you’re looking for a slow unraveling of creepy ambiance, this read might be for you. But solving the mystery of Iris Whitcomb's disappearance, and its connection to an ancient folktale of a goddess who needs to be seen and worshipped is the main story, and it takes time to link it to Lois's struggle with her responsibilities as a parent to Clark.

Click on the book cover above for a link to the book's GoodReads page.