News & Blog

Evermore: The Persistence of Poe

Last weekend, Alexa and I went to an Edgar Allan Poe exhibit, “Evermore: The Persistence of Poe,” at the beautiful Grolier Club on the Upper East Side. It was a delicious, early Halloween treat for a Poephile like me! The exhibit was filled with all sorts of Poe ephemera and memorabilia, including rare manuscripts, first editions, and personal items. There were even a few keepsakes that, in my opinion, crossed the line into creepy obsession, such as this actual preserved lock of Poe’s hair!

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Here’s a first edition of Poe’s only novel-length work of fiction, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym:

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Here’s a poster to a movie I wish existed. If it did, it would undoubtedly be my favorite movie ever!

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I was especially pleased to see this Richard Corben comic-book adaptation of “The Fall of the House of Usher” as part of the exhibit. It reminded me not only that I had a copy of it as a youth back in 1984, but that Corben’s amazing artwork really got under my skin and stayed with me. (I’m only sorry the cover is partially obscured here by glare.)

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I have a tonne more photos from the exhibit over at Flickr. The exhibit is running at the Grolier Club through November 22nd, free of charge. If you love Poe even half as much as I do, you owe it to yourself to check it out. It’s amazing.

The Scariest Part: Maria Alexander Talks About MR. WICKER

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Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, please review the guidelines here.)

It’s very nearly Halloween (hooray!) and today’s offering on The Scariest Part is a debut horror novel that fits the season well. My guest is author Maria Alexander, and the novel in question is Mr. Wicker. Here’s the publisher’s description:

Alicia Baum is missing a deadly childhood memory. Located beyond life, The Library of Lost Childhood Memories holds the answer. The Librarian is Mr. Wicker — a seductive yet sinister creature with an unthinkable past and an agenda just as lethal. After committing suicide, Alicia finds herself before the Librarian, who informs her that her lost memory is not only the reason she took her life, but the cause of every bad thing that has happened to her.

Alicia spurns Mr. Wicker and attempts to enter the hereafter without the Book that would make her spirit whole. But instead of the oblivion she craves, she finds herself in a psychiatric hold at Bayford Hospital, where the staff is more pernicious than its patients.

Child psychiatrist Dr. James Farron is researching an unusual phenomenon: traumatized children whisper to a mysterious figure in their sleep. When they awaken, they forget both the traumatic event and the character that kept them company in their dreams — someone they call “Mr. Wicker.”

During an emergency room shift, Dr. Farron hears an unconscious Alicia talking to Mr. Wicker — the first time he’s heard of an adult speaking to the presence. Drawn to the mystery, and then to each other, they team up to find the memory before it annihilates Alicia for good. To do so they must struggle not only against Mr. Wicker’s passions, but also a powerful attraction that threatens to derail her search, ruin Dr. Farron’s career, and inflame the Librarian’s fury.

After all, Mr. Wicker wants Alicia to himself, and will destroy anyone to get what he wants. Even Alicia herself.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for Maria Alexander:

Since the inception of Mr. Wicker 17 years ago, I’ve faced many grim encounters both in and out of the story. But the scariest part was that I might not have lived to write the book at all.

You see, before I had the astonishing experience that ultimately inspired the book, I’d fallen into a deep despair. My health, occupation, relationships and finances — all were devastated. As a result, I was in the grip of a depression so profound that I could not see beyond the next day. Much like the protagonist Alicia Baum in Chapter 1, I felt only the cold, empty embrace of The Void. I understood Salieri’s rage in the film Amadeus. I had done everything right, I thought, yet God was against me. Unlike Salieri, I had no recourse against God, no symbolic enemy to thwart. So, I turned against myself. My computer had died. The only backups I had of my stories and scripts were printouts I kept on a shelf in my bedroom. In my wounded logic, the only way to spite God would be to burn my writing. Destroying such a precious part of me would be the symbolic precursor to the next — and absolutely final — act.

Some Hamlet scholars argue that the Prince of Denmark doesn’t commit suicide prior to the “To be or not to be?” soliloquy because he doesn’t have enough energy. That was certainly true in my case. I was too drained to do anything, really. But more importantly, no matter how much life upturns my emotional soil, some part of me remains firmly rooted in sanity. I’m lucky. I’ve experienced situational depression, but never chronic clinical depression, which might have made me more vulnerable to the charms of self-destruction. If I had, you might not be reading these words. Many of my short stories, my poetry, and especially Mr. Wicker might not have ever existed. We never know the impact of our writing. This may or may not have been a great loss to some. I don’t know. But I do know that my death would have affected many people. I thank the Loa every day that those thoughts never animated my actions.

This isn’t some sort of Halloween-time version of It’s a Wonderful Life. Rather, this is a stark testimony to the terrifying power of depression. Ever the trickster, depression hoodwinks us about the nature of reality. It suspends us in grief, convincing us that we are already dead, that the sun will never rise again. And, in a perverse way, it empowers us, telling us that we can change a hopeless situation by rooting out the “true” problem: life itself.

A bald-faced lie, to be sure. But a mind trapped like an insect in the cloudy amber of biochemical dysfunction can’t see the deception.

As depression eclipsed me, I “met” Mr. Wicker in a life-changing experience. Unlike Alicia, I didn’t have to die or hurt myself in any way to find him. I reveal the extraordinary true story through a brief series of puzzles, starting with the first puzzle that appears at the end of my book trailer. (Did I mention I’m also a game designer?) A couple of people have so far solved it: the first was online community guru and legendary Monkey Island game designer Randy Farmer, followed by the renowned actress and YouTube sensation Whitney Avalon. If you solve it, feel free to claim bragging rights by posting the solutions. I’m working on some kind of reward for the next person who contacts me with the answers.

Released last month, the novel is generating a good bit of critical acclaim. But even if it had never been published, meeting Mr. Wicker proved this: It doesn’t matter what we lose or what we are “less.” Whether we are friendless, jobless, hopeless, or even handless, it is in our lessness that we are so much more. We have so much more because, when we stand in the darkness like Alicia, embraced by The Void, our humor, imagination and spirit can finally grow.

Be well. Be safe. And, most of all, remember that, if you reach out for help, you can shatter the amber.

Maria Alexander: Website / Facebook / Goodreads / Amazon / Twitter / Pinterest

Mr. Wicker: AmazonBarnes & Noble / Raw Dog Screaming Press

Maria Alexander is a produced screenwriter, published games writer, virtual world designer, award-winning copywriter, interactive theatre designer, fiction writer, and poet. Her short stories have appeared in acclaimed publications alongside living legends such as David Morrell and Heather Graham. Her debut novel, Mr. Wicker, was released by Raw Dog Screaming Press in September 2014. Publishers Weekly calls it “…(a) splendid, bittersweet ode to the ghosts of childhood.” Naming it Debut of the Month, Library Journal gave it a Starred Review and called it “a horror novel to anticipate.” When not wielding a katana at her Shinkendo dojo, Maria is being outrageously spooky or writing Doctor Who filk. She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats and a purse called Trog.

Horns

HornsHorns by Joe Hill

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

At the heart of Joe Hill’s dark fable sits a bittersweet love story about Ignatius Perrish and Merrin Williams, whose tragic death is the catalyst for both the story and the hero’s transformation. It’s a deeply sad novel, and upsetting at times, but Hill is such a good writer that he guides you through these emotions so skillfully. The characters and their relationships ring authentic, which helps ground the story in the face of its more absurdist supernatural elements. Touching, sad, darkly funny at times, and very effective, this is a novel that will stick with you.

View all my reviews

The Scariest Part: Erik Williams Talks About DEMON

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Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, please review the guidelines here.)

My guest is Erik Williams, whose latest novel is Demon. Here’s the publisher’s description:

Mike Caldwell is a CIA assassin who thinks he’s finally got a real case to work on. At a remote construction site in Iraq, something deadly and dangerous has been unearthed, and Mike believes he’s dealing with a powerful pathogen that turns the infected into primal killing machines. The truth, however, is far worse.

The ancient prison of the fallen angel Semyaza has been uncovered, and for the first time in thousands of years he is free to roam the earth, possessing the bodies of the humans he hates. And everywhere he goes, Hell is sure to follow.

Now Mike is on Semyaza’s trail, hunting a demon whose mere presence turns every living thing near it into a weapon of mass destruction. Both merchants of death are on a collision course, while the fate of humanity hangs in the balance.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for Erik Williams:

So, I wrote a book called Demon. It’s about a CIA assassin going up against a, well, demon. Or fallen angel. Whatever you prefer. Anyway, it’s not your normal ho-hum horror novel. It’s got action! It’s got drama! It’s got carnage! And yes, quite a few scares. Don’t believe me? I dare you to buy a copy and read it. Go on.

Seriously, what happens on page 150…scariest thing you’ll ever read.

Now I won’t tell you what the scariest part of the book is. That would be spoiling. Nor will I pretend something I wrote scared me. That would be silly. But I can tell you what the scariest part of writing the book was: tapping into the past.

February 2003. I’m in the Navy. I’m on a ship in the Northern Arabian Gulf. The war’s about to start. Shit’s about to get real.

As soon as we sailed into the Gulf, we got issued gas masks and auto-injectors (the stuff you shoot into your body if you’re exposed to chemical weapons). We’re required to carry this stuff on us at all times. Just in case, you know.

But we didn’t know. No one took it seriously. No one actually thought Saddam was going to launch chemical weapons at a ship in the Gulf. Maybe at the Marines in Kuwait but not our-

And then the alarm went off. A chemical alarm went off in Kuwait. Our ship (only a few miles of the coast) went to General Quarters (that’s like Red Alert). We were ordered to MOPP Level 4 (that’s means everything gets worn). And we were told this was not a drill.

Holy shit.

In a span of thirty seconds, I saw grown men start crying. People’s hands shaking so bad they couldn’t get their gas canisters on the masks or their masks pulled over their heads. People freaking the hell out because they couldn’t get a good seal on their masks. People having panic attacks because they instantly became claustrophobic from wearing their masks.

It was insane. And possibly the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. Because at that moment, it was real and instead of doing things the way we were trained to, instead of maintaining order and discipline, we turned inward and let chaos take over. If this was happening before actual exposure to chemicals or biologics, what the hell was it going to look like if we actually sailed through a cloud of mustard gas or something? Were people going to start fighting over auto-injectors while others choked to death on their own spit? Were we going to go batshit crazy and kill each other in a panic before any chemicals did?

Of course, there was no chemical attack. It was a false alarm. We laughed it off and then didn’t talk about it. The war started a few days after that. I was lucky to do my time and make it home without another scary incident.

But obviously, that moment stuck with me. So much so that when I first got the idea for Demon (imprisoned demon escapes its prison and causes havoc was the initial idea) I zeroed in on that chaos, that complete breakdown of order I witnessed, and gave it to my demon in the book, making him the agent of chaos that brings absolute disorder to anything that comes into contact with him. Just like I saw in 2003, albeit with a lot more death and destruction.

Erik Williams: Website / Twitter

Demon: Amazon/ Barnes & Noble / Powell’s / IndieBound

Erik Williams is a former Naval Officer and current defense contractor (but he’s not allowed to talk about it). He is also the author of the novel Demon and numerous other small press works and short stories. He currently lives in San Diego with his wife and three very young daughters. When he’s not at his day job, he can usually be found changing diapers or coveting carbohydrates. At some point in his life, he was told by a few people he had potential. Recently, he told himself he’s the bee’s knees. Erik prefers to refer to himself in the third person but feels he’s talked about himself enough and will grant your eyeballs the freedom they deserve.

 

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