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Summary
Summary
From the incomparable master of horror and suspense comes an electrifying collection of contemporary literary horror, with stories from twenty-five writers representing today's most talented voices in the genre. Horror writing is usually associated with formulaic gore, but New Wave horror writers have more in common with the wildly inventive, evocative spookiness of Edgar Allan Poe than with the sometimes-predictable hallmarks of their peers. Showcasing this cutting-edge talent,Poe's Childrennow brings the best of the genre's stories to a wider audience. Featuring tales from such writers as Neil Gaiman and Jonathan Carroll,Poe's Childrenis Peter Straub's tribute to the imaginative power of storytelling. Each previously published story has been selected by Straub to represent what he thinks is the most interesting development in our literature during the last two decades. Selections range from the early Stephen King psychological thriller "The Ballad of the Flexible Bullet," in which an editor confronts an author's belief that his typewriter is inhabited by supernatural creatures, to "The Man on the Ceiling," Melanie and Steve Rasnic Tem's award-winning surreal tale of night terrors, woven with daylight fears that haunt a family. Other selections include National Book Award finalist Dan Chaon's "The Bees"; Peter Straub's "Little Red's Tango," the legend of a music aficionado whose past is as mysterious as the ghostly visitors to his Manhattan apartment; Elizabeth Hand's visionary and shocking "Cleopatra Brimstone"; Thomas Ligotti's brilliant, mind-stretching "Notes on the Writing of Horror: A Story"; and "Body," Brian Evenson's disturbing twist on correctional facilities. Crossing boundaries and packed with imaginative chills,Poe's Childrenbears all the telltale signs of fearless, addictive fiction.
Author Notes
Author Peter Straub was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in 1943. He earned degrees in English from the University of Wisconsin and Columbia University. He taught English at his former high school for three years and worked for a time on his doctorate in Ireland. He began writing in 1969 and published two books of poetry in 1972. His novel Julia (1975) was an attempt to find a successful genre in which to work, after his first novel, Marriages (1973), did not sell well.
He found that he had a talent for writing horror thrillers in the Gothic tradition. His stories are complex and well paced, with authentic settings that add to the believability of the plot. He is particularly good at creating grotesque characters and gruesome situations; the eeriness of his work is captivating. He has won numerous awards including the British Fantasy Award, the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Edited by legendary horror writer Straub, whose works tend to vary from the stereotypical horror stories of recent decades, this collection of 12 unusual and terrifying tales strays from the formulaic bloodbaths that stock the shelves of bookstores everywhere. The collection features stories by such established writers as Neil Gaiman, Jonathan Carroll, Straub and Stephen King, whose early story "The Ballad of the Flexible Bullet" is read by John Lee with such earnestness and delight that it makes fans remember why they fell in love with King's prose to begin with. It also offers plenty of fresh voices in the genre. The cast of narrators is equally expansive, with a new voice tackling each new tale and always managing to get it right. A true standout is Mark Bramhall's reading of Dan Chaon's story "The Bees." A Doubleday hardcover (Reviews, Sept. 8). (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
In this sumptuous, 25-story anthology, horror veteran Straub eschews the genre's common macabre trimmings in favor of literary style. The authors featured represent Poe's legacy with a level of craftsmanship equal to that of the best writers in contemporary literature. Most of them the likes of Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Ramsey Campbell, and Straub himself are already familiar to horror fans, while a few, such as Dan Chaon and Brian Evenson, may be more recognizable to mainstream readers. The selections include King's early The Ballad of the Flexible Bullet, about an editor whose typewriter is infested with crumb-eating elves called Fornits; Melanie and Steve Rasnic Tem's award-winning The Man on the Ceiling, a faux-autobiographical account of the uncommon terrors haunting a family; and Ben Percy's eerie Unearthed, describing the madness afflicting an amateur archaeologist when he digs up an Indian corpse. Full of unusual themes and finely nuanced prose, this is a collection to spend time with and savor slowly.--Hays, Carl Copyright 2008 Booklist
Library Journal Review
With an introduction by the much honored Straub (Ghost Story), this collection can be dubbed New Wave horror, considering that most of its 24 stories were published fairly recently and it includes contributions by celebrity horror writers. The tales mostly eschew buckets of blood, instead employing mood and suggestion in the manner of Edgar Allan Poe. "Little Red's Tango," Straub's lengthy quasigospel of a record-collecting obsessive, complete with beatitudes and a seductive demon, ably represents the editor's definition of New Wave horror. All the stories honor Poe, like the moody, contagious delusions of Stephen King's "The Ballad of the Flexible Bullet." The genre can be literary, as exemplified by Tia V. Travis's vengeful "The Kiss," Thomas Tessier's surprising "In Praise of Folly," and, probably the most demonstrably Poe-like, Ramsey Campbell's "The Voice of the Beach," featuring a neurasthenic narrator, suffocating suggestibility, and nearly palpable imagery. Brian Evenson's creepy "Body" and Dan Chaon's touching "The Bees" culminate in the horror of bad deeds catching up. The other stories included are without exception excellent. Recommended for all libraries.--Jonathan Pearce, California State Univ.-Stanislaus, Stockton (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
The Bees Dan Chaon Gene's son Frankie wakes up screaming. It has become frequent, two or three times a week, at random times: midnight-- 3 a.m.--five in the morning. Here is a high, empty wail that severs Gene from his unconsciousness like sharp teeth. It is the worst sound that Gene can imagine, the sound of a young child dying violently--falling from a building, or caught in some machinery that is tearing an arm off, or being mauled by a predatory animal. No matter how many times he hears it he jolts up with such images playing in his mind, and he always runs, thumping into the child's bedroom to find Frankie sitting up in bed, his eyes closed, his mouth open in an oval like a Christmas caroler. Frankie appears to be in a kind of peaceful trance, and if someone took a picture of him he would look like he was waiting to receive a spoonful of ice cream, rather than emitting that horrific sound. "Frankie!" Gene will shout, and claps his hands hard in the child's face. The clapping works well. At this, the scream always stops abruptly, and Frankie opens his eyes, blinking at Gene with vague awareness before settling back down into his pillow, nuzzling a little before growing still. He is sound asleep, he is always sound asleep, though even after months Gene can't help leaning down and pressing his ear to the child's chest, to make sure he's still breathing, his heart is still going. It always is. There is no explanation that they can find. In the morning, the child doesn't remember anything, and on the few occasions that they have managed to wake him in the midst of one of his screaming attacks, he is merely sleepy and irritable. Once, Gene's wife, Karen, shook him and shook him, until finally he opened his eyes, groggily. "Honey?" she said. "Honey? Did you have a bad dream?" But Frankie only moaned a little. "No," he said, puzzled and unhappy at being awakened, but nothing more. They can find no pattern to it. It can happen any day of the week, any time of the night. It doesn't seem to be associated with diet, or with his activities during the day, and it doesn't stem, as far as they can tell, from any sort of psychological unease. During the day, he seems perfectly normal and happy. They have taken him several times to the pediatrician, but the doctor seems to have little of use to say. There is nothing wrong with the child physically, Dr. Banerjee says. She advises that such things were not uncommon for children of Frankie's age group--he is five--and that more often than not, the disturbance simply passes away. "He hasn't experienced any kind of emotional trauma, has he?" the doctor says. "Nothing out of the ordinary at home?" "No, no," they both murmur, together. They shake their heads, and Dr. Banerjee shrugs. "Parents," she says. "It's probably nothing to worry about." She gives them a brief smile. "As difficult as it is, I'd say that you may just have to weather this out." But the doctor has never heard those screams. In the mornings after the "nightmares," as Karen calls them, Gene feels unnerved, edgy. He works as a driver for the United Parcel Service, and as he moves through the day after a screaming attack, there is a barely perceptible hum at the edge of his hearing, an intent, deliberate static sliding along behind him as he wanders through streets and streets in his van. He stops along the side of the road and listens. The shadows of summer leaves tremble murmurously against the windshield, and cars are accelerating on a nearby road. In the treetops, a cicada makes its trembly, pressure-cooker hiss. Something bad has been looking for him for a long time, he thinks, and now, at last, it is growing near. When he comes home at night everything is normal. They live in an old house in the suburbs of Cleveland, and sometimes after dinner they work together in the sm Excerpted from Poe's Children: The New Horror: An Anthology by Peter Straub All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.