Corpse Blossoms, vol. I

Julia Sevin &
R. J. Sevin

I've read a whole lot of anthologies over the years, and a decent number have been horror anthologies. And I have encountered what seems to be an anomaly in Corpse Blossoms: it's an anthology that does not contain a single flat-out bad entry. Now, there are a few that flirt with the mediocre (Steve Rasnic Tem's "Mysteries of the Colon" has some unintentional humor about it, for example), but none are bad. That's amazing in and of itself.

But the majority are good. Really, really good, and that's even more amazing. Gary Braunbeck's "Need" will confuse the hell out of you at first, but once the pieces all fit together-- which will not happen until a good bit after you read the last sentence-- you see it in all its brilliance, and good lord. Stunning. Nick Mamatas' "All That's Left When the Big One Drops" gives more evidence that Northern Gothic and Move Under Ground were not flukes. This guy can write like nobody's business. Scott Nicholson turns in a winner with "The Weight of Silence." Tom Piccirilli, who's always excellent, makes an appearance. Etc. Etc. And a good deal more.

The story that has been attracting all the attention, however, is Kealan Patrick Burke's "Empathy." And from advance press, I expected I'd be awash in gore myself by the time I finished it. Such is not the case. Don't believe the hype. There's no more gore in "Empathy" than there is in any number of horror stories. What it does pack, however, is a wonderful (well, that's not the right word, but you know) emotional punch that reminds me of David Morrell's brilliant "Orange for Anguish, Blue for Insanity." While I can't say any single story is worth the priceof admission alone-- this is a pretty steeply-priced book-- it certainly goes a very long way towards justifying the purchase price.

If the book has a drawback, it is Joseph Nassise's introduction, which is equal parts smugness and excoriation. He may have meant it as a cautionary tale for future small-press publishers, or perhaps a little piece of metahorror. What it is, however, is annoying. I came close to putting the book down altogether after reading it, which is, I'm sure, not the effect the editors were after. So, my advice? Skip the intro altogether. Come back to it, if you feel the need, after you've read these excellent stories. But focus on the stories themselves, which are-- and I say again, this is, as far as I know, unique in the anthology world-- uniformly worth reading. Kudos to Julia and R. J. Sevin for making Creeping Hemlock Press' first offering an unconditional success.