I have always loved the concept of book clubs because reading the same book? With other people? So that you have people you can gab at about the book? Wonderful. But I haven’t really had that in decades.
Much of it is me. I am a picky reader in that I don’t mind reading other people’s book suggestions but I want to read them on my own time as the mood strikes–which is not really conducive to a book club. Also, it is very aggravating to force yourself to read a book when you aren’t in the mood for that particular story and then get to book club to find out you are the only one who actually read it. This is a form of exquisite torture. Especially if you disliked the book and want to vent about it.
As a quick note, I did NOT dislike When Things Get Dark.
The point being, is that I bought When Things Get Dark and quasi-strong armed a friend of mine into getting it too and oh, it has been a delight to discuss the stories as he goes.
I bought this book because one of the stories in it: “Sooner or Later, Your Wife Will Drive Home” by Genevieve Valentine was covered by Ruthanna Emrys & Anne M Pillsworth in their delightful tor.com column Reading the Weird.
It seemed like such an interesting story, so when the collection it was in went on sale, I bought it. Some misfires, some excellent stories, some just not-for-me pieces, but again, the fun of it has not only been in reading the short stories, but in discussing them.
Writing is often like working in a void. Lots of crickets. It’s not the kind of art form that you can just wave at somebody and they can take in at a glance. It requires attention and time, and we’re all short on that. So writing isn’t particularly social at the core. (This is why we love our writing groups and conventions and our coffee shop “offices”–to remind us we are not in this alone.) But reading is also not particularly social. TV, movies, music–you can watch or listen to the same thing at the same time. You can even group watch movies over the internet!
So… social elements and reading? Gotta be book clubs. Or, you know, just bugging a friend until they read the same book you are at roughly the same moment in time.
And to encourage others? This really is a solid collection. The standouts for me are:
Elizabeth Hand’s “For Sale by Owner” — I was thrilled to hear she got permission to write a book set in Shirley Jackson’s Hill House.
Laird Barron’s “Tiptoe” which is just delightfully creepy.
Gemma Files’ “Pear of Anguish” because no one does feral, fucked up people like Files.
The Genevieve Valentine story, which was everything I expected and wanted it to be.
I also really enjoyed Stephen Graham Jones’ “Refinery Road” though didn’t think it very Shirley Jackson inspired.
And I keep going back to Carmen Maria Machado’s “A Hundred Miles and a Mile” and getting new things from it, even though I don’t think I’ve quite gotten IT yet. This one strikes me as potentially the most Shirley Jackson inspired.
All in all, a solid collection, which is pretty much what you would expect from a collection edited by Ellen Datlow.
lane robins 