Things that brought me delight in September:
S. M. Hallow's The Halls of the Dead was an absolute delight. In a medium-sized novel we've got heretic Victorian-esque necromancers trying to rebuild a repository of occult knowledge, dealing with bites being taken out of their souls, abusive ghosts, and coming back from the dead with a newfound ravenous hunger for flesh. And that's just the broad outline--there's a lot going on here. The Halls of the Dead immediately went on my list of "best books I've read this year." S. M Hallow did a tremendous job crafting a complex little book where all the pieces fit together just so, yet not in a way that was immediately obvious.
In 1972's Delirium (not to be confused with the hundred other movies named Delirium), a scientist is driven into a murderous frenzy by shapely legs and mini dresses, as I assume we all are. Overall, Delirium is pretty standard Italo-Gothic thriller fare, but what saves this movie is the fact that early on we're aware that, besides the psychosexual killer scientist, there is another killer at work too. Wondering at their identity and purpose is the real meat of the film. There's one death toward the end that is so abrupt that I had to rewind and watch the scene again to see if I missed something. (I hadn't; it's just abrupt!) But besides the usual quibbles and execution issues, this was a diverting watch. Always fun to see Mickey Hargitay being a complete freak.
Devil Master is back with another blast of their signature mixture of extreme metal and sinister deathrock. They've varied the vocal formula a bit on this outing, which adds some nice texture, but the thing that's really compelling about Devil Master is how they always sound like they're about to go completely off the rails--off-kilter and chaotic--but they somehow manage to keep it together. At under half an hour of runtime, Bloody Dreams doesn't overstay its welcome, but you also won't mind letting it spin again and again either.
In The Fox and the Devil, Van Helsing's daughter is obsessed with catching and killing the alluring vampiress who killed her father. Of course, she believes her father's notes to be the ramblings of a madman--until she comes face to face with the supernatural. And, predictably, she's got almost everything wrong. The Fox and the Devil is a fun novel of occult investigation, involving the 1900 Paris Exposition, elaborately staged crime scenes, and more tragic backstories than usual. There's one character whose role I wish I had been expanded upon, but this was a fun Gothic romp.
I remember a period in my life where I made a point of hunting down a physical copy of Lydia Lunch's 13.13, a quest that was well worth it as every time I break out this record I'm blown away all over again. Critics remain divided over 13.13, but in my opinion this is one of the great little-known goth albums. The tracks trend toward lengthy, challenging dirges; imagine a much more mean-spirited, grittier Siouxsie and the Banshees.
I had some trepidation going into Green Lung's Necropolitan because the first song I watched a video for from this album really didn't do it for me. Strangely, without the visuals and within the context of the record as a whole, every song on Necropolitan works. Everything you want from Green Lung is here in spades: eerie atmospheres, retro-flavored doom metal riffs, and some fun historical and occult references for those who actually pay attention to the lyrics.
Asha Greyling's second outing with her lawyer-of-Indian-extraction in a vampire-infused nineteenth-century America is a delight. Radhika Dinghra, said lawyer, has reason to believe that her Poe-esque client was not a suicide as is widely suspected, leading her back into the murky world of the undead. There's an easiness to the prose in The Harrowing of Archibald Lee that makes this a breezy, quick read, and the author has a talent for characterization--each of the characters has a very distinct voice. The mystery is solid--though perhaps the resolution could have been hinted at a little more among the many red herrings and false starts--so this is an altogether worthy read from an up-and-coming independent author. Seriously, there are lauded authors in the genre who are absolutely not on this level.
It's interesting that those "Gothic Marxism" books (which are near-universally terrible) don't really address Blood for Dracula, a film with explicitly socialist themes. Of course, the socialist character in Blood for Dracula undermines the general Gothic Marxist project: to bend the horror genre into something that flatters the writer's politics and to justify, if only to themselves, that they're okay for liking the things they like. For those of us who can just enjoy things without an ideological rationale, Blood for Dracula is a fun bit of Gothic foolery; Dracula's on the prowl for virgin blood, but the current crop of aristocratic young women are already "fallen" in more ways than one.
I've never been let down by a Chelsea Wolfe album, but I am occasionally blown away by one when it dropped. Such was the case with The Dark. I've seen people tout The Dark as one of her more "accessible" albums, perhaps a record aimed at a mainstream breakthrough, but I'm not sure I agree with that. Just because the music isn't sonically challenging doesn't mean that the sentiments expressed on the record are anything less than bleak and blistering. And there are moments of feral fire here, too. The Dark is one of the best albums of the year.
In The Unmothers, a recently widowed journalist is sent to a rural town to cover the story of a horse that supposedly gave birth to a human baby. If that weren't enough to hang a novel on, there is also some sort of folk horror prowling the town and a secret history of rituals related to it. Leslie J. Anderson did a fantastic job capturing the feeling of dying-maybe-already-dead rural places riddled with drug use and despair, and the horse stuff really rang true for me as well. (She clearly has firsthand experience.) I also really liked that the folk horror elements weren't cribbed from Midsommar, The Witch, or The Wicker Man--this is a novel the breathes fresh life into folk horror, a true original.
These three novels were penned by Lonesome Wyatt, one-half of the Gothic country group Those Poor Bastards and solo singer extraordinaire. Edgar Switchblade, the titular protagonist, is a pious psychopath who gallops around the Wicked West encountering demons, werewolves, wendigos, zombies, witches, and...worse yet...Puritans. These short novels definitely have a "bizarro" flavor, which means they are A) gross and B) things just happen without too much fussing over any traditional notion of plot.
Crypt of the Vampire is a movie that says, "Yeah, yeah, Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla is great, but maybe it doesn't go far enough. What if we added...a plotline about an antiquarian called into discover the connection between nightmares and deaths in the waking world...and a nurse who practices black magic...and a mistress who wants to sleep her way into the aristocracy?" Never has a movie Yes, and'd harder than this or with such remarkably atmospheric results.
Isabela Livino's An Immaculate Deception is a WILD book. Starts off as a sort of standard Gothic (a woman tells her upper-class beau that she's pregnant with his child, they immediately have a carriage wreck, she wakes up at his house and he's acting real weird), veers into black magic occult conspiracy territory, takes a detour into some disturbing Norman Bates stuff, then the twist shows up and turns the whole thing into a late-season soap opera grasping at straws, but I mean that in a positive way. I can definitely see the twist not working for everyone, but I was definitely along for the ride on this one.
Call me a filthy casual, but I think black metal is at its best when its working an unexpected flavor into the mix. With Sunscorched, that additional element is a Wild West influence. Occasional acoustic passages and atmospheric movements enliven the crushing tremolo riffage with just enough tonal difference to make Blood of the Badlands stand out. This one is going to inspire some brutal moments in my Vespermark campaign, I can just feel it.
I also read some great comics at the end of September. Be Not Afraid is a Southern Gothic nightmare that tells the tragic tale of a corrupt(ing) man born of the nephilim. This comic reminded me quite a bit--in terms of art style and theme--of the old Hellraiser comics published on the Epic imprint.
The Last Day of H. P. Lovecraft is just that--a fantastical version of Lovecraft's last day in the hospital before he succumbed to stomach cancer. When strange visitors arrive at his beside, he is forced to confront his life, his prejudices, and the possibilities of his legacy. In five issues, The Last Day of H. P. Lovecraft makes a more compelling story out of Lovecraft's complexities than the sprawling (and somewhat self-indulgent) Providence, which is rich since Alan Moore appears as a character in this book!
Our Little Wild Time is a collection of comics by Fred Noland from the indie zine scene. The comics within vary in story and characters--one is like Eurotrash Gone Wild, another is a Southern Gothic tale of life on the skids--but there is a unifying grimy manic-ness that provides the throughline. If you love idiosyncratic comics work--and you should, that's where the heat is--this is something you should definitely check this out.