This Bram Stoker Award–nominated collection is (okay, yeah, I am playing favourites, sue me) one of the most astonishingly original, memorable, haunting, and all-out fantastic collections of horror fiction I’ve ever read—and that includes anything by Stephen King and Clive Barker, my go-to authors for everything horrific and good in this world. Nathan Ballingrud inverts the possibilities inherent in the genre, presenting stories that would almost past for superb kitchen-sink-style slices of life if it weren’t for that monster lurking in the corner. The title story is a fine example, a tender portrait of a man trying to reconnect with his family yet failing because of his own selfish tendencies, while the gruesome remains of…something rot on the beach nearby. Little is spelled out here; all is subtlety and grace, paired against unnerving glimpses of the unknowable. Nothing against the other nominees (whom I’ve yet to read, but I’m certain they are all fine people), but if Ballingrud does not win the Stoker for Superior Achievement in a Fiction Collection (there’s a mouthful), the award is moot.

Find the full review at my website.