Author: Craig Gidney

Author of "Sea, Swallow Me & Other Stories" (2008 Lambda Literary Finalist); "Skin Deep Magic" (2014 Lambda Literary Finalist); "Bereft" (2013 Bronze Moonbeam Award and 2014 Independent Publishers' Award) "The Nectar of Nightmares" (Dim Shores Chapbook) and A Spectral Hue (2019)
Posted on

Anosmia

I have lost my sense of smell.

In someways, this is good. Unpleasant odors no longer assault me. Public bathrooms and the cat’s litter-box are no longer challenging.

But it’s mostly bad. Most of taste is smell, so the finer gradients of flavor are lost on me. I can taste sweet, sour, spicy and salty. But nothing more complex than that. Food tastes beige and bland. Earlier this week, I ate some salted caramel ice cream. The wonderful taste of burnt sugar was lost on me. It was just milky and creamy. My favorite dish in the world—an onion and blue cheese tart—is no longer ecstatic. There is the ghost of flavor, but it has no depth.

My lack of smell and taste is due to a chronic condition I have. It’s sometimes called Samter’s Triad or Aspirin-Induced Asthma. The “triad” is: one part allergy to aspirin, one part asthma, and nasal polyps. The polyps are non-cancerous tear-shaped growths that bloom in sinus cavities. They block scent receptors. In addition to the lack of scent and taste, I get sinus headaches, always sound stuffed up, and worst of all, get frequent sinus infections, mostly due to the build up of fluids trapped in the sinus cavities.

I had an acute asthmatic attack one time in Brooklyn about 10 years ago, after I’d taken an aspirin. I was rushed to the emergency room, where I was given oxygen and had numerous tests done on me (that insurance did not cover). Until then, I had never been diagnosed with asthma, but looking back over the years, I realize that I had a slight case. About five years ago, I had an operation to remove the polyps. In preparation, I had to take prednisone, which made me manic. It took about a week to recover from surgery, and lots of vicodin.

Now, the polyps are back, and all of the attendant issues. This week has been the worst of it. I’ve been having extra wheezy days, along with headaches, and at times it’s comfortable to even talk.

More than smell and taste, I miss the just feeling normal. My head is full of pressure and tightness, like a balloon ready to pop.

11563089-3d-render-of-a-glass-head--male

Posted on

BOOK REVIEW: Minions of the Moon by Rick Bowes. Top-notch Queer Fantastika

Minions

Lethe Press has reprinted one of the seminal works of Queer Fantastika (magical realist/weird fictional texts with LGBT content). Don’t miss an opportunity to read this.

 

Kevin Grierson comes from an Irish-American family that’s cursed by violence, booze and shadows. The Shadows, in this case, are real quasi-people who embody all of the worst instincts and impulses that a person can have. They are like the Id, given substance. In Grierson’s case, his Shadow pushes him into drug and sexual addiction and the petty crime that goes along with that lifestyle. The novel, told in a series of vivid flashbacks, starts in the late 40’s, in Boston and ends in the 90’s in New York’s West Village.

A strange coming of age story told in first person, Minions takes us on Kevin’s journey as he struggles to find out where he and his Shadow are separate entities. On one hand, the doppelganger drags him closer to hell and failure; on the other, the Shadow is streetwise and savvy and saves Kevin in more than one instance. Kevin and his Shadow exist in any uneasy balance with each other. They move from tragedies, failed relationships (with both men and women), and dangerous situations together, helping each other out in a sick, co-dependent-yet oddly comforting way.

.The scenes of sexual degradation and drug dementia are chilling and horrific in their accuracy. It’s part of what makes this a horror novel-the all-too real world of chemical dependency. As disturbing as these scenes are, they are what keeps this novel edge-of-seat reading. Bowes’ voice (as Kevin) is so real that at times I thought I was reading an autobiography. This is because Bowes makes us care about Kevin, even when he does horrible things. We’re with him when he finds love and transcendence, as well as with him down in gutter, looking up towards the stars.

The fantastic element is skillfully woven into the story. The mechanics of the Shadow are never properly explained-a vague telepathic awareness of each other when they’re split up is alluded to, never elucidated. The characters that enter Kevin’s life walk and breathe on the page, even if they appear for only a couple of scenes.The locales, particularly the seamy underside of New York, seem to be characters themselves.

Minions on the Moon is one of those novels that completely transcends the genre for which it was marketed. It is a stunning examination of identity and the search for meaning when you’re under the influence of various addictions and self-destructive behaviors.

Posted on

MUSES: On Stevie Nicks and her Gold Dust Woman Persona

I first heard Stevie Nicks when I was in the 6th Grade. The song “Sara” came on and it was the most magical song I’d ever heard. Then, I was big into disco, and Donna Summer was my idol. What drew me to “Sara” were its gentle chord progressions, the ethereal background chorus, the glimmering guitars, and most of all, that voice. That voice sounded ancient; she sounded like a sibyl, and the haunting impressionistic lyrics (full of starlings, seas, laces) were illuminated by that ancient voice.  I did not run out to get the album. At the time, I felt self-conscious about liking “white people” music, so it wasn’t until the 8th grade that I finally bought a Fleetwood Mac album.

Nicks is wildly inconsistent, both as a writer and a singer, and has made some truly terrible music. Her voice is one of the most lived-in voices in pop music. You can practically taste the booze she drank and smell the cigarettes she smoked. The husky, rough texture of her voice is probably the result of her over-indulgence in cocaine, which burned a hole in her nose cartilage. She might have a one octave range and an out-of-control vibrato that makes her sound like a billy goat, but she uses it to great effect. You can catch glimmers of her younger voice, and at other times, she can sound like an ancient queen. She is the triple goddess reincarnated as a rock singer. (Maiden, Matron, and Crone).

IM000333.JPG

Recently, I listened to a live version of her signature song, “Gold Dust Woman,” and was blown away by the rawness of the performance. At the song’s coda, she chants/sings, “Baby, you can’t save me. I’m running in the shadows.” That song is one of her darkest creations, the photo negative of “Sara.” It is a song about self destructive behavior and about addiction, both to drugs and to doomed relationships. Nicks allows her voice to become harsh and grating. At 65 years old, Nicks still has power.

Posted on

Books I Wish I’d Written: Tours of the Black Clock by Steve Erickson– A twilight trip to an alternative version of the 20th Century

Tours of the Black ClockTours of the Black Clock by Steve Erickson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Steve Erickson claims kinship with authors Philip K. Dick and Thomas Pynchon, and its easily to see why. Like those authors, he subtly twists the nature of reality and history until it resembles the inner (both philosophical and psychological) landscapes of his characters. This novel is about white-haired Marc and his mother, who live on a small island in the middle of a fog-shrouded river in the Pacific Northwest. They have an estranged relationship with each other, stemming from the fact that Marc doesn’t know who his father is, and his mother will not speak to him about her past. One day, he comes home and finds her with a dead man at her feet. The image so disturbs him that he will not set foot on the island for about 20 years. He takes over the ferry that shuttles tourists back and forth. He finally goes back to the hotel where his mother lives, in search of a mysterious girl who has not stepped back onto the return ferry to the mainland, and runs into his mother. The ghost of the dead man is still at her feet, and he tells both mother and son of his strange history.

Banning Jainlight was the bastard son of a farmer and his Native American slave mistress in the earlier part of the century. He ends up burning down the farm, killing one of his half-brothers, and crippling both his father and his step-mother for the cruelty they inflicted on him. He runs away to New York City, and several years later, ends up in Vienna, Austria, where he writes pornography for a powerful client in the newly ascendant Nazi Regime. He bases his writings on the strange, surreal sexual encounters he has with a young woman who lives across the street from him. In his writings, he transforms her features and her name to resemble those of the client’s — who is, of course, Hitler — long lost love. Bear in mind, that this is just a brief description of this novel.

Jainlight’s story sparks off the no-less compelling story of Marc’s mother, that moves from pre-Revolutionary Russia, sub-Saharan Africa, and Post-war New York City. Moving across dreams and reality, fantasy and history, this dense novel weaves together such unlikely themes as relationships between lovers and parents; the nature of good and evil; and the quest for identity. The images and instance in this novel are numerous and unforgettable: a woman who can kill men with the wild beauty of her dancing and menstruates flower petals; a city that’s in the middle of a lagoon, and covered by blue tarps; a burial ceremony where the dead are hung upside-down on trees until they can speak their names; a herd of silver buffalo who run through the plains of Africa and North America. The writing is lovely and lyrical.

View all my reviews

Posted on

DC’s Hidden Treasures: The Battaglia Mural in the Mount Pleasant Library

20130815_133604 20130815_133621-1 20130815_133632 20130815_133725-1 20130815_133756

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night I learned that my neighborhood library, the Mount Pleasant Branch of the DC Public Library system, has a mural in the children’s section painted by Aurelius Battaglia. He was an illustrator who went on to work for Disney. His animation can be seen in Dumbo, Pinocchio and Fantasia. The mural has been preserved, and the library is going to put some of his illustrations on one of the bridge-walkways in the building. Above are some pictures I took of his work.

Posted on

BOOK REVIEW: Saint Fire by Tanith Lee. A surreal Joan of Arc tale.

Tanith Lee just won a World Fantasy Lifetime Achievement Award, which is well-deserved. At her best, her prose and storytelling ability have an almost supernatural intensity. She has also been tremendously supportive of my own writing. As a congratulatory measure, I am reprinting some reviews of her fiction, in the hopes that more people will buy her work. This book is still in print!

Saint Fire (Secret Books of Venus, #2)Saint Fire by Tanith Lee

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Lee has begun another series of novels, linked together by the alternate city Venice, called Venus, arranged around the 4 elements essential to alchemy. Book 2 is set in medieval Ve Nera, popularly called Venus by its citizens. This ‘Venus’ is ruled by the Council of the Lamb, a group of priests who use terror and taxes to keep the citizens in line. The Duke of the city is only a figurehead. The Church traffics in brimstone and fire imagery, and hangs sinners in cages as examples. Like many dictatorships, some people are not so lucky to be made examples; they just disappear. Of course, not everyone agrees with these policies. Danielus is a high-ranking priest who despises the Council, both in tactics and theological interpretation. Only his rank, and control over the Belletae Christi (Soldiers of God) keep him safe. But he has to publicly support the Council, and clandestinely undermine their work. The Council’s latest endeavor is a trade war with the Moslem city of Jurneia, which they cloak ideologically as a Holy War against infidels. This war is ill-considered, due to lack of monetary funds and the greater military naval might of the Jurnieans. When in the city, tales of a strange girl who can turn her hair into fire, start to circulate, Danielus investigates and finds that it is true. He begins the process of grooming her to be a Joan of Arc emblem for the demoralized and terrified city.

While Lee does focus on the plight of the girl, whose name is Volpa (Italian for fox) and is transformed into the genderless Beatifica the Maiden, the story is really about Danielus and his radical (ecumenical) theology. The Maiden is a cipher for the people, existing in a aloof world of dreams and disappointing reality. Volpa is a simpleton, with a talent for elocution and mimicry, in addition to her fire-magic. Her magic seems to be inspired by the emotions of people around her, as if she is a magnifying glass for the human soul. Is she an angel, striking spiritual fire, or Danielus’ puppet? Is she being exploited? Lee doesn’t have easy answers for these questions, leaving it up to the reader to decide.

In addition to her trademark poetic, prose, Lee has valid political and philosophical subtexts. Venus is the goddess of sexual love. The Council of Lamb, like many fundamentalist Christian theologists, posit that sexual desire, outside of narrow confines, is essentially sinful. Lee turns that religious notion on its head, revealing the dangers and limitations of those beliefs. Saint Fire is a clever, original adaptation of the Joan of Arc story.

View all my reviews

Posted on

On Meghan McCarron’s “Swift, Brutal Retaliation”

Swift, Brutal RetaliationSwift, Brutal Retaliation by Meghan McCarron
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a ghost story, but done as a realistic family drama. Think Cheever or Franzen rather than Shirley Jackson or Stephen King. The ‘horror’ is the disintraging relationships. The emotional brutality and unrelenting prose probably what placed this story on this year’s World Fantasy Award ballot.

View all my reviews

Posted on

MUSIC REVIEW: Azam Ali & Loga R. Torkian, Lamentation of Swans.

Azam Ali & Loga Ramin Torkian - Lamentation of Swans: A Journey Towards Silence

Haunting Glossolalia & Hypnotic Music

Azam Ali and Loga R Torkian have created a beautiful tapestry of atmospheric sounds that meld together electronic, world and ethereal music seamlessly. Ali opts to sing wordlessly on this release, which unleashes her awesome range. My favorite piece is “Winter Forest,” which blends Indian-style chants with Bulgarian-style singing. Torkian’s music is richly immersive and dynamic. Strings and ouds stand out in a sea of ambient soundworlds. Percolating rhythms simmer beneath the minor key melodies. It is a masterpiece.
Give this a listen if you like the work of Dead Can Dance.
(Crossposted from Rate Your Music)