Write Like Hell: Kaiju is now available on Amazon! You c...
Write Like Hell: Kaiju is now available on Amazon! You can pick up a physical or digital copy of the anthology HERE.
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Complete with stunning illustrations, the anthology weighs in at just over 380 pages! You can check out some of the illustrations below, as well as the anthology’s foreword.
Foreword
There’s a certain inevitability to any kaiju story. Notwithstanding the rare digression here and there, most unfold with the same irrepressible logic. The domain of routine life, epitomised in bustling metropoles, is suddenly encroached upon by a bafflingly large monster of inscrutable origin and enormous destructive power. Before the disposable citizenry has time to react, the rampage begins. Buildings topple like dominoes, the survivors run for the hills, and a recklessly extravagant military response is crushed in short order—you know, the usual kaiju pageantry. For a brief moment, man comes to know his place in the cosmic food chain—and it’s not at the top. It is at this point that the genre embodies the central tenets of cosmic horror and, in its response, promptly bins them.
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When these mythical creatures emerge from the depths of the ocean, or from long-dormant volcanoes, it goes without question that the future of humanity’s existence is at stake. But instead of reeling in psychosis-inducing terror from the revelation of man’s flimsy position, an overweening optimism, baked into the very fabric of the genre, propels the plot onward. Apart from mild apprehension, no significant psychic backlash registers in the minds of the heroes. Rather, in a rare show of global solidarity, a unified front develops, and a crack team of scientists, engineers, and grizzled soldiers of fortune form the vanguard in a hackneyed counter-offensive against the colossus, leading to its demise.
It’s tempting to watch such stories from afar, detached and indifferent. After all, mankind always prevails, right? The monster will die, or otherwise return from whence it came, and everything will go back to normal, right? We disentangle ourselves from the interconnected stories of the individuals and look at the narrative as a whole, smiling when humans succeed, despite the cost.
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One would think we’d have grown tired of triumphing over adversity by now. A cursory glance at the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or any major blockbuster, reveals not. And it’s a testament to how time-worn that storyline is that Infinity War—specifically supervillain Thanos—became so popular, so infamous, so upsetting to the average viewer. In the final act, man’s every attempt to triumph over evil fails, and Thanos snaps his way to a catastrophic but refreshing break in consensus storytelling.
Kaiju stories rarely indulge plot twists of that sort, preferring to present an indomitable threat and then see it defeated. The monsters central to these stories have every possible advantage, and yet they often lose. There’s nothing wrong with this approach to storytelling per se, even if it requires a near constant suspension of disbelief in the face of absurdity. But it could be argued that it is that very absurdity that has cemented kaiju’s place as a genre unto itself. From its obscure origins as a kind of Japanese post-war expressionism to a universally beloved medium of the modern day, it has always been charmingly ridiculous. It’s why Pacific Rim pays homage to it the only way it can, by cranking up the apocalyptic zaniness to eleven. There’s a ceiling to escalation, however, an inherent limit. The emotional stakes can only be raised so high before there’s very little joy to be gained from beating the odds. This effect may go some way to explaining why the sequel was such a monstrous dud. Too much chaos and carnage; too much of a good thing. Fortunately, there are countless other ways one might write a kaiju story, paths that might take more seriously the existential threat such a being poses to humanity.
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It’s quite possible, if not probable, that an event of such magnitude would be the undoing of humans, a fight we’d lose at the very outset if some super-being were to awaken. And even in the best case scenario, a residue of helplessness and hopelessness would linger long after the monstrosity was vanquished and a sense of ‘normalcy’ had returned. What’s more, it might be thought that the mere existence of such a thing would be enough to shift the nature of our beliefs, for what God could allow such creatures to exist side-by-side with us? It might be enough to make us question our history, and how much we truly know of what is possible and impossible. And lastly, it would doubtless make us pause and think—truly think—about what it means to survive in a world where such beings exist. Would anyone want to continue on in such a place?
Write Like Hell: Kaiju presents a glimpse into such a world. With twelve stories of monstrous beings, this anthology covers huge swathes of genre territory, which is something that delighted us when we first selected the manuscripts that would eventually make it into the book you find before you. Mention a ‘kaiju tale’ and people often think of titanic figures clashing over cities as mankind watches on, impotent and lost. Well, this collection has that—of course it does! But it has something else, too. A touch of fantasy for the sword & sorcery lovers, a sprinkling of horror for the cult of Lovecraft, and a glimpse at a possible future among the stars.
Scott Miller and Mitchell Lüthi
