I didn't believe in curses. I believed in alcoholism, drug addiction and paranoid delusion. Put them in a shaker and you were bound to lose your marbles now and again.
Laird Barron's first collection, early 21st century weird fiction about masculinity and the American backwoods and aging and suffering and cracks and holes and hunger. There's a strong noir influence, and his protagonists tend to be over-the-hill men cognizant of what they've lost, drinking their pain away, driven to find and face cosmic horrors because of work, because they're men of action and someone is paying them to act (or, occasionally, because they're wealthy men driven by indolence and self-destructive curiosity). His world is riddled with unknowable predators, but they dwell mostly off-page, leaving trails of putrescence and corruption for these men to follow.
The two go-to cliches when discussing Barron's work are his biography and the influence of Lovecraft, but some things are cliches for a reason, I suppose. His descriptions of his early life are readily available elsewhere (raised in the remote Alaskan wilderness, devoted evangelical mother and violent atheist father, poverty, dog-racing and -breeding) but it informs his fiction so clearly that it bears a glancing mention here again. Lovecraft, meanwhile, is also hard to avoid here, because the influence is a pretty direct one. Like Lovecraft, Barron is focused on the inhumanity of the universe at large, and his narrative arcs tend to map pretty closely to the old man's (someone bumps into something they shouldn't have, is driven to pursue it against their own self-interest, and pays for it). Barron, though, is rooted in physicality in a way that Lovecraft very much was not, both in terms of the effects of the horrors and the lived-in affect of his protagonists, and shares little of the latter's verbosity. There's also some Machen in there, in terms of nature and the ineffable-beyond-the-veil.
Like Lovecraft, Barron builds something of an ongoing mythos through these stories, most taking place in the Pacific Northwest, and several featuring recurring characters of major or minor import, although whether they're all to be understood to be taking place in the same "world" is unclear (PARALLAX offers a possible faultline in that regard).
Where Lovecraft's was unknowable, Barron's is a hungry universe - humans are not inconsequential nothings but food, and his monstrosities are not tentacled mysteries on unknown planets but parasites and predators hidden among us (and often wearing our shape). It's not a mistake that the collection is named for an insectoid lifestage, the final form of an insect after enduring the indignity and literal disintegration of a chrysalis, and many of Barron's men, after some glancing encounter with the ineffable, find themselves similarly broken down remade, and/or facing other men who have. Rather than gibbering madness, these protagonists shoulder on, headaches and all, fighting back against all odds - and losing. It's not a happy book. Think of it as cosmic noir, if you will, corrupt men facing a corrupt world, betrayed not only by their bodies and lives but by a carnivorous universe at large (and, often, by their own minds).
I thought the longer novellas here (Procession of the Black Sloth, Hallucigenia, and the title story) were the most successful, giving Barron enough room to draw out the tension from each irruption and glancing encounter. Occasionally a character slips into caricature (think of the femme fatale in PROCESSION, the academic in BULLDOZER, the agent in PROBOSCIS) but they're exceptions rather than rules, thankfully. He has a number of effects that he returns to repeatedly - mysteriously familiar figures, insects, decrepitude, the aforementioned holes and cracks running through things, corrupted audiovisual evidence, mouths as organs of both sense and devourment - but they work, technically and thematically, so why shouldn't he?
Old Virginia (2003)
It's 1959 at an MK-ULTRA research station in West Virginia examining psychic powers in a "senile crone" for Project TALLHAT (there's a lot of witch allusions here). Our protagonist is an old spook, past his prime but still on the job, and he quickly finds that he's in over his head. Ably folds in conspiracy theories, the Lost Colony of Roanoke, cosmic horror, and a firm historical grounding in the Cold War, although the dialogue is a little shaky at times.
Shiva, Open Your Eye (2001)
A very odd one, more of a prose poem than a story, (sort of) the oldest entry here, wherein an old man is visited by a PI investigating local disappearances. What begins as a seemingly-straightforward horror story (whose narrator, the old man, maintains his innocence, sort of) quickly dissolves into a lengthy confessional monologue about cosmic horror rooted in Biblical imagery and allusions("God is ever hungry"). "But-" bridges the sections throughout as kind of a pedal note. An author taking chances, for sure, although I'm not sure that I would have called it entirely successful on its own - what's most interesting about it in conversation with the other pieces is the fact that this monstrous, inhuman prophet ("His Mouth," an early example of post-human infernal disciples functioning as mouths or eyes for cosmic horrors) is one of Barron's most sympathetic protagonists, and in fact the pathetic asshole PI shares far more in common with most of his central characters.
Procession of the Black Sloth (2007)
One of my favorite horror/weird setups is where an increasingly-confused protagonist (seemingly?) faces reality crumbling around them. This is a sterling (and particularly nightmarish) example. An American industrial espionage security consultant (ie a PI for corporations) embarks on an assignment in Hong Kong, and from the flight on finds himself in a surreal nightmare, missing memories, facing an inexplicable cult, perhaps, and hallucinatory violence (by and against him). The only story here original to the volume, because of its placement in the TOC it provides the reader's first exposure to many of Barron's frequent tics: hallucinatory videos, alcoholic self-medication, Tuckerization, strangers who are vaguely recognizable, outbursts of violence, terrible old people, etc. An outlier, though, in the protagonist's relationship to the carnivorous horrors being inflicted upon him. This is, per Barron, an ode to Asian horror films, but I'm not knowledgeable enough about the subject to comment.
Bulldozer (2004)
A Pinkerton agent in a CA gold town in the late 1800s tracking down an ex-PT Barnum strongman who is meddling with forces that should not be meddled with (Belphegor, a carnivorous elder being that pops up in a few of these stories). More first person stream of consciousness than Barron usually tends to, I really enjoyed the setting and tone of this one (and the structure!) but the voice was a bit too much pastiche for me. It probably deserves a re-read.
Proboscis (2005)
A down on his luck actor accompanies his brother-in-law and another bruiser on a (failed?) bounty hunt. You won't be surprised to learn that things don't go well for them. This one, I think, featured hungry entities different from all the other hungry entities in the other stories, and was likewise more oblique than any of the others, with bleak hints toward genetics and mosquitoes and a possibly-revealing confusion between entomology and etymology. Mimicry is another element that recurs throughout the collection, but nowhere stronger than here.
Hallucigenia (2006)
A man of immense wealth and privilege, gone to seed a bit, gets stranded with his inappropriately-young wife in the middle of nowhere WA when their car breaks down. They approach a nearby barn (ignoring several indications that they should NOT approach said barn) and interrupt a ritual that's been set in place there. They pay the price (the wife moreso than the husband). Unlike most of the other stories here (or in weird fiction in general), this one starts with an explosive intrusion of weirdness and then plays out the PTSD and survivor's guilt that ensues (and, of course, the terrible visions granted to someone granted a glimpse through the veil). A modern classic of cosmic horror.
Parallax (2005)
An artist continues to muddle through life six years after his wife went missing. It was something of a cause celebre and he is widely assumed to be responsible, although the detective assigned to the case seems to be hiding some things as well. Most of the horror in this one comes directly from other human beings without being modulated through/from a supernatural entity. Ties in to the shared universe of the Belphegor stories, but gives a possible faultline for the/an "other" world as well. A bit more textually complicated than most of the other stories, with some first person stream of consciousness interspersed with interview transcripts and other materials.
The Royal Zoo is Closed (2006)
Another outlier, but a less successful one than PARALLAX, an almost Beat-esque frenetic free association of references and hallucinations (?) as a reactionary xenophobe navigates a disaster-stricken Seattle.
The Imago Sequence (2005)
A bruiser in Washington is captivated by a mysterious photograph from the 1950s that appears to show some sort of monstrous subterranean face, part of a series of three (one of which no one has ever seen) and is hired by a rich "friend" to investigate the disappearance of his rich father, which seems to be linked to a search for the other photographs (which are, of course, the Imago Sequence). This one is a tough nut to crack and boils down the themes of the collection nicely (quelle surprise). I'm always a sucker for stories of weird artworks a la the King in Yellow (although aside from that specific conceit this story has more of _The Great God Pan_ about it, about which the recurring pan pipes should probably clue you in). Genetics, atavism, insects, distorted visual records, parallel dimensions, piercing the veil... it's all here.
Hour of the Cyclops (2000)
Not in the ToC, printed in a different font, apparently not even included in some editions of the book, Barron's earliest (and weakest) story, tongue-in-cheek action pulp pastiche about a rescue effort in an Alaskan fortress and horrors borrowed straight from Lovecraft.