I’m going to ramble a bit as I’ve wanted to say something about Scott Nicolay’s astonishing debut collection ever since I finished reading it. No, wait…it was probably around the time I finished reading “The Soft Frogs” I knew I had to say something. So I wrote notes, a mess of them, fragments, observations. Let’s see if I can make sense of them.
Shall we?
I remember reading the first story “alligators” a few years back, enjoyed the details, yet thought the ending was rushed. I knew I wanted more, though, to follow Nicolay’s growth as a writer, because he had something here that compelled, despite my misgivings about the ending.
Growth was fully attained with the release of his debut collection, Ana Kai Tangata. Though, to be honest and in retrospect, it was all there in “alligators,” intentions and presentation clearly defined. I simply had to acclimate to what Nicolay was doing as a writer.
That said I skipped it, wanting to experience something else, something new.
The eight mostly long tales in Ana Kai Tangata posit a densely woven exploration of the exterior and interior landscapes to create a concise, hyper-realistic picture. Layer upon layer, a CT scan delineated with words. In every story, the psychological terrain is not only expressed by the motivation of characters, the terrain they are immersed in is paramount to the whole picture, bleeding into the character’s mindsets…or vice versa. There’s deep knowledge and understanding of Weird fiction, but the tales are firmly set in the here and now, utterly distinct and uncompromising. Nicolay has vision and sets forth with unwavering determination to convey this vision to the utmost of his immense talent.
He succeeds on every count.
I didn’t even read the title story. I watched it as it played out on the cranial cinema in my head. I may never have visualized a story as lucidly as this one, caver Max’s fumbling breakdown something to behold, the final image annihilating any pretext to hope. As with many tales here, the casual asides are an essential part of the story architecture. Offhand comments, many of them of a sexual nature, are also essential to each story’s psychological foundation.
The only other tale I’d read by Nicolay before diving into AKT was “Eyes Exchange Bank,” from the Shirley Jackson award winning The Grimscribe’s Puppets anthology. I could see again Nicolay was doing what he did in “alligators” until a paragraph toward the end ("Ray opened his mouth to reply, but his tongue had gone numb…”) stopped me dead in my tracks. Nicolay had somehow touched perfection, an astonishing feat, a dense, beautiful depiction of dread, a kind of psychological (again, everything here touches on multiple layers with the perceptive reader) erosion manifested in an incapacitating way, a split second in one’s personal Hell. I re-read the paragraph a few times before moving forward, absorbing what he had done. Fascinated…
This is something he does. The compulsion is to re-read the tales because they so deeply cut into something inexplicable and beyond my understanding. But I want more. Nicolay is addictive.
“Phragmites,”perhaps the most detailed story and threaded with Navajo nuances throughout—more than threaded, it's woven into the text—punches once, then once again, a brutal, harsh finale.
“The Soft Frogs” (probably my favorite story) sinks into the shallows of Jaycee, a lost soul driven by punk rock and blow jobs and not a whole lot more. Connecting with a woman known as Eye at an abandoned Convent patrolled by the title amphibians, it may sound like a preposterous premise for a story, yet the details as always really flesh this one out, and the soft frogs made me think of early 20th century horror, as if they were born back then, but mutated into what they had become, now. And, please, don’t take a look under Eye’s shirt…
“Geschafte” (probably my…favorite…story…) (ahem) is a masterful descent into urban dread, deeply hallucinatory, a fever dream of erosion on every level (outward, inward...), ending with a shocking image that feels like something culled from the finest of Japanese Horror. A curious thought? No matter, it’s brilliant.
(I've just noticed I've used the word 'erosion' three times already. Interesting...and I'm not changing it.)
“Tuckahoe,” a short novel, opens with an extra limb found at a car accident on the Parkway south of Tuckahoe. This may “feel” like the most traditional tale, yet it’s still prime Nicolay, veering all over the place, from a realistic bout of rough sex, to a labyrinthine rural nightmare, to a finale that is about as cruelly horrific as any you might encounter…though at this point, we’ve encountered many worthy contenders among these pages.
Perhaps the best way for the reader to acclimate to Nicolay’s mad scientist masterplan is with “The Bad Outer Space,” in which a precautious five year-old experiences a spin on weirdness that is of a level of expression that is crystal clear. Simplified, if not simple. And so different from anything expected. But, again, that’s where all the tales go.
I noticed as I read the stories, I gathered a deeper understanding of what Nicolay was doing—not attempting, but doing—and my enjoyment of the stories as I read them grew exponentially. After the final story, I went back and read the first story, “alligators,” and the ending was perfect, the final image and build-up before it, powerful.
I had learned well…
I could go on. There’s a lot to embrace with these stories. A lot to learn (hey, I know nothing about caving, but since a couple stories here touch on the subject with genuine depth and knowledge, now I do). Read them all. Don’t just read a couple and think, well, I’ll finish this later. These tales are meant to be absorbed in large chunks over short time. Ana Kai Tangata is a fully immersive, mind-altering masterpiece. Required reading for anybody into Weird fiction...or anybody who wants to experience words as well as read them. Mandatory...and, as noted at the beginning of my ramble, fairly astonishing.
PS. Forgot to mention, David Verba's artwork is spot-on for what Nicolay does with words. A perfect pairing.
--John Claude Smith