The TTA Press website
18 May
THE NEW WEIRD edited by ANN & JEFF VANDERMEER
Tachyon Publications paperback, 320pp, RRP US$14.95

Reviewed by David McWilliam
Ann & Jeff VanderMeer’s impressive anthology is the perfect starting point for an exploration of the innovative “New Weird” movement in genre fiction, which was brought to prominence in 2000 by the critical and commercial success of China Miéville’s Perdido Street Station. Prior to reviewing The New Weird I was familiar with the works of several of the contributing authors, whose inventive take on fantasy writing made me want to know more about the generic milieu from which their ideas were spawned.
Editor Jeff VanderMeer’s introduction, ‘The New Weird: “It’s Alive?”’, explores the genesis of the genre in the New Wave experimentation of the 1960s and the transformative horror, spearheaded by the works of Clive Barker, in the 1980s. An anthology that seeks to present a representative sample of the style of writing typifying a literary subgenre requires a working definition in order to assist its readers’ understanding of the project.
To paraphrase VanderMeer, “New Weird” texts are typified by urban fantasy settings that are based upon complex ‘real-world’ models, an awareness of the modern world, blending elements of science fiction and fantasy, with a visceral style that is steeped in horror and weirdness without undermining the surface reality of the text. Well judged in length and scope, the opening article exudes an enthusiasm for the movement that lures the reader onwards into this macabre literary landscape.
The first section, ‘Stimuli’, presents a selection of work that the editors believe influenced the “New Weird” movement. As with the other sections of the anthology, to adequately review each story is beyond the scope of this review. Given the diversity and breadth of imagination on display, I shall review the stories and articles that I felt were most engaging.
The stories from ‘Stimuli’ range from the dreamlike, magisterial prose of M. John Harrison’s ‘The Luck in the Head’ through to the brief, startling scenario that plays out in Kathe Koja’s ‘The Neglected Garden’. The former deals with ritual and betrayal in a decaying city ruled over by the sinister Mammy Vooley, whose sinister domain is reminiscent of Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast trilogy.
Peake’s work is also considered to be a major inspiration to many “New Weird” writers and Harrison’s story similarly evokes the notion of an introverted ruling family who preside over the decline of a once great power. Importantly, Harrison takes this out of a castle setting and into the city, a further movement away from the association between fantasy and medievalism that is one of the defining characteristics of “New Weird” world creation.
Koja’s story concerns a spurned woman, who, in an act of martyrdom that baffles her lover, impales herself on the fence of their back garden. The man continually entreats that she leaves, to no avail. In a peculiar act of callousness he then decides to ignore her whilst a bizarre transformation takes place, lover and garden merging into one malevolent entity. The metamorphic creation of a monster anticipates the “New Weird” tendency towards warping existing beings into horrifying adversaries, blurring the lines between good and evil that had previously bedevilled the fantasy genre.
My pick from the opening section is ‘The Braining of Mother Lamprey’ by Simon D. Ings, if only for its playful revelry in the grotesque. I do not think that there would be any objection were this story to be moved from ‘Stimuli’ to sit amongst the works of “New Weird” writers in the next section, ‘Evidence’, illustrating the problems of anthologising a movement whose roots began before it was formally acknowledged.
It is set after the Age of Science, in a world where God has been reborn as a woman, ushering in an Age of Wizardry and a tendency towards life rather than death. Children are born as self-sufficient savages, who are left in GodGate’s cemetery to feed upon the dead until they have the strength and ingenuity to clamber over its walls and join adult society.
Magic is the logic that is required to comprehend the city of GodGate, the hub of this divine reversal of rationalist order, warlocks and witches occupying the positions of power and authority. The titular event becomes the centre of a murder mystery that leads to the very heart of this wonderfully alien culture, with an explosive finale involving itching powder.
‘Evidence’ forms the core of the anthology, presenting short fiction and excerpts from longer works that fall under the umbrella term of “New Weird”. It begins with ‘Jack’ by China Miéville, a story that reflects upon the life of fReemade folk hero of New Crobuzon, Jack Half-a-Prayer, who appears briefly in Perdido Street Station. Jack had been sentenced to Remaking, whereby one of his arms was replaced by a mantis claw, an example of New Crobuzon’s cruel penal code.
This punishment was supposed to condemn him to the lowest station of society, but instead he wielded it as a weapon, becoming a freedom fighter against a malicious government. ‘Jack’ is well executed, with a shocking twist in the last two paragraphs that will have great significance to fans of the author’s Bas-Lag novels. However, the story relies upon familiarity with the politics it is riffing off, so may not have the same impact for a reader who has no prior exposure to the main series.
A strong opener is followed by one of the best stories in the collection, ‘Immolation’ by Jeffrey Thomas. The third person narration follows the life of a renegade clone named Magnesium Jones, who has escaped from his former masters at the Plant and is now in hiding. Set in Punktown, ‘Immolation’ deals with themes of prejudice, jealousy and betrayal in a society where clones are used as slave labour for the colony.
Jones is recruited by an employee of the Plant to assassinate a union leader, who has encouraged the beating and mutilation of clones by the workforce that they are slowly replacing. Stylistically akin to Philip K. Dick’s allegorical short fiction, with an injection of the rage found in Michael Marshall Smith’s more aggressive moments, it is simply superb.
K. J. Bishop’s ‘The Art of Dying’ contrasts beautifully to the aggression of the opening duo, an almost elegiac piece about the decision of the duellist Mona Skye to stop taking her life-giving medication and face Death itself. Written from the perspective of her lover, Vali, the prose is laced with frustration mingled with a sense of acceptance.
The setting shares a common “New Weird” theme of decay and desolation, the characters moving out to a necropolis of a vast scale that is reminiscent of Midian from Clive Barker’s Cabal. The piece centres upon the point at which Mona must choose between life and death against the epic backdrop of an ocean turned to wasteland.
In my opinion the most striking prose in ‘Evidence’ is an extract from Steph Swainston’s The Modern World. Even without the context of the rest of the novel, ‘The Ride of the Gabbleratchet’ is a whirling tour through evocatively detailed settings. Jant, the first person narrator, seeks to save Cyan from the Gabbleratchet with the aid of a gestalt entity called the Vermiform, which consists of a teeming horde of worms that speak in unison, a cohesive being with the ability to transport the pair over vast distances.
Unfortunately for them the slavering hunt of the Gabbleratchet, an elemental being comprised of a huge pack of horses and hounds, neither alive nor dead, is able to pass through time and space as effortlessly as the Vermiform. The relentless sense of anxiety experienced by the hunted juxtaposed with the inexorability of the monster pursuing them are given vibrancy by the vivid descriptions of the bizarre creatures they encounter along the way.
‘Evidence’ provides a scintillating selection of “New Weird” writing that is by no means exhaustive. It is there to whet the reader’s appetite for a challenging development of genre writing that is both annihilating conceptions as to what fantasy can and should embody, whilst also ripping down the borders between related genres of science fiction and horror. The recommended reading towards the end of the anthology contains works that require an open mind and a willingness to accept confusion and fear in the place of comfort and security.
‘Symposium’ is a short section that offers critical reflections upon “New Weird” as a term, asking whether it means anything at all. Rather than veering into specialist territory, the essays and opinion pieces that have been included are clear and lucidly expressed, offering the reader a variety of perspectives on the fiction they have just read.
Beginning with the replication of a thread started by M. John Harrison on the Third Alternative message board in 2003, it appears that the term divides authors, critics, academics and readers alike. Some suggested that the very act of attempting to reach a consensus as to what “New Weird” means would strangle the nascent adventurousness upcoming writers are bringing to genre fiction. Harrison defended the search for definition as having the political significance of the right to ownership; better the honour be bestowed upon writers from within the genre than critics aiming to pigeonhole their works.
The most interesting article is ‘Tracking Phantoms’ by Darja Malcolm-Clarke, which combines her personal relationship to the writing that has been classified as “New Weird” with some thoughtful reflections on the tropes by which it is identified. Malcolm-Clarke suggests that the juxtaposition of corrupt city authorities and the grotesquerie of their inhabitants provides the genre with a ‘built-in facility for social critique’. Discuss.
Published in February 2008, the introduction suggests that the New Weird’s time has already passed. However, I suspect that this is a self-conscious ploy on the part of Jeff VanderMeer, an attempt to free this style of writing from becoming a collection of conventions that would lose their potency through overuse and familiarity. Quoted in the ‘Symposium’ section, Jukka Halme’s definition of the term illustrates this perfectly:
‘It is not a movement per se, since when a movement takes shape it establishes itself, stops moving and thus changes into something academic – and New Weird stands for Change. It needs constant interaction between the Reader and the Writer as well as bold, new ideas.’
Indeed, VanderMeer rounds off his introductory essay with the statement: ‘New Weird is dead. Long live the Next Weird’. The intent seems to be that this anthology will provide both a tombstone to the New Weird as a movement and a delightfully ghoulish call for upcoming writers to exhume the still warm body and steal from its anatomy in the ongoing revolution of the fantasy genre.
I sincerely hope that the desire to push at the thematic and stylistic boundaries of genre fiction that this anthology has showcased will be built upon by succeeding generations of writers who draw upon the energetic chaos that “New Weird” authors have tapped into. If so, there will be some startlingly fantastic fiction to look forward to, fresh phantasmagoric nightmares to inhabit.
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