The Crawling Moon: Queer Tales of Inescapable Dread
dave ring, ed.
Trade Paperback/Ebook
ISBN: 9781952086823
Neon Hemlock, July 30, 2024, 398 pgs

Way back in the December 2020 Lightspeed I reviewed Glitter + Ashes: Queer Tales of a World that Wouldn’t Die. In the November 2021 Lightspeed I reviewed Unfettered Hexes: Queer Tales of Insatiable Darkness. Here I am again, having deeply enjoyed another Neon Hemlock anthology by dave ring, one with a title which suggests these books might form some kind of series: The Crawling Moon: Queer Tales of Inescapable Dread. On the Neon Hemlock website, this one is described as “an anthology of gothic depravity, horror & perversion.” The description, specifically “perversion,” or even “depravity,” doesn’t apply to every story, but a number of them will delight readers in their lascivious turns. All the same, the quality of the entries is high, and while the degree of depravity runs from fairly prim or kind-of-absent to lip-licking-page-rereading-high-octane-sexuality, the strength of the works means you will probably enjoy the stories either way. I’ll highlight a few pieces as examples of what’s on offer. If you’d like to jump to the end and skip any possibilities of spoilers: yes, it’s good—buy the book!

“The Rise” by Amelia Burton flows with delightful horror atmosphere. Vega is a diver braving the depths of a flooded city, swimming through ghostly streets, hunting for treasure. The writing is strong, and places the reader in the moment, rendering that atmosphere more effective. There is a cool distance to the voice, which works well in this context, pairing with occasionally elegant phrases and suspiciously murky water. Of course, since this is horror, it’s no surprise that Vega encounters what may be an insidious presence, waiting deep in the silt. This story is less overtly sexual than other pieces—well, mostly. There is a strange sense of an underlying sensuality running through it, or perhaps an intimacy, which is possibly an effect of an expertly delivered voice. The read feels brief but it’s a good one, with interesting worldbuilding and an ending horror readers will love.

“Measurements Expressed as Units of Separation” by M.L. Krishnan opens with beautifully written seething against institutionalized misogyny and colonialism, seasoned with a dash of blood and bone. The sentences themselves are wonderful, and the voice is confident, alluring, insightful. Krishnan renders palpable the many modes of misogyny in fresh and astute ways. The protagonist takes regular excursions deep into the woods to escape the oppression of college, usually suffering some kind of personal harm along the way—scrapes, tumbles, and the like; all worth it to be able to breathe, to feel free, even if for a short span of time. On one such excursion, she discovers one of her professors swimming in a stepwell. The protagonist feels an immediate attraction; but the professor, in this setting, is far more than the wisp of presence she seems to be when viewed from a chair in class. What follows is an extraordinary and emotionally effective tale of ill-fated lovers who are caught in parallel but very different cycles.

Winifred Burton proves her expertise with words in “Blood Claim.” Well-written lines and interesting details place the reader deep in place, time, and character, so that we immediately have a distinctive sense of protagonist Michelle Warren, and the town she has returned to, and even the people she encounters. When Michelle feels that initial sexual attraction to Ada LaDucarly, it’s relatable and powerful. In fact, it’s absolutely delicious. Ada has just moved into a plantation house, one where despicable things happened long ago, and . . . well. This is a horror anthology; the setup is familiar, so readers may have a sense of where things are going. But the power of the writing compels the read, inspiring a hunger to devour more of the story. Ada’s presence in the narrative is palpable, not just by description, but by the things that presence brings out in Michelle. And, ultimately, the story is as much about being confined by expectations and finding ways to break free, to truly be yourself, as it is about the horror narrative. It’s such a clear and wonderful vision, told with such fantastic style, that I hope there is more room in the market for Burton to follow up on these characters.

Grief is entangled with urban legend in Yeonsoo Julian Kim’s “Bluebonnet Season.” College student Kathy Ro and her friends are dealing with the recent loss of Mel. Unfortunately, Mel’s ex Rhys is one of those friends, and he is kind of a jerk. Shortly after Mel’s death they had words, loud words; but since then, Rhys has seen Kathy as “connected” to him because of their respective relationships with Mel. Meanwhile, Kathy actually had serious feelings for Mel, feelings which were never really shared. Along with this is the legend of the bluebonnet fields next to the cemetery, which says that if you take pictures there—okay, I don’t want to give everything away! But what shines, for me, is the grounded and nuanced portrayal of complicated and uncomfortable relationships, especially in the middle of grief. Kim’s approach to horror is more about creepy atmosphere than many of the other entries, and readers who seek creepy vibes more than blood and sharp teeth will enjoy the shivers it offers. Kim’s piece is also less sexual; the focus is, if anything, the nature of our feelings for someone after they are gone. It’s a thoughtful, worthwhile meditation. The urban legend piece is nicely tweaked, so it’s not quite expected in terms of where it all leads. Overall, a very well structured and executed story.

When I consider reviewing an anthology, I always glance at the table of contents. Seeing Donyae Coles among the contributors was one of several arguments in favor of giving this book a look. With “Fenestration,” Coles is so very good at eloquently evoking a sense of discomfort with oneself, and of pairing that sensibility with a vague unease provoked by story elements. Simple but elegant prose, distinctive voice, and a feeling of newness all combine to create an utterly absorbing narrative. Despite the strangeness underlying everything, there is also a degree of relatability, making the story even more engrossing. In the telling, Coles makes the ordinary act of Caro buying a plant and bringing it home something fascinating and important; a moment through which Caro’s character is revealed, traits that may be painfully familiar to many readers. Also: Caro has feelings for her coworker, feelings which she believes to be unrequited. In her dreams Caro finds sexual companionship of a very different kind, and in waking, drifts from hookup to hookup and from home to work and back. Things change when her crush gives her a new plant, one which may be responding to her sexual energy; or perhaps the thing is just hungry. Observations and truths breathe between the lines, giving the story incredible vibrancy and depth.

Let’s talk about “Jumbie Closet” and let’s talk about it last. To say that Suzan Palumbo has a way with words would be an embarrassing understatement. There is so much joy to be found in the way Palumbo puts together phrases, the way she creates visualizations, not to mention the sheer power of her craft. The reader is immediately absorbed into the story by Palumbo’s frank and fresh prose, which lends a sense of the real to everything: that feeling of a specific place and time. Add to this the interesting setup: a protagonist awakens to find her jumbie’s (very hot) hookup just waking up in the other room. If you are like me, you immediately need to see where all this awkwardness will go. The journey Palumbo has mapped out is far more engaging than expected. It’s full of longing, awakening, and nuance. Truly wonderful storytelling.

The Crawling Moon, as with other entries in what may or may not be an anthology series, also features illustrations by Matthew Spencer. This particular book opens with a poem by Jess Cho, a brief but provocative piece which embraces both horror and sensuality. Twenty-five stories of varying lengths but consistently high quality, plus a “story game” by Maxwell Lander, will take you from perfectly dreary-creepy moods to blood-spattered climaxes. Genre readers will recognize a number of names stacked in the table of contents: Hailey Piper, Cynthia Zhang, Natalia Theodoridou, E. Catherine Tobler, and more. If you haven’t picked up a Neon Hemlock anthology yet, my friend, you are missing out. You better get this one and get started on catching up! Settle in with a glass of wine, wait till it’s dark outside and nice and quiet, sink into your favorite chair, and enjoy!