I like Clay McLeod Chapman because he's always excited to tell his story. There's a pervasive energy in his writing that keeps readers immersed, and a palpable stylistic enthusiasm that just makes for infectious reading. He’s never just writing a scene, just recounting events, but constantly spinning the tale, letting the roots already laid down dig a little deeper into the reader’s mind even as he describes the new growth in the current chapter. He sells his narrative very easily, and be it some trick of his style or Satanic super powers, I never fail to sink into the initial narrative arc of a Chapman novel. 

The Rain Artist excels in juxtaposing a horrific vision of the future with instances of resonant beauty that serve to keep the story interesting and showcase the author’s impressive and instinctive understanding of human experience. The writing is strong enough to outpace the imperfect plot, effectively drawing the reader into its unique perspective until the world of The Rain Artist feels dangerously close to our own.

While there are some stylistic and depth choices I’m not a fan of, Pre-Approved for Haunting is a very good collection, and a wonderful introduction to the work of Patrick Barb. Most of the stories are mature, effective works that linger long in the memory, particularly when their real-world inspirations are familiar. Despite not loving the particular story, I’ll never look at a black crayon the same way again. Barb is an excellent writer with a strong editorial eye, and as a reader, I’m eager to see what he does next.

‘Like a growing number of popular horror novels, it’s not enough to just be traditionally scary, to conjure ghouls and monsters that crawl out from the dark places and threaten mortal lives. No, now it seems that what readers fear most must be rooted in reality, as evil as any esoteric demon or creepy clown, but also a tangible, crudely familiar terror that many experience at some point in their lives–poverty, discrimination, so on. Quite simply, with each passing generation, we in the Western world fear the evils of the unknown less and less, instead turning weary eyes to the darkness which spills forth from the cracks in our own society, a corruption which has always been there but from which we are collectively, in unbroken legacy with those who came before us, seeking some exit.’

“Across the road, those who watch the vicarage’s transformation see windows beaming golden. Not only has the grin at ground level broadened, but the eyes are open and alight upstairs. A watcher may remark that after sleeping for so long, the building appears to have been roused from within.”

this iteration of [Nevill’s] formula feels like a polished, smartly-conceived story that plays out across a number of increasingly interesting layers.

Every character, setting, and arc is an askew, asymmetrical thing that shuffles at the edge of the reader’s perception showing a side that does not match its shadow.