A Gentle Hell Autumn Christian 9780615718408 Books
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A Gentle Hell is comprised of five dark speculative stories of quiet tension and uncomfortable nostalgia, written for deformed children and girls that dream of demons. In “They Promised Dreamless Death” a salesman sells sleep with the promise of a better life, but what dreams lurk beneath the substrate of consciousness for those who take it are stranger than they ever imagined. In “Your Demiurge is Dead,” while the world adjusts to the death of God and the new reign of the Triple Goddess, Charles hunts for an Oklahoma murderer and is forced to confront his religious ideals when he encounters a new prophet. “The Dog That Bit Her,” is the story of a neurotic young woman who gains freedom from her co-dependent marriage with the bite of a rabid dog. In the semi-autobiographical “The Singing Grass,” the artist and the writer converge at a meadow haunted by a carnivorous deer and the burnt monsters that show them the consequences of an artistic life. And exclusive to the print version, a precocious young girl is treated for her developmental disorder with nanite technology in “The Bad Baby Meniscus”. However, with a cure comes the death of the self, and her body begins to reject the treatment.
A Gentle Hell Autumn Christian 9780615718408 Books
I won’t say much about this except that it reminded me of who I was a writer and as a person. I think I’ve kinda lost track of it somewhere between high school graduation, the Army life and getting back to writing professionally. Because those are the only obstacles that partitioned me off from the darkly things that Autumn Christian, with “A Gentle Hell,” has restored my belief in. I am not a commonplace author, and I am not a typical writer. Thanks, Christian, for that.These are my favorite portions of each short story.
“They Promised Dreamless Death”
The machines had turned all of our heads into a landscape of dark eyes, sloping giants hills, shadows of the valley of death. Metaphysics told us the world didn’t exist without being observed. Dead inside our heads, the machines chuk-chuk-chuking, the silent whir pressing the consciousness in the back, to a dreamless land, we were turning our world into a world for locusts. We were making the universe blind.
“Your Demiurge is Dead”
I crawled into Tuesday’s faery hole and lay down in the hollow impression her body made. I pulled at the roots with my fists, scratched and scratched over her scared nails, this once-warm body hiked up to the hips, bled out, skull scuffed, silenced by the arm and ribs of the prophet of the true living Triple Goddess. The serial killer of the benevolent. The death of a girl who wanted to be married underneath the dogwood tree, but instead had the blossoms pushed into her mouth and spilled into her collapsed eyes.
“The Dog That Bit Her”
She looked like she crawled out of a dream, wild girl in the white dress, bra-less and bare-foot. I thought at any moment she’d detach herself from her limbs and metamorphose into a vine sticking straight out of my wall.
“The Singing Grass”
I’d never liked to watch people make art before, but I watched him paint because there was something alluring and impractically aesthetic about the way he moved, like an underwater machine. Even if I closed my eyes I’d still be able to feel his movement, the shadow of it, and all angles of him digging a hole into gravity.
A star subtracted due to “The Dog That Bit Her.” It spent too long setting up and being there before it got to the meat of the matter, and it didn’t even tie into the ending in any way, so I found the meandering start (and, therefore, overall length) needless in a collection of hard-hitting selections such as the others. My one gripe.
I’ll be looking out for The Crooked God Machine to see if Christian’s writing can hold its own in a more extensive, involved environment than a short story.
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A Gentle Hell Autumn Christian 9780615718408 Books Reviews
Autumn Christian's writing is like a dream, one of those dreams that makes perfect sense while you're in it but melts away fast in the sunlight. It is of crucial importance, yet indescribable; deep as an ocean, but opaque from the outside.
Take her hand, and let her pull you under.
This is the first title that I have read by this author, and I am so glad I did. Lush, poetic, subtle, engaging, sometimes odd, always entertaining, painfully beautiful at times. Ms. Christian leaves you breathless with the sheer power of her imagination. I count myself as a fan and will definitely be picking up her other titles.
This is yet another excellent edition to the Dark Continents Publishing line. A Gentle Hell contains four stories that have a sort of poetry prose that reveal four very interesting worlds to the reader. I don't want to say more, as I think these are best discovered as you go and each story builds to an interesting conclusion. Thought provoking horror stories that are highly recommended.
Dark Continents has a track record of publishing high quality work and Autumn Christian is no exception. The word 'horror' is an inadequate way to describe the stories in 'A Gentle Hell'. They slowly unveil new ideas which force the reader out of comfort zones, creating a growing sense of unease. This is writing which updates the tradition of writers such as Robert Aickman for the 21st century, and an excellent choice for readers who want something more thought-provoking than the rut of interchangeable monsters. If that's you, you are in for a treat.
I'd be hard-pressed to find a favorite of the four stories in this collection, since each of them blew me away. Seriously. The author's prose is amazing, her images slapping you in the face one moment and making you want to cry the next. She has such feel in her tales, concepts that make you really think. The best part is when she takes such a simple idea for a plot and turns it around with her words, making it into so much more.
I'd now love to read something longer from the author to see if a novel can sustain the prose. Eagerly looking forward to reading more.
Armand Rosamilia
It has been said that if you want to write, you must read. If you want to learn how to generate atmosphere, an atmosphere that is striking in its literary efficacy, then this book is a great place to start. These four stories are infused with abstract and thought-provoking similes. The descriptions go beyond transporting the reader in a visual capacity. You're going to feel this shit while you're reading.
You'll get deep insights about the world while reading as well. Wile some authors tend to take those insights and run with them, creating entire stories around introspection and philosophical musings, Autumn's characters drop these insights casually, like they come as easily as pressure on the bladder after drinking five glasses of water.
Suddenly it occurs to me that I really need to go to the bathroom . . .
Not many authors tread the bleak and macabre with this much grace, but you don't have to take my word for it. You can read most of the first story on without charge, so there's nothing to lose in checking this out.
Apparently I need twenty more words in order for this to be acceptable, so I'll say that the first story was my favorite.
I won’t say much about this except that it reminded me of who I was a writer and as a person. I think I’ve kinda lost track of it somewhere between high school graduation, the Army life and getting back to writing professionally. Because those are the only obstacles that partitioned me off from the darkly things that Autumn Christian, with “A Gentle Hell,” has restored my belief in. I am not a commonplace author, and I am not a typical writer. Thanks, Christian, for that.
These are my favorite portions of each short story.
“They Promised Dreamless Death”
The machines had turned all of our heads into a landscape of dark eyes, sloping giants hills, shadows of the valley of death. Metaphysics told us the world didn’t exist without being observed. Dead inside our heads, the machines chuk-chuk-chuking, the silent whir pressing the consciousness in the back, to a dreamless land, we were turning our world into a world for locusts. We were making the universe blind.
“Your Demiurge is Dead”
I crawled into Tuesday’s faery hole and lay down in the hollow impression her body made. I pulled at the roots with my fists, scratched and scratched over her scared nails, this once-warm body hiked up to the hips, bled out, skull scuffed, silenced by the arm and ribs of the prophet of the true living Triple Goddess. The serial killer of the benevolent. The death of a girl who wanted to be married underneath the dogwood tree, but instead had the blossoms pushed into her mouth and spilled into her collapsed eyes.
“The Dog That Bit Her”
She looked like she crawled out of a dream, wild girl in the white dress, bra-less and bare-foot. I thought at any moment she’d detach herself from her limbs and metamorphose into a vine sticking straight out of my wall.
“The Singing Grass”
I’d never liked to watch people make art before, but I watched him paint because there was something alluring and impractically aesthetic about the way he moved, like an underwater machine. Even if I closed my eyes I’d still be able to feel his movement, the shadow of it, and all angles of him digging a hole into gravity.
A star subtracted due to “The Dog That Bit Her.” It spent too long setting up and being there before it got to the meat of the matter, and it didn’t even tie into the ending in any way, so I found the meandering start (and, therefore, overall length) needless in a collection of hard-hitting selections such as the others. My one gripe.
I’ll be looking out for The Crooked God Machine to see if Christian’s writing can hold its own in a more extensive, involved environment than a short story.
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