More questions with Laird Barron

Last month, I had the opportunity to interview Laird Barron, a writer of thoughtful, dark horror stories. You can read that interview here. He was kind enough to allow me to ask some follow up questions, one of which came from a reader comment. His answers are below.

On a side note, I wanted to mention that Sarah Langan, one of the other great horror writers of today, had good things to say about Barron's upcoming collection Occultation.


1) I am curious if you have to change your writing approach when you incorporate Asian mythology into your stories, as you did in the "The Procession of the Black Sloth." When using familiar myths, like the Christian idea of the devil, or even the Lovecraft Mythos, the reader brings a background which will enhance their reaction to and experience of the story. As Asian myth is alien to many Western readers, my guess is that the prose has to do more work. Did writing "The Procession of the Black Sloth" lead to any peculiar challenges like this?

I conducted a significant amount of research regarding the physical and historical geography of Hong Kong and the Eighteen Hells, or Diyu. Getting these aspects right presented the greatest challenge other than formulating the novella itself. Procession of the Black Sloth is an homage to horror in general, but most especially to Asian horror cinema, and as such, I've found the great body of world literature and film has prepared Western audiences to receive the material. Koji Suzuki's Ringu cycle and films such as Uzimaki, A Tale of Two Sisters, and Ju-on are examples of work that has penetrated Western consciousness and reshaped the imaginative calculus. And of course, anime and manga are powerful and prevalent forces here in the U.S.. In any event, Sloth deals with the reciprocal nature of the universe, a concept that transcends East-West artistic traditions and gets to the root of human fascination and dread, the heart of spirituality we all share in one guise or another.

2) In your answer to why you write horror (see prior interview), you noted that horror reminds readers of their own animal natures. You also mentioned that you enjoy crime fiction, which, at its best, is often a form of social criticism. How important is criticism to good horror, even if that criticism is muted?

An aspect of social or cultural criticism is simply another layer of the cake. I value complexity and nuance, I like the idea of creating a piece of art that provokes and incites, although as an entertainer, my first loyalty is to the object itself -- the characters, their circumstances, the impending or ongoing conflict.

I'm fascinated with the Judeo-Christian influence upon, and the criticism and conflict inherit in, a good deal of Western horror literature. However, I resist applying conservative religious ideology to my fiction as a statement of morality, or as a code for how one should interpret the text. I believe in good and evil in a broad sense, but I've lived too close to the bone for the simplistic criticism implicit in routine Western horror to hold any appeal, or frankly, any credibility for me. Many of my characters are seedy according to societal norms -- drug abusers, adulterers, petty criminals, drunks and assorted debauched types. While these activities and lifestyles generally exceed my personal comfort level, I don't punish the characters who are slaves to their vices. People often come to a bad end in my stories, but it's not because I've lowered the Hammer of the Gods on them for their promiscuity or doping, it's because the universe is a meat grinder. Those who dwell beyond the societal norms often find themselves exposed to predatory forces. Ultimately, I prefer to depict people as I’ve known them; I prefer to serve as a reporter of events and let the reader draw his or her conclusions. Questions interest me far more than my own limited wisdom to provide answers.

As a coda to this topic: I'm pretty frank and rather offhand regarding my depiction of carnality and the use of drugs and alcohol. This characteristic of my writing reliably touches a nerve of a subset of readers, which I think is understandable given our social upbringing and the sheltered nature of the typical person in our culture. Nonetheless, I confess amusement when the criticism of a protagonist's drug or alcohol use is that it seems too excessive, that it is unrealistic. To those gentle readers I can only say, you need to spend some time on a fishing boat in Dutch Harbor, or in a trapper’s cabin in the Alaskan bush, or among refugees from the hard lights of Vegas, or roaming the mean streets of Anchorage, or Fraternity Row in Seattle. I might actually be guilty of understating the case in regard to the debauchery and eccentricity of people I draw my characters from.

3) From a blog comment : "I note that the author grew up in Alaska (according to the interweb, anyway), which seems like fruitful ground for artistic inspiration. I would be interested to hear if there were any specific personal experiences that LB has had - in Alaska or otherwise - that have shaped him as an artist."

Which leads into the reader question (and thank you). My youth in Alaska was formative. I’ve endured poverty on a scale rivaling rural Depression Era existence. I’ve starved, frozen, survived cancer (thanks to the Elks Club) and routine illnesses that were left unchecked because my family lacked the means to pay for doctors or dentists. Alaska can be a rough place and life in Alaska as an impoverished kid is a nightmare. If I had a dollar for every fistfight or scrape I got into during my first twenty-odd years, I’d be able to treat myself to a royal steak dinner.

Alaska is dark and ancient and when encountering the vastness of its seas or the awesome trackless wastes of its interior, I’ve frequently come to grips with my mortality, my flea-ish aspect. The climate is extreme and savage. I’ve probably logged around fifty thousand miles riding or running behind teams of huskies across some of the most inhospitable terrain on Earth. That’s a lot of time to dwell upon one’s thoughts, to provoke the demons and the devils of the subconscious.

Because of the particulars of my upbringing, I had a lot of experiences with the raw and criminal elements of society. I’ve spent time in various circumstances with Hells Angels and drug dealers, arm breakers and thieves and the wealthy individuals who acquire the services of said drug dealers, poachers and arm breakers. When I write about somebody getting knifed or sticking a needle in their arm or discussing the brutal or debauched routines of their lives, it’s something I’ve seen or trod entirely too near.

Live and let live is a survival trait one acquires in such conditions. I may not approve, but unless I’m depicting a psychopath, I err on the side of neutrality and the old proverb, There but for the grace of God go I…. Certainly a consequence of provenance.

Interview with Laird Barron

Laird Barron is one of the most exciting new (well, new to me) writers I have encountered in years (thanks, Steve!). He writes horror stories, a genre I want to love, but so often loathe. Unlike so many others, his tales are psychologically rich, well-written, and filled with nightmarish images. His Imago Sequence collection includes the fantastic The Procession of the Black Sloth story referenced below. You can also find his stories in anthologies like Poe and Lovecraft Unbound. Don't fret if you have already greedily consumed all these tales and can't find more. Next year, Night Shade Books is publishing a new collection of his tales called Occultation.

I recently requested an interview with the author and he was kind enough to agree.

1) What is it that attracts you to writing horror stories? What can the genre offer that others can't?

Hello, Tripp, and thank you for the interview.

My tastes are eclectic -- I enjoy everything from Michener ‘s historical doorstops to New Wave science fiction. There’s a special place in my heart for procedurals and crime novels. Gorky Park, Smilla’s Sense of Snow and Robert Parker’s Spenser series are some of my favorites.

The thing horror offers is the frisson that comes with fear and dread and visceral shock; frightful imagery appeals to our lizard brain in a way that is profound and immediate. Horror is an important and vital art form -- it’s rooted in primitive emotions, the animal self that resists sublimation. We’ve not evolved sufficiently as a species to turn our backs on the lizard, the wolf, the ape. Our ineluctable fascination with the gruesome, the violent, the macabre, is a gentle reminder of that.

2) How do you account for the continuing interest in and exploration of Lovecraft's mythos? What is it like to write a Mythos story?

Lovecraftian and the best Lovecraft-influenced fiction explores a mysterium tremendum et fascinans. The Mythos evokes a sense of wonder. Dreadful enigmas, the contemplation of cosmic forces, exploration of the Other at its most inscrutable and alien captivates us because of our relentless curiosity, our insatiable desire to see what vistas lie beyond the next curve in the road, over the next hill.

I’ve only written a couple of pure Mythos tales, but indeed much of my work has been inspired by Lovecraft’s cosmic horror as well as several authors who’ve contributed to the canon. It’s always enlightening to put together a Lovecraftian story. I dig deep into the subconscious well, stirring up the muck and the sediment, so to speak. There are ancient artifacts buried among the roots of the dreaming mind. I never know what I’ll uncover.

3) Your excellent story "The Procession of the Black Sloth" is driven by Asian myth, but also appears to be influenced by film. How does cinema influence your writing?

Yes, the story was inspired by Chinese mythology, particularly that of the Eighteen Hells. Cinema in general counts among my chief influences, especially aspects of cinematography and script. Asian cinema has been a revelation. Mood, pacing, dialogue -- the higher quality Asian films exhibit a rawness that Hollywood eschews. Takashi Miike, for example, imbues his pictures with edginess and a kind of tainted eroticism. He’s a master manipulator. He injects absurdity at precisely the right moment. Even at his darkest he’s playful after a macabre fashion and these elements complicate what are otherwise simple narratives.

4) In this age of smaller and smaller attention spans, do you think short stories will see a resurgence?

I don’t know. Novels reign supreme. Short story collections remain a tough sell in New York. Fortunately the independent and small presses champion the short form and there appears to be a loyal core audience, especially in the horror/weird categories. It’s also heartening to note that Ellen Datlow has steadily put forth anthologies from Dark Horse, Tor, and Solaris.

There’s also lot of great short work on the internet -- ezines such as Clarkesworld and Chizine provide high quality content. If not a resurgence, at least we’re witnessing a healthy status quo.

5) Who is the one author right now – regardless of genre – that everyone should be talking about but they are not?

Stephen Graham Jones. He’s written novels such as Demon Theory and All the Beautiful Sinners and appeared in more literary magazines than you can shake a stick at. His latest collection The Ones that Got Away will appear in 2010. His work encompasses a broad spectrum of genre categories, including the various manifestations of horror and dark fantasy. He’s a fantastic stylist. His stories are the kind that stick in your mind for weeks. Jones will shock and amaze you.