Review of "The Bizarchives, Issue 2"

The Arbo Files

Every good horror franchise has a sequel. A lot of those sequels are decent, but not as strong as the original. Examples include Halloween II and Friday the 13th, Part 2. However, on rare occasions, the second go-around is superior to the first time. Think Evil Dead II, Dawn of the Dead, or The Bride of Frankenstein. Well, the second installment of the Bizarchives is the pulp equivalent of Evil Dead II, and these literary deadites have decidedly swallowed my soul long before dawn. No Necronomicon needed. Each page is filled to the brim with gore-y goodness, with stories that cut across genres like a katana cuts through a weeb’s heart. So, without further ado, lets pinch our nose and dive into the filth.

As before, lots of credit must go to the team behind-the-scenes: editor-in-chief Dave Martel, lead editor Cyprus Walter, book layout guru Michael Sagginario, and cover artist Donald Kent. Kent really outdid himself with this cover. Green-skinned cadavers shambling through the sandy wastes is the perfect image for this volume, and it directly references the first tale, MS Jones’s “The Dune Lord’s Dreaming.” Jones’s story is an almost psychedelic trip through the hot desert featuring a mercenary army of the undead. The men may have the job of moving cargo to the city of Tarobane, but their real mission is to find the precious ruby red sustenance that gives life back to their old guts. The red substance gives them the vim and vigor that they lost when they died, and the lead character shows how the drug (it is kind of lotus leaf, except it makes one the opposite of sleepy) acts as a powerful opiate dispensing nostalgia and the desire for full re-animation. The roving band of dead Bedouins just want to reverse the curse, and yet, in good pulp fashion, they “live” to fight another day. You might even find them if you perchance happen to be near The Nameless City. Say hello to the Mad Arab if you see him.

A double-shot of Lucious Ser Lex is included as well, mainly for the purposes of boosting testosterone. In “Lex and the Odd Village,” our strapping young hero visits a cathouse. Does he get his rocks off? You bet. Does he discover something disquieting about the fallen femmes? Oh boy! It turns out that the odd village is crawling with shapeshifters who do more than the occasional rub and tug. Lex solves this problem as only he can — by beating the beejeezus out of everyone. Ditto for the other Lex story, “Lex and the Horror of Bernwick Hollows.” Lex’s mission to find a missing inn keeper and her son turns south as he discovers a grotto full of dream-inducing monstrosities. Lex ends this mission by rejecting the girl:

“M’lady Alora, you are an enchantress. However, if I left you with child there would be no possibility of you wedding a good husband. A husband you need to care for your family and business. I will return again for that wonderful stew. If you are unmarried and still hold your beauty, I will happily bed you.

Classic Sigma move. Stay on that grindset, Ser Lex.

Speaking of series characters, issue two features an old friend from issue one. “The Crypt of St Peter’s Church” by Robert C. Booth reintroduces us to ghostbreaker, Mr. Reuben Bennet. In this wonderful yarn, Bennet is contacted by a village vicar to see about helping a young woman in the throes of demonic possession. The woman is an accused sorceress, and her demon familiar is dubbed “Tom Salt.”

But wait!

The story takes an interesting turn when the possessed woman claims that she was bewitched by none other than the vicar, Father Smethwick. The good priest is accused of cavorting with a fallen angel named Saint Amy. The back-and-forth accusations lead to several near-death instances, as well as a final, Agatha Christie-esque revelation courtesy of Mr. Bennet. And, to top it all off, the story ends with a cliffhanger that demands follow-up. More stories incoming.

Horror and action are well represented in this volume. Marc Andre Chevalier’s “Stranger in the Morgue” is a more contemporary, almost splatterpunk story about a murderous changeling on the quest for white gold. “The Statement of Carter Brinton” by Froskaz is a psychological horror show for all clean house enthusiasts, as the main character quickly loses his mental marbles when an unknown mold shows up on his pristine carpet. “The Sound from Beneath” by C.J. Miller is a lovingly crafted tribute to the master from Providence, as it details a rich recluse’s descent into the weird.

Also on the morbid menu are a little science fiction and loads of heroic fantasy. “There Ain’t No Pleasing You” by Aaron Robert Giesen is set in the futuristic cosmos wherein everything is regimented and controlled by AI. Well, everything except for the main character’s love of vodka and ultimate escape into Buddhist transcendence. “To Play the Hero” by Emre B. Tan, “Grim and the Serpent” by William Gable, and “The Crypt of Carnonwe” by A. Cuthbertson all feature Völkisch heroes set against incredible odds like treacherous merchants and a smaller version of the Midgard Serpent. “The Crypt of Carnonwe” is fantasy-meets-horror, as the main character is a necromancer who uses death magick to increase his already terrible power. “To Play the Hero” mixes medieval storytelling with philosophy. It seems that not all should strive for the heroic, according to Tan.

Finally, the oddest but most delightful story of the pack is “Avenger of the Oil” by Greg Kay. This noir-ish tale is short, sharp, and sardonic. It features all the familiar odds and ends of hardboiled Americana, and yet it is set in a world not unlike Bladerunner where almost everyone is robotic, especially the celebrities.

Issue two of the Bizarchives is clear evidence of the superiority of simple people. Martel and his merry band of misfits, all of whom seem like normal folks, have created pulp mastery. Each story is marvelous, and each character is more enticing than the next. Reading this volume only furthers my anger towards people who read mainstream fiction. Why would you waste time on MFA dreck when you could be reading well-paced punch-outs about Victorian ghost chasers, serial killer goo-men, or a badass knight errant who probably looks and talks EXACTLY like Dave Martel. You have no excuses; buy this book or be visited by bad luck sevenfold. Or maybe you’ll be visited by Avenged Sevenfold. Either way, it will not be fun for you, so please buy this volume for your family, friends, and your sanity.

Ain’t no stopping this pulp.