Pulp is like Jason in a Friday the 13th film, or Dracula in his myriad media. Pulp never dies and always comes back. The reasons for this are multi-faceted. For starters, pulp appeals to the blind barbarian in all of us—that so-often suppressed beast that wants adventure, blood, guts, and sundry. Pulp is also cheap, yet memorable entertainment for the masses which is so often smart but unpretentious. Pulp is also a genre that contains multitudes. See, for instance, the latest edition of The Bizarchives. Issue three has vampire stories, high fantasy fiction, sword & sorcery, science fiction, and weird literature, and each one is a lovingly-crafted morsel of madness made by pulp devotees from around the world.
The opening story is from founder and editor, Dave Martel. “Lex Conquers Hell” features Martel’s serial character, Ser Luscious Lex. In the tale, Lex, a wandering swordsman dedicated to eradicating evil for no other purpose than assuaging his own blood lust, hunts after the vile Lord Emeric. Lex accuses the wicked nobleman of engaging in “trollish activity,” and furthermore, Lex has heard rumors about Lord Emeric’s daughter. The danger proves real as Lex discovers a castle replete with obscene gods (Yaotzn’lek) and their priests, plus magickal incantations that render Lex southbound in Murkwood. Lex being Lex, the slayer uses this confinement to beat the beejeezus out of demons and their kin. There is no better summation of Martel’s character than the moment when Lex discovers that he has been banished to the underworld:
“No. NO! I swear by all that is holy, Yaotzn’lek, that I will make you suffer! All of this will burn! MURKWOOD WILL BURN!” A boiling rage begins to consume Lex like never before.
Lex is Conan on an eight-ball of testosterone and maybe some heavy flush niacin and raw steak. “Lex Conquers Hell” is hyper-masculine and erotic sword & sorcery that ranks among Martel’s best. Beginning a book with such a story is akin to drinking an entire bottle of bourbon before ever sitting down to a three-course meal. Speaking of drinking…
The third installment of The Bizarchives has a notably vampiric flavor. Three tales— “The Chronicles of Count Choralure: The Blood Countess” by A. Cuthbertson, “The Breastplate from The Ancient Ones” by Cyprus Walter,” and “From Romania, with Love” by Marc Andre Chevalier—all deal with the undead. "Cuthbertson’s yarn features his serial character, the good necromancer known as Count Choralure. In “The Chronicles of Count Choralure: The Blood Countess,” the mage finds himself in the North of the Westerlands, where there lurks a fiendish femme fatale named The Blood Countess. Choralure and his living dead friend Prospero have very personal reasons to storm The Blood Countess’s castle. You see, the countess and some of her Drained (i.e., re-animated corpses) were once loved by the count. This fact contributes to some snappy and sharp dialogue, of which Mr. Cuthbertson is a specialist. Like Martel’s story, Cuthbertson’s continued chronicles of Count Choralure is excellent and leaves me wanting more.
Cyprus Walter’s “The Breastplate from The Ancient Ones” features a hardy band of vampire slayers in England. These men, including a priest, a muscular Scotsman, and others, hunt after the Nikrati (an eldritch Greek term for bloodsuckers) underneath such ancient sites as the Roman baths of Bath and Glastonbury Abbey. Dispatching the Nikrati is one thing, but these brave warriors for Christ are ultimately after a powerful Christian relic associated with one of England’s most important saints. “The Breastplate from The Ancient Ones” is a magnificent story with a cinematic feel. One could easily see this as a film or episode on a horror-themed television program.
Marc Andre Chevalier’s “From Romania, with Love” is reminiscent of TV in that his serial character, the hapless morgue attendant Frankie Castellano, bears more than a passing resemblance to Carl Kolchak. “From Romania, with Love” is a funny, but also poignant tale that features no less of a luminary than Count Dracula himself. This straightforward vampire tale touches on several hot-button issues, from the opioid epidemic to society’s disrespect towards veterans and Appalachians. Also, Count Dracula’s mission is not what you would expect, and the reveal seals the deal on this socio-political and semi-slapstick story. Excellent!
The fine British gentleman known only as Froskaz has in here a long-ish story called “The Weathered Idol.” Set in the bayous of Louisiana, this supernatural mystery exudes menace on almost every page. Similar to Robert E. Howard’s swamp tales, “The Weathered Idol” mixes family curses with secret rites and an ancient feud between the imperialist warrior Akkadians and the magician Sumerians of the Ancient Near East. This was one of my absolute favorites of the whole collection. Another masterpiece, “Jennings” by Bizarchives titan Robert C. Booth, is a deceptively sweet story about a helpful stuffed dog and wayward girl named Kate. The sweet pooch has a sour streak in that Jennings reveals dark secrets to Kate, who reacts to this occult knowledge in dangerous ways. Booth has been included in every issue so far because he is a top-notch writer whose work combines English charm, dread, and a devious sense of humor. In a fairer world he’d be published by Penguin.
To paraphrase America’s greatest president, when you are good, they just let you do it. That applies to Mr. Walter, who has a second story in this volume called “The Terror of Black Mesa.” While his first story takes place in Olde England, “The Terror of Black Mesa” is set in the New World, specifically the San Juan Basin in the American Southwest. Here, Walter’s criminal protagonist runs afoul of the Pueblo people and one of their primordial monsters. While Walter mixes the contemporary with the antediluvian, the author known only as Pseudo-Russolo gets straight into cybernetic hell in “Flesh Made Ritual.” This story is the perfect distillation of 2022, with its use of chat room dialog and its anxieties over the possibilities of online rituals. This story needs to be shown to Nick Land right now. Someone get his number in Shanghai.
“He Tried to Die” by Liberty Magee lovingly mirrors Lovecraft’s early tales like “From Beyond” and “Herbert West-Reanimator.” Like “The Weathered Idol,” this one is set in Louisiana and deals with man’s never-ending quest to attain immortality. This one would have been a hit with Weird Tales, no question. Like Magee, Emre Bilgin Tan is another Bizarchives alum who here continues the story “To Play the Hero” from the second issue. In a issue heavy with horror, Tan’s tale is a refreshing fantasy that simultaneously builds a world and asks probing philosophical questions. The ending of this story was particularly wonderful.
The final story in the collection, “The Sand King’s Curse,” is by M.S. Jones. Jones, another Bizarchives regular with talent aplenty, weaves a poetic narrative that comfortably tucks the reader into bed. This story contrasts well with “Lex Conquers Hell.” So well in fact that it seems that the editors planned it that way. Hmmmm…
The third edition of The Bizarchives is the best one so far. Every writer in it is a heavyweight, and no, I’m not calling them fat. This pulp imprint is exposing to the world just how good these authors are, and more importantly, The Bizarchives is showing again the permanence of pulp. God bless Martel and the rest for publishing stories so good that they make the rubbish in The New Yorker look even more like Bigfoot’s toilet tissue. Frankly, if you are not buying The Bizarchives, then I do not like you and want you to suck on sulfur down in Murkwood. RIP to ya, bozo.
(And no, I’m not going to review my own story. I do not get high on my own supply. I’m not Curtis Yarvin, master elf, after all.)
Thank you for the kind words about The Blood Countess! I hope you found it as enjoyable as it was to write - a real Ravenloft romp!
Awesome review, and your own story was excellent - for any curious readers, I will say that it’s an eerie, unsettling, ghoulish tale bordering on body horror. Like Reanimator - without the comedy. Pure darkness.