Steve Berman (1) (1968–)

I love Steve Berman's writing. The stories in Second Thoughts are not second string; they contain the same high level of storytelling seen in Trysts, Berman's other short story collection, and Vintage, his young adult novel.

My favorite thing about Berman's stories is that they start of mundane and then smoothly and steadily descend into the fantastic and weird.

This collection also had a unique format. After each short story is an "Author's Note". These notes create an over-arching, meta show more storyline that had me wondering what was autobiographical confession and what was fiction. Like the individual stories, these notes start out straightforward then develop into something more by the end of the collection. This made Second Thoughts a more cohesive composition than most collections. show less

There are certainly many things in the world I would enjoy but do not even know to ask for, for my imagination hasn't yet stretched that far. This book contains one: New Orleans rent boys performing Bacchanalian rituals to Lovecraftian Elder Gods. Now I want all of it, so much more of it than this book provided, the idea is set in me now and I can't stop thinking of it. Nothing recommends a book better than a reader who can't stop thinking about it, extrapolating from it.

In general I'm not a show more horror fan, I don't dislike it, I just am very picky about it. I prefer my horror subtle. I want to make me shiver and ask questions and imagine things I've never thought of. This book really provided for me. There was only one story that stretched to too gross/too creepy for me and it involved spidery things and frankly I should have known better as soon as they appeared but the rest of the book was sublime, ranging from just a hint of "oh this is weird" to "whoa WTF is going on here!?"

Several of the stories shared characters and a strange post-apocalyptic universe where vast swathes of cities are quarantined because magic has surfaced and too much darkness and unknown resides there now. Of course outcasts flock to these dead zones producing several stories that are lovely fairy tales in their own right.

Themes of isolation, loneliness and seeking community fill this book, with as many happy endings as there are terrifying horrors. Berman's writing is both spare and lyrical where it needs to be, leading to the sense that each of these is a timeless fairytale being played out against an unexpected backdrop. The dead zone in cities act as the fairyland under the hill, the magic users like fairies themselves. Each other story has a hero to root for and a chance to wistfully hope for a happy ending. Very much enjoyed everything about this book. Went and bought two more by Berman right away, can't wait to get to them. show less

BOOK BLURB:
The latest edition of Wilde Stories, once more edited by Steve Berman ~ a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award for the last volume ~ promises readers a range of imaginative gay-themed fiction culled from the prior year. These are tales that range from the chilling (Lee Thomas' "I'm Your Violence") to the surreal (Sven Davisson's "Dim Star Descried") to the fantastical ("Firooz and His Brother" by Alex Jeffers). Many of the authors included have won awards for their fiction, and show more their stories seek to press new boundaries of loneliness, loss and love, between men and monster (and those men who happen to be monsters).

BOOK REVIEW:
Every single piece in the collection has a very distinct voice, and together they range across a wide spectrum of moods, styles, and settings.

I might not always agree with some of the editor's selections, but I can't fault his ability to create a satisfying whole. The balance through the collection is flawless, starting with "Bluff" which may be short, but is also richly textured and exactly long enough to hit its stride and then deliver a genuinely chilling twist, and ending with "The Behold of the Eye," which is a more substantial but equally superlative tale.

That may sound like exaggeration, but if you were to read down my annotated contents page you'd see a range of numbers between one and five, and then a heart and exclamation point against this title. There's a lot of strong writing in this collection, but Hal Duncan is my discovery of the volume ~ the author whose works I had to go out and start hunting down immediately. It's not just an excellent and powerful story, it's also spot on to my tastes, and had me completely entranced.

There were a handful of stories between these two gems that are much less to my tastes, though. I was amused to notice that the two stories picked from the Madder Love anthology, which I reviewed earlier this year, were ones that I'd really enjoyed, and one that did nothing for me then or now, for all that I can appreciate the craft that makes Echo so unsettling. Such are the vagaries of personal taste!

The other Madder Love reprint, "Dim Star Descried," richly repaid re-reading, and offers a lyrical, dizzying blurring of realities, and was well placed as a bridge between the sweet, fairytale tone of "Firooz and his Brother" and the beautiful, matter of fact, well-researched historical reality of "Bloomsbury Nudes," a rooting in reality that offsets the story's eerie elements to great effect.

Back in the present, "I'm your Violence" is similarly realistic, this time amplifying grim horror, as a cop deals ~ or doesn't deal ~ with the horror that walks at large amongst humans.

"In the Night Street Baths" offers an impressively nuanced, detailed, and solid fantasy world, drawing on the Arabian Nights tradition, but delving into the cracked, damaged underpinnings of the city to weave a powerful story, whilst "Behind the Curtain" twists tales of that classic creature of the Gothic, the vampire, one that manages to wring genuine horror from the myth once more.

Wilde Stories promises the reader the year's best gay speculative fiction, and delivers a very impressive selection indeed.

(Originally reviewed for Rainbow Reviews - http://www.rainbow-reviews.com/?p=2006) show less

Vintage’s protagonist is an unnamed mostly closeted gay teen, who I will call MC (short for “Main Character”) from here on out. MC ran away from home after his parents reacted badly to learning that he was gay, so now he lives with his aunt, who he’s afraid might do the same thing. The only people who know his secret are his new friend Trace and several other friends she introduced him to.

His life here is better than it had been back with his parents. He has friends, he’s show more convinced his aunt to let him drop out of school and get his GED and work instead, and he likes his job at the vintage clothing shop. Still, a part of him is always afraid that the wrong person will find out he’s gay and ruin everything and, at the same time, he desperately wants a boyfriend. When he sees a cute boy in vintage clothes walking alone, he takes a risk and talks to him. And even though he’s a weird goth kid talking to a guy dressed like a jock, it doesn’t go badly! Unfortunately for MC, Josh, the cute boy, is a ghost.

At first, MC and Trace are delighted at the prospect of meeting a real ghost. However, things soon take a turn for the worse. Josh follows MC home. Although MC is excited that a boy is finally interested in him, Josh’s touch could literally suck the life out of him. Josh’s raging jealousy is another problem. If MC and Trace can’t figure out how to put Josh to rest, MC and anyone he cares out could end up dead.

The first half of this book wasn’t my cup of tea at all. Nearly every character was messed up in some way, and it seemed like a potentially murderous ghost was the least of their problems. Liz's parents were mostly absent. Trace's mother was in an institution, her older brother, Mike, was either dead or a runaway, and her mother had her younger brother as a replacement for her older brother, even going so far as to name him after him. MC had tried to commit suicide in the past but instead had just woken up in a puddle of his own vomit.

MC’s friends’ idea of fun was getting together and drinking something called Jim Joneses, a mixture of different flavors of Kool-Aid, vodka, and, in one special glass, a random crushed up pill from the hostess’s medicine cabinet. At the particular gathering featured in the book, they then tried out a Ouija board - at the time, only Trace and MC knew it would be a bad idea for MC to be involved in anything like that.

At any rate, this had more drug use and steamier sex than I generally expect to find in a young adult book. For those wondering, I felt the drug use was at least presented as a negative thing, and the sex (a couple scenes, if I remember right) was explicit enough to include bodily fluids but wasn’t otherwise very detailed.

The second half of the book was better than the first. It included more ghost scenes, including one aspect I love in “I can see ghosts” stories: MC realizing that he can’t always tell when the person he’s seeing or talking to is a ghost or not. Creepy. My favorite instance of this involved a ghost with a connection to one of MC’s friends.

Another nice thing about the second half of the book was the way MC gradually gained self-confidence. He learned that there were more supportive people in his life than he realized, and he started a relationship with a boy who was a much healthier option than Josh. I liked how their relationship progressed, and I liked the way MC did his best to keep from rushing him into anything. They seemed like they’d make a sweet couple.

I thought I’d end up hating this book, but it actually grew on me. I don’t know that I’d ever want to reread it, but if there were ever a sequel I’d probably give it a shot. And I’d hope that Mike got a prominent role. Considering his situation, it was amazing how well-adjusted he was. Instead of ingesting pills like everyone else, he created amazing sculptures.

One thing I’m still wondering about: why MC was never named. At first, I assumed it was a sign of his low self-esteem. If someone had told him he was a character in a book and asked him to guess what his role probably was, in the first half of the book he’d probably have said Trace was the main character and he was her sidekick. He viewed her as perfect and wonderful, while he was anything but. It was painful. He became more confident later on, but when the perfect opportunity presented itself for the author to finally have another character name him, all readers got was something along the lines of “He said my name.” If the name thing had been meant as an indicator of his feelings about himself, it would have made more sense to have someone finally say his name at some point near the end.

(Original review posted on A Library Girl's Familiar Diversions.) show less