Literary Horror discussion

Please join Marie-Therese, Nathanimal, S̶e̶a̶n̶, Zach and myself for a buddy read of Elvira Navarro's Rabbit Island!

A couple reviews:
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment...
https://www.publishersweekly.com/978-...

Rabbit Island is available as a paperback and an ebook.

Our fluffle will pounce on the collection around the weekend, if they haven't already. (Umm, do rabbits pounce?)

Woo hoo! Thanks, Bill. I can't wait to start this one.

Looking forward to hear what you all think of it!

I'll be diving in tonight (hopping in? guess that's more rabbit-adjacent)

I'm planning to pick up my copy today, and have my buns in the oven shortly.

Well, can’t say the first story (“Gerardo’s Letters”) did anything for me. I have a low tolerance for stories about bickering/pissy couples, and while this one seemed at points to be headed toward saying something interesting about perceptions vs realities and/or being weird in a Lynchian kind of way, it never managed to be particularly compelling.

"Gerardo's Letters" is pretty different from what I expected from the descriptions. I like Navarro's prose and the translation, but will probably forget about the story quickly. I hope there are more rabbits to come. (You guys should see what I can do with one, plus a little bacon, fennel, and gueze. Yum.)

Bill wrote: "I hope there are more rabbits to come. (You guys should see what I can do with one, plus a little bacon, fennel, and gueze. Yum.)"

You are speaking my language! I love braised rabbit; my own go-to recipe is Spanish-inspired and includes wine and grated unsweetened dark chocolate, but fennel as well (the mustard -sauced rabbit of my Central European inflected childhood is good stuff too).

Like Zach, the first story, 'Gerardo's Letters', did not do much for me (I liked general feeling of anxiety Navarro elicited from her setting and the voice of the protagonist, but the narrative ultimately went nowhere and the whole thing was a bit of a damp squib). I thought the next three stories were more successful and certainly more creepy. 'Strychnine' is just freaking weird. I really don't have any idea what was going on in it beyond what the author presented to me (as opposed to the title story, which could be seen as allegorical or moralizing). It was just wondrously unsettling, rather funny, and very strange.

'Rabbit Island' can certainly be read allegorically and also as a moralizing tale. In some ways it's clearly about colonialism and in others about ecology and the dangers of messing with the natural world; but it's also forthrightly horrific and wryly humorous. The outcome is sad but also so ridiculous that it's hard not to smile a bit at the last lines.

'Regression' is a more melancholy tale. It's a very effective story of girlhood, of marginalization, and memory. Of the stories I've read so far, it is the one I've found both most effective and most affecting.

I've read the first three stories and 'Rabbit Island' was the only one that really spoke to me, and even that was in more of a whisper. Overall I did enjoy it, though. I like the absurd concept of a non-inventor inventing things that already exist. I had a similar reaction to the first story as Zach and M-T. As for 'Strychnine' it struck me as symbolic but also kind of slight, perhaps too slight to bear the weight of the metafictional element Navarro also seems to be playing with. I think I need to reread that one a couple more times to see what else might be there.

I'm a bit put off by how wildly divergent from each other these stories are so far--generally that's not a quality I am drawn to in single-author collections. As a result I don't feel that I have a good sense of Navarro's style or voice yet. But I still feel optimistic that there could be some gems in here.

I read this book less than a month ago and would agree it's forgettable and disjointed in parts. However, I didn't dislike it either. I was also losing interest - until the title story 'Rabbit Island' steered me back into the collection. That was a turning point. I also enjoyed 'Gums' - good and stomach turning - glad I stuck it out to get there.

This is great. Enjoying everything everyone is saying here. Conversations like this always make stories seem more mysterious and full of possibility. I want to go back and re-read.

Yeah, I was only mildly interested in ‘Girardo’s Letters,’ though afterwards, thinking about the enigmatic title and the absence of those titular letters, I wondered if there wasn’t an interesting reading where the story happens in a kind of psychological space created by Girardo’s jealousy. As though the story somehow is the absent letters.

A thread that seems to run through all these stories so far is The Shabbiness: the liminal urban spaces (or non-spaces), the peeling tenement wallpaper and bad hotel food, the weeds and bugs and degenerate critters, and just the overall gray emotional register of the writing. Some of you may remember from our reading of Marie NDiaye how game I am for this kind of thing. (Two Lines has a type!)

The rabbit island is a hotbed of Shabbiness, a dingy little scrap of nature uncolonized by the urban sprawl. It lacks the resources to support rabbits as we know them. There's a lack of depth to the soil—the rabbits can't make a warren to call home. But life tries anyway, and rabbits become something harsh and nauseating that we don’t recognize (though we sense they've been it whole time). I recognized a modernist anxiety, the idea of modernity as a nutrient-deficient environment, which causes everything trying to live in it to become evermore desperate and brutal. While I’d never assign a story like this a single official meaning, I did feel like I was reading about the internet: the shallowness of the island’s soil, the viral-like breeding of the rabbits, the vicious behavior that seemed to have been waiting just behind their fluffy veneer all along, waiting for the right conditions to bring it out. (The internet but not this reading group, obviously. Our fluffle is the best.)

Often when I encounter a short story I like I often wish it were a novel instead. But the most successful stories, for me, often feel like an enigmatic parable. A necessarily small and silent object of contemplation. The title story here is definitely one of those stories for me.

Marie-Therese wrote: "I love braised rabbit; my own go-to recipe is Spanish-inspired and includes wine and grated unsweetened dark chocolate, but fennel as well (the mustard -sauced rabbit of my Central European inflected childhood is good stuff too)."

Both sound awesome. I love Spanish/Catalan stews thickened with chocolate, and of course a good mole. After this COVID thing is under control, we should throw a braised rabbit cookout and dark fiction party! Sorry vegetarian friends.

I have no idea what "Strychnine" is about either (or of Navarro's odd titling decisions). I first thought the paw was an earring, then it's... not. I did enjoy its sheer unembarrassed bizarre quality though. I also found "Rabbit Island" horrific and funny. I like both M-T's reading of this as a comment on colonialism, and Nathanimal's as a comment on the internet.

And yes, so much shabbiness.

The straightforward theme of the vagaries of youthful friendship in 'Regression' wouldn't necessarily hold much appeal for me, but as I am a sucker for any stories involving the distortions of memory (hallucinatory or otherwise), I enjoyed this one quite a bit. I did think it fell flat at the end, though, with the last paragraph in particular seeming rather clipped and banal in contrast to the gauzy nature of the story up to that point.

Maybe the character in 'Strychnine' had ingested a small amount of strychnine and was experiencing heightened sensory stimulation...

Bill wrote: "I love Spanish/Catalan stews thickened with chocolate, and of course a good mole. After this COVID thing is under control, we should throw a braised rabbit cookout and dark fiction party!"

I would love this! Only I would not eat the rabbits because they are my spirit animal.

S̶e̶a̶n̶ wrote: "I am a sucker for any stories involving the distortions of memory (hallucinatory or otherwise)"

Yes, that's very S̶e̶a̶n̶! I liked this story, too. I loved 'Myotragus.' For me it's probably tied with 'Rabbit Island' and it's an interesting companion piece to it, as well.

Count me in with everyone else for finding the title story a big step up from the first two. Like S̶e̶a̶n̶ I'm not totally sure what to make of the meta-fictional elements of "Strychnine," or even how to tell which "she" is featuring in which part (or maybe it's an infinite regression of shes writing shes writing shes...) or what the paw and pursuit are supposed to convey. I find myself facing that age-old dilemma of agreeing that the story might unpack itself more with multiple readings but not enjoying it enough to bother reading it again. I was struck by her commenting on an "aura of serene iciness" as the tonal approach she was shooting for, which is extremely accurate so far; her prose is almost Evensonian in its clinical coldness (to a fault, I might argue).

The colonialist reading of "Rabbit Island" occurred to me too, but I can't claim the internet allegory did. Very interesting! I liked that as much as the non-inventor claimed to hate the city and wanted to be alone in nature instead, he actually despises nature as well - the bugs, the rotting trees, the feral birds, etc. Navarro seems pretty fixated on alienation, characters with "harebrained" ideas being (or choosing to be) ostracized, and finding new languages and epistemologies through non-inventions, missing letters, human-rabbits, meta-fiction, etc.

I don't know anything about Navarro and her reading habits or how plugged in to the canon of weird fiction she is, but I wonder how much (if any) of this story was in homage to "The Willows," what with its city dweller floating out among riparian islands infested with uncanny plants ("How did that spindly wood support so many branches, heavy with leaves?"), the dead body submerged in the water with wounds on its back, etc.

Zach wrote: "I was struck by her commenting on an "aura of serene iciness" as the tonal approach she was shooting for, which is extremely accurate so far; her prose is almost Evensonian in its clinical coldness (to a fault, I might argue). ..."

I agree and wonder how much of this is due to translation. It's possible that an effectively icy tone in the Spanish original could be rendered too clinical through the process of translation. For me, Evenson's stripped-down prose works because of his diction and sentence composition. Maybe some of Navarro's quirks in the original were either unintentionally or unavoidably ironed out by the translator.

"characters with "harebrained" ideas"

Touché!

A very good point and always a source of trepidation with translated works, knowing that none of it actually flows or reads the way the author originally conceived - of course the alternative of reading only English works is no real alternative at all.

I enjoyed the ambivalent teenage social dynamics and unreliable memories of "Regression". (I'm such a sucker for unreliable memories in fiction.) The heavy old woman floating in the air creeps me out.

Funny Navarro mentions ska. I only know Calavera means skull because there was (is?) a ska band with a skull logo called something like Scalavera (get it? get it?) I'm not sure what all this adds up to, but I certainly had fun.

"Paris Peripherie": huh?

Bill wrote: ""Paris Peripherie": huh?"

I liked it. I miss getting lost!

I'm with Nathanimal, I miss getting lost in cities I don't know well and thought that one did a good job of conveying the monotonous landscape of the inner suburbs and the frustration of not being able to match map with reality (there's that representation vs reality theme of hers again).

"Regression" hit me similarly to "Strychnine" - good enough, but I doubt it will stick with me to speak of.

I'll have to give Bill's "huh?" to "Myotragus" rather than PP - I found the former interesting only in its deconstructed-vampire elements - no idea what relationship to draw between the two sections (presumably the modern couple were eating a mouse-goat, but...?). Predation and prey is another theme she returns to often.

Upon reading "Myotragus" I had to look it up. Yes, it's a real creature (or was), an example of "island dwarfing," and not just dwarfing, but other weirdnesses, too, like displacement of the eyes and the monstrous jaw. It's another example, like the rabbits, of the strangeness—an estrangement from our own nature—that results from isolation. The woman in the first segment is another example. After all that antisocial behavior she confesses, as though to explain, she's been alone too long.

It's been a long time since I had much social contact with others. Last week I went to a backyard bbq. I felt so incredibly awkward. I was trying to have a conversation with someone I hadn't seen in many months and all that came out of my mouth were mouse-goat bleats.

Ahh, good catch. All true of the archduke as well, of course.

I definitely have no idea how to be in a social situation anymore and look forward to blathering about nonexistent floating grandmas to uncomprehending acquaintances.

By Xavier Vázquez - Cosmo Caixa, Barcelona, Public Domain, Link

Oooh, that mouse-goat is a nutty looking creature. I didn't catch the vampire references, but I'm terrible at these things unless they involve ska bands.

I enjoyed "Myotragus" ok, unusual meat preparation and all, but can't say I need to scrutinize it again for nuggets of insight. (What will Navarro be cooking up after rabbit and goat?)

"Notes on the Architecture of Hell" seems more clogged with less interesting events, but I can be very grumpy with a bedtime story.

Yesterday I came across this:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/zbuB6othiQV...

I got very excited; the rabbits are proliferating! But I was off by an r. I suppose the rarbbits might also proliferate.

Haha. This took me a sec. The abbots are proliferating?

Nathanimal wrote: "The abbots are proliferating?"
Them too. It's only fair.

A gal steps away for a day and y'all are planning wild parties and flinging around brilliant insights! That's why I love this place ;-)

Just a note: I've finished the book and I really liked it. Probably more than most here (I suspect Nathanimal likes it in the same way I did, though). While I have quibbles about the structure of the stories (too many weak, excessively ambiguous endings), I felt this collection really showcased a interesting voice, one quite distinct from a lot of contemporary Spanish literature, perhaps more closely aligned to Latin American work, and one that really focuses on female experience, something, again, not as common in translated Spanish literature as in that of Latin America. I also enjoyed the fact that here we have a madrileña (as is made so clear in some of these stories, especially 'The Architecture of Hell' and 'The Top Floor Room'), as so much of the contemporary "Spanish" fiction translated into English is actually in Catalan and centered around Barcelona, or is regional in focus.

And now, on to some individual responses:

Zach wrote: "I don't know anything about Navarro and her reading habits or how plugged in to the canon of weird fiction she is, but I wonder how much (if any) of this story was in homage to "The Willows," what with its city dweller floating out among riparian islands infested with uncanny plants ("How did that spindly wood support so many branches, heavy with leaves?"), the dead body submerged in the water with wounds on its back, etc."

Oh! That's a really good reading. I've read both Blackwood's story and an extended riff on it recently and think this may well be inspired by it, even if only by accident and tangentially.

I also love Nathanimal's ideas re: the internet and need to think more deeply on them. I'm currently reading Maël Renouard's Fragments of an Infinite Memory and this seems serendipitous. (The internet pops up explicitly in this collection in "Memorial".)

It's interesting to me that at least a few readers here found Navarro's voice "chilly". I have to admit that I did not feel that while reading these works, although I can see the comparisons with Evenson on reflection. What I find in both writers is clarity-a sort of unapologetic willingness to look at things without a filter, without sentimentality but not necessarily without warmth. Something I don't find in Evenson but that is clearly an obsession with Navarro is food and eating. The way food and eating are presented in this collection is distinctly weird and pretty horrific, not because Navarro writes anything specifically "gross" or horrifying but because she looks at food and eating in such a straight-on, dead-pan way. Although her eaters are often sophisticated and specific in their tastes, this isn't about cuisine or gastro-tourism; it's clearly gormandizing-it's all about ingestion and it feels unsettling and slightly uncivilized because of that focus.

I don't find Navarro's voice chilly either. And I agree with M-T on the Evenson comparisons. It's a quiet voice, very matter-of-fact, that lets events (possibly confusing and horrific) speak for themselves.

I think "The Top Floor Room" and "Memorial" are two of the stronger stories in the collection. In the former, we again enjoy Navarro's preoccupation with food and food preparation, in all its (again!) shabby glory. The protagonist's interpretation of dreams and surreal hotel events would also not be out-of-place in Evenson. And I love the unsettling social media engagements in "Memorial", though I'm not sure I'm totally happy with the ending.

Next up is "Gums" (another possibly food-themed title, hmm), singled out by Rita. Looking forward to it!

Thoughts on April's monthly read?
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...

"Gums" also revolves around an unhappy couple (sorry Zach). But it adds a dose of body horror, so maybe that will help. Character motivations and interactions are again ambivalent and open-ended, and there's a quiet spaciousness in a lot of the writing. I find all this quite attractive, though I don't think it's up to the lofty bar of my favorites like Joy Williams.

The last story, "The Fortune Teller", was pleasant enough. I like all the message passing, but can't say it really came together for me.

In general, Navarro's writing reminds me somewhat of the gentle urban surrealism of Dorothy Tse; but Navarro's prose is more precise and avoids some of what I consider blunders in Tse's work. Or maybe Navarro just has a better translator. She also has more grit and blood, which I appreciate.

I agree with Rita that 'Gums' was worth the wait. I'd like to see an entire Navarro collection written in that vein. 'Gums' and the title story ended up as my favorites. I also liked the 'merging dreams and waking life' concept of 'The Top Floor Room'.

Overall I thought this was a good collection, if a bit uneven in quality and more divergent in style than I prefer. But that is so often the case with short fiction collections that I try to give lenience to a writer based on what I find to be the stronger stories in a given collection.

(I read the ebook edition and found quite a few typos and missing words- just curious if this was restricted to that edition?)

S̶e̶a̶n̶ wrote: "(I read the ebook edition and found quite a few typos and missing words- just curious if this was restricted to that edition?)"

Interesting. I have the hardcover (with a nice embossed cover!) and didn't catch a lot of obvious typos/omissions. If you pull a few examples, I can check.

Bill wrote: "In general, Navarro's writing reminds me somewhat of the gentle urban surrealism of Dorothy Tse; but Navarro's prose is more precise and avoids some of what I consider blunders in Tse's work. Or maybe Navarro just has a better translator. She also has more grit and blood, which I appreciate".

Interesting observation re: Dorothy Tse, Bill. I've only read Snow and Shadow and that was some time ago and in translation but I think I see where you're coming from and also agree that Navarro is considerably grittier and, in general, I liked this collection much more than Tse's.

I agree with both you and S̶e̶a̶n̶ that this is an uneven collection (the first story being the nadir for me) but I found most of it engrossing enough that, even when frustrated by what seemed like too many arbitrarily ambiguous endings, I felt the need to keep on reading and even wished the volume had been a bit longer. I plan to read Navarro's novel A Working Woman very soon and have perused her blog, Periferia, which explores the neighborhoods of Madrid, with some pleasure.

Bill wrote: "S̶e̶a̶n̶ wrote: "(I read the ebook edition and found quite a few typos and missing words- just curious if this was restricted to that edition?)"

Interesting. I have the hardcover (with a nice embo..."

Just a couple of examples (since the page numbers won't match up): in the first story, fourth paragraph about halfway it says 'course-featured' instead of 'coarse-featured'. And in the last story, second paragraph a few sentences down it says 'relinquishinng'.

S̶e̶a̶n̶ wrote: "in the first story, fourth paragraph about halfway it says 'course-featured' instead of 'coarse-featured'. And in the last story, second paragraph a few sentences down it says 'relinquishinng'."
Guilty on both counts, S̶e̶a̶n̶! I must have been lulled by that pretty cover.

Marie-Therese wrote: "I plan to read Navarro's novel A Working Woman very soon..."

Look forward to your review, M-T! Especially about the woman with the gay dwarf boyfriend, whew.

'Notes on the Architecture of Hell' was an impediment for me. Long meandering expository flashbacks are a form that generally don't work for me. And this was a particularly long and meandering one.

But I loved 'The Top Room Floor.' Yes, Bill, so much shabbiness. Definitely a story I'll revisit.

Poll is up:
https://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/2...

Reminder: if you vote for a book and it wins, you are committing to participate in the discussion.

Please vote by Friday 4/2!

Update: for our April 2021 monthly read poll, Jen points out that the Patrick Beltran anthology is actually not available as an ebook:
https://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/2...

(The Patricia Tillie is available in the Kindle store.)

Reminder: please vote by Friday 4/2. If you vote for a book and it wins, you are committing to participate in the discussion.

I have twice now written out some thoughts on the later stories in the book and then closed out of the window or shut down my computer without actually posting or saving them.

I think I was overall cooler on the book than most here, although I agree with everyone (I think?) that "Gums" was one of the best stories in the collection, in some ways a reworking of that bad first story to make the same setup/themes actually compelling and interesting. I didn't even mind the bickering couple!

Overall I'm glad to have read that one, the title story, "Paris Peripherie" and, perhaps most of all, "Memorial," which seemed to me the perfect distillation of Navarro's alienated characters and representation/facsimile vs reality. Who would've guessed "haunted Facebook profile" would have worked so well? It was almost like a postmodern capital-R Romantic work, with the internet standing in for Nature, sublime and unknowable and yet aesthetically reflecting the main character's emotional state back at her. I agree with Bill that the end wasn't totally satisfactory, but endings don't seem to be her strong suit in general.

Zach wrote: "I didn't even mind the bickering couple!"

Quite an endorsement!