The Zombies by Donald Barthelme

"There are good zombies and bad zombies. Gris Grue said so."

If there is another author other than Ray Bradbury who can help me get out of this severe reading and writing slump, it would probably be Donald Barthelme. I didn't want to pigeon-hole myself into only reading scary horror short-stories this month. The horror comedy subgenre doesn't nearly get enough recognition but is even more difficult to pull off effectively. Sure, there have been several great movie/tv horror comedies over the years like Shaun of the Dead or What We do in the Shadows, but I don't recall coming across many memorable horror comedy short-stories. 

"The Zombies" by Donald Barthelme is so unique, absurd, clever, surreal and just pure vintage Bartheleme in all his satirical glory. This is no mere subversion of a familiar horror archetype, this is an author at the height of his imaginative powers, giving us something that feels less like a story and more like a bizarre, darkly funny thought experiment. Barthelme doesn’t just invite us to laugh at the undead—he compels us to empathize with them, turning our typical expectations on their heads and laughing at his own genre-defying creation along the way.

The story thrives on absurdity but never feels gimmicky like it’s trying too hard, which is what makes Barthelme such a master. He takes a concept as overplayed as zombies and breathes fresh, strange life into it with humor that’s as silly as it is profound. There’s a delightful dissonance here, where disturbing moments meant to chill instead make you chuckle, and the existential crisis of these undead characters is treated with a levity that somehow makes it hit harder.

Barthelme’s prose is the real highlight, like a jazz musician on a caffeine kick – unpredictable, sly, and filled with deadpan humor that’s at once clever and totally ridiculous. This shouldn't work and would be a mess in lesser hands yet, somehow it all works. Each sentence has a punchline simmering beneath it, and his zombies don’t stumble so much as philosophize their way through their humdrum existence. The narrative is spiked with satirical digs at modern culture, social conventions, traditions, relationships and media with a touch of literary madness that makes you want to double-check if you've really just read what you thought you did.

Ultimately, "The Zombies" is a reminder that horror can be many things—it can unsettle, amuse, even philosophize. Barthelme does it all with a wink and a smile, making this story a must-read for anyone looking to shake up their usual horror fare. This is the kind of story that leaves an impression, the sort you’ll think about long after you’ve read it, chuckling to yourself and wondering just how Barthelme pulled it off so effortlessly.

You can read this story HERE.

The October Game by Ray Bradbury

 

Bones, bones, rattlin' dem bones!

October is almost over and my Spooktacular reading challenge is on the verge of becoming a total bust. Granted, I did end up reading a few scary short-stories this month but lacked the mental capacity to write any reflections about them. if there is one author that might help me get out of this slump, it is Ray Bradbury. "The October Game" seemed like the perfect fit in terms of the title and taking place on Halloween. 

The author should be commended on slowly building up the sense of dread and creating a palpable tension until the sinister finale. Bradbury doesn’t rely on overt scares or cheap thrills; instead, he skillfully uses atmosphere and psychological paranoia to drive the narrative. What starts off as an innocent Halloween night in the suburbs, becomes increasingly unsettling, especially once the father figure takes everyone down into the dark cellar to play a game called "The Witch is Dead."

Bradbury peels back the layers of an unhappy nuclear family, revealing a darkness simmering beneath their carefully constructed facades, particularly in the dynamic between father and daughter. His ability to expose the sinister within the ordinary is quintessential Bradbury, and in “The October Game,” this talent is on full display.

The story reminds us that the most scary monsters aren’t lurking in dark corners—they may be seated right at the family dinner table. Bradbury doesn’t rely on supernatural horror but on a more visceral, psychological dread manifesting into unspeakable madness. 

And that bone-chilling final line...

Well played Mr. Bradbury, well played.

Bite-Sized Nightmares: Quick Scary Reads for the Halloween Season!

During the spooktacular month of October, I’ve set out on a mission to devour as many spine-chilling horror short stories as I can get my hands on. Not only is it the perfect way to embrace the eerie vibes of the season, but I’m also hoping it will reignite my passion for reading again, which took a nosedive near the end of May. 

Below is a list of some haunting titles I plan to tackle (some might be re-readers). If you have any favorite spooky short stories of your own, I’d love to hear your recommendations—feel free to drop them below in the comments!

• Nightmare magazine
• The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe
• Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe
• The Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe
• The October Country by Ray Bradbury
• Zombies by Donald Barthelme
• The Summer People by Shirley Jackson
• Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (Edited by Jordan Peele)
• The Yattering and Jack by Clive Barker (Books of Blood Collection)
• midnight Meat Train by Clive Barker (online)
• In the Hills, the cities by Clive Barker (online)
• Pig Blood Blues by Clive Barker
• The White People by Arthur Machen (online
• The Willow by Algernon Blackwood
• Thomas Ligotti (Anthology)
• The Thing on the Doorstep by H.P. Lovecraft
• Death and Suffrage by Dale Bailey (online)
• Whisper by Ray Vukcevich (online)
• In a Cavern, in a Canyon by Laird Barron (online)
• Do you love me by Peter Carey
• The Screwfly Solution by Racoona Sheldon 
• Raphael by Stephen Graham Jones
• Sanctified and Chicken-Fried by Joe Lansdale (available online through UTL)
• Monkeys Paw by W.W. Jacobs
• Lacrimosa by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (online)

Dr. A.H. Moynihan by Lucia Berlin

Mirror! Mirror!

Blood...so much blood. The grotesque and absurd collide in this darkly humorous coming-of-age tale where the vivid descriptions of tooth extractions are so exaggerated that they verge on camp. In "Dr. A.H. Moynihan", the narrator reflects on their youth when she was expelled from Catholic school and went to work at her grandfather's dental office during the summer (she is possibly the same narrator from "Stars and Saints"). Lucia Berlin's witty and economic prose is always reliable to keep the narrative flowing at a quick pace.  

The grandfather figure is an alcoholic and a curmudgeon who is estranged from his own daughter. It is implied that he might be have been abusive to her growing up. He is also a racist: "On all the windows, facing the main street of El Paso, were large gold letters that read, "Dr. H.A. Moynihan. I Don't Work for Negroes." The story's casual racism towards black people is disconcerting and difficult to overlook.  

The main comedic set piece involves the unqualified narrator performing oral surgery on the grandfather to remove his remaining teeth and install dentures. It is very chaotic and unfolds like a slapstick comedy with the narrator frantically trying not to kill the grandfather in the process, while blood is spraying everywhere. The entire scene is quite graphic and utterly absurd but the humor somehow manages to humanize the flawed characters, especially the grandfather. This is certainly one of my least favorite Lucia Berlin stories but she always impresses me with the her skillful use of humor that contributes to the sense of verisimilitude. Life is rarely devoid of humor, even in its most intense and absurd circumstances. 

My Jockey by Lucia Berlin

Secretariat, at the Kentucky Derby circa 1973.

I have mentioned Lucia Berlin's talent for minimalism before in other reviews, but "My Jockey" really took me by surprise as to how concise and quick it reads. The story's brevity, driven by lightning-fast prose, ensures that it concludes almost before the reader can fully immerse themselves in its eccentric premise: a nurse is assigned by hospital management to solely attend injured jockeys in the ER because she speaks Spanish and most of them are Mexican. Racial stereotypes aside, the entire scenario is quite comical and even poignant as she takes on a motherly role of caring for the injured jockey: "Munoz lay there, unconscious, a miniature Aztec God." Despite the absurd and unusual situation, she makes the best of it and even forms an emotional attachment to him. There is this very funny and tender moment where she is carrying him in her arms down the hospital hallway for surgery and is described as King Kong. Lucia Berlin's blend of absurdity, situational humor, and irony, offers a refreshing peak into the absurdity found within the medical profession.

The Phantom of the Opera's Friend by Donald Barthelme

Sing once again with me, our strange duet / My power over you grows stronger yet.

In the literary realm of Donald Barthelme's short stories, a recurring motif emerges—the portrayal of the tortured artist, often relegated to the margins of society. Among his works, 'The Phantom of the Opera's Friend' is probably one of the more explicit and poignant explorations into this thematic terrain. It also has that playful, quirky and absurdist humor that makes it such an enjoyable read. 

The narrator, his friend, is conflicted. He recognizes the Phantom's prodigious talent as an artist/musician but would also like to help this tragic figure emerge from the shadows and assimilate back into society: "His situation is simple and terrible. He must decide whether to risk life aboveground or to remain forever in hiding, in the cellars of the Opera." Of course, the friend acknowledges his selfish inclinations, even feeling guilty at times for being associated with such a melodramatic companion. 

If the Phantom represents misunderstood art, then perhaps he could also be a stand in for Barthelme himself. Post-modernism as a radical literary art form subverts narrative conventions and is therefore not easily accepted by the general readership or literary critics. As the narrator astutely observes regarding his conversation with the Phantom, although this commentary can also extend to the the stagnation in art: "Everything that can be said has been said many times." Hence, Barthelme seems to be expressing his frustration with the limitations of language that has been reduced to clichés but it is the artist's goal to transform it into something new.

The sense of loss in the final paragraph is palpable but also quite comedic: "I will wait here for a hundred years. Or until the hot meat of romance is cooled by the dull gravy of common sense once more." How does Barthelme come up with such ingenious phraseology? It's absolutely brilliant! Much like the narrator, many of us will continue the endless search for great art that pushes the boundaries of creative imagination and offers something fresh, exciting, and innovative. The metafictional twist here is that greatness is not some distant concept to seek out; it's all right here, within the very words of Barthelme's story that you are reading.

Now, I can't get the Phantom of the Opera theme song out of my head...not that it's a bad thing.

You can read this story HERE.

The President by Donald Barthelme

Maestro!

"The President" by Donald Barthelme is another bizarre and experimental political satire that is wildly uneven. The mysterious figure is an enigma, shrouded in ambiguity. We do learn a few things though: there is a "strangeness" about him, a powerful aura that causes people to faint in his presence, he is obsessed with death and loves attending the opera. The narrator repeats several times that he is "not entirely sympathetic" to the president who seems to have gained political power and influence through his charming personality and more disturbingly, propaganda. Yet, in times of crisis, many believe that he is the answer to all of the world's problems: 

"But everyone is convinced that he will bring it off. Our exhausted age wishes above everything to plunge into the heart of the problem, to be able to say, Here is the difficulty. And the new President, that tiny, strange, and brilliant man, seems cankered and difficult enough to take us there."

This sounds a lot like the he could be a fascist dictator. The surreal ending with the President making a surprise appearance at the opera house is wildly absurd. Everyone is cheering for him with rapturous enthusiasm and unable to contain their excitement, jump into the orchestra pit (a metaphor for descending into the pits of hell?). During the thunderous applause and commotion, the narrator provides a small detail that is quite chilling: "The president was smiling in his box." There is something nefarious about that smile amidst the chaos unfolding below in the pit below. 

The Indian Uprising by Donald Barthelme

 

"We defended the city as best we could."

If you want a prime example of Donald Barthelme's postmodernist and experimental style, look no further than "The Indian Uprising." There is one line in the story that encapsulates the author's artistic philosophy: "Strings of language extend in every direction to bind the world into a rushing, ribald whole." Indeed, the deconstruction of language in fiction, often results in disorientation, ambiguity, and overlapping perspectives, which is what we get here. The subjective "I" is destabilized by the non-linear and fragmented narrative structure, which unfolds in a surreal montage. This is one of those confusing stories that is challenging to comprehend on a first reading because it blatantly rejects the narrative conventions of plot, or character development. 

The underlying themes of racism, colonization and genocide are obfuscated by the disintegration of  language itself and replaced by the author's self-conscious and metafictional approach. Donald Barthelme embraces parody and contemporizing the Western genre mythology that often ignores the extermination of indigenous people. The social and political commentary is most pronounced through absurdist humor that coincides with the surreal nature of the story. For example, narrator is preoccupied with building a table while the city is being stormed by "Red men in waves." At first glance, the explicit racism might come across as offensive but it actually reinforces the story's criticism of colonization that dehumanizes the oppressed. Much like the battles in this story, the breakdown of communication creates a swirling vortex of entropy, burying the narrative in piles of debris. Nevertheless, the convoluted narrative and chaotic storytelling approach presented a formidable challenge to fully grasp the many layers of meaning. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that this story is completely bonkers and much of the subtext went over my head. Perhaps with subsequent readings, I will gain gain a deeper appreciation for it. 

The Educational Experience by Donald Barthelme

God help us, we're in the hands of engineers.

The first person narrator is a teacher and he has taken his students on a museum school trip. Surrounded by history, knowledge and relics of the past, this should be a great learning opportunity to spark their imaginations. Not quite. 

Donald Barthelme's "The Educational Experience" by Donald Barthelme makes for a great companion piece to both "Me and Miss Mandible" and "The School". All three short-stories are satires of the education system as not only a meaningless waste of time for teaching children important life skills, but also systemically trains them to become another drone in an oppressive capitalist society. At one point, the narrator even describes their learning akin to army drills. The author's disjointed narrative is overflowing with nonsense and pure absurdity--a mirror image of the world these young children will have to face once they finish their schooling. The irony, of course, is that they will be ill-equipped or oblivious to the machinations of a world gone topsy-turvy. 

The narrative structure is built upon erudite digressions and incongruities. For example, in outlining various lesson plans, he states: "We made the students add odd figures, things like 453498 x 23: J and 8977?22MARY." More gibberish taught in schools that has no practical application to the so-called real world. As the class visits the different museum exhibitions, he interjects with sardonic commentary along the way: "Here is a diode, learn what to do with it. Here is Du Guesclin, constable of France 1370-80--learn what to do with him. A divan is either a long cushioned seat or a council of state--figure out at which times it is what." Once again, students are compelled to study a myriad of irrelevant subjects and clutter their minds with futile information. However, the teacher emphasizes the importance of this higher learning:

"But what a wonderful time you'll have, we told them, when the experience is over, done, completed. You will all, we told them, be more beautiful than you are now, and more employable too. You will have a grasp of the total situation; the total situation will have a grasp of you."

This paragraph is indicative of the author's harsh critique and caustic satire of the corrupt education system. The surreal aspects of the story also add to the confusion and distorted reality; a warped perception of the world enmeshed in chaotic misunderstanding,