Dallas William Mayr, better known by his pen name Jack Ketchum, was an American horror fiction author. He was the recipient of four Bram Stoker Awards and three further nominations. His novels included Off Season, Offspring, and Red, which were adapted to film. In 2011, Ketchum received the World Horror Convention Grand Master Award for outstanding contribution to the horror genre.
A onetime actor, teacher, literary agent, lumber salesman, and soda jerk, Ketchum credited his childhood love of Elvis Presley, dinosaurs, and horror for getting him through his formative years. He began making up stories at a young age and explained that he spent much time in his room, or in the woods near his house, down by the brook: "[m]y interests [were] books, comics, movies, rock 'n roll, show tunes, TV, dinosaurs [...] pretty much any activity that didn't demand too much socializing, or where I could easily walk away from socializing." He would make up stories using his plastic soldiers, knights, and dinosaurs as the characters.
Later, in his teen years, Ketchum was befriended by Robert Bloch, author of Psycho, who became his mentor.
Ketchum worked many different jobs before completing his first novel (1980's controversial Off Season), including acting as agent for novelist Henry Miller at Scott Meredith Literary Agency.
His decision to eventually concentrate on novel writing was partly fueled by a preference for work that offered stability and longevity.
Ketchum died of cancer on January 24, 2018, in New York City at the age of 71.
Please never let me reach the point in my career when I feel that I must validate myself as a "literary" writer by producing overwritten, pretentious claptrap. Please let me always find contentment in being the best at whatever it is that I truly am - and if that's simply a pulpy horror writer of dubious literary merit, then may I accept my fate with grace.
Amen.
Two stories here:
"Papa", by Ketchum, is the stronger of the two, and is only ten pages long. A man is mistaken for Hemingway and invited back to a guy's apartment to partake in some absinthe. This literary tale likely holds little of interest for the average Ketchum fan as it has ZERO horror/weird tale elements, but at least it feels honest in its telling. Ketchum has a strong sure voice, and I fault him not a bit for whatever inspired him to write this tale that would be right at home in the pages of the New Yorker magazine.
"Bleeding Things" by Lebbon is a different matter entirely. It absolutely reeks of desperation, and I can picture the author wearing a t-shirt that says "take me seriously!" in a big bold font across the chest. Some would say it's beautifully written, and if your aspirations as a reader involve a trip down Erudite Lane then you might not mind perpetuating the fraud on display here. The language is flowing and beautiful at first glance, but it doesn't take long for the baroque facade to disintegrate into the gaudy and garish. This confused tale of war-torn Berlin, a woman who drinks absinthe and bleeds gold, strives for the sublime and achieves the absurd.
A chapbook of two short stories, with the theme of the old liquor Absinthe. The first story "Papa," by Ketchum, is about a man while in a bar confuses another patron as being Ernest Hemingway. The patron amused by the guy and heads back to his place for a drink of Absinthe, which produces hallucinations, and then the story gets weird.
The second story "Bleeding Things," by Lebbon, is about a allied spy in Germany, who has lost his memory because shrapnel in his head. His salvation is a jewish woman prisoner who is kept alive because she bleeds gold, when under the influence of absinthe. This was the better of the two stories, but both were of very good quality. this was a good read!