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Descended Suns Resuscitate
The tales in this collection come from a different from a love of dead words and dust, of sun-faded photographs and the smell of old books. They come from the joy of exploring the works and thoughts and worlds of all those long-dead others before us, the populations of that foreign country where, as L.P. Hartley so perfectly observed, ‘…they do things differently…’. But to delve into their remnants, to fire them again with new passion—is like reanimating ashes, a sort of philologic necromancy. So many former ways of writing, thinking, speaking, singing, loving, being, may be lost to the world, transient as sunset, but I believe that something of their spirit can be stirred again.— Avalon Brantley
- GenresHorror
180 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
April 18, 2020
Avalon Brantley, taken before her time. Before her passing, the author had been steadily carving out a niche for herself in the modern weird fiction world, one that focused on understanding the ways of the often ancient past through that genre's dark and obscure lens. Brantley's talents are on display with this collection: a strong ability to establish place and time, a facility with focusing on the minutiae in order to give specificity to her tales of the past, and a subtlety in illustrating how her stories are but one of many in a larger backdrop, and often indicative of how callous time and ruthless history will inevitably march on, scattering little lives in their wake. We are but purposeless leaves blowing in the wind! Her challenges are also on display: occasionally overwritten internal monologues, an over-reliance on hyperbolic punctuation (e.g. "?!"), and a certain pretentiousness that often plagues writers in this genre, from the unknown to the greats. That said, those flaws are minor and would no doubt have been conquered if we had had more time with her on this plane of existence. Overall this is an absorbing collection. Rest in peace, Avalon!
"The Way of Flames": in micro, the thermae of Rome are described; in macro, Rome's fall proceeds.
"Hognissaga": in micro, a bloody song is sung; in macro, evil proves eternal in the Rhineland.
"The Dunwich Catharsis": in micro, Dr John Dee receives a visitor; in macro, the Cathars are doomed, yet again.
"Regretting Pond": in micro, fieldwork and black magic bear fruit; in macro, serfs of provincial France toil and die.
"The Last Sheaf": in micro, a race is run; in macro, archaic Germanic harvest traditions continue.
"Kali-Yuga": in micro, an international flight is taken; in macro, the Age of Iron draws to a bloody close.
"The Way of Flames": in micro, the thermae of Rome are described; in macro, Rome's fall proceeds.
"Hognissaga": in micro, a bloody song is sung; in macro, evil proves eternal in the Rhineland.
"The Dunwich Catharsis": in micro, Dr John Dee receives a visitor; in macro, the Cathars are doomed, yet again.
"Regretting Pond": in micro, fieldwork and black magic bear fruit; in macro, serfs of provincial France toil and die.
"The Last Sheaf": in micro, a race is run; in macro, archaic Germanic harvest traditions continue.
"Kali-Yuga": in micro, an international flight is taken; in macro, the Age of Iron draws to a bloody close.
July 4, 2022
I had heard rumors about Brantley, but only read a couple of short stories before getting my hands on Descended Suns Resuscitate thanks to Zagava Books' publication of the collection in paperback. As others have pointed out, she sprang on the scene with 2013's Aornos to immediate acclaim. As one other reviewer states,
Avalon seemed to spring forth onto the scene like Athena from the head of Zeus, fully-formed and at the height of her powers
. This volume is a testament to the breadth of her writing prowess and a sad vision of what might have been, as she passed away at the age of 36. I have a (again, paperback) copy of The House of Silence, which I am definitely looking forward to reading after having enjoyed this volume so greatly. My only wish is that she had lived longer and that we could have seen the full growth of her substantial talent.
Before the fall of the Roman empire was its decline. We are thrust headlong into this decline in "The Way of Flames," an incredibly-well researched tale of corruption and, ultimately, collapse. The story is immersive, one feels what it would be like to be on the edge of a civilization that is about to be plunged into utter random chaos and oblivion. I now may have learned everything I need to know about Rome.
I dare not reveal too much about "Hognissaga". Though the subject matter might be a subject of which I have lost interest long ago, Brantley has enjindled a flame in me with this story. I was nearly as surprised as the young prince in the tale. But I can't tell you why, for fear of . . . No, I've already said too much, even if in vagiries. Oh yes, the mis-spelling is intentional.
John Dee meets a demon in "The Dunwich Catharsis," but not the kind of Renaissance demon one might expect. The story is a nested framework of letters, books, and conversations about a heretical Christian sect replete with revelations aplenty, both light and dark. A fabulous tale that gives one pause and sends the reader to the history books to peel away fact from fiction, if such a thing is even possible.
Love meets necromancy meets revenge in "The Regretting Pond". But what is the emotional toll of one who weaves such a web of vengeance. Can satisfaction ever come from justice's answers to tragedy? Or are some festering wounds, no matter how ill-deserved, best left to rot? Moral ambiguity abounds in this tale of love lost. Who is justified in their taking from another? There are more questions than answers here.
"The Last Sheaf" is a folk horror story with all the expected tropes. Not as evocative as the other stories thus far, it is still "effective". Had I not read a fair amount of folk horror lately, I might not be as jaded about it. It's very well-written, with enough twists to set it apart from many stories of its ilk. But nothing spectacular. Still, I'm glad I read it.
"The Window Widows" is a Scottish ghost story par excellence. Perfectly told, when it needed to be, and perfectly untold at just the right moments. Brantley paints with a chiaroscuro-heavy brush here, and it works amazingly well. This is the kind of short story writers of the "weird" should aspire to. A perfect economy of "weird" and "eerie" in a credulous, if sublimely-poetic, voice.
Take, for instance, this description, which sets the absolutely spectral undertone for this chilling tale:
The day that followed was hardly fit to be called so. Heavy clouds blanketed the close tangles of leafbare trees nearest the house, turning the world into vague shapes and textures, and when the wind rose up it seemed to rip shreds of the fog and send them fleeing across the world, like ghaists in flight from a greater ghaist ,or perhaps born therefrom.
Brantley assumes the persona of an avatar of the dread goddess Kali in "Kali Yuga: This Dark and Present Age". It's a piece of social existentialism bordering on despair for modernity and its paramours. The voice is beautiful, with echoes of Beckett and Burroughs, with all the darkness engendered in the same names. But it is clearly Brantley's own apocryphal tale which, like Beckett and Burroughs, no one will heed.
An afterword by Brantley gives the provenience of each story. She lays out the influences for each story and gives some insight into her writerly process. A valuable scrying stone into the work of a writer who was taken from the world far too soon.
Before the fall of the Roman empire was its decline. We are thrust headlong into this decline in "The Way of Flames," an incredibly-well researched tale of corruption and, ultimately, collapse. The story is immersive, one feels what it would be like to be on the edge of a civilization that is about to be plunged into utter random chaos and oblivion. I now may have learned everything I need to know about Rome.
I dare not reveal too much about "Hognissaga". Though the subject matter might be a subject of which I have lost interest long ago, Brantley has enjindled a flame in me with this story. I was nearly as surprised as the young prince in the tale. But I can't tell you why, for fear of . . . No, I've already said too much, even if in vagiries. Oh yes, the mis-spelling is intentional.
John Dee meets a demon in "The Dunwich Catharsis," but not the kind of Renaissance demon one might expect. The story is a nested framework of letters, books, and conversations about a heretical Christian sect replete with revelations aplenty, both light and dark. A fabulous tale that gives one pause and sends the reader to the history books to peel away fact from fiction, if such a thing is even possible.
Love meets necromancy meets revenge in "The Regretting Pond". But what is the emotional toll of one who weaves such a web of vengeance. Can satisfaction ever come from justice's answers to tragedy? Or are some festering wounds, no matter how ill-deserved, best left to rot? Moral ambiguity abounds in this tale of love lost. Who is justified in their taking from another? There are more questions than answers here.
"The Last Sheaf" is a folk horror story with all the expected tropes. Not as evocative as the other stories thus far, it is still "effective". Had I not read a fair amount of folk horror lately, I might not be as jaded about it. It's very well-written, with enough twists to set it apart from many stories of its ilk. But nothing spectacular. Still, I'm glad I read it.
"The Window Widows" is a Scottish ghost story par excellence. Perfectly told, when it needed to be, and perfectly untold at just the right moments. Brantley paints with a chiaroscuro-heavy brush here, and it works amazingly well. This is the kind of short story writers of the "weird" should aspire to. A perfect economy of "weird" and "eerie" in a credulous, if sublimely-poetic, voice.
Take, for instance, this description, which sets the absolutely spectral undertone for this chilling tale:
The day that followed was hardly fit to be called so. Heavy clouds blanketed the close tangles of leafbare trees nearest the house, turning the world into vague shapes and textures, and when the wind rose up it seemed to rip shreds of the fog and send them fleeing across the world, like ghaists in flight from a greater ghaist ,or perhaps born therefrom.
Brantley assumes the persona of an avatar of the dread goddess Kali in "Kali Yuga: This Dark and Present Age". It's a piece of social existentialism bordering on despair for modernity and its paramours. The voice is beautiful, with echoes of Beckett and Burroughs, with all the darkness engendered in the same names. But it is clearly Brantley's own apocryphal tale which, like Beckett and Burroughs, no one will heed.
An afterword by Brantley gives the provenience of each story. She lays out the influences for each story and gives some insight into her writerly process. A valuable scrying stone into the work of a writer who was taken from the world far too soon.
April 16, 2017
Densely ethereal, the language and the cadence hypnotizes. And yet the deeper you sink the quicker the narrative's current carries you. Or like a flower: immediately bold, an assault to the senses, but shot through with delicate subtleties—curvatures and textures—that haunt you.
Each story has its unique time and place—from Norse mead halls, to the library of John Dee, to the Post-9/11 Western world—as well as distinctive archetypes including vampires, cults and witchcraft. But they all share a sense of antiquity (even the modern tales), imbuing in the reader a concomitant respect for the tale as well as its telling, as if it has a legacy and you are participating in its perpetuation.
Absolutely magical.
July 19, 2016
What great attention to detail given. Unique stories for the more mature and educated pallet. The writing alone was quite impressive too and that's exactly the point. Brantley knows how to hold the attention of the reader and I will be reading more.
Don't be fooled by the three stars, pay heed to my words instead. The only reason I've given three rather than the four is because personally it always takes time for me to get acquainted with the stylings of authors.
Don't be fooled by the three stars, pay heed to my words instead. The only reason I've given three rather than the four is because personally it always takes time for me to get acquainted with the stylings of authors.
January 20, 2021
This relatively short coda to the book has the most striking opening paragraph I can ever remember in any work of fiction. If this started a novel, it would become famous as an opening, like that to ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Moby Dick’.
The piece as a whole, however, is more an esoteric Cosmic theosophy of a John Cowper Powys or Alice A. Bailey or Eastern Philosophy, a theosophy I relish, let it be said, as I sense, on at least one level, its decrying of our bitcoin world through which we float as upon virtual aeroplanes, but now countered by this author’s thick stiff pages, still turning, fanning…
Pages which may well outlast us all and all our children.
In many ways, this piece does my final job for me, tying the book’s leitmotifs into a gestalt, a gestalt that is still forming in my mind as I write this …. while leaving the stories as discrete works, all of which are memorable as such. The hole to ease entry.
“…light must venture from you, O Illustris Reader.”
The detailed review of this book posted elsewhere under my name is too long or impractical to post here.
Above is one of its observations at the time of the review.
The piece as a whole, however, is more an esoteric Cosmic theosophy of a John Cowper Powys or Alice A. Bailey or Eastern Philosophy, a theosophy I relish, let it be said, as I sense, on at least one level, its decrying of our bitcoin world through which we float as upon virtual aeroplanes, but now countered by this author’s thick stiff pages, still turning, fanning…
Pages which may well outlast us all and all our children.
In many ways, this piece does my final job for me, tying the book’s leitmotifs into a gestalt, a gestalt that is still forming in my mind as I write this …. while leaving the stories as discrete works, all of which are memorable as such. The hole to ease entry.
“…light must venture from you, O Illustris Reader.”
The detailed review of this book posted elsewhere under my name is too long or impractical to post here.
Above is one of its observations at the time of the review.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews