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The Puppet King and Other Atonements
The Puppet King and Other Atonements conjures a horrific universe of puppets, labyrinths, and liminal spaces. Over the span of fourteen Borgesian terrors, Justin A. Burnett inhabits the strange borderlands between intimacy and isolation, fiction and philosophy, reality and nightmare. Sprouting from the blackened landscape of weird writers such as Thomas Ligotti, Jon Padgett, and Brian Evenson, this collection is a bleak, unflinching gaze into the vertiginous depths of the nonhuman.
189 pages, Paperback
First published May 20, 2022
About the author
Justin A. Burnett
12 books41 followersJustin A. Burnett is the author of The Puppet King and Other Atonements. He’s also the Executive Editor of Silent Motorist Media, a weird fiction press responsible for the publication of the anthologies Mannequin: Tales of Wood Made Flesh, which was named best horror anthology of 2019 by Rue Morgue magazine, The Nightside Codex, and Hymns of Abomination, a tribute to the work of Matthew M. Bartlett. He currently lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife and children.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
June 21, 2022
First person, second person, interviews, ghostly narratives, dramatic monologues… THE PUPPET KING by Justin Burnett is very much placed in unsettling city- and landscapes—uncanny toy stores, cosmic heavy metal venues, trailers and other locales in wooded areas, mountain trails, an isolated island, even the literal depths of outer space and artificially manufactured sound- and cyberspaces, not to mention the sundry nightmares found both in and out of these settings. Even (and notably) a hybrid nonfiction/fiction work in the form of a scholarly speech set out like a kind of puppet play. The contemporary diversity and experimental, at times playful, sensibilities, forms, and stylistic choices Burnett make remind me of the work of Gemma Files and Christopher Slatsky. I also was continuously reminded of Ligotti’s story, “Mad Night of Atonement,” in which God turns out to be a shabby mannequin and Its creations are transformed into living puppets in “His” image. Such an empty-headed demiurge is always explicitly or implicitly at play in Burnett’s stories. There’s a Ligottian influence and specifically puppet imagery throughout the collection, certainly, but Burnett’s themes are also cosmic ones, reminiscent of the horror tales of Laird Barron, in which Nature itself is revealed as a haunted and unmoored and malignant force. THE PUPPET KING is surreal but grounded—ambitious and inventive. It explores and brilliantly conceives of the prison and nightmare of personal perception and identity. If this book isn’t in the running for best collection of 2022 next year, something is badly amiss. I was riveted and deeply impressed by this magnificent collection of exceptional horror tales. Read it.
--Jon Padgett, author of The Secret of Ventriloquism
--Jon Padgett, author of The Secret of Ventriloquism
January 29, 2023
"Endemic" is my favorite so far. I really like how Burnett opens his stories:
The interweaving of parental disappearance/abandonment, troubled family relationships, and a roadtrip into cosmic darkness is nicely done. Very enjoyable, though I had quibbles about some of the writing.
My thoughts on the other stories are very similar. Usually I really liked the central idea(s), but am not a fan of the treatments, or the writing (though there are some sharp opening sentences and paragraphs).
It was a long time after Mom left before I could bear to visit the old Thule Creek place. By then, curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I quit believing that she would return.
The interweaving of parental disappearance/abandonment, troubled family relationships, and a roadtrip into cosmic darkness is nicely done. Very enjoyable, though I had quibbles about some of the writing.
My thoughts on the other stories are very similar. Usually I really liked the central idea(s), but am not a fan of the treatments, or the writing (though there are some sharp opening sentences and paragraphs).
June 8, 2022
Burnett’s The Puppet King is an exciting addition to the horror genre, and whatever subgenre the collection is supposed to belong to. I have been personally waiting for a collection that is well-written and intelligent with the ability to unsettle and provoke a sense of discomfort. As someone who loathes most contemporary horror, Burnett’s The Puppet King is a breath of fresh air that, hopefully, reinvigorates a subgenre of horror that seems mostly to exist for the pleasure and consumption of other writers and artists.
Most review readers would probably just like to know if this collection is good and worth buying, and the emphatic response is: yes.
I did not have any specific expectations when I was offered a chance to read The Puppet King before publication. Here, we have another author in the independent community attempting to make their mark, only, the opening story was enough to convince me this was anything but that. The Toy Shop was enough for me to understand there may be a story or two I will find difficult to complete due to its subject matter, and sure enough that definitely happened. The story’s conclusion gave me a “here we go again, cosmic horror ambiguity-philosophy that I've read before,” but there was a beautiful story leading up to that ending, and I experienced a glimmer of hope. Burnett can write, though I had apprehensions about how these stories would conclude.
Our second story, Devourer, produces the meta-question that perhaps matters most in this context; why should anyone be excited about this art? My experiences and apprehensions were completely subverted, as Burnett deftly wove philosophy into plot and good writing, skills that many writers simply don’t have. This trend continued throughout the collection, and I kept turning the pages and was delighted by my sense of surprise and awe in how the endings were handled. Burnett was able to shift narrative voices and perspectives, presenting us with a wide range of beautifully-written stories that could surprise you when you thought you’ve seen everything Burnett has to offer.
Any good horror collection should have a story that haunts you. Our Endeavors is likely going to stay with me for a very long time. A part of me wishes I hadn’t read it, but only because of its effect on me. The philosophical and titular “The Puppet King” piece jarred me a bit because I strongly disagree with nihilistic ideologies and I wanted another one of Burnett’s stories, but the piece fits the aesthetic and empowers the collection’s themes. Overall, the strictly-philosophical piece works to highlight Burnett’s range, and it is the key that likely opens the door for Burnett’s inclusion in the genre, and it works within the framework of the collection’s ability to challenge the reader with different narrative concepts and perspectives.
This next piece of my review is sort of a rant that explains why I believe Burnett’s work stands out.
There is a lot of noise about genre when it comes to a collection like The Puppet King; we want to compare a book like this one to something Thomas Ligotti, or some other icon of a genre that many don’t know exists outside of other writers, might write. The Puppet King distinguishes itself clearly, however, because Ligotti, as good as he is, isn’t always producing work that disturbs or unsettles—not that it’s his goal or the goal of his art. “Weird fiction” or “cosmic horror” — whatever genre these authors supposedly fit into — is a genre that really struggles to make horror real. It often focuses on the unreal and the seemingly impossible, blending these concepts into a reality that suggests the impossible and the unknown will always exist and will always transcend our understanding (which is only horrific to people who care about these things). Ligotti and Burnett are not comparable authors at all; the genre The Puppet King seems to be lumped into really doesn’t fit. Burnett’s characters and stories are relatable and relevant, truly crashing reality INTO unreality, and to me, this is what horror should be.
I would read “cosmic horror” for the pleasure of the writing itself; the stories are arguably not good at all, most of the time, as there usually isn’t a story at all. The writing is beautiful and challenging, the concepts are intriguing, and Ligotti is arguably the best writer producing anything resembling horror, but the majority of his contemporaries are just not good at it, mostly because they seem to try to write stories that have cosmic horror elements, and it just does not work at all; the genre seems to be composed mostly of writers telling each other they’re great. Too many writers seem to miss the idea that the greatest allure to Ligotti, or even Lovecraft, is the writing itself. This is where Burnett comes in and offers something for readers, not just other writers. I am very excited for Burnett’s future and cannot wait to read more. I’m actually grateful that I was able to read this.
Most review readers would probably just like to know if this collection is good and worth buying, and the emphatic response is: yes.
I did not have any specific expectations when I was offered a chance to read The Puppet King before publication. Here, we have another author in the independent community attempting to make their mark, only, the opening story was enough to convince me this was anything but that. The Toy Shop was enough for me to understand there may be a story or two I will find difficult to complete due to its subject matter, and sure enough that definitely happened. The story’s conclusion gave me a “here we go again, cosmic horror ambiguity-philosophy that I've read before,” but there was a beautiful story leading up to that ending, and I experienced a glimmer of hope. Burnett can write, though I had apprehensions about how these stories would conclude.
Our second story, Devourer, produces the meta-question that perhaps matters most in this context; why should anyone be excited about this art? My experiences and apprehensions were completely subverted, as Burnett deftly wove philosophy into plot and good writing, skills that many writers simply don’t have. This trend continued throughout the collection, and I kept turning the pages and was delighted by my sense of surprise and awe in how the endings were handled. Burnett was able to shift narrative voices and perspectives, presenting us with a wide range of beautifully-written stories that could surprise you when you thought you’ve seen everything Burnett has to offer.
Any good horror collection should have a story that haunts you. Our Endeavors is likely going to stay with me for a very long time. A part of me wishes I hadn’t read it, but only because of its effect on me. The philosophical and titular “The Puppet King” piece jarred me a bit because I strongly disagree with nihilistic ideologies and I wanted another one of Burnett’s stories, but the piece fits the aesthetic and empowers the collection’s themes. Overall, the strictly-philosophical piece works to highlight Burnett’s range, and it is the key that likely opens the door for Burnett’s inclusion in the genre, and it works within the framework of the collection’s ability to challenge the reader with different narrative concepts and perspectives.
This next piece of my review is sort of a rant that explains why I believe Burnett’s work stands out.
There is a lot of noise about genre when it comes to a collection like The Puppet King; we want to compare a book like this one to something Thomas Ligotti, or some other icon of a genre that many don’t know exists outside of other writers, might write. The Puppet King distinguishes itself clearly, however, because Ligotti, as good as he is, isn’t always producing work that disturbs or unsettles—not that it’s his goal or the goal of his art. “Weird fiction” or “cosmic horror” — whatever genre these authors supposedly fit into — is a genre that really struggles to make horror real. It often focuses on the unreal and the seemingly impossible, blending these concepts into a reality that suggests the impossible and the unknown will always exist and will always transcend our understanding (which is only horrific to people who care about these things). Ligotti and Burnett are not comparable authors at all; the genre The Puppet King seems to be lumped into really doesn’t fit. Burnett’s characters and stories are relatable and relevant, truly crashing reality INTO unreality, and to me, this is what horror should be.
I would read “cosmic horror” for the pleasure of the writing itself; the stories are arguably not good at all, most of the time, as there usually isn’t a story at all. The writing is beautiful and challenging, the concepts are intriguing, and Ligotti is arguably the best writer producing anything resembling horror, but the majority of his contemporaries are just not good at it, mostly because they seem to try to write stories that have cosmic horror elements, and it just does not work at all; the genre seems to be composed mostly of writers telling each other they’re great. Too many writers seem to miss the idea that the greatest allure to Ligotti, or even Lovecraft, is the writing itself. This is where Burnett comes in and offers something for readers, not just other writers. I am very excited for Burnett’s future and cannot wait to read more. I’m actually grateful that I was able to read this.
October 16, 2025
This author is definitely someone I'm going to keep an eye on.
Many of the stories are familiar, but they are sprinkled with lines of personal insight and sensitivity or they throw up some vision, incredible and monstrous enough to actually make me go, "Whoa".
I would be surprised if you didn't like at least TWO stories here. Me? I like pretty much all of them. The grief in some stories is so close to the surface, it occasionally hurts, but the wide variety of dark fiction done well is worth a recommendation on its own.
Includes SF, Ligottian Horror, Weird Western a la Evenson, autobiographical sketches from the void, your mom, etc.
Many of the stories are familiar, but they are sprinkled with lines of personal insight and sensitivity or they throw up some vision, incredible and monstrous enough to actually make me go, "Whoa".
I would be surprised if you didn't like at least TWO stories here. Me? I like pretty much all of them. The grief in some stories is so close to the surface, it occasionally hurts, but the wide variety of dark fiction done well is worth a recommendation on its own.
Includes SF, Ligottian Horror, Weird Western a la Evenson, autobiographical sketches from the void, your mom, etc.
June 20, 2022
In The Puppet King and Other Atonements, Justin Burnett mixes elements of horror, weird fiction, and “soft” science fiction in a well-rounded collection that spotlights his talent as a writer. For those who enjoy challenging works that are not afraid to tackle broad questions, The Puppet King is sure to please. It has been one of the best short story collections I have read in 2022 thus far.
July 13, 2022
This book was a cerebral mind twist! Every story was so unique and incredibly well written. I was sucked into the void of words with the stories swirling about me, unable to shake them off even after I put it down. Beware when opening this book, for when you turn the last page you won’t be the same! Make sure to grease your gears and tighten your strings, The Puppet King is watching!
October 12, 2023
While not ALL of the stories are 5 star, the important ones all are. The level of quality is strong and thoughtful and the style gripping. My favorites were the first and last entries as well as a series of interconnected transdimentional fungus stories near the latter part.
May 18, 2024
I wanted to like this book more than I did. To be honest, getting through this was a chore at times. There is great potential here, but the stories are too obscure, too verbose. At times, it was a challenge to discern if anything actually happened. The book claims to contain "Borgesian" tales, but whoever wrote this must not have read - much less understood - Borges at all. This does not have to mean the tales are bad, they're just not Borgesian, neither in style nor in content. What they are are meditations on the human condition, the infinite cosmos, the insignificance of mankind, puppets, the whole Ligottian spiel. The last story - "The Puppet King: A Monologue" - takes this to the extreme, treating the reader to a dissertation on the abovementioned themes, but cluttered in academic prose so dense as to be nearly unreadable. Yeah, I know it's intentional, but it's still a bitch to get through and not very enjoyable.
Still, there are glimpses of greatness here. I liked "The Golden Thread", and "Our Endeavor" had a great premise but sadly petered out at the end. "ABDN-1" gave me Event Horizon vibes (check out the movie if you haven't already), but I probably need to re-read it to get everything.
All in all a frustrating read. Granted, I am a slow reader, but the time it took me to finish this probably says something about the contents. I'd still recommend it to people who like Ligotti, Padgett and the whole cosmic horror thing, but you have to be patient. This is dark, dense and challenging stuff. I only wish it didn't make me feel so dense.
Still, there are glimpses of greatness here. I liked "The Golden Thread", and "Our Endeavor" had a great premise but sadly petered out at the end. "ABDN-1" gave me Event Horizon vibes (check out the movie if you haven't already), but I probably need to re-read it to get everything.
All in all a frustrating read. Granted, I am a slow reader, but the time it took me to finish this probably says something about the contents. I'd still recommend it to people who like Ligotti, Padgett and the whole cosmic horror thing, but you have to be patient. This is dark, dense and challenging stuff. I only wish it didn't make me feel so dense.
May 9, 2026
First, I want to address the Ligotti comparisons: As a big fan of Thomas Ligotti’s fiction, I can definitively say that he never wrote ‘grief horror’, which is the psychological/existential unraveling precipitated by grief/loss in horror story format. In fact, that would be antithetical to his worldview where human affairs are in general “malignantly useless” in the face of a universe where everyone’s destiny is “to work the great wheel that turns in darkness, and to be broken upon it.”
Burnett, on the other hand, features grief/loss horror quite prominently in this collection and that is why I would compare his stories more closely with those of Christopher Slatsky, and particularly with Slatsky’s second collection, The Immeasurable Corpse of Nature (think of the “The Figurine” for instance). Similar to Slatsky, Burnett takes these intense, human-centered episodes of loss/anguish and weaves them into unsettling, beautiful vignettes of cosmic/existential reckoning. The second comparative name that comes to my mind is Brian Hodge, who also taps into this reservoir of grief horror to an extent, but who is more similar to Burnett for reasons of theme/subject, as I’ll get in to below.
The first story of the collection, “The Toy Shop” is a prime example of this 'grief horror' and one of my favorites. The story “Our Endeavors” is another good example of how Burnett takes grief/loss and weaves it into existential horror with quite pessimistic (Ligottian) tones. The final crescendo of that story (in fact, it’s last 2-3 pages in general) is really incredible, another one of my favorites from this collection.
But, nonetheless, I would say don’t acquire this collection if you expect stories *exactly* like those of Ligotti (I doubt anyone will ever fill the Ligotti shaped hole in our souls). There are certain similarities with Ligotti: (1) puppets/dolls and other inanimate objects feature quite prominently in Burnett’s stories as conduits of horror, (2) he often deploys light touches of Ligottian pessimism (e.g., the desire to be an inanimate object, the horror of existing, etc.), and (3) he continues the timeless Lovecraftian (and Ligottian) tradition of using the night sky (stars, moon, space) and also light/darkness as hauntingly beautiful imagery.
Burnett also borrows some of Ligotti’s experimental narration styles, a particularly striking example being the one-sided dialogue format he uses in “The Golden Thread,” which is very clearly inspired by Ligotti’s “The Chymist.” This isn’t bad of course; I like authors borrowing stylistic things on occasion (and nothing else is similar in these two stories except their narration style).
So, while Burnett’s stories are in general in a somewhat different and more anthropic vein than Ligotti’s, there are some notable and deliberate stylistic/thematic similarities. And he also names Ligotti and analyzes several of his stories in the titular ‘monologue’ – which in my opinion was actually the weakest thing in the collection. I don’t think it was a very good analysis of Ligotti and I’d be happy to expand this if reached out to but won’t drag it here in this review.
For my second (2) point, for instance, look at this passage of Burnett’s concluding a saga of intense grief/loss horror with a touch of pessimism heavily reminiscent of Ligotti: “Know that we can’t even hope to join each other in mutual darkness, for I am there now and have found nothing.” This type of existentially bleak ending is very similar to some of Slatsky’s recent stories. For instance, consider the ending of Slatsky’s “Professor Cognoscente's Carnival.” Both Slatsky and Burnett use Ligottian themes as parts of their stories, often as the ending punch, rather than those themes being the entire story like the big L’s style in his Teatro Grottesco collection.
But aside from grief/existential horror, Burnett also has some very Lovecraftian stories in this collection, a great example of which is “The Rubber Man.” He also leans into music and particularly metal music as a thematic setting, which is great – a bit like Brian Hodge. It is immediately possible to tell that such authors are metalheads, which is great. For me, this brought several stories quite close to my heart, those such as “Devourer” and “Sister” come to mind.
Burnett also has some quite experimental pieces, which really elevate this collection as a whole, allowing him to showcase his authorial prowess, with the titular ‘story’, “Our Endeavors,” “The Enucleator,” and also “A Prisoner’s Guide to Stargazing” coming to mind. The last one is one of the scariest things I’ve ever read, and I just want to forget about it!
Burnett also leans into Sci-Fi themes in several stories (e.g., “ABDN-1”) adding yet more thematic diversity to what is already quite a varied collection. It is similar, in that respect, to Ligotti’s Songs of a Dead Dreamer, where he too had experimented with many different literary styles and thematic strands before leaning into his ‘favorites’ in subsequent collections. This is also brings to mind Brian Hodge, who employs a similarly diverse register of thematic settings in his story collections (e.g., Skidding into Oblivion). “The Golden Thread” for instance is similar to Hodge’s “One Possible Shape of Things to Come” in the originality of its main premise – both being excellent stories that really make you think, “how did they even think of this?”
In that vein, and to humbly provide my opinion on how I hope Burnett continues his career, I feel that he is strongest when writing grief horror tuned to existential/cosmic terror such as in “Our Endeavors” and “The Toy Shop.” I hope to see more of this sort of stuff in his future work. And as I said above, I unfortunately found the largely non-fiction ‘monologue’ piece to be the weakest thing in this collection – it is always harder to land these types of works.
In general, I was excited to ‘discover’ Justin Burnett, and I can safely say that I will be following his work closely from now on. I have added him, in my mind, beside others of the new generation of promising short-form horror authors. I highly recommend this collection. Buy it, read it, spread it. I will be recommending it left and right.
--
PS: Justin, if you’re reading this, know that I enjoyed your love for the word ‘listless’, but I am curious as to how it came about that you use it in absolutely every story! :) Was it deliberate?
Burnett, on the other hand, features grief/loss horror quite prominently in this collection and that is why I would compare his stories more closely with those of Christopher Slatsky, and particularly with Slatsky’s second collection, The Immeasurable Corpse of Nature (think of the “The Figurine” for instance). Similar to Slatsky, Burnett takes these intense, human-centered episodes of loss/anguish and weaves them into unsettling, beautiful vignettes of cosmic/existential reckoning. The second comparative name that comes to my mind is Brian Hodge, who also taps into this reservoir of grief horror to an extent, but who is more similar to Burnett for reasons of theme/subject, as I’ll get in to below.
The first story of the collection, “The Toy Shop” is a prime example of this 'grief horror' and one of my favorites. The story “Our Endeavors” is another good example of how Burnett takes grief/loss and weaves it into existential horror with quite pessimistic (Ligottian) tones. The final crescendo of that story (in fact, it’s last 2-3 pages in general) is really incredible, another one of my favorites from this collection.
But, nonetheless, I would say don’t acquire this collection if you expect stories *exactly* like those of Ligotti (I doubt anyone will ever fill the Ligotti shaped hole in our souls). There are certain similarities with Ligotti: (1) puppets/dolls and other inanimate objects feature quite prominently in Burnett’s stories as conduits of horror, (2) he often deploys light touches of Ligottian pessimism (e.g., the desire to be an inanimate object, the horror of existing, etc.), and (3) he continues the timeless Lovecraftian (and Ligottian) tradition of using the night sky (stars, moon, space) and also light/darkness as hauntingly beautiful imagery.
Burnett also borrows some of Ligotti’s experimental narration styles, a particularly striking example being the one-sided dialogue format he uses in “The Golden Thread,” which is very clearly inspired by Ligotti’s “The Chymist.” This isn’t bad of course; I like authors borrowing stylistic things on occasion (and nothing else is similar in these two stories except their narration style).
So, while Burnett’s stories are in general in a somewhat different and more anthropic vein than Ligotti’s, there are some notable and deliberate stylistic/thematic similarities. And he also names Ligotti and analyzes several of his stories in the titular ‘monologue’ – which in my opinion was actually the weakest thing in the collection. I don’t think it was a very good analysis of Ligotti and I’d be happy to expand this if reached out to but won’t drag it here in this review.
For my second (2) point, for instance, look at this passage of Burnett’s concluding a saga of intense grief/loss horror with a touch of pessimism heavily reminiscent of Ligotti: “Know that we can’t even hope to join each other in mutual darkness, for I am there now and have found nothing.” This type of existentially bleak ending is very similar to some of Slatsky’s recent stories. For instance, consider the ending of Slatsky’s “Professor Cognoscente's Carnival.” Both Slatsky and Burnett use Ligottian themes as parts of their stories, often as the ending punch, rather than those themes being the entire story like the big L’s style in his Teatro Grottesco collection.
But aside from grief/existential horror, Burnett also has some very Lovecraftian stories in this collection, a great example of which is “The Rubber Man.” He also leans into music and particularly metal music as a thematic setting, which is great – a bit like Brian Hodge. It is immediately possible to tell that such authors are metalheads, which is great. For me, this brought several stories quite close to my heart, those such as “Devourer” and “Sister” come to mind.
Burnett also has some quite experimental pieces, which really elevate this collection as a whole, allowing him to showcase his authorial prowess, with the titular ‘story’, “Our Endeavors,” “The Enucleator,” and also “A Prisoner’s Guide to Stargazing” coming to mind. The last one is one of the scariest things I’ve ever read, and I just want to forget about it!
Burnett also leans into Sci-Fi themes in several stories (e.g., “ABDN-1”) adding yet more thematic diversity to what is already quite a varied collection. It is similar, in that respect, to Ligotti’s Songs of a Dead Dreamer, where he too had experimented with many different literary styles and thematic strands before leaning into his ‘favorites’ in subsequent collections. This is also brings to mind Brian Hodge, who employs a similarly diverse register of thematic settings in his story collections (e.g., Skidding into Oblivion). “The Golden Thread” for instance is similar to Hodge’s “One Possible Shape of Things to Come” in the originality of its main premise – both being excellent stories that really make you think, “how did they even think of this?”
In that vein, and to humbly provide my opinion on how I hope Burnett continues his career, I feel that he is strongest when writing grief horror tuned to existential/cosmic terror such as in “Our Endeavors” and “The Toy Shop.” I hope to see more of this sort of stuff in his future work. And as I said above, I unfortunately found the largely non-fiction ‘monologue’ piece to be the weakest thing in this collection – it is always harder to land these types of works.
In general, I was excited to ‘discover’ Justin Burnett, and I can safely say that I will be following his work closely from now on. I have added him, in my mind, beside others of the new generation of promising short-form horror authors. I highly recommend this collection. Buy it, read it, spread it. I will be recommending it left and right.
--
PS: Justin, if you’re reading this, know that I enjoyed your love for the word ‘listless’, but I am curious as to how it came about that you use it in absolutely every story! :) Was it deliberate?
October 15, 2022
Justin Burnett waxes philosophic while delivering horrific tales that are unique and imaginative. You'll find varying perspectives and means of story telling and a mix of genres all sure to get your mind racing and heart pumping.
The stories were good and I enjoyed the different angles and twists, but some parts definitely went over my head and needed several re-reads which was more work and less entertainment.
The stories were good and I enjoyed the different angles and twists, but some parts definitely went over my head and needed several re-reads which was more work and less entertainment.
August 12, 2024
Reek, Reek, it rhymes with ALL HAIL THE PUPPET KING
August 12, 2022
Absolutely fabulous collection. I haven't read Ligotti since middle school, but I remember enough to know this collection is very much in that vein.
I've always appreciated Ligotti's articulation of his super sad atheism. As a very religious person that's not something I appreciate easily, but he writes it so well. It's very intelligent and must be treated seriously even if one disagrees with it, and his worldview makes his monsters and things very interesting and compelling. Burnett captures Ligotti's strengths and vibe really well, transposing it to northern Texas. There is some regional flavor in some character's dialogues and scene settings, but it's philosophical positions and occupations necessarily preclude much vitality being given to (humanly comprehensible) geography.
What kept me from giving this 5 stars was how serious the stories were. With Ligotti, and this is probably just my charitable interpretation of some of his lesser stories, I feel a sense of camp in some of the more ridiculous scenarios. That entertainment value is good for readers who don't share the author's worldview, while still benefitting from the intensity and fervor of that worldview.
The Puppet King and Other Atonements has a lot of restraints. That titular story actually is a good case study. If my memory serves me, and it rarely does, there's a Ligotti story about a creative writing class where, towards the end, students look beneath their seats and there's body parts of loved ones in boxes. Like The Puppet King story, it's essentially an essay about the writer's philosophy about something, given in a fictional lecture by a cartoonishly insane professor who has succumbed or reached enlightenment within the writer's materialist ontology. Where Ligotti's story ends with body parts boxes, Burnett's ends with students shrugging off the death of the professor.
Even if that story wasn't by Ligotti, I'm pretty sure that general distinction is fair. And if I was atheist I probably would appreciate the reserve as adding more weight to the text, instead of being less fun.
Unrelated- If more works dialoguing with Ligotti's ouvre pop up, we'd be able to call that subgenre Pupamaniac Horror. Burnett and Jon Padgett could be considered August Derleths and Robert Blochs to Ligotti's Lovecraft. In a century, if its trajectory follows that of Lovecraftian horror, people will be able to buy bizarre puppet slippers and coloring books about the meaninglessness of existence.
I've always appreciated Ligotti's articulation of his super sad atheism. As a very religious person that's not something I appreciate easily, but he writes it so well. It's very intelligent and must be treated seriously even if one disagrees with it, and his worldview makes his monsters and things very interesting and compelling. Burnett captures Ligotti's strengths and vibe really well, transposing it to northern Texas. There is some regional flavor in some character's dialogues and scene settings, but it's philosophical positions and occupations necessarily preclude much vitality being given to (humanly comprehensible) geography.
What kept me from giving this 5 stars was how serious the stories were. With Ligotti, and this is probably just my charitable interpretation of some of his lesser stories, I feel a sense of camp in some of the more ridiculous scenarios. That entertainment value is good for readers who don't share the author's worldview, while still benefitting from the intensity and fervor of that worldview.
The Puppet King and Other Atonements has a lot of restraints. That titular story actually is a good case study. If my memory serves me, and it rarely does, there's a Ligotti story about a creative writing class where, towards the end, students look beneath their seats and there's body parts of loved ones in boxes. Like The Puppet King story, it's essentially an essay about the writer's philosophy about something, given in a fictional lecture by a cartoonishly insane professor who has succumbed or reached enlightenment within the writer's materialist ontology. Where Ligotti's story ends with body parts boxes, Burnett's ends with students shrugging off the death of the professor.
Even if that story wasn't by Ligotti, I'm pretty sure that general distinction is fair. And if I was atheist I probably would appreciate the reserve as adding more weight to the text, instead of being less fun.
Unrelated- If more works dialoguing with Ligotti's ouvre pop up, we'd be able to call that subgenre Pupamaniac Horror. Burnett and Jon Padgett could be considered August Derleths and Robert Blochs to Ligotti's Lovecraft. In a century, if its trajectory follows that of Lovecraftian horror, people will be able to buy bizarre puppet slippers and coloring books about the meaninglessness of existence.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 31, 2024
Fear without a point
Some of the stories were assembled well, but too many just presented themselves as, "Look how icky this is! See how much we can scare you?" That's not what I want from stories.
Some of the stories were assembled well, but too many just presented themselves as, "Look how icky this is! See how much we can scare you?" That's not what I want from stories.
June 21, 2023
A great read for both conventional horror lovers and avid Ligotti fans. Some stories were misses to me, but then again, an anthology
November 20, 2024
Definitely get this one.
June 25, 2025
ABDN-1 felt heavily inspired by dead space. loved it
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