Champion Mojo Storyteller Joe R. Lansdale is the author of over forty novels and numerous short stories. His work has appeared in national anthologies, magazines, and collections, as well as numerous foreign publications. He has written for comics, television, film, newspapers, and Internet sites. His work has been collected in more than two dozen short-story collections, and he has edited or co-edited over a dozen anthologies. He has received the Edgar Award, eight Bram Stoker Awards, the Horror Writers Association Lifetime Achievement Award, the British Fantasy Award, the Grinzani Cavour Prize for Literature, the Herodotus Historical Fiction Award, the Inkpot Award for Contributions to Science Fiction and Fantasy, and many others. His novella Bubba Ho-Tep was adapted to film by Don Coscarelli, starring Bruce Campbell and Ossie Davis. His story "Incident On and Off a Mountain Road" was adapted to film for Showtime's "Masters of Horror," and he adapted his short story "Christmas with the Dead" to film hisownself. The film adaptation of his novel Cold in July was nominated for the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, and the Sundance Channel has adapted his Hap & Leonard novels for television.
He is currently co-producing several films, among them The Bottoms, based on his Edgar Award-winning novel, with Bill Paxton and Brad Wyman, and The Drive-In, with Greg Nicotero. He is Writer In Residence at Stephen F. Austin State University, and is the founder of the martial arts system Shen Chuan: Martial Science and its affiliate, Shen Chuan Family System. He is a member of both the United States and International Martial Arts Halls of Fame. He lives in Nacogdoches, Texas with his wife, dog, and two cats.
This story was like a twenty minute, high-intensity workout. It’s brief, grueling, and damn do you feel it when you’re finished.
Good ol’ Joe puts story first—and this is one bizarre story. He isn’t preachy or didactic. As more and more modern literature of all genres creeps in that direction, it becomes all the more retroactively refreshing to read stories that are just cool stories. Not patronizing or pandering. Not reactionary. No requirements for a ‘likeable’ protagonist, or a ‘subversion/deconstruction’ of tropes. No overt, condescending political message. Just unadulterated, unhinged creativity and gorgeous, bloody prose.
Paul Marder (which may be an antonym of martyr) was a scientist partially responsible for the destruction of earth and the death of his own daughter. His wife, an artist who now despises him, gouged a tattoo/scarification of their late daughter’s image engulfed in a mushroom cloud onto his back which bleeds from the eyes after strenuous movement.
He monotonously documents his misery and the horrific events happening around him in his journal. He is a dead man in all but the flesh.
Moaning, black-brained, human hunting, organ-supplanting plants inherit the earth as Paul has pseudo-incestuous, guilt-ridden dreams about his daughter.
For such a short story, the world is so much better realized than a lot of post-apocalyptic, dystopian epics I’ve tried slogging through. It presages Scott Smith’s The Ruins and is a wondrously distressing Freudian fever dream.
Not for me. If you like horror that's gross just for the sake of being gross, you may feel differently.
In a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of dangerous and poisonous mutants, a nuclear engineer wallows in his guilt and his wife's hatred, while nursing a bizarre obsession with the daughter who died in the atomic blasts.
It is easy to see why this story won the Bram Stoker. It is a gem from a master. Devastating in its bleakness as it shows not only the desolated land left by a nuclear apocalypse but also the blighted landscape of the hearts and souls of those left behind to do perhaps nothing more than prolong the moment of their death. The first to die clearly are the lucky ones because what do the survivors do to fill the void of those who are gone? To make this disturbing story all the more unsettling the final evil facing mankind takes a form of beauty.
Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back by Joe R. Lansdale: This very morbid short story is told by the main character’s journal which he refers to in his writings as Mr. Journal. The journal writer and his wife are alone trying to survive in a lighthouse in a post-apocalyptic world after a nuclear holocaust. His wife hates him because she blames him for the death of their daughter. Lansdale describes their painful existence in his usual detailed and ruthless manner. This story won a Bram Stoker award and I highly recommend it.
Another really good piece of short fiction from Joe R. Lansdale that Kindle readers can presently get free from Amazon. This is one of Joe's bleaker stories and that is saying a lot. It is also a scarce example of post-apocalyptic writing from the "Champion Mojo Storyteller". He is entering Brian Keene territory with this little grosser-outer. If that last sentence doesn't scare you away then I recommend it.
Well, that was a fucked up little story about roses. And not the pretty kind you're expecting.
Twenty years after a nuclear war, one of the assholes who helped make the weapons that destroyed the world lives in a lighthouse with the wife who hates him. She blames him for the loss of their daughter, and their only connection is a tattoo she's putting on his back...
Yikes. This was bleak. But then again, what other kind of story could you tell after a nuclear war has turned the world to shit?
It's written in journal style, as this man recalls what happened to get them here and is so riddled with guilt that he's pretty much going insane and is continually haunted by his daughter. Very disturbing, but also interesting, in a totally fucked-up kinda way.
I really enjoyed it.
The awful imagery, and even the monsters that rise from the earth, didn't disturb me as much as the inappropriate thoughts about his dead daughter. Now that I had a problem with. I know he was going crazy and was totally delusional--because he couldn't live with the weight of the guilt--but IMO, that daughter stuff wasn't necessary. And it's the only reason why I'm giving this story 4 stars instead of 5.
The bomb dropped, pur anti-hero and his wive were lucky enough to survive but their only daughter didn't. And since dad helped developing such bomb, mum holds him responsible for the death of their kid. They cope through a tattoo, but I'm not going to spoil how.
And while they and their fellow survivors grieve and, well... survives, the nature survives too: we have whales swimming on land and roses with a taste for human flesh.
Dark, bleak, and utterly brilliant. In the first few paragraphs of this short story Lansdale illustrates characters with an authentic richness that many authors fail to do in an entire book. This excellently penned story takes the format of the first and last entries of what may be the last man on earth, surviving in a lighthouse with his hateful wife. Surrounded by strange creatures, and ravaged by guilt and sorrow over the death of his daughter, our protagonist writes in a futile attempt to retain his sanity.
I like this, I liked the body horror and the narration and the concept. The story progresses well. What I didn't like is the weird like sexual imagery used by the narrator when describing his own daughter. And this obsession with like equating sexual violence with planetary destruction. Like, I get it, I do, it's not for me. Honestly, at a certain point it just feels like shock for shock's sake. And like, she's your daughter, dude.
A perfect story that's as tight as the stitches in the protagonist's mutilated back. A convergence of sci-fi, horror, and the post-apocalypse, but the dominant theme is the destructive power of guilt. If you only know Lansdale for his crime novels, you know he's a master plotter. This story is proof that he's just as deft with language. Disturbingly lovely.
‘Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” may very well be the finest short story I’ve ever had the extraordinary opportunity to read.
It is no secret that Joe Lansdale is a master story teller. This story amplifies many of life’s unfortunate heavy-heartedly, eternally, and irreversibly horrifying moments, while adding a hint of true happiness nuclear families do experience, which unfortunately often do not withstand the test of time.
We are reminded of our tendency to be devoted to the tedium of our responsibilities, leaving unexplored the unintended consequences of those choices. True love, born of the immense belief that it will thrive forever, eventually sags through the choices made by each partner and the affects those choices have on the other. The relationship is further complicated by the addition of a child that despite being manifested during the joyous, spiritual, and physical entanglement of two partners, suddenly dies.
Death and rebirth figure predominately in a sad, yet true to life exploration when the minutes to midnight run out. Each character expresses real emotion and makes no attempt to disguise their responsibility in the plot’s propulsion. They are all accountable and behave in their most honest, committed way to make things as right as they can be, albeit given the primary premise of the apocalypse, their efforts are in good conscience at best.
There are many emotional tags layered within the story that the reader will likely pause to ponder. These events and character’s reaction to them become an unyieldingly powerful exploration of the human experience.
“I’ll grab her fine hands and push them against my chest, and it will be we three again, standing against the world, and I’ll close my eyes and delight in her soft, soft hands one last time.”
Discovered this title on Goodreads from a list of Plant-based horror and post-apocalyptic titles (like Triffids, etc.). This was a VERY short story, and a quick web search should bring up a free, readable copy. This is what I did, and it was quite evocative. A story about a man and his wife, living in an abandoned lighthouse on the shore of a ruined planet, surrounded by mutated whales and sharks and sentient, blood-thirsty roses. The narrator (the story is told in 1st person), laments his role in the apocalypse, and his wife clearly blames him for his part in it, hating him throughout the story. The story is quite depressing, but the details are visceral, and as a huge fan of short stories, horror, End of the World stuff, etc., this story was right up my alley.
Tight Little Stitches on a Dead Man's Back, by Joe R. Lansdale Intrigued by the title I ventured into this story; an original cross-breed of 'Little Shop of Horrors', 'Dracula', and the wights of 'Game of Thrones'. Dystopian, post-nuclear ... insanely gross, horrific, ghastly bloody, mutant whales, barren sea-beds, giant lizards and murderous rampaging carnivorous roses (".. the roses came") ... and the grief of a dead daughter by the hand of a shamed father, and a bitter wife who wishes he were dead. No redemption in this tale. "I'm used to pain. I'll pretend the thorns are Maru's needles. I'll stand that way until she folds her dead arms around me and her body pushes up against the wound she made in my back, the wound that is our daughter Rae." (3 stars)
Read as part of “Wastelands 2” anthology. Copied from my review on that:
[The story] would’ve been okay, if not for all the sexual imagery. The plot is a pretty standard end-of-the-world horror flick, with some original-sounding elements thrown in. There’s your usual family drama, with the small twist that the husband (narrator) was one of nuclear scientists (I think) that worked for the military/government, which causes a lot of blame and guilt. What makes it icky is that either the author was very horny when writing this and that bled into the story or he has some unresolved, somewhat Freudian issues - there is a lot of talk about fantasizing about his naked 16 year old daughter (but of course, there is “nothing sexual about it” - of course).
Too bleak for me, and I didn't much enjoy the misplaced sexualization, just felt weird to me in context. It has an interesting setting and I could see somethinger longer, better and less miserable that I would enjoy, but as it stands it's just a very miserable, bleak and depressing short story where people suffer, not really what I enjoy reading.
Read this as part of a short story collection and am only rating it to note how creeped out I was. Not just by the subject matter which indeed is written well and very body horrific with the flowers and all. But mainly why is everything so sexual and gross. Dude talks about his daughter in such a sexual way I don't get at all what that brings to the story. Just blegh.
Think this is the first Lansdale story I've actually read, and I did enjoy it in its bleak way. My only knowledge of the author being a love of the Bubba Ho Tep movie this was a fair bit darker and more disturbing than I expected, good memorably vivid apocalyptic grimness.