These stories got real creepy and I am there for it ( )

Having read Ligotti's bigger works before this, this one strikes as, in true Ligottian fashion, both too much Ligotti, while also not quite Ligotti enough.

He's still plumbing those very weird depths that no one else is using, and he's still doing so to good effect. The stories are weird, hypnotic, dreamlike, claustrophobic, dark, and confusing in a frustratingly entertaining way. The first half of this collection is filled with stories of workers in bizarre industries, all seemingly interrelated in some horrid way. The second half tends to focus more on artistic types and the nefarious art they do (or don't) produce. So, we're still treading the strange pathways of the mind of Thomas Ligotti, all right.

At the same time, however, these stories don't seem quite as fantastical as his previous collections, at times relying on the same plot devices more than one (that man! it was me! and intestinal issues galore).

Too me, I feel like Ligotti is definitely branching into different areas, but they seem to be somewhat more dull and repetitive, more drab than usual. Perhaps that was his goal all along. ( )

Kafka on steroids. I didn't like this book as much as I thought I would because, although I love Kafka, I've moved on in how I think fiction should address the nihilistic worldview. I'm in the Harlan Ellison camp where the best stories have flesh and blood characters that we actually care about. The stories were weird and somewhat disturbing but never creepy or scary. The atmosphere is more absurdist than horror. Ligotti is definitely unique in his fictional translation of the ultimate meaningless of life. I suppose some people would find this "horrifying" and I understand and appreciate what he is trying to do but it's just not part of my belief system so it doesn't work as well for me as say Lovecraft, or better yet, Ellison does. I'm also more frightened of the bogeyman in my closet than I am of the vapory supervisor in the corner office. If he spent more time developing his characters and making me care for them then I would probably find their meaningless lives more tragic.

I see Kafka here not Lovecraft. It starts at the same place: an uncaring neutral cosmos, but is developed in a more everyman-type Kafka way, not into horror or science fiction.

Some of the stories are actually quite funny, at least to me.

Worth reading if just for Ligotti's unique vision. ( )

Dang I like this ( )

Ligotti hooked me through his philosophical treatise The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. HIs pure pessimistic-nihilism intrigued me: it is better not to exist at all, consciousness is not a gift but pain.

The stories in this collection are an embodiment of this philosophy, often extending it to its highest conclusion.

Of all the stories, the one that captivated me most was the one with the bungalow. Ligotti captures the feeling of loneliness and isolation terrifyingly well, focusing not just on the concept of being truly alone but also at the pure annihilating aspect of it on the psyche.

The final story with Grossvogel is another standout. His thesis: there’s an underlying shadow in the world that must be experienced through the body. This shadow not just permeates through everything, it also destroys any and all meaning that dares to come near it. Ultimately, there’s no light, no hope, no dreams, just pure, black nonexistence. And isn’t that sweet? The joy of not existing at all.

I hope Ligotti produces even more stories, but the next time around, please skip the Lovecraftian language. It feels derivative rather than nostalgic at this point. It’s also a chore to read. ( )