Earlier this year, I read Gutshot by Amelia Gray. It’s a collection of short stories, written like lightning bolts—short, crackling, stunning. Each story is an well-placed incision in the brain, offering slices of the darkly funny, the disturbing, the oddly romantic, and the grotesque.
While the collection isn’t straight horror literature, it definitely shares the aim of literary horror fiction, which as I’ve posted about before, is to acknowledge and explore the scary parts of ourselves. Gray is not afraid of the darkness. She uses her considerable skill to spin strange, visceral stories. She’s done it before with THREATS, a disorienting novel about a grieving widower who keeps finding threats hidden in the nooks and crannies of his house. She’s examined the absurd and unique in her two other short story collections, AM/PM and Museum of the Weird.
And in Gutshot, Gray expertly confronts her readers, blending genres, juxtaposing humor and sensuality with provocative scenes of body horror, weaving challenging and enigmatic premises, introducing alien yet somehow familiar characters, and refusing to explained the ensuing freakiness. If you this sounds like your cup of tea, you won’t regret following her stories into the shadowy twists and turns of the human mind.