im Shores have made their name over the years as a curator of strange fiction specializing mostly in novellas, their previously acclaimed anthology, Looming Low, and Dim Shores Presents Volume 1 (DSPV1). The anthology serves up thirteen varied stories unsaddled by a theme, which really got El Critico’s motor running because it meant every story would bring its own unique flavor and allow editor, Sam Cowan, to showcase pieces of fiction that range from introspective ghost stories to intense sci-fi thrillers.  

That said, DSPV1 isn’t a piñata stuffed with random treats. It’s still a curated collection within the world of weird fiction with a heavy focus on character. The people in these stories aren’t cardboard standees, they’re us. Some are driven by loneliness (Victoria Dalpe’s “The Rider”) others by a deep need to escape their current situation (Richard Staving’s “Silver Bells and Cockle Shells). Whatever their motivation, the complexity of these characters propels the stories forward through territories new and familiar. 

Dim Shores Presents Volume 1 opens with Christoper Burke’s “Many Lives Theory,” which depicts the slow disintegration of a marriage already hamstrung by the loss of a child. The setup is relatable to anyone that spends their days reviewing spreadsheets, but the point of view bounces from omnipresent narrator, to husband and then wife in the span of thirty five pages without any connective tissue lessens the impact of the tragic conclusion. 

Following Burke’s tale is “Vacui” by Jane Sand, a melancholy story of a woman’s post-life observations of a family that treated her more like a ghost in life than in death. Sand’s prose is beautiful without turning a shade of violet and as the reader we feel the weight of the character’s yearning. It might not jive with those looking for more overt horror tones, but it’s certainly a refreshing, well done modern ghost story. 

In the third slot, is Chiara Nova’s bleak tale of anti-crime technology, “White Walls.” Nova masterfully bounces back and forth between prisoner and imprisoner. It’s a great way to ratchet up the tension until the two narratives finally crash into each other. 

The fourth and fifth stories, “Silver Bells and Cockle Shells” by Richard Staving and “Used Clothes” by Paul L. Bates share a similar structure in that the writing is on the wall within the first few pages, but the paths to their obvious conclusions are quite different. Staving’s story focuses more on one’s attempt to escape their past, while in “Used Clothes” Bates utilizes the Lovecraftian technique of presenting an outsider with a series of writings that allow him to see underneath the veneer of reality. 

Standing tall and weird as all hell in the seventh and eighth positions is “Observer/Experiencer” by Jonathan Raab and “The Divorce of Death and Pestilence” by Anna Tambour. The stories mark a turn in the anthology. From here on it the stories get a bit more bizarre, unique and dare I say take some risks. Raab straddles the line of “serious” fiction meets Goosebumps for adults with his piece wherein a young infantryman takes a job listening to bizarre phone calls made by a force that’s either supernatural or alien—this one was definitely El Critico’s favorite of the bunch. Fun, dangerous and well worth the price of the anthology alone. 

Tambour’s “The Divorce of Death and Pestilence” is no doubt the funniest of the stories and also functions as a mid-book palette cleanser, which up until this point is fairly bleak stable of works. Darkly humorous, witty but all too close to home when it comes to the relationships we find ourselves in even if you’re the real life versions of Death, Pestilence, Life, Corruption, War and many more.    

One is thankful for the levity that the two prior stories provide because “Gallagher Calls” by Samuel M. Moss is an ornate, gothic tale where dread and resentment hang in the air like a thick layer of humid, jungle mist. Capturing the feel of old gothic tales while maintaining one’s own distinctive voice is a staple of a truly great writer, and in doing so Moss crafts a story that leads even the reader to question if we’re seeing Gallagher as he truly is or through the protagonist’s own fractured view of the world.  

“The Rider” by Victoria Dalpe feels like a companion piece to “Vacui,” as it’s a deeply personal tale of someone yearning to connect, but unlike the protagonist in the latter, who finds a scrap of peace in their situation, Dalpe shows us the dangers of what can happen when one is at their lowest and most vulnerable.

It’s after Dalpe’s descent into complete despair that the anthology picks up the pace beginning with Eric Schaller’s mid 1800s period piece, “A Study in Abnormal Psychology.” Oh, if only Cronenberg could adapt this story of Charles Darwin and Thomas Henry Huxley on a rescue mission to save a patient’s unusual child from a mad scientist. Equal parts action, humor and scientific debate Schaller’s representation of these two men and skillful prose delivers a thorough romp worthy of the pulps. 

Moving from the past and rising in the future, is Jen Downes’s “Root and Branch.” Cities as we know them are completely organic structures, and like with anything living it can also be killed and the city in “Root and Branch” has contracted a gnarly virus. Downes has us riding shotgun, as her lead, Julia Chen, works desperately to try and figure out the cause of infection before things turn septic. It’s the type of story that introduces folks to new concepts and shows us how even the best of teams might not have the easiest dynamic.  

Now what would an anthology of weird fiction be without at least one story revolving around the worship of an oceanic creature? We don’t necessarily go to the beach in Jake Marley’s “Anemone,” but the deep lurks on the fringes of everything Marley’s broken, young protagonist does from breaking into where his ex-girlfriend’s cult keeps their idol to crashing the church service of the mother and aggressively religious stepfather that want nothing to do with him. This desperation to fit in somewhere to the point of being driven mad is threaded through the entire story and we learn that love and attention will never come in the form we truly want.  

Closing out the anthology is Jess Landry’s sci-fi thriller, “I Will Find You, Even in the Dark,” and it brings together all the emotion and themes of every story that’s come before it from loss to finding solace in actions others might not understand. Despite the familiar neon-blasted setting that we find Elena cleaning up the homes of the dead in, her proclivity for stealing the memory chips of the dead for her own personal viewing and what happens when one of those chips houses more than expected is a solid story of two lost souls finding comfort in one another.

As with anything, not all of these tales are created equal. Jess Landry’s “I Will Find You, Even in the Dark” tingles with enough familiarity to make the reader feel comfortable in the unique premise, while Samuel Moss’s “Gallagher Calls” and Raab’s “Observer / Experiencer” stood out the most and really drove home the anthology’s intent, which was to deliver pieces that aren’t one-note, get in, get out stories with a bad guy getting his in the end, but carefully crafted stories that bring you into the lives of these characters at their most intense moments. With that in mind, a few of the earlier stories stumble before finding their footing and could’ve started about midway into their narratives instead of meandering around for the first five or so pages. 

Lastly, putting a book together is in itself an art form and Cowan knows what he’s doing. The first five tales burn slow, while the middle four, starting with Raab’s “Observer/Experiencer,” escalate the weird, until finally hitting Schaller’s buddy scientist story, and ending with Landry’s excellent genre-blend of a piece that closes out the anthology nicely. 

There’s this argument that crops up every so often about loud and quiet horror, as if there’s no middle ground—you’re either team splatterpunk or on the side of the stuffy, old guard with their moody “literature”—and Dim Shores Presents Volume 1 has thrown up a middle finger to that kind of thinking by giving us an anthology of variety where at the root of it all character and good writing are king despite the body count or the scares.