“Big talent gives off thermonuclear vibes. I can feel them . . . this is the voice we’re going to be hearing for a long time.”—Harlan Ellison In an old car rocking down a North Carolina highway with the radio on so loud you can’t hear the music. . . Behind a dusty Georgia carny show. . . In a mausoleum in Baton Rouge, or in an alley in Calcutta. . . Here wanderers come to rest, the lost and lonely press their bodies up against each other, the heat rises, flesh yields, bones are bared, blood spills. This is the landscape of today’s most brilliant young horror writer, Poppy Z. Brite. Now, in a collection that sings like cutting edge rock ’n’ roll and shows the deft touch of a master storyteller, Poppy Z. Brite weaves her unique spell of the sensual, the frightening, and the forbidden. . . “Every page of Brite’s work stresses the beautiful and heartbreaking strangeness of the world.”—Fangoria
Recipe for Spider Pie: blend 2 cups of dark humor with a healthy dash of oddity, add a pinch of ground freak's ear and 2 tsp of secret desires. Bake until your neighbors start complaning about the smell. In her debut book Alyssa Sturgill firmly establishes herself as the enfant terrible of contemporary surrealism. Laden with gothic horror sensibilities, Spider Pie is a one-way trip down a rabbit hole inhabited by sexual deviants and friendly monsters, fairytale beginnings and hideous endings.
