The Shadow at the Bottom of the World
by Thomas Ligotti

Reviewed by Chris Kemp

After making it through the first 100 or so pages of this book, I was on the verge of believing that I liked the idea of Thomas Ligotti’s writing more than the act of reading it. I had lofty expectations for him. He came highly recommended by pre-eminent weird fiction scholar, S. T. Joshi, and the general consensus among genre aficionados was that Ligotti was one of the handful of contemporary weird fiction writers (along with T.E.D. Klein and Ramsey Campbell) whose work could truly be considered exceptional. Needless to say, I was pleased to find that The Shadow at the Bottom of the World--a compilation of 14 previously published stories and one brand new offering--was available in a trade paperback version for the reasonable price of $13.00.

Ligotti isn't a mainstream guy by any means. He keeps a fairly low profile, although in 1996 his story, "The Red Tower, " won the prestigious Bram Stoker award, presented by the Horror Writers Association, for best long fiction. His three major volumes of work--consisting entirely of shorter fiction and prose poems--were all published in the small press, and his reputation has spread largely by word of mouth. It seems that a relative lack of commercial ambitions contributes to this, but given his stated artistic goals and his ability to accomplish them, his standing as a cult writer isn't much of a surprise, deserving or not.

It's always dangerous to typecast a writer's style, but as this is a review and as many who read it won't have any idea who Ligotti is, I need to at least make the attempt to do so. The best way to start is by citing the name of one of his collections, The Nightmare Factory, because this, indeed, is what the gentleman is. In his introduction to The Shadow at the Bottom of the World, "Horror Stories: A Nightmare Collection, " Ligotti implies strongly that his foremost goal is to create the essence of a nightmare. He succeeds, and while navigating through this dream world is often effectively unsettling, for the unsuspecting reader it can be a little disorienting, and dare I say, off-putting--at least at first.

For starters, the stories seem to take place in what I would call a shadow world. It parallels ours in most respects, and there is enough of the familiar to make the developments therein relevant to the reader's experience. Yet a sense of disconnection remains. You won't find any contemporary references. Physical dimensions are slightly distorted at times. The population is made up of strange and bizarre characters without psychological insights to make them "fit " into the context of your experience--even when narration is first-person. (Given that Ligotti's narrators may be unreliable, this could be a blessing). Jaw-dropping events take place without explanation, and you aren't supposed to need one--this is the way things really are!--meaning characters tend to accept the goings on without batting an eye (unless, of course, they are placed in direct physical, social, or psychological peril--a less than rare occurrence).

There is a unification in Ligotti's work, and by that I mean the stories appear to play out in the same universe, subject to the same set of laws. A prevalent characteristic of this world is noxious, vile essence that has soaked into its fabric. Unseen for the most part, given the right set of circumstances it will bubble up from under and soak it surroundings with corruption. It manifests in different ways.

[SPOILERS] In the cover story, the pictured scarecrow turns out to have an infinitely long black root that extends to what seems to be a reservoir of this substance. There is a strong implication that this umbilical attachment is to a defilement of cosmic scope, although nothing is ever spelled out that clearly in a Ligotti piece. In another story, "Nethescurial, " the ink in a manuscript that has led one of the narrators to uncover a set of ancient, arcane artifacts, turns out to be composed of the same kind of incarnate malevolence, and if we are to assume the narrator is sane (not a sure bet) it may be flooding right off the page to infect the world. [END SPOILERS]

I'm sure that critics more perspicacious than I might postulate that this core rot functions as metaphor existent within our own reality, and one does get the distinct sense of something Jungian permeating Ligotti's writing, no surprise since nightmares work on the unconscious l level. But it needs to be stated that Ligotti is indirect in his approach; you can never glean from the written page with certainty what his intentions are.

True to the spirit of nightmare, many of these stories are open-ended in terms of plot, although Ligotti is quite adept at rendering the closure of a particular emotional or psychological effect, which appears to be his goal. This was an initial stumbling point for me; I am of the opinion that much of what passes for weird short fiction these days ends without conclusion because authors don't have the skills to end stories without resorting to clichés. But I could tell this wasn't the case with Ligotti--his writing skills are of the highest caliber--and when I finally got in synch with his approach, I began to not only admire, but enjoy what he was doing.

I think my growing enthusiasm as I made my way through the book has something to do with how it is arranged, proceeding in the chronological order in which the pieces were written. There is no doubt that his craft has progressed with time. The last four stories in the book-- "The Bungalow House, " where a man becomes obsessed over a tape recording he finds in an art gallery; "Teatro Grottesco, " about a mysterious troupe made up of unseen characters that seem to be part entertainer and part supernatural avenger (you only see--and characters only guess at--the result of their "work "); "The Red Tower, " a story about a mysterious factory that creates grotesque gag gifts and is "at odds " with its barren gray surroundings (not one human being makes a direct "on screen " appearance in this one); and "Purity, " narrated by a young boy who becomes obsessed with a neighboring slum and what goes on there while his father does unseen experiments on unsuspecting visitors in his basement--are very strong and work on different levels (the short descriptions here do them no justice; the stories need to be experienced first-hand for full effect). Only the first story in the collection, "Last Feast of the Harlequin, " calls to mind the work of others--specifically H. P. Lovecraft--and though I like it, in retrospect it is probably the least satisfying of the works collected here.

In the end, I decided to give this book five quills because even though it didn't engage me out of the starting gate, I realize it is a work of rare distinction. First of all, there aren't that many people of a high literary standard creating weird fiction, and Ligotti definitely qualifies. He has a mastery of language few possess, and I doubt that many could fashion the appropriate degree of "not-quite-rightness " (without going over the top) that a rendering of his world requires. Of equal weight, is the originality of his voice and vision. You won't find anything quite like these stories. Finally, he is entertaining: acclimate yourself to his unique voice and you'll find yourself wondering what he has in store for you next.

If this sounds at all intriguing to you, but you aren't ready to pull the trigger on making a purchase, may I suggest visiting Thomas Ligotti Online where you'll find a sampling of his stories both in print and on audio. That's the best way to find out if you're ready for your next big helping of nightmare.

I think I am.