Book Review: New Terrors Omnibus

Book Review: 'New Terrors Omnibus' edited by Ramsey Campbell

3 / 5 Stars

‘New Terrors Omnibus’ (649 pp.) was published by Pan Books (UK) in 1985. The cover illustration is credited to Matt Mahurin. This omnibus compiles the contents first printed by Pan in 1980 in the two-volume ‘New Terrors’ and ‘New Terrors Two’ paperbacks. In the U.S., Pocket Books published the two-volume set in 1982 and 1984.

Most of the entries in the Omnibus are specially commissioned, and have not previously been published. 

The Omnibus is a thick chunk of a mass-market paperback, with 6 point font, and single-spacing. Rather than read it all at once, I periodically worked my way through it over the course of nearly two and-a-half years. 

I was well aware that the omnibus would contain stories and novelettes particular to Campbell’s view of horror prose, circa 1980: namely, a focus on stories that emphasized mood, atmosphere, and setting over plotting. The horror content is subdued, ambiguous, and oblique.  

I debated whether or not to provide capsule summaries of each entry, as it would be a long list. But given the time I put into reading ‘New Terrors Omnibus’, it seems justifiable. So here goes:

The Stain, by Robert Aickman: Stephen, wandering the soggy and overgrown English moors, comes upon a mysterious young girl named Nell, and promptly becomes infatuated with her. There are hints that Nell originates from a strange place. As is typical with Aickman stories, this one features an enigmatic female; is slow-paced, subdued, and noncommittal. Its ‘folk horror’ theme is something that Robert Holdstock later would cover in his writings such as ‘Mythago Wood’.

City Fishing, by Steve Rasnic Tem: friends Jimmy and Bill go with their dads on a trip into the city. They bring along much hunting equipment. Good things do not happen.

Sun City, by Lisa Tuttle: on vacation in Mexico, Nora sees something she shouldn’t have seen. An effective story, with a Clive Barker-ish flavoring.

Yare, by Manley Wade Wellman: a confrontation with the supernatural, in the wilds of North Carolina. Silver John does not make an appearance.

A Room with a Vie, by Tanith Lee: The typo is deliberate. Caroline rents a room that turns out to be haunted. Much figurative language, and a vague denouement.

Diminishing Landscape with Indistinct Figures, by Daphne Castell: strange things are going on at a sanitarium in rural England. This story’s interesting premise ultimately is frittered away by the author’s insistence on keeping the horrors too indistinct to be effective. 

Tissue, by Marc Laidlaw: Paula accompanies her boyfriend Daniel on a visit to his childhood home. Daniel’s father is a creepy sort of fellow. The theme of ‘body horror’ surfaces, albeit in a tamer way than how it’s done nowadays.

Without Rhyme or Reason, by Peter Valentine Timlett: Deborah takes a job at a country estate as a maid to the eccentric Mrs. Bates. This story benefits from a Roald Dahl-ish quality.

Love Me Tender, by Bob Shaw: on the run from the law, Massick heads for the remote swamplands of Florida, and finds what seems to be the perfect hideout……….moreso than many of the other entries in this anthology, ‘Love Me Tender’ adheres to the formatting of a traditional horror story and perhaps because of this, is one of the better tales in the collection. 

Kevin Malone, by Gene Wolfe: a tepid ghost story about a young couple invited to take up residence in a palatial estate.

Time to Laugh, by Joan Aiken: a burglar discovers that a crumbling mansion might not be the best place to rob. The story doesn’t satisfy, due to an inconclusive ending.  

Chicken Soup, by Kit Reed: a Momma’s boy, and his problems. 

The Pursuer, by James Wade: first published in 1951, and resurrected by editor Campbell for inclusion in this anthology. It’s a short-short psychological drama. I didn’t find it all that impressive. 

Bridal Suite, by Graham Masterton: I’m not sure how Masterton snuck into this anthology, but his entry is a fun one, mixing the concept of the succubus with that of the haunted house. There is over-the-top, facetious humor in the mix. One of a few entries that could possibly be said to have splatterpunk leanings, and thus, very much a winning entry ! 

The Spot, by Dennis Etchison and Mark Johnson: in sunny California, a two-man crew that cleans up the apartments of the deceased learns some troubling things about fame, aging, and death. Yet another Etchison tale that delivers atmosphere and setting, but little (if any) horror content. 

The Gingerbread House, by Cherry Wilder: Amanda discovers her brother is living in a house haunted by a possessive spirit. 

Watchers at the Straight Gate, by Russell Kirk: on a cold, dark, and gloomy night, Father O’Malley has a supernatural encounter with a ghost, one with a story to tell. As with most (all ?) of Kirk’s ‘horror’ stories, ‘Watchers’ relies heavily on a rather ponderous ‘literary’ prose style, and serves as a vehicle by which he can expound on death, the afterlife, sin, and purgatory. I thought ‘Watchers’ was boring. 

0.220 Swift, by Karl Edward Wagner: in rural North Carolina, rumors of caverns excavated deep in primordial limestone formations are investigated by the archeologist Morris Kenlaw. Wagner’s contributions to horror anthologies could be hit-or-miss, but this one is a quality contribution, relying to some extent on the ‘Shonokin’ mythology of writer Manly Wade Wellman.

The Fit, by Ramsey Campbell: ‘on holiday’ in Cumbria, whilst hiking across the fells, a boy comes across a dilapidated cottage. Its occupant must not be trifled with. Focusing more on plot, and less on his traditionally florid diction, this is a decent entry from editor Campbell. 

The Mysterious Cairn, by Christopher Priest: set in the same imaginary nations of the Dream Archipelago that Priest later would use in his 1981 novel ‘The Affirmation’, this novelette follows the first-person narrator on a return visit to the windswept Northern isle of Seevl. There is much descriptive prose centered on entropy-stricken landscapes, and an unpleasant incident that may – or may not – be a hallucination. The novelette’s ambiguity works against it.

The Man Whose Eyes Beheld the Glory, by John Brunner: strange doings on a remote Greek island.

The Rubber Room, by Robert Bloch: Emery, a paranoid schizophrenic, has done some Bad Things. The Voices told him to !

Drama in Five Acts, by Giles Gordon: a short tale that showcases ‘experimental’ prose. I found it incoherent.

The Initiation, by Jack Sullivan: riding the New York City subway trains induces frightening hallucinations (or are they not hallucinations ?! Bwa-ha-ha !!) in the anonymous protagonist. The story’s thin plot gets overwhelmed by too much figurative prose.

Lucille Would Have Known, by John Burke: a group of Britishers ‘on holiday’ miss their dear, departed majordomo. Another tale with a Roald Dahl sensibility.

Teething Troubles, by Rosalind Ashe: a brand-new college campus is afflicted with noxious odors.

The Funny Face Murders, by R. A. Lafferty: not a horror story at all, but a ‘fabulation’. I’m guessing Campbell thought having a Lafferty story gives the anthology a New Wave flavoring. The problem is, Lafferty’s fiction is an acquired taste, and ‘Funny Face’ is awful. 

Femme Fatale, by Marianne Leconte: translated from the French by John Brunner. A memorable tale, with a Metal Hurlant sensibility, about a postapocalyptic Paris.

Big Wheels: A Tale of the Laundry Game, by Stephen King: two drunks roam the late-night roads of rural Maine. A weird, unconventional entry from King.

Richie by the Sea, by Greg Bear: something strange is going on at the beach fronting the Pacific Ocean. A genuinely creepy tale, and one of the best in the anthology.

Can You Still See Me ?, by Margaret Dickson: a ghost story that’s too vague and figurative to be effective.

A Song at the Party, by Dorothy K. Haynes: domestic horror, in England. Subdued, but leaves an impression.

One Way Out, by Felice Picano: a hitchhiker witnesses some startling things. The plot will become recognizable to anyone with a familiarity with sci-fi cliches. 

The Ice Monkey, by M. John Harrison: rock climbing, and the entropic landscapes of modern Britain. Not a horror story.

Symbiote, by Andrew J. Offutt: a variation on the theme of homicide as a manifestation of disease. Offutt works in some splatterpunk shadings.

Across the Water to Skye, by Charles L. Grant: a man approaching middle age, and coping with personal tragedy, learns that the end of the summer season at the beach is a potent metaphor for the transitory nature of human life and by extension, society itself. Aren’t you glad editor Campbell put this kind of profoundly moving tale in ‘New Terrors’ ? I’m not……….

The Dark, by Kathleen Resch: an affectless young woman named Charlene Armstrong wanders the late-night streets of New Orleans, looking for romance, mystery, and intrigue. She finds these in a vampire named Lesta- errr, ‘Desmond.’ This novelette is melodramatic, probably too much so for ‘New Terrors.’

The verdict on ‘New Terrors Omnibus’ ? It’s a Three-Star compilation, demonstrative of horror short fiction as it stood on the eve of the Paperbacks from Hell era. With the exception of the entries from Shaw, Masterton, Tuttle, Wagner, Leconte, and Bear, there are few stories that do anything novel or unique with the genre. This should be considered before sitting down with a book as thick as this one is !