Kirkus Reviews says:
The 19 stories in Sparks’ second collection (May We Shed These Human Bodies, 2012) are shot through with fabulist elements and are rarely more than a few pages long, making them read like fairy tales or prose poems. And as with poetry, the strength of the collection is Sparks’ lush, lyrical writing, saturating the dark, death-filled stories with beauty…
When Inge wonders, “Was the world crowded with ghosts?” the collection answers for her: yes. Luckily for readers, we have Sparks to guide us through the underworld. Stylish and deeply imagined.
Read the full review here.
Very excited to announce that my second short story collection, The Unfinished World and Other Stories, will be published by Liveright/Norton in early 2016. The news was announced in Publisher’s Marketplace:
Amber Sparks’ THE UNFINISHED WORLD AND OTHER STORIES, a new collection featuring star-crossed lovers, taxidermists, time travelers, and space janitors, to Katie Henderson Adams at Liveright, by Kent Wolf at Lippincott Massie McQuilkin. (North American)
I can’t wait for you all to read this thing – it’s been a labor of love for years working on these stories and it’s thrilling that they’ve found such a great home.
I have a new essay up at Electric Literature, where editor Lincoln Michel was lovely enough to let me mess around with genre definition and cook up something new/old. A sample:
Domestic fabulism, on the other hand, is immersion, an exploration of self and situation – of the dread that lives and lurks at home, where we cannot escape it. It creates a double existence, an anxiety that ends, if it does, in a sort of forced catharsis – we must confront the thing that lives in our house, in our marriage, in our family, in our town – the succubus that sits on our throats when we dream. Domestic fabulism, it seems to me, is also on the rise. And that makes sense – that in an age beyond the age of exploration, in an age where the exotic has become the familiar – we might once again look to the fabulous in the small minutiae of our daily home lives. We live in an age of dread and anxiety – harm can come to us at any moment; we live in absolute awareness, where domestic stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. It’s a perfect time to turn ourselves inside out by turning the world around us outside in.
…is the name of a piece that the brand-spanking, shiny new Threadcount Magazine has been kind enough to publish in their inaugural issue. I’m really excited to be featured alongside the words of Peter Markus, JA Tyler, Catherine Wagner, and Rachel Levy – and bear a huge debt of gratitude to editors Annie Bilancini and Matthew Weinkam for making it so.
The piece is in the spirit of what I perceive Threadcount’s vision to be: a hybrid, a not-quite-one-thing-and-not-quite-the-other. Something entirely new, I hope, and maybe a little depressing but also hopefully funny and readable. Here’s a sample:
- Could we pretend death is really a sort of starting over? Or is that just too much to ask? Could we refrain from imagining one another in our underclothes, in our skin, in our bones, in our foaming muscle and softening fat to feed and fortify the loamy soil we float in? Could we refrain from the cranking of hymns, from the showing of slideshows, from the off-center programs made in Microsoft Word over our lunch breaks, littered with lachrymose sentiment and wrong-aspect-ratio pictures where we look, ashamed, at the camera—suddenly so embarrassed to be alive. Standing in front of the Taj Mahal, or in Times Square, in places teeming with life while we stop what isn’t ours to stop and claim it like a big game hunter in the Nairobi, while we nail down our trophies of space and seize this pretense, this rarified air that we pretend is ours alone. While we understand that we are all just falling through, like Alice down the rabbit hole, and taking snapshots on the way of all the wrong-sized things and places we may find ourselves, oh funny man-shaped spaces, because what else, really, can we be expected to do with this tiny vial of time on earth?
So enjoy reading about my death–about all of our deaths. May they hold off for a good long while.
THE DESERT PLACES…coming October 15th
The book I co-wrote with Robert Kloss, The Desert Places, has launched, and it’s a terrifying thing of beauty. With glorious full color illustrations by Matt Kish, author of Moby Dick in Pictures, the book is a sort of time-collapsed trip through the birth and death of humanity, and a study in evil–both natural and man-made.
The Small Press Book Review says, ” It is always exciting to read something that manages to feel new in a world where everything has been done. The Desert Places takes some of the oldest questions and fears that have embedded themselves in literature, rips them apart with jagged teeth, and lays them out in front of us in new configurations, still pulsing.”
And HTMLGIANT says, “In The Desert Places, Amber Sparks and Robert Kloss commiserate with darkness, and through this they dissect a core element of us all.”
You can get pre-order the book (shipping literally any day now) at Amazon or at Barnes and Noble, or click here to find the nearest indie bookstore to you.
Or, stop by and pick up a copy in person if you’re near Salem, Mass on October 25th – join us at our book release and Halloween celebration!
THE DESERT PLACES…coming October 15th
By Amber Sparks, Robert Kloss, and Matt Kish.
Coming October 15th to a bookstore near you.
Pre-order it here.
Thanks to the lovely Jamie Iredell, I am the featured writer at Atticus Review this month. That means you can find an interview with Jamie, as well as some brand new, never-before-seen stories I’ve written. And it ALSO means you can get a glimpse of the novel-in-progress that nobody has seen so far. Here’s a teaser:
Oliver always said the Cabinet contained the best of this world and the remnants of the one before it. Set was confused and fascinated by it, this gilded wooden cabinet, long as one wall and topped in sections by a carved snake, a wolf, and a fierce giantess; this glassless exhibit where brass clocks butted against stringless lutes, and chalky human bones overlapped pearlescent fish scales and fetuses floating in glass jars. In it, Indonesian ceremonial masks sat alongside works of art by Matisse and Toulouse-Lautrec; a little glass chimera peeked out from behind a magic lantern, three crystal balls were wrapped in maps made by Chinese explorers in the 1500s; a beautiful painting of a stag hunted by dogs hung crooked and slashed in one corner; and everywhere were stuffed birds, magnets, obelisks, pieces of armor, bits of Claude Lorraine glass, and branches made of wood, of iron, of ash.
Go and get the rest here!