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what
the critics say about Redgunk Tales
(I just found out that this review was done by Richard Dansky! Small world.) from the Green Man Review June 10,
2001 William R. Eakin's Redgunk Tales -- a most interesting collection
of very weird Southern tales! William R. Eakin, Redgunk Tales (Invisible
Cities Press, 2001) Welcome to Redgunk, Mississippi. It's
a town with a couple of hundred residents, several of whom have been abducted by aliens
and many of whom are dating them. It's a town with a fake mummy in the five-and-dime, not
that it stops anyone from thinking the mummy's stealing pies off windowsills. It's a town
with clones and unicorns and Jack Daniels and kudzu and small-town folks who aren't
necessarily so small themselves even though they know every detail of the tomato-clam
sauce that put one of their neighbors in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer after a church
dinner and the men of the town spend far too much time cruising up and down with bottles
of Jack Daniels looking for young ladies who are entirely too young but who know an awful
lot about cuddling up in the back of a pickup truck with the door down and, well, if
you've made it through this sentence you've got a good idea what reading one of William
Eakin's Redgunk Tales is like. To call Redgunk Tales a short
story collection is to give a false idea of what the book is like. Yes, it's a collection
of short stories, and yes, they're all tied to the fictional town of Redgunk, MS, but
pause a moment and throw out your notion of what that might mean. Redgunk here isn't a
bedrock of continuity or an absolute setting. Rather, it's a core idea, one that Eakin
riffs on in this direction and that, depending on the needs of each individual story. What
that means, in practical terms, is that if you go looking for an authoritative guide to
the way Redgunk sits on the map, and who all of its citizens are, how they act and what
they do, you're in for disappointment. Eakin paints and re-paints his canvas
according to what he's writing now, and it doesn't matter what Mabel Delashmit was doing
last story if she fits into the framework of the next one differently. Trying to lay down
exactly what is in Redgunk is an exercise in frustration, and does much to remove the
book's pleasures. Then again, if it is that important to you exactly how far it is from
Redgunk to the Blake County Line, you're probably reading the wrong book anyway. So what are the Redgunk Tales?
They're stories, sit-around-on-the-step-and-listen-to-your-crazy-uncle-bullshit stories.
They have that kind of easy rhythm and flow and enthusiasm, and they're written with a
love of the sound of language that doesn't rear its head often. However, they're also shot
through with references to Diomedes and Irish poetry, to the Python at Delphi and to
enough other classical and otherwise erudite nuggets of knowledge that the end result is
that there's a richness to the material that lifts it beyond pure regionalism and into an
altogether more sparsely populated neighborhood. Does Redgunk Tales have flaws?
Certainly. Eakin has a habit of tilling the same fields repeatedly. When this involves
re-examination of themes from story to story, the effect is superb. When it involves the
second Achilles reference in as many stories, the effect is less salutary. A little
reshuffling of the story order would have worked wonders to counteract this. In addition,
the cover is one of the most distressing I've seen in years, a portrait of the town mummy
peering through kudzu that's drawn so as to give the casual impression that one is being
watched by a ninja who likes earth tones. But leaving those minor quibbles
aside, Redgunk Tales is a cracking good read. It's one of those collections that's
so rich that it's best read one story at a time, so that each can be savored and enjoyed
on its own terms. It's a slower read that way but then again, that's more time spent in
Redgunk. And that just can't be a bad thing.
-Rowan Innish, The Green Man Review (July 2001)
From Edward Morris: I was a finalist for the 2005 British Science Fiction Award and am a finalist for the 2005 Sidewise Award as well. I just had the unspeakable pleasure of reading your _Redgunk Tales_while waiting for a computer in the library. I described your work to my girlfriend as akin to that of another Miz- sippi oriented William, full of sound and fury and signifying everything, like Joe Lansdale with his cock in a socket, or Tom Robbins yanked out of the angry, aggro madness of Seattle and set down in warmer climes. But no comparison to another really touches the insane beauty of your work, or what it did to me. Some books are painkillers, others are good codes for life, still others are music. _Redgunk Tales_ changed my soul, and that process is still going on. God and Goddess bless you for writing that book, sir, and I hope you write a hundred more like it. Thank you for unzipping my head at exactly the right time.
Redgunk, Miss., isn't just any small Southern
town. For one thing, there is a mummy on the loose there, stealing fresh pies from
windowsills. A dragon lives in its sewers. Ghosts, alien abductions and unicorn sightings
are the stuff of everyday conversation. A tiny pocket of civilization populated by 400
people, plus one yellow dog with smelly black lips, Redgunk is simultaneously a place of
prosaic horror and impossible beauty. In Redgunk Tales: Apocalypse and Kudzu from
Redgunk, Mississippi, author William R. Eakin provides readers with plenty of swamp
gas and a piercing view into the human soul. All of the stories in this collection
interweave the fabric of everyday life with fantasy elements ranging from the bizarre to
the beautiful. "The Secret of the Mummy's Brain" is a monologue, delivered by a
dime-store mannequin who has been wrapped in bandages and put on display in an Egyptology
exhibit, in which he declares his love for the store clerk, Mary Ann Klugel. In
"Encounter in Redgunk," a man must deal with decades-old guilt when a schoolmate
is abducted by aliens. In "Unicorn Stew," a brother and sister learn the truth
about a horrific crime, and about the magical creature who was involved. Though most of the 13 stories in Redgunk
Tales appeared in SF and fantasy magazines during the late '90s, Eakin fans will be
pleased to learn that a trio of the stories in this collection are new. "Roadkill
Fred" is the tale of a man who likes to run over skunks and the scientists who clone
him, while "A God for Delphi" follows a Redgunk resident on a tour of Greece,
where he searches for inner peace after the death of his mother. In "The Miracle of
Swamp Gas Jackson," a widow redeems the spirit of her late husband and a long-dead
jazz legend with one generous act.
A RICH AND SORCEROUS BREW Readers who cannot get enough of wonky
fantasy will want to rush out right now and get their hands on this book. William R.
Eakin's strange combination of day-to-day living and the stuff of tabloid headlines makes
for potent fiction, combining heartbreak with humor in every story. Redgunk is brimming
with life's harsh realities--abused wives, children with birth defects, drunk drivers,
inhumane and greedy land developers--revealing the darkest hues of human behavior. His
stories, however, are never entirely bleak. The Mississippi landscape in which they take
place is thoroughly enchanted, fully capable of supporting any Redgunkers who strive to
save themselves from ruin. Two of the most powerful stories in
the collection are "Unicorn Stew" and "A Dragon of Conspiracy," in
part because in using two of fantasy's most employed creatures, Eakin shows the extent of
his originality. The unicorn in the former superficially follows the traditional rules of
the myths from which it comes, but in Redgunk it only appears to a virgin for the purpose
of making a tremendous sacrifice. The dragon of the latter tale is both gorgeous and
powerful--but it is trapped in the town sewer system, and cannot survive if it leaves. By
taking a pair of creatures who appear so often in fantasy that they are almost invisible,
and savagely twisting their tropes, Eakin reminds readers of the great power which drives
the genre. Another appealing aspect of Redgunk
Tales is that the stories are interlocked: characters who appear as protagonists of
one story are background for the next. Their lives move forward, and the result is that
readers gain an impression of a vibrant town with a real past and continuing history.
Despite its bizarre occurrences and wandering ghosts, Redgunk is convincingly real. It may
not have all that many residents, but readers will be convinced they know them all, alive,
dead or undead, with their generous hearts and dark secrets. Eakin's work is enormous fun. It
smacks you between the eyes with appalling real-life situations and then somehow makes it
all okay
from Tangent, Spring, 1997
(Professional review)
I think ["Harriet"] is
eloquent and witty, thoughtful and even
from June Hubbard, editor-in-chief of
Chameleon Publishing, January, 1999 (on soliciting from me a possible story anthology)
"Encounter in Redgunk" is, like Fintushel's story, also a new episode in a
series that has previously appeared in other magazines that unfolds...in literary fashion.
The story is more SF than fantasy, and more a literary psychological piece than a genre
story. The way it gets under the skins of its
characters is unexpected, and effective.
from
Hal Jacobs for The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution In this collection of short stories,
many published in various fantasy and science fiction magazines, Eakin captures a wild,
primitive, funny side of the South soaked in New Age spirituality and Jack Daniels
whiskey. In "Encounter in Redgunk,"
aliens abduct a brain-damaged local named Orange Decker and eventually heal his ripped
nerve endings. Not only that, they deliver a jolt of higher consciousness to the drunk who
caused Orange's head injury in a long-ago, hit-and-run accident. In "Lawnmower Moe," a
lawnmower-pushing ghost doesn't find peace until his teenaged son finally puts down his
Victoria's Secret catalog, acknowledges his family's ancient Druid bloodlines, and takes a
bush hog to rid the yard of kudzu and poison ivy. Lost motorists pay 50 cents in
"The Secret of the Mummy's Brain" to visit the Museum of Science and Egyptology
in the back of Uncle Joe's Corner Liquor Store and Gas. Of course, they usually wink
knowingly at "the mummy," which appears to be an ordinary mannequin wrapped in
ace bandages. But the mummy is really quite extraordinary as he reveals a poet's longing
for the shop girl who cleans him. "Deep down you know you are not
surrounded by dead, newly dusted things. Deep down you know there is life in the room
where you are, life and love, just as deep down you know electricity pulses with divinity
and plastic and knee bandages can be animate." Occasionally these stories give off a
wysteria-like sweetness, as when aliens become ideal lovers to lonely professional women
in the Redgunk community. These alien lovers are so perfect that, when not in use, they
can be conveniently bottled and stowed away. In Redgunk, visits by intelligent beings -
even if they are from deep space - are greatly appreciated.
from Faren Miller, Locus
(May, 2001): The title conveys some of the flavor of Redgunk Tales: Apocalypse and Kudzu from
Redgunk, Mississippi by William R. Eakin. The
linked stories and characters in this collection almost form a mosaic novel, but the
primary personality seems to be the town itself. It’s
a far cry from the more secretly fantastic townships of Carroll and de Lint, for this
place flaunts its weirdness like a tight psychedelic sweatshirt on a bosomy gal: SF (aliens), fantasy (unicorns, of sorts), horror
(a mummy and assorted dogs); you name it, it’s here, served up southern style. Gonzo
white trash vulgarity is only part of the mix, however, and anyone unfamiliar with these
tales (many of which appeared in Realms of Fantasy over the last three years) is in
for a surprise. Cheek by jowl with
Eakin’s selection of rural louts and eccentrics, there’s a recurring element
straight out of classical literature--an educated sensitivity steeped in ancient myths,
tragedies, and folklore, whether the theme be fantastic or SFnal. This leads to some jarring transformations, as
louts abruptly become introspective souls agonizing over their past mistakes, and even
Ovid might have trouble accepting some of the changes Eakin rings. But when his offbeat juxtapositions
work, they’re startlingly effective. “Meadow
Song” takes a band of middle-aged rockers known as the Beergoozers and --through the
eyes of one of their fervent fans--gives their music all the power of Orpheus, without
ignoring the absurdity of a group whose big ‘60s hit was “Surfin’
Mamacita.” In “Unicorn Stew,” where the focus is on women’s trials and inner
strengths, near caricature develops into archetype, then becomes fully human, in a
downhome version of a Grimm’s tale, complete with a juniper tree, cannibalism and
that unicorn... A black bluesman and an aging couple feature in “The Miracle of Swamp
Gas Jackson,” for a powerful mix of love and music, bones and life. And closing tale “Redgunk, Texas” (yes,
we’ve moved from the banks of Ole Man River) manages to combine the spirit of
intellectually rigorous science fiction with the fantastic complexity of the human heart
until it can’t be labelled as a work from any genre.
At his best, Eakin creates a genre all his own.
Mississippi Libraries Volume 70, No.1 Spring 2006 “Book News” Eakin, William R. Redgunk Tales: Apocalypse and Kudzu from Redgunk, Mississippi. (Note:
presently available only from the author, from Yard Dog Press, or from Amazon.com) Redgunk, Arkansas
native William R. Eakin creates a fictional landscape that is a cross between Rod
Sterling’s Twilight Zone and Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles and sets it in
the The
author’s writing style draws the reader in and often moves into a Faulkneresque style
of poetic writing with run-on sentences creating images and feelings that cannot be
conveyed with mere prose fiction. In the story “Meadow Song,” an elderly Redgunk
native reunites with the spirit of his disabled wife: And
my body lurches, as if the heart has stopped, again, completely – no, as if some
devil has ripped from me and away, and the scales before my eyes have fallen aside, and I
do not have to peer through physical cataracts to try to see you, or to see glimpses of
you from the corners of my eye there in the woods or there among the fresh columbines or
bending to pick the stalks of poke salat. I see you, Laura. I see that you are close.
Even readers
who normally avoid science fiction and fantasy may enjoy the beauty of Eakin’s
imagery, his understanding of human nature and his attention to detail. The author is able
to take the ordinary and give it a polish that makes it shine bright enough to rival the
presence of the supernatural in each of these tales. Eakin has
published previously in magazines like Realms of Fantasy, Amazing Stories and Science
Fiction Age. Many of his stories are award-winning and he has been recommended for the
Nebula Award. This book is recommended for public libraries and academic libraries that
have an interest in collecting science fiction. Adrienne
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