Interview: Laird Barron on Cosmic Horror
Since the debut of his first published work, “Shiva, Open Your Eye” in 2001 in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, author Laird Barron has become a leading voice in cosmic horror, weird, and crime fiction. Across five novels and five collections of short fiction, Barron has charted a unique style that blends stark contemporary realism—deeply concerned with modernity, and the lives of working people—with bleak horror, overt supernatural and cosmic forces, and good old-fashioned weird fiction influences.
For our Cosmic Horror issue, we shared a variety of questions with Barron about the positioning of horror in general (and cosmic horror in particular) in contemporary culture, the intersection of horror and philosophy, the way horror can engage with contemporary issues in culture and politics, and a variety of other topics.
Blood Knife: Cosmic horror seems like it’s been “having a moment” in the public consciousness over the past few years. Have you noticed a greater public interest in it, and if so would you attribute this to anything in particular?
Laird Barron: Horror in general has received heightened interest over the past few years. Be it literature or film. Stephen King and Jordan Peele. Benson and Moorhead. Philip Gelatt and Panos Cosmatos. Cassandra Khaw and Ellen Datlow. Mandy and The Endless were certainly a shot in the arm in regard to cinematic cosmic horror. The renewed interest in Lovecraft, dating back to the late 90s or early aughts, continues to push the lit wave.
Streaming services and independent publishers are taking plenty of chances. That’s led to offbeat shows and books getting the greenlight. Good times.
Blood Knife: I’d love to know a bit about your own relationship with the genre. What is it about cosmic horror as a genre that brought you in and then kept you coming back, both as a reader and as a writer?
Barron: There’s a paradoxical element to cosmic horror. It can be expressed through a macro or micro lens. It can be used to demonstrate the indifference of the universe—or, conversely, the appetite of the universe. Vastness unto practical infinity is a difficult idea to visualize and so cosmic horror often reveals itself indirectly. The fossil record; rings in an ancient tree; occulted societies and customs handed down through millennia. London’s “To Build a Fire” and McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian” don’t qualify as cosmic horror, yet both works feature aspects. Chiefly mankind’s minuteness and fragility before the cosmic slothing of time.
Concepts of time and the impossible scope of the universe have been on my mind since childhood. The stars remind me that we’re fleas. We’re fleas, yet we indulge in the great struggle. That’s our purpose.
Blood Knife: A lot of cosmic horror, your own included, often feels like it’s grappling with big philosophical questions – our place in the universe, the nature of existence, etc. Is there something about the genre that makes it apt for tackling these issues?
Barron: Maybe it’s a bit counterintuitive. Lovecraft, the most famous purveyor of this niche, often went big and wide, eschewing character development for ciphers to channel his ruminations on philosophy and the dark secrets of the universe. To some extent, the navel-gazing has contracted in contemporary treatments of “Lovecraftian” subject matter. We’re human—we can’t help but center ourselves, whether the subject is cosmic malice or cosmic indifference. Whatever niche of horror you care to focus upon, it’s a genre that often boils down to the human condition. The battle between good and evil or chaos and order. What will people do in the face of fear?
Blood Knife: Cosmic horror often touches on these vast concepts far beyond human comprehension, but at the same time so much of the genre — as well as your own fiction (The Croning, Lagerstatte, etc.) — seems anchored to individual tragedy or loss. Is this balance between the cosmic and the individual something that you think about when writing?
Barron: The previous question touched on the micro/macro duality of cosmic horror. This is a facet of science fiction as well. Big concept, shallow character development vs. character driven narratives where the big concept is a backdrop. I’ve dabbled in both, but prefer the latter. I grew up telling stories to my brothers by kerosene lamplight. I improved those tales over time by observing their reactions. Invariably, they were most affected by narratives that centered people with problems. The background was just that—background. A trippy cosmic horror revelation works well as a destination. Characters are the vehicle that gets you there.
Blood Knife: We’ve previously written about how your fiction often incorporates themes and settings from the corporate world, and twists them in occult or cosmic directions. Is there anything in particular that draws you to write about corporations and business from a horror point-of-view?
Barron: That was a nice overview of my writing. I do feature corporations/corporate types. I favor characters whose social or job circumstances expose them to danger. Be it someone who is marginalized or someone of extraordinary means. Vast wealth in the hands of a committee is a dehumanizing prospect. Big business is reliably at odds with anything and anyone not contributing to the bottom line. Agents of corporations make terrific antagonists, antiheroes, and so on. It’s a useful convergence of means, motive, and opportunity.
Blood Knife: You’ve branched out into crime writing in recent years, and I’ve heard you use True Detective as a touchpoint when talking about your Isaiah Coleridge novels (plus series creator Nic Pizzolato is apparently a fan of your work). Do you think there’s a thematic overlap between crime fiction and horror of the cosmic variety?
Barron: There’s a natural overlap between horror in general and other dark genres. They mirror one another, but the image is cloudy and warped like you’d get examining your reflection in polished metal or thick old glass. There’s often a mystery inherent to crime and noir, but discovering the cold truth doesn’t necessarily profit the investigators. Very often, revelation merely compounds misery. The last snuffing of the candle of hope. Cosmic horror is fun to inject into the narrative because it highlights questions of determinism versus fate. Nihilism versus optimism. These questions then get projected against a much larger canvas. But these genres tend to say, no matter which way you slice it, we’re all fucked. Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to choose how we go into that good night.
Blood Knife: Last question: is there anything going on in cosmic horror — themes, authors, filmmakers, whatever — that you find especially interesting or exciting right now?
Barron: Film: Beyond the Black Rainbow and Mandy by Panos Cosmatos. Particularly Mandy with its aesthetic of paperback fantasy as written by Jack Vance and Michael Moorcock and drawn by Frazetta and Vallejo. Cosmatos knocks my socks off.
Channel Zero has a Ligotti-meets-The Twilight Zone vibe. Just tune in to “No End House.” You’ll see.
Benson and Moorhead killed it with Resolution; Spring; and The Endless. They have poignant takes on the bonds of love, platonic love, and loyalty. Meanwhile, the universe gnashes its teeth at their very human characters and we’re on the edge of our seats. It’s refreshing to care what befalls characters in a horror movie.
Literature: He’s been around a while, but not enough readers are tuned into Junji Ito’s manga work. He’s famous for Uzumaki, and that’s a fine place to start, but I suggest hunting down his collected short tales.
Ellen Datlow continues to set the pace for horror anthologies. She’s done a couple with Lovecraftian themes. Her ongoing year’s best series almost always contains a story or two that bends toward the cosmic.
Special thanks to Laird Barron for his time and attention in answering our questions. His latest novel, Worse Angels, is available now from G.P. Putnam’s Sons—and his latest short story, Joren Falls, is available from Tor Nightfire.
— Kurt Schiller, Editor
Kurt is the editor of Blood Knife and host of Parents Just Don’t Understand. Find him on Twitter at @mechanicalkurt.
