The King in Yellow Tales, vol. 1 (2015)

 

KIYT1 - cover [front]

Lovecraft eZine Press (paperback, eBook)

 

‘No one does the darker side of surreal better than this man.’ – Laird Barron

Nearly two decades before True Detective helped popularize The King in Yellow, Joseph S. Pulver, Sr. was writing poetic tales based upon Robert W. Chambers’ King in Yellow. Collected within this substantial volume of madness, murder, and spectral tragedy are tales of Carcosa, the characters that inhabit the KIY Play, and Chambers’ cosmic horror. Pulver’s tales adhere to Chambers’ core ideas and themes, and they retain all the mystery of Chambers originals. Joseph S. Pulver, Sr. has been acclaimed by many notable editors, writers, and reviewers, as the contemporary heir to Robert W. Chambers’ King in Yellow. Have you seen the Yellow Sign?

The King In Yellow reigns over the labyrinthine crossroads between the grand indifference of the cosmic Outside, and the inner wasteland of the tormented mind, so it’s no surprise to find Joe Pulver’s saturnine face so frequently behind the Pallid Mask. Joe plies the fathomless depths of existential nightmare breathing music and poetry, and brings back strangely beautiful salvage. That he has so lovingly and deeply explored Chambers’ bizarre pocket universe without destroying the merest scintilla of its mystery is ample testament to his painfully sharp craftsmanship and terrible wisdom.” – Cody Goodfellow, Radiant Dawn

 

ND art - Marsh's Symbol


Table of Contents:

A Line of Questions
Choosing
Carl Lee & Cassilda
An American Tango Ending in Madness
Hello Is a Yellow Kiss
The Last Few Nights In A Life Of Frost (Original “unpublished” version)
Chasing Shadows
Last Year in Carcosa
An Engagement of Hearts
Cordelia’s Song (Previously unpublished)
Saint Nicholas Hall
A Spider In the Distance
Under the Mask Another Mask
Epilogue For Two Voices
Yvrain’s “Black Dancers”
The Songs Cassilda Shall Sing, Where Flap the Tatters of the King
The Sky Will Not Fall (Previously unpublished)
Tark Left Santiago
Marks and Scars and Flags
Long-Stemmed Ghost Words
In This Desert Even the Air Burns
Perfect Grace
My Mirage
Mother Stands For Comfort
A Cold Yellow Moon
(co-written with Edward R. Morris Jr.)

ND art - Marsh's Symbol

INTRODUCTION TO ISSUE #30, BY JOSEPH S. PULVER, SR.

Mike Davis asked me to guest edit a King in Yellow issue of The Lovecraft eZine and I was quick to say yes. For various reasons, there were many I did not get the chance to invite to A Season in Carcosa, so I looked at my old list and asked who might like to book a room in the Tower of Gloom. Everyone said they’d love to come to Carcosa for a season, but sadly life got in the way for some and they could not come and play. Happily the others braved greyness and rain and walked, carrying their strange imaginations, across the cloudwaves.

It is with great pleasure that The Lovecraft eZine (and your humble editor) presents these tributes to the dark imagination of weird fiction master, Robert W. Chambers.

I hope you enjoy these glimpses into the dim and lonely places of Carcosa.

— Joe Pulver

 

ND art - Marsh's Symbol

Review  [poem] by Edward Morris

Supremely glad that
this is only
Volume 1.

It is bad form to review a work
wherein the last story is a
collaboration with your-
self, but this is a
rare case. I asked.
The favor was
granted, the
form under-
stood.

Ah, Beast, teacher, Boogeyman, the father I actually found,
Sensei, dark midnight thunderer over metaphysical canons,
This collection, this chance, this great thing that
Mike Davis did, and everyone who proofed and dare
I say peopled its pages with dank cyanide Easter-
eggs: Mike Cisco. Kat Pulver. Brandi Jording.
Karl Edward Wagner. Laird Barron. Scott
Nicolay. David Lynch. But none of them
are big enough for Beast to hide
behind, even with false modesty,
homage, canonical Jazz and Ska
when all the stops come loose,

This series of etudes in every key,
This— Ah, Beast, the drunken
night behind the ropes at a
Tuscan restaurant while
the cooks paid back the
favor they owed the
Tuscan beauty on
my arm and we
drank till
four and
jukebox’d
Swing was

almost
this good. It almost
held this much weight, but
I don’t have to put it
down after every story
and process what I
just read. Me.

Me.

You never cease to meditate on
Chambers, but never stayed
there, only jumped off
from there. Every time
I think you’ve cheated,
you rope-a-dope both
eyelids and I go
back one page and
Oh.

Oh.

Beast don’t cheat. The reader
is his mouse. We get moved
back and forth on the
page. SWAT. SWAT. A
little blood, but
more to the field
of play.