I first met Chelsea Quinn Yarbro back between the 8th and the 9th Punic Wars (she was a mere babe in arms at the time) in 1976, when I read her novel, The Time of the Fourth Horseman. I was so impressed that I called her up ... and promptly got into an hour-long conversation that ranged over religion, politics, military history, music, and the Science Fiction community—of which we were both relatively new members. It was fascinating, wonderful and fun ... and every single conversation we have had since then has been exactly the same. I’m not the only one who feels this way about conversations with this dear lady, by the way. I soon discovered that she possessed more than a few talents: composer, cartographer, playwright, student of seven different instruments, as well as voice, tarot card reader, and author of wonderful novels encompassing a number of genres—even Westerns, The Law in Charity and Charity, Colorado (believe me when I tell you this) are unlike any Westerns you have ever read; they are well worth looking up.
As you might have guessed, we’ve been friends for quite a while. Chelsea Quinn Yarbro is interesting, talented, good-hearted, intelligent, and has one of the greatest smiles that has ever shone anywhere. And she introduces me to wines that, when I drink them, I think the world is a pretty nice place after all.
Well, that’s nice, I heard someone say. The two of you are good friends. But what does this have to do with this collection of stories?
Okay, I’ll tell you.
All of the qualities named above go into everything she writes. And her style is measured and elegant and just plain musical. Her stories contain the most amazing historical, literary and imaginative details. Her characters are weird and multidimensional and achingly familiar. She writes about love and survival and stress and violence and the incomprehensible contrariness of the human spirit. (Therefore, we must add courageous to the list of qualities possessed by this author. Please make a note of this.) The universe and our fellow human beings and even ourselves do things—sometimes horrible things. It is a writer’s duty to face them, to stand up to them and not to blink. Chelsea Quinn Yarbro never fails to confront each and every one.
Each of the stories in this volume, written between 1982 and 2002, whether Horror or Science Fiction or just Fiction, are lovely representatives of the above—Do you have any favorites? (There is that person again. Who is that? Stop interrupting when LoBrutto is composing.)
Well, yes, I do. I thoroughly enjoyed reading every story in this collection. I have truly never read anything by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro that I didn’t enjoy. Some, however, do stand out in my mind: “Fugues” is just the kind of story Quinn would write, a Grand Toccata and, uh, well, Fugue on a fairly common theme in supernatural short stories (it’s anything but common in the hands of this author); then there’s that tasty morsel, “Renfield’s Syndrome” about the joys of being carnivorous; “Become So Shining That We Cease to Be” (I do so love that title) a very neatly constructed story on the lengths some people will go to in order to be heard; “On St. Hubert’s Thing” is the type of story Quinn does so well, an intricately detailed story of plots and heresy and faith.
Waste no more time, gentle reader; move on to tales of wonder by the incomparable Chelsea Quinn Yarbro.
—Patrick LoBrutto