Introduction

Following Your Gut, Straight into the Tiger’s

By Rev. Brian Worley

Sincerely,

Yes, I know, you didn’t download this to read an introduction (let alone three). Or a preface, or an editor’s note, or anything except for good stories.  There are plenty of these, luckily, so I’ll keep it short.

This anthology is based on the hope that there are other people like me in the world.  That is to say, people who have two things in common with me.  First, I suppose I'd refer to myself as an amateur psychologist.  I'm extremely interested in why people do the things they choose to do.  Collectively and individually, across all ages, lifestyles, and cultures, we do things that don't make any sense at all.  While there is more than enough nonsense that seems to stem from our education, upbringing, etc., there's plenty more foolishness tied directly to our physiology.

Plenty of people like to point out that our "fight-or-flight" instinct once served us quite well when we ran the daily risk of being eaten by saber-toothed beasties. However, they continue, it isn't very useful when we're trying to stay calm and collected during our boardroom presentation.  Our bodies can’t decipher an angry boss from a tiger.

 In Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, when Death collects one's metaphysical remains, he often has a conversation that goes something like this:

Recently Deceased: “That man just killed me!”

Death: “Yes, these things happen.”

Recently Deceased: “But he killed me!  Why... why aren't I angry?”

Death: “Ah.  I suspect that sort of thing requires glands.  You haven't got those anymore.”

And indeed, glands seem to be responsible for many of our decision. We follow our hearts, and listen to our guts. Even if it leads us off a cliff, or into a tiger's belly.

We aren’t happy with our bodies, either. We’re constantly dieting, or getting tattoos, or combing hair over a bald spot. We’re dyeing and waxing and exercising and wishing different parts were bigger or smaller or darker or lighter. We’re always fighting with ourselves, because the part of us that isn’t brain never seems to listen.  

The second thing I hope you have in common with me is an unwillingness to limit oneself to a particular genre of literature.  When asked “What do you like to read?”, I’m always tempted to answer, “Books.” I have difficulty getting more specific than that (and, considering that I read magazines and on-line journals, as well, “books” isn’t the whole truth, either). As such, this is not an anthology of horror, or humor, or speculative fiction, or literary fiction or flash fiction or slipstream or SF.  First and foremost, this is an anthology of good fiction (with the occasional poem).  This anthology does include horror, humor, speculative fiction, literary fiction, etc.  I have difficulty limiting myself by genre, because I have difficulty reading exclusively one.  While I tend to be drawn to fiction that skirts the line between genres, I also have an appreciation for a good 100% SF story.  Or 100% literary story.  Or what have you. They say there's no accounting for taste, and I'm sure you won't agree with me on everything.  (I'm not even sure I agree with me on everything.) I can say with confidence that this is a project I'm proud to have been a part of, and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I liked assembling it. Genre vs. literary vs. subgenres is an argument that is absent here.

Finally, a word about the organization of this anthology:  In short, we did it all by feel. (Followed our gut instinct?) Why is a story that doesn’t necessarily discuss any body part in great detail listed under the “Skeletal” category? In short, it felt like it belonged there. And so, the stories in the “Circulatory” section deal with love, since love deals with the heart.  And so on.

And now that I’ve said genre isn’t important, the other editors will discuss it. After that, what you came here for. The stories.  Sixteen works, plus three freebies from the editors.  Enjoy.

 I am fine. How are you?

Dear Reader,

Rev. Brian Worley

*****

Warning:  There Be Literature in These Pages.

By James Maddox

Literature:  n. Written works; esp. those considered of superior or lasting artistic merit.

Confession time.  I love literature, but I believe only a few people know what that really means to me.  I love Raymond Chandler just as much as I love Raymond Carver; I love Kenzaburo Oe as much as I love Banana Yoshimoto; and I love Stephen King as much as I love Susan Sontag.  As far as I’m concerned, all of these people have written some undeniably fantastic works.

When speaking of literature, my mind rarely sticks to Dostoevsky, Fitzgerald, or even Melville.  That’s not to say that these aren’t influential writers, quite the opposite is true.  I just find the works of Kafka, Calvino, Auster, and many, many others to be just as effective in their storytelling; they also keep my eyes scanning with vigor and enthusiasm; they also keep the pages turning.

For me, these writers and their stories are important enough to transcend that stuck-up stigma attached to the word “Literature,” as well as do it justice.

I think it was when I read the stories “Delicious” and “When Everyone Comes to Your Birthday Party” that I knew I Am This Meat was going to stack up to the expectations I had for it.  I read these stories, and I knew that we had tapped into something good. 

Going as far back as when Susurrus Press started, we as editors knew that the goal for every issue was to publish fiction that had more going for it that just being strangely entertaining.  We didn’t want to release a bland style of fiction onto the masses.  We wanted to compete with all those publications out there that we thought were doing good in the fiction world, starting with Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and EscapePod and ending with the McSweeney’s and Salt Hill. 

Our stories needed to say something real; they needed to have a strong emotional attachment; and then, once that criteria was met, they needed to not be boring as all get out or too high-handed. 

Translation:  They needed to be our idea of literature.

In my opinion, I feel that we’ve achieved our goals.  Maybe not everyone will agree with me on that point, and certainly not for every story, but some of the stories found in I Am This Meat aren't just one's I'm proud to have published, they're also stories that I'm glad to have read. The best of them stick with you long after you've finished reading them, their words and plots come back to you in the strangest moments and remind you of what a good story can accomplish.

We’re running strong on readers that feel the exact same way as we do about fiction.  If you happen to be one of them, then you’ve probably skipped all this boring shit and gone straight to the stories.  If you happen to be new to the fold, let me be the first to say welcome, and introduce you to some stories that deserve to be recognized for all the things that make literature powerful, timeless, and loved.

*****

From the Demented Desk of Dr. Diablo, M.D., Ph.D, D.D., Mad Scientist

By Adicus Ryan Garton

            I have tried zombies.  I dabbled with Frankenstein's monster.  I played with werewolves and vampires.  Genetics—you know, clones and mutations and viruses:  the X-men, the Incredible Hulk.  I went historical with Mr. Hyde and Dracula.  I tried aliens and robots.  And for all that, after three thousand words worth of false starts and as many paragraph fragments as people have fingers and toes (normal people, not the guy who eats his own fingers), I've decided that the stories here cannot be summed in a neat little introduction that compares them to Frankenstein or the Fiend.  There are stories here that could be likened to vampires or werewolves but there are not enough for an introduction that focuses on vampires or werewolves. It couldn’t do justice to the stories that do not contain those elements.  There are zombies and clones and aliens and ghosts, but none of those are perfect, either.

            In essence, this anthology is singular, unique.  It steers away from the shackles of literature, of SF, of fantasy, of horror, of slipstream, although most of the stories fall into one or more of those categories.  It's just too fucking hard to pin down with one metaphor, one analogy—with a frilly comparison to some other kind of story.

            All that being said, there are no vampires here.  There are no werewolves or zombies or clones, but sometimes there's something close.  I think the most important central theme here is that these stories are about people, as figuratively or literally as you want to take it.

            And in my experience, the best stories are the ones about people.

            Anything else I try to write is just so much editorial fluff.

            Enjoy.

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