Aniko Carmean

One of the advantages of the self-publishing revolution is the way it enables interesting new writers to make their voices heard – writers who wouldn’t necessarily get a contract with a traditional publishing house, but who nevertheless deserve to have an audience. Aniko Carmean is one such writer. 'Stolen Climates' fits into no easily-defined horror category, and might as a result have proved something of a hard sell to the marketing and PR people, but it’s an interesting and absorbing book, and one that certainly deserves to be out there in the public eye.

The novel is set in the small town of Breaker,Texas, and follows some innocent outsiders – Malcolm and Genny and their daughter, and drifter Prentice – who unwittingly get caught up in the town’s extreme weirdness. This is a small town with secrets, a small town with one big nasty secret. This may be a horror cliché, but 'Stolen Climates' itself is not particularly clichéd: indeed, the actual nature of the horror here is original, and interesting.

This is not the kind of horror that grabs you by the throat on the first page; it gradually draws you in, getting steadily weirder. I don’t think this is a bad thing at all: I’m not a great believer in the idea that the first few lines of a novel necessarily have to hit you right between the eyes. Sometimes a rather more measured pace can be a good thing. It works well here: the first chapter is reassuringly commonplace, the second slightly less so; by the time you get to the short, sharp shock of the third chapter, it’s all the more creepy for the normality of the previous chapters.

Carmean uses lush, descriptive language to good effect: small-town Texas is evoked beautifully and realistically (or so itseemed to this Brit, who has never been to Texas in her life). However, as with all good things, you can have too much of it. It’s a balancing act, and a difficult one; too little description can make a story feel rushed and thin,and too much can weigh the story down and make it soggy. Carmean has a way with words and an eye for a striking image, but she carries it a bit far on occasion, with the result that the story can begin to feel a little slow and heavy, at least for my personal tastes. Likewise, there is an occasional tendency to record trivial conversations and events in great detail, when the story might have read better had they been omitted.

This, however, is a very small shortcoming, and shouldn’t deter anyone from reading 'Stolen Climates'. This is good, enjoyable horror, and a solid debut from a writer who may well be one to watch. Recommended.… (més)

Having read Aniko Carmean’s debut novel Stolen Climates, I was eagerly awaiting her follow-up. I’m also a big fan of the short story, so I had an idea that I’d like MIXED MEDIA, a story about the nature and significance of art and the variability of perception. The story is narrated by Mario Santa Maria, himself an artist. Mario’s life is in crisis: he’s quit his job, much to his girlfriend’s chagrin (“It [the job] killed my inspiration, and then stole my dreams.”) He isn’t sleeping, and his once-vivid dreams appear to have disappeared. Things go from bad to plain weird, however, when he pays a visit to an art gallery.

When Mario looks at a piece of art on his own, he finds, the canvas fades to black. When he looks at it in tandem with another person, he sees it; but, interestingly, he sees it as the other person sees it. He thus receives a range of impressions, depending on how the other person perceives what he or she is seeing. The extent to which we, as viewers, help to create our own works of art is at stake here. The straightforward linear interpretation of art – artist creates artwork, viewers gaze at the same artwork – is undermined in MIXED MEDIA. Am I seeing the same work of art as everyone else? That “the essence of art as communication” is a revelation to Mario; to everyone else, it just looks like he’s going insane.

There is another issue here: what exactly constitutes art? As an assistant at the gallery points out, every piece of art goes through a “rigorous qualifying review” before they are displayed – obviously superior, she thinks, to “boutiques where just anyone can decide they’re an artist.” Mario is unimpressed: “You and my girlfriend should get together and talk about how art should be run as a business.” (Is this a parallel to the world of publishing and self-publishing?)

“Art is communication,” Mario concludes, “but it only works when there is a receiver. The painting is half of the conversation, and the audience is the other.” The price of this revelation is significant, in personal terms, but Mario is aware of having been given a great gift, which in turn lends shape and meaning to his life. MIXED MEDIA is a thought-provoking, intelligent, and ultimately uplifting read, and is much recommended.
… (més)