2007, Tor Books

The anthology has been a staple of the horror genre for as long as anyone can remember. For decades, fans have read, re-read, talked about and recommended to friends such enduring classics Dark Forces, Prime Evil, the Night Visions series, the Dark Terrors series, the Masques series, and many, many more. And now we can add to this list of must-reads the new anthology Inferno, edited by Ellen Datlow. Inferno is Datlow's 35th anthology (not counting the 20 -- and counting! -- volumes she has co-edited for the Year's Best Fantasy and Horror series), making her one of the most prolific and respected editors in the science fiction, fantasy and horror fields. There's good reason for her success. When you see her name attached to a book, you know you're in for a rich literary meal. It turns out 2003's The Dark was only the appetizer in Datlow's attempt to bring a finer, more literate sensibility to the horror anthology. In Inferno, we finally have the main course.

And what a feast it is! If an anthology can be viewed as a time capsule of who is excelling in the field at just this moment, readers will find quite a few authors here to keep an eye on, many of whom may be new to them (including several from the UK and Australia). Among the highlights to be found in Inferno's twenty tales are Laird Barron's "The Forest," which joins his growing oeuvre of Lovecraftian stories that focus compellingly on his richly drawn characters while relegating the beasties to the background; Nathan Ballingrud's "The Monsters of Heaven," the hypnotically surreal tale of a missing child (a theme that, interestingly, recurs numerous times throughout the anthology) and the wounded, angel-like creatures that have started falling to earth all over the world; John Grant's "Lives," which brilliantly turns the child-in-jeopardy trope on its head in a way that would spoil the pleasure of discovery to describe here; Lee Thomas' "An Apiary of White Bees," about a man torn between his outwardly perfect life and his true desires who discovers a magical elixir that begins to meld the two in dangerous ways; and what may very well be the best piece of fiction I've read all year, Glen Hirshberg's "The Janus Tree." Hirshberg's story has enough complexity, vivid detail and character development in its thirty pages to fill an entire novel. When I was done reading it, I needed several additional hours to pull myself out of the world he so skillfully created. "The Janus Tree" is worth Inferno's price tag alone.

Truthfully, there isn't a dud in the bunch. Even the stories that didn't resonate as strongly with this reviewer are masterfully crafted. The writing on display in Inferno is exquisite, and the concepts even more so. You won't find any tired old clich?s here, no man vs. monster tales or serial killer gorefests, only fiercely original stories told with some of the best prose I've read all year.

However, anthologies don't just measure the whos of the moment. They also measure the where -- as in, where the genre is at right now. After reading Inferno, I can report that the genre is as strong and creative as ever, safe in the hands of authors like these.

Inferno will undoubtedly stand the test of time to become a classic in the field. But more than that, I would also recommend it as a primer for anyone testing the waters of horror literature, either as a reader, to see that horror isn't just gore and misogyny, or as a writer, to see how to do it right. Inferno is a monument to all that horror fiction is capable of.