In Pedro Iniguez’s new horror collection, Fever Dreams of a Parasite, characters hit the page with a lifetime of scars and a fair number of demons chasing them. In most cases, we’re introduced to them in a state of liminality, leaving an old life behind like the porn star fleeing her abusive relationship in Nightmare of a Million Faces, or the migrants making their way across Mexico in Caravan. In these stories, whether the heroes live or die, they will be shaped, and scarred by what they experience over the course of the story. The body keeps the score, and in this collection the game is lethal.
Having read a few of these stories prior, I knew what I was in for. I’d encountered Effigies of Monstrous Things in Beyond the Bounds of Infinity, last year’s cosmic horror anthology from the same publisher (Raw Dog Screaming Press) and mentioned it explicitly in my review of that volume. The author is a busy man, as he holds an impressive number of credits. He just released a poetry collection, Mexicans on the Moon, and his upcoming children’s book, The Fib, drops later this year.
In Fever Dreams of a Parasite, Iniguez’s greatest talent on display here is his ability to create great, unique characters shaped by their backstories. He accomplishes this so quickly, you barely realize it. Within a page, the writer can spark the emotional core of a living individual into life. Character motivations arise so naturally, the people in the stories start to feel like someone you know. A great monster is one thing, but for the reader, caring for the victim is what makes the beasts scary. Iniguez lands the trick. I found myself turning pages with panic as a mother and her child were trapped in a phone booth by a pack of werewolves in Bad Dogs. If I could have screamed warnings to the young expecting couple discovering evidence of murders via their newly purchased estate sale camera in House of Lament, I would have surely lost my voice.
The author draws from cosmic horror traditions for much of this volume. These are more Barker cosmic than Lovecraft but with shades of Bradbury. Think The Books of Blood meets The October Country. Predation of the vulnerable, outcast, unwanted, or ignored is a recurring theme in this collection. Iniguez finds ways to connect the fantastical with a relatable emotional moment, or theme. Feast of the Dreamer is a story early in the collection that sees a character feeding on rotting flesh for the high he gets from it, as his behavior takes a heavier toll on his body, he pivots from eating corpses and turns to eating himself. Aurelio knows where the bodies are buried because it used to be his job to bury them for the cartel. “It will be worth it, the dreams will come true,” he tells himself, digging up the first corpse. There’s allegorical potential all over this. Is it about addiction, is it a story about a broken system, the false equivalence of determination and agency? Maybe, probably, but it’s the emphasis on the emotional truth that allows these stories to land the punch without devolving into didactic lectures, and leaves the reader thinking about them long after they’ve closed the page.
Iniguez’s stories about children use innocence as a mirror to show to the cruelty of the real world. Caravan lands a disturbing ending that will catch even the most well read horror readers off guard and had me reveling in its wickedness but also my heart ached with the little boy, an innocent without choices, surviving. Similarly, Shantytown: A Mexican Ghost Story is a beautiful examination of powerlessness and invisibility of marginalized children.
Fever Dreams of a Parasite is full of heavy hitters. For me, my favorite story was towards the end. The Body Booth sees a reporter sent to investigate a new art installation where an eccentric biochemist has turned artist and created an unusual installation where he’s grafted flesh onto the interior of a vintage phonebooth, and visitors are encouraged to feed it with their own blood. This story deals with obsession, grief, and the give and take between art, artist, and audience. Another notable favorite was The Last Train to Calico, a story about aging bandits in the wild west running one last train job, only the cargo of this train is full of alien horrors that moves with all the excitement of a VHS era scifi-horror blockbuster.
The familiar H.P. Lovecraft quote about the greatest fear being fear of the unknown is almost cliche at this point but Iniguez understands a scarier addendum; that we are surrounded by unknown unknowns every day. His characters often cross a line without realization or warning and by then, it’s too late, they are changed or doomed. In The Bottom Dweller, a diver just happens to take the wrong job, in Feast of the Dreamer it’s simply bad lunch that sets the whole thing into gear, in Midnight Frequencies, it’s setting up a food truck in the wrong place at the wrong time, in The Body Booth it’s stepping inside an art installation, in House of Lament it’s buying a camera, and in Postcards from Saguaroland it’s just sending a piece of mail and taking the wrong gig.
These stories are grotesque, disturbing, fun, and thought provoking. They cover a lot of ground on the horror spectrum. I strongly recommend you step into the unknown and pick up Fever Dreams of a Parasite today.
Fever Dreams of a Parasite is out today, March 13, from Raw Dog Screaming Press. I received copy free in exchange for honest feedback. Below, you'll find links to purchase from local St. Louis bookshops that Nocturne is NOT affiliated with but firmly believes deserve your loving patronage.
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