Nathan Klayman’s “Lonestar Loathsome” serves up a wickedly entertaining anthology of short stories that marries pitch-black comedy with visceral horror, all set against the sprawling backdrop of Texas. This collection of short fiction, promising “Tales of Murder, Monsters, and Mayhem,” transforms the Lone Star State into a nightmarish landscape where the bizarre becomes routine and gas stations might be portals to hell.
While each story stands alone, they’re unified by Klayman’s distinctive voice and his portrayal of Texas as an endless highway of weirdness. The tales plunge readers into various terrifying scenarios featuring bewildered outsiders and the occasional monster from beyond our dimension. No doubt inspired by Stephen King, Klayman excels at capturing a twisted version of America where terror hides behind strip mall facades and 24-hour diners take on an otherworldly glow. A short story is a challenging format to tell a memorable plot. Nonetheless, Klayman’s talent for the medium shines through memorable figures like a group of friends that pool together money to buy a “Killer Zombie Assault Van” with unintended consequences, and Robert who moves into a new neighbourhood only to find it’s not what you’d call normal—his neighbours may not even be alive in the usual sense.
The book walks the fine line between comedy and absurdist horror. Imagine Flannery O’Connor collaborating with the creators of Rick and Morty, seasoned with Tales from the Crypt‘s macabre wit. One memorable story features an army of evil armadillos (as pictured on the cover); another hilarious one looks at a UFO sighting. The tales embrace the monstrous and grotesque in different ways, but the horror serves deeper purposes—making the ordinary feel sinister and the alien strangely recognizable. Author’s notes are provided throughout to provide context to the stories.
In one particularly memorable note, Klayman reflects that the best story ideas come from “dreams and jokes”—and warns readers, with characteristic humour, to avoid poking sentient armadillos, no matter how cute they may seem. It’s a rare glimpse into an author’s mind and creative inspiration. Rather than reading like formal commentary, these author’s notes feel like whispered asides from a friend.
Written largely in first-person prose with some third-person too, Klayman’s conversational writing style stands as one of his greatest strengths. For all its apocalyptic atmosphere, “Lonestar Loathsome” remains accessible and easy to pick up at 137 pages, with excellent editing throughout. The stories move quickly with the rhythm of folklore shared around a fire—though that fire might be burning in a phantom truck stop. Klayman occasionally plays with narrative conventions and breaks the fourth wall, but never in a way that feels pretentious or overly clever. Instead, he draws readers into the madness as willing accomplices.
“Lonestar Loathsome” isn’t intended for readers seeking gentle scares. It’s crafted for those who enjoy their terror laced with laughter and their social commentary dripping with gore. Fans of Joe R. Lansdale, Robert Aickman, or Stephen King filtered through David Lynch’s sensibilities will find this collection rewarding. Ultimately, Klayman’s anthology succeeds through its mastery of atmosphere and style—a mental roadside attraction that leaves readers simultaneously amused, disturbed, and glancing nervously at their mirrors.
You can get your copy of “Lonestar Loathsome” here!
