
The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities Exhibits, Oddities, Images, and Stories from Top Authors and Artists
Reviews


Weird shit A sprawling museum of impossible things, of magical and mechanical oddities straddling the real. The postmodern enthusiast with a fantastical imagination will find much to wonder at. The objects are as fascinating as the stories created around them, drawn from an arensal of speculative subgenres: clockwork inventions, Tesla's dabblings, modern sculpture, artefacts of mysterious possibly occult origin, and others too weird for any adequate explanation. I liked the latter-most best, showing-rather-than-telling, gesturing to weirdness, the signs, left to glint in the dark room of the imagination, lets the reader linger spellbound there longest, testing the waters of fiction in this meta-work that prods at our reality. The stories are immensely varied, a good sample of styles and approaches. Most of them are descriptions or accounts relating to an obscure find from the (probably fictional, but I take no chances) Dr Lambshead's cabinet, others are intellectually stimulating. They are a few which are so theoretical and philosophical that it places this collection firmly on the 'for adults' shelf and even I wondered if I understood anything at all (see the article on the 'gallows-horse'). My favourites were the more tantalising stretches of imagination, including: St. Brendan's Shank, Relic, Pulvadmonitor: The Dust's Warning (by China Mieville, no less; was really anticipating this one), the Castleblakeney Key.

Highlights

“Your gun might not have shot anyone, but its report echoed in imaginations from the California coast to the uttermost edge of Europe,” Lambshead recalls telling Lauritz. “That’s quite a difficult shot to make.”

“It is never possible to completely reconstruct a person’s life from what they leave behind—the absurdity of it all, the pain, the triumphs. What’s lost is lost forever, and the silences are telling. But why mourn what we’ll lose anyway? Laughter truly is the best medicine, and I find whisky tends to numb and burn what’s left behind.”

“As Lichtenberg said of angels, so I say of dust. If they, or it, or ever could speak to us, why in God’s name should we understand? And even if so, how then should we reply?”