Book Review: “Sea, Swallow Me and Other Stories” Rises and Falls but Always Remains Rooted

I first heard about Craig Laurance Gidney while looking for queer, Black, male San Francisco authors. (Hella specific search parameters, but I’ve got specific reading tastes.) Sea, Swallow Me and Other Stories’ cover, waves crashing underneath a man’s head, instantly grabbed my attention. It’s a short-story collection that mirrors its cover: foaming with highs and lows and half-glimpsed depths that bewilder and bewitch in unexpected ways.

I’ll start by saying Gidney’s collection has a lot of typos and some formatting issues. The (mostly) reformed grammar snob in me couldn’t help but feel irritated by this, but I’ve realized that typos don’t always reflect the author’s talent and dedication to the craft. Gidney’s sprawling imagination and blend of stories lull the reader into his worlds while tight, musical phrasings play out on the page in words rather than notes.

The first story, “The Safety of Thorns,” is the tale of a young slave who finds a devilish mystery in a plantation’s briar patch. Gidney weaves images of nature through his lines like a network of ivy. It’s here the reader gets the first glimpse of the writer’s meditation on falling from God’s grace and letting the Devil not only catch you, but fortify you. The main character believes sipping spirits will send him to Hell, but that changes when he witnesses the power gained from drinking liquor received from a man who’s definitely not a certain fallen angel.  

In “Etiolate,” a jaded Black man named Oliver struggles to find his place in goth clubs that simultaneously reject and fetishize his Blackness. Gidney trades verdant images of nature for sensorial descriptions that use music as a narrative catalyst. The story takes the reader on a hallucinatory journey that blends horror and intrigue during Oliver’s carnal encounters with white men. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Samuel R. Delany’s writing style while enjoying the piece.

“Her Spirit Hovering” missed the mark for me. The main character buries his mother while exhuming accounts of her narrow-minded judgments, prejudices, and controlling behaviors. Exploring how we haunt ourselves with memories and how remembrances become lingering specters intrigued me. Unfortunately, I felt the story was a shallow exploration that didn’t take advantage of its opportunities.

The next story, “Come Join Me,” gave me whiplash with how quickly it brought my doubts to a screeching halt. A boy emerges from a fever with the ability to see auras and spirits, an ability passed down through the family. The language reminded me of James Baldwin’s, lyrical and moving. With the importance that music and musicality play in many of Gidney’s stories, I wanted a playlist to listen to while reading his work.

Gidney explores delightfully weird and interesting places. Even though I didn’t like every story in this book, I finished them all. Usually, if I don’t connect with the characters, the story, or the writer’s style, I won’t hesitate to not finish a book. It’s clear to me why Gidney’s story collection became a Lambda Literary Awards finalist. The book also served as a pleasant reminder of why it’s worth it to check out books from small, independent publishers like Lethe Press. They publish lots of queer books, and I plan on exploring more of their offerings.

If you’ve ever wondered what Lil Nas X’s “Montero” music video would look like fragmented and scattered across multiple speculative fiction stories, check out Sea, Swallow Me and Other Stories. Gidney’s work explores the acceptance of someone else’s version of Hell and a turning away from traditional divinity in favor of the power of the profane. No matter what you think of his stories, they’re sure to make you diabolically divine.