THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #91: A review of "The Glamour" by Thomas Ligotti

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This is one of the more unusual urban horror stories in existence, mostly because it starts off in that realm, but it doesn’t stay there. By the end of the story, you have something that resembles “The Testament of Magdalen Blair” and “Carcinoma Angels” more than anything else.



An unnamed narrator (some things never get old in this genre) tends to wander at night when everyone else is asleep. He’s drawn to movie theaters, and tonight is no different. He walks in an unfamiliar part of town, where he encounters a rundown old theater touting a screening of something called THE GLAMOUR. Intrigued, he investigates only to find an empty ticket booth. However, a stranger inside the building tells him that admission is free. This place is under new management.


He heads in to the main theater, where he sees a crowd, but he likes sitting alone. He takes a seat near the back, even though this place seems to be in poor repair. There are cobwebs everywhere, but after a moment, he starts to realize that they’re not cobwebs but something more . . . sinister.


And then he feels like someone is sitting behind him. It gives him The Fear, but when he turns, he sees no one. Suddenly, things get really weird. SPOILER ALERT: Our narrator suddenly goes on one of the most insidious trips ever put to paper, something that Crowley reaches for and Spinrad almost attains. The cobwebs turn out to be hairs, hairs that insert themselves into the narrator’s fellow moviegoers. He feels them trying to get to him, but he manages to break away from them. As he flees the theater, he sees a woman who seems to be controlling the hair and feeding off her audience through it. END OF SPOILERS.


There is a lot to recommend this story. Ligotti’s description of the lonely city at night is amazing, something Campbell would be envious of. And the mindfuck of a theater-trip is something to behold. Yet it seems like this story goes nowhere. It depicts the scene, but it’s kind of on a passive basis. Nothing is resolved, nothing is changed, everything is pretty much the same way as it was when the story began. Even the narrator remains the same, even though he has this new knowledge of the strange corners of the world.


This tale isn’t a waste of time. It also doesn’t have a lot to it. It does look pretty, though. And it’s unlike anything you’ve read before.


[This story first appeared in GRIMSCRIBE:  HIS LIVES AND WORKS and cannot be read online at this time.]