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 NOTE: Reviews are the opinions of the individual reviewers and not necessarily those of The Chiaroscuro as an entity unto itself.

by William D. Gagliani Email: tarkusp@execpc.com Veil of the Soul By Trey R. Barker Yard Dog Press 59 pp $6.00 (chapbook) Don't let anyone tell you the small press isn't vibrant. At least in our field, where interesting chapbooks and independent anthologies are cropping up like tulips everywhere you look. I hope the "large" press is paying attention these days, because the quality of the writing and the packaging seems to be increasing exponentially. This chapbook, the second by Trey R. Barker in recent months, is a steal at the price and it will enhance your collection, too, thanks in part to the striking cover art by Mary Bullock. It's so completely different from the author's previous "Where the Southern Cross the Dog" that I thought it deserved its own mention. Without counting words, I'd peg it at about novella length— one long, nightmarish monologue narrated by none other than Edgar Poe, whom we can safely consider the patron saint of horror, if you will. He felt it, saw it, lived it, wrote it, and really died in it (no matter what the cause, which is still being debated). No one embodies our field's poetic and narrative potential as much, not even Stoker himself, and even Poe's excesses have ingrained themselves on our minds until they are no longer excessive. What better narrator to delve into the horror of his life, even as he himself prepares to make the final journey? Indeed, this work began life as a one-man stage play in which Poe sees the events of his past life swirl together and apart like sepia-toned images superimposed in blurs that come tantalizingly into and out of focus. The novella version coveys that notion well, that past and present are and aren't one, and that fiction and biography are and aren't the same. In addition, Barker's Poe wallows in self-pity both annoying and endearing, perhaps all too truthfully revealing what each of us may feel when our time comes. Interwoven strands of Poe's writings anchor us in the master's work, but cast us adrift again in the stormy seas of his pain and, even worse, his sadness at the constant touch of Death. Barker's trip through the corridors of Poe's mind is highlighted by the influence women had on him, beginning with his mother, an actress. But Death takes them all, one by one, never leaving Poe's side. Even as success flirts with Poe's ego, he is reduced to pathetic begging for his guardian John Allan's financial help. The tone is well-maintained through the relatively short span, though slightly jarring modernisms creep into the narrative occasionally, But Trey Barker's research and his grasp of Poe's life lifts the reader past any such obstacles. In the end, one is left saddened and depressed, yet somewhat exhilarated for the chance to see through Poe's woeful, addictive and ultimately fascinating gaze.