Erin Brown

My Dream Has Come: a review of And One Day We Will Die – Maudlin House

Almost exactly a year ago, I found myself in the delightful chaos of a conversation with Patrick Barb on my podcast, Textual Healing. The topic? I can’t remember. Perhaps we planned to discuss the pandemic, his book The Children’s Horror or Pre-Approved For Haunting, or maybe it was the oddball music his kids adored or even our Midwest accents. Instead, we wandered down paths of whimsy and terror, detouring through the landscape of a sitcom character lost in the void. Somewhere in the midst of this delightful mess, Patrick mentioned an anthology, And One Day We Will Die, and my heart skipped a beat. As a horror fangirl with a fetish for surreal and distorted realities, I was thrilled.

I won’t lie—I had a bit of an existential moment pondering the fate of those lost sitcom characters, with several from Step-by-Step coming to mind. But the idea of an anthology inspired by the cult classic songs of Jeff Mangum rescued my attention. It made me think of a joke an old friend of mine posted on Facebook years ago that made me smile: Neutral Milk Hotel is to Twin Peaks is what Nirvana is to The X-Files. Both pairings just have this uncanny synergy that makes perfect sense in their own beautifully strange way. There’s a moody, rainy Pacific Northwest vibe that binds them even though Neutral Milk Hotel isn’t from there and Nirvana was. But the sheer thought of NMH makes me easily imagine myself drinking coffee for hours on a dreary day, getting lost in the ethereal music of Neutral Milk or the surreal world of Twin Peaks. Hell, I still insist to this day that David Lynch should’ve utilized them in The Return and not Nine Inch Nails.

Sadly, after two hours on my podcast with Patrick talking about god knows what, our internet connection faltered, and our conversation came to an abrupt end. We promised a follow-up episode, where I intended to dig deeper into the anthology. But at that time, sadly the stories were still in the embryonic stage, uncurated and unedited. There was little more to say about it, so we moved on.

Regardless, Patrick and I stayed in touch. When he told me the anthology was complete, my excitement was palpable. He sent me a copy of the evocative collection, and after hours of geeking out over his writing beforehand, I knew it was going to be extraordinary. Just hearing his name now conjures images of neurotic ghostly specters and shadowy realms. Who better to curate this kaleidoscope of strangeness than Patrick? He turns the mundane into the magical. In a symphony of strange tales, only he could be the conductor, waving his mysterious wand to ensure every story resonates with the haunting tunes of Neutral Milk Hotel.

(I should mention that after brewing Stumptown Coffee,  I’ve been listening to In The Aeroplane Over the Sea on repeat now for three straight hours to get fully immersed in the melancholic beauty of this anthology.)

While In The Aeroplane Over the Sea is the band’s standout album, it’s not the only one covered in the anthology. The stories draw from On Avery Island, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Ferris Wheel on Fire, and even some of the band’s bootleg recordings.

The final lineup of writers who made the cut includes Lillah Lawson, Helen Victoria Murray, M. Lopes da Silva, Camila Hamel, Briar Ripley Page, Joe Koch, Tiffany Morris, D. Matthew Urban, Christi Nogle, Tim Major, Dan Coxon, Matthew Kressel, Lindz McLeod, Erin Brown, Brian Evenson, Edward Barnfield, Dale Light, Corey Farrenkopf, Ai Jiang, Michael Horita, Richard Thomas, and John Langan. Each of these authors brought a unique style, perfectly fitting the eclectic and haunting tone of Neutral Milk Hotel’s music.

The anthology opens with a foreword by Philadelphia-based writer Adam Clair, whose first line sets the stage for what’s to come: I have been scared by music before. Clair’s deep appreciation for the eerie and melancholic nature of Neutral Milk Hotel’s sound makes him the perfect person to introduce this collection, preparing readers for the beautifully bizarre journey ahead. Adam Clair is the perfect writer to pen the foreword for a Neutral Milk Hotel-inspired anthology because he’s already deeply connected to the band’s legacy. As the author of Endless Endless: A Lo-Fi History of the Elephant 6 Mystery, Clair has shown an unparalleled ability to explore the mythos of Neutral Milk Hotel with both reverence and insight. His writing captures the unique intersection of the band’s mystique, their emotional resonance, and their impact on a generation of listeners. More than just a historian, Clair understands the weird, ethereal vibe that defines Neutral Milk Hotel’s music—the sense of intimacy wrapped in surrealism. His foreword not only contextualizes the anthology within NMH’s world but also set the perfect tone for the stories that follow. He knows the nuances of the band’s influence and he was able to bridge the gap between fans, writers, and the elusive spirit of the music itself. Having Clair involved felt like a stamp of authenticity, grounding the anthology in its musical roots while celebrating its literary leap.

I’ve had the pleasure of publishing several of the contributing authors, but it was amazing to be introduced to the other talented writers through their work in this anthology. The idea of a horror anthology inspired by Neutral Milk Hotel songs was brilliant because their music, with its haunting and melancholic tone, lends itself perfectly to the weird and eerie. The result is a collection that not only honors the spirit of Neutral Milk Hotel but also pushes the boundaries of horror and speculative fiction, creating a new and exciting way to experience their music.

In my very humble opinion, no story captures the band’s haunting, surreal energy quite like Camila Hamel’s “Twins,” inspired by A Baby for Pree. Hamel nails NMH’s blend of the tender and the unsettling, spinning a tale of almost-born twins that’s as much about guilt and loss as it is about the fragile miracle of existence. Like the song, the story is steeped in ambiguity—what’s real, what’s imagined, and what’s simply haunting the narrator’s soul. The twins, with their eerie synchronicity and mischievous aura, feel ripped straight out of Jeff Mangum’s fever dream. And Hamel’s imagery—bio-waste bins, bobbing hair, and porcelain bathed in crimson—matches the band’s knack for vivid, strange metaphors that hit you like a gut punch. If Neutral Milk Hotel wrote short stories instead of songs, “Twins” is exactly what they’d produce. It’s the heart of the anthology, effortlessly carrying NMH’s essence while standing on its own as something unforgettable.

Another standout in the anthology is Erin Brown’s “Mirrorboy,” inspired by Avery Island/April 1st. The story weaves together themes of loneliness, self-acceptance, and fleeting connection, all while embracing a surreal, offbeat charm that feels perfectly in tune with Neutral Milk Hotel’s vibe. At its heart, it’s about a sentient mirrorboy navigating the strange world of a rundown carnival and preparing for his first date—a blend of the absurd and achingly human. What makes “Mirrorboy” shine is how it balances the bizarre with the deeply relatable. The protagonist’s insecurities and longing for connection mirror universal experiences, even as the setting and characters are utterly unique. Like the song that inspired it, the story feels both whimsical and heavy, inviting readers to see beauty in the broken and unexpected. Brown takes the weirdness of NMH and transforms it into something tender and unforgettable.

Then there’s Joe Koch’s “The Clown King in Yellow,” drawn from The Fool–an instrumental piece that feels like a descent into madness, with a somber, marching rhythm evoking doom and foreboding. Joe runs with that mood, weaving a tale of eerie grandeur and lurking horror.

Each story in And One Day We Will Die is a tiny, shimmering world, refracting the melancholic light of Neutral Milk Hotel’s music into a kaleidoscope of strange and beautiful visions. Like a dusty box in an attic, this anthology invites you to rummage through its depths, discovering tales that are both haunting and heartwarming, eerie and enchanting. 

It’s a testament to the power of music to spark not just melodies, but entire universes of the imagination. So, step into this literary carnival, where the air crackles with magic and the ordinary is delightfully askew. Let the music be your guide, and may your journey through these pages be as beautifully bizarre as the songs that inspired them.

And One Day We Will Die: Strange Stories Inspired by the Music of Neutral Milk Hotel is set to be released in January 2025.