Gods. Sea monsters. Symbiotes. Superheroes. Angels. Zombies. Shapeshifters. Claude Lalumière parades them all before the reader in this extremely enjoyable and thought-provoking first short story collection from Montreal’s own master of fantastic fiction.

But throughout, I get the strong feeling he’s actually talking about good, old-fashioned human relationships and the difficulty (sometimes the impossibility) of maintaining them at the level we’d like.

Lalumière takes these relationships — lesbian love, gay marriage, blended families, ultra-modern multi-shaped households – and inserts gods (“The Object of Worship”), the reincarnation of an avenging elephant (“Njàbò”), or quantum effects (“This Is the Ice Age”) in their midst. In several cases, he sets the relationship itself  in a dominant zombie society (“The Ethical Treatment of Meat” and “A Visit to the Optometrist”). In another instance, he has an individual hoping to establish “normal” relationships somehow altered thanks to an encounter with a force or creature that leaves the person unable to continue as before (“The Sea, at Bari”).

It is in this light that we get to see the central relationships in this book. In many ways, I was reminded of some of the better Twilight Zone and Outer Limits offerings, with the emphasis on human interaction (even if those “humans” are gay zombies) rather than futuristic gadgets or the ever-popular trips through cyberspace. If I were forced to compare Lalumière to one particular speculative fiction writer, it would be Samuel R. Delany – at least in the expansiveness of his relationship circles.

At his best, Lalumière shows us new and unique ways of looking at these relationships and on these ways of existing. He exposes the ironic self-consciousness of our species and the communications problems we experience in trying to get through to others. In stories such as “The Object of Worship,” “Hochelaga and Sons,” “Njàbò,” “Spiderkid,” and “A Place Where Nothing Ever Happens,” we are treated to an almost delicious combination of expectation and inevitability, with the added savour of a dry wit (especially in his two zombie stories).

Lalumière has an assured, easy-going writing style that fits in very well with his outlandish imagination. This helps to make even the craziest notions seem as if they’re the most natural thing in the world. The opening sequence to “A Visit to the Optometrist,” featuring husband-and-wife zombies, goes like this:

When a pigeon chewed out Basil Fesper’s right eye while he was taking a nap in his lawn chair, he finally admitted that it was time to make an appointment with the optometrist. The previous week, his left eye had rotted so much that it had fallen out of its socket. He’d tried to put it back in but there was almost nothing left of it except a shapeless splotch, and he really couldn’t see anything out if it anymore. (p. 179)

Similarly, in the opening story (“The Object of Worship”), he writes: “The god settles on the table. Rose tears a piece from her toast, slathers a heap of cream cheese on the ear-sized morsel, and lays it next to the god. It consumes the tribute.” As simple as that, we are introduced to a world where gods lie around waiting to be coddled and worshipped. Only later do we discover it is also a world with just women in it. But that doesn’t prevent the same old emotions of frustrated love, shifting allegiances and jealousy.

A couple of the stories seemed a little too distant for me: “The Darkness at the Heart of the World” and “Roman Predator’s Chimeric Odyssey” come to mind as being a little too “anthemic” and pushing too hard to make a point. Curiously enough, neither dealt with individual relationships. But these are very slight blemishes in what is a powerful and creative first foray.

Michael Mirolla’s latest novel The Facility is due out in 2010.