Adam-Troy Castro’s short story draws you in and never lets go
I found this story (and many others I treasure) in The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy anthology collection edited and assembled by John Joseph Adams and rotating annual guest editors; “Pitcher Plant” specifically was featured in the 2019 edition with guest editor Carmen Maria Machado, who has written some excellent fiction of her own.
Beautiful cover art by Galen Dara
The story is also available free online here – I highly recommend reading it beforehand or alongside me, but I'll also offer quotes and brief summaries as I go. It rides the line between fantasy and horror to build ambience and narrative, so I'll offer a minor content warning for age, death and entrapment. Without further ado~
The House (Paragraphs 1-4)
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We are immediately presented with a structure which uncannily defies first architectural logic – "a study in architecture at war with itself" – and then the laws of physics – "none of [the building's features] stay the same for more than a second or two." It is a place that defies categorization, a perpetual outlier far separated from humanity.
You are impressed. Most normal houses provide no challenge to you. You’re not just an excellent thief; you’re the first thief.
This is a story where the second-person point of view simply feels correct. For me it evokes a choose-your-own-adventure novel or a D&D game, with the caveat that the most sensible path has already been selected based on the vast experience of my character. More importantly, it draws the reader into the weird ambience of the story and invites them to 'solve' the mystery of this place alongside and through the character they embody.
The house then defies expectations in a third way, emanating only boiling suffering – "somebody's personal hell" – where there should be "the warmth of the lives within … the mark of the births and deaths, the lovemaking and the hate, the complacency and the fear." I love how this description builds a supernatural sense onto a potentially relatable experience, keeping the reader tied to the character even while introducing alien aspects.
It would take insanity or unlimited self-confidence or unconditional devotion to duty to willingly enter such a place. You don’t hesitate.
Perfection. This line establishes that our point of view character will not be turning back, once again inviting the reader to embrace the character's confidence and experience the world as he is. Few horror stories suspend disbelief so efficiently and thoroughly, let alone while also ramping up the excitement.
Warnings (Paragraphs 5-10)
It is quickly apparent upon entering the mansion that time works differently inside than out – the image through the window frozen rather than chaotic. I love that even though both states are equally inexplicable, our point-of-view character’s narrative interprets the change to learn that they will not be pressed for time within. The supernatural often defies logic and understanding, but it can always be appreciated by the reader through effective context.
The dust covering the desk is so thick that the paper itself is impossible to read at first, but you sweep away the detritus of years and read the words that have been left for you in ink as black as your purpose here: LEAVE US ALONE! It’s the first pathetic thing you’ve seen since your arrival, and it lets you know the tenants are frightened of you.
"Are we the baddies?" Even within the vast possibilities present in the format of short speculative fiction stories, it's rare to be placed in the perspective of the villain – if nothing else, it makes delivering a proper moral a lot tougher. There's still plenty of story to go of course, but it is clearly directing us to question the morality being presented to us.
The exploring and traversal scenes again remind me of D&D in the best possible way, and remind us that our character is fluid and cunning in pursuit of his goals. In response to finding infinite hallways in either direction, we get a nice inspirational quote: "in any situation where you’re offered two equally unacceptable options, the only true solution is to make a point of choosing neither."
This moment is fascinating in the context of the overall story. Does our character really believe in and operate by this rule, or is it merely an excuse to push forward towards a goal? If there is never an option of turning back, perhaps moving forward is always the only option.
Most useful to you as a stranger struggling to make his way through this place, that she is swaddled in darkness. Darkness, you decide, is the way to her.
Ominous, yet a smooth transition forward. No matter the will of the mansion's inhabitants, there are yet to be any true obstacles to our character's inevitable progression. My fantasy-trained brain jumped on the ability to move between shadows on my first few reads, but I think there is a more interesting explanation – that our character has a myriad of methods for encroaching upon his goals.
I saw something that … was as frightened of ending as it was of continuing. It hated me for being there. It hated me, thinking I was you.
Our adversary speaks from within the darkness, telling a story that begins to illustrate his obsession – and our own.
Life's Horrors (Paragraphs 11-19)
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For an egregious recap of the rising tension of the story: Our character enters the bedroom of a young woman grown unfathomably ancient without having experienced any kind of life. Though blind and atrophied, she manages to address us and tell us how 'he' found her left for dead and brought her here – though her young daughter eventually died.
“It was a war, you son of a bitch. You bastard. You cruel worthless piece of shit bastard. Of course I know you. Don’t you think I’ve been waiting all this time for you? Don’t you know he’s been waiting all this time for you?”
Our character is completely unaffected by her malice, having heard it all many times before. He even lets her live, even though in the same scene he demonstrates that he is able to end the life of a similarly ancient rat in the room.
A small detail that strikes me in this room is our character's attention to meaning. He reflects on the ersatz, empty existence of the perpetually spinning dollhouse and thinks, "They don’t even possess charm or entertainment value, which is the least one should expect from toys." He had a similar thought in the very first room, "the bookshelves stuffed with volumes chosen for their bindings instead of their literary value, the fireplace sitting black behind an iron grate."
Clearly, our character firmly believes that existence is worthless in and of itself – and everything in this house stands in contradiction to him.
Three further encounters cement this conflict. More bookshelves, this time preserving the memories of long-dead authors – our character takes pleasure in returning these to dust and void. Then a (would be) stillborn fetus in a jar, given an eternity of pointless existence by the architect of this mansion. Finally, a roomful of skulls and the architect's voice returned:
“I came upon all of them after you were already done; I took what you see all around you because I thought it would be instructive to show you all these faces again, when the time finally came for us to meet. I want you to know how seriously I took my awareness that someday I’d be meeting you too.”
The architect has devoted his far-overlong existence into escaping the grasp of Death, bargaining emotionally and logically to the bitter end. But we are finally here for him, and we step into the abyss to finish our work.
The Pitcher Plant (Paragraphs 20-28)
Welcome - Generated with AI
The architect's speech on our long fall down concludes the point that the young woman raised. They believe they are fighting against all of the evil and violence in the world, and see it embodied by Death.
“I know murderers,” he says. “I have seen the look in their eyes as they drove knives into innocent hearts.” So have you. “I know dying.” So do you. … All of this is so familiar to you that that you are relieved to strike bottom.
Death himself might share the architect's perspective, has had this interaction countless times before yet knows that he has no recourse but to fulfill his duty – brutal. Death then reflects on every plea he has heard, concluding by placing this moment in the context of his eternal existence:
Many appealed to fairness. It is not a language you speak, and even if it were, there would still be little chance of you speaking it now, not after you have had to undergo such hardship, such inconvenience, just to claim a life you should have been able to take years ago. Today you will wear your most terrible face.
Of course, the moment of confrontation feels anticlimactic. A withered husk of a man laments that despite all warnings, we have finally come. Taking his life only gives proof of "how many years since he felt joy, or hope, or anything that would have given his stupid, finite existence a point."
Truly, truly, read the last few paragraphs (link goes directly to them) if you haven't already; I simply can't do them justice with a recap.
Just as a fly is trapped by a pitcher plant in the moment that it tastes the sweet and sticky sap, Death sees his downfall in the moment that the architect crumbles into dust.
The story's final paragraph makes the horror personal to Death, yet I find myself far more disturbed at the idea of an entire world left to moulder, in the style of the mansion and its inhabitants, without his intervention.
It is a common enough idiom that death gives life meaning, but I can't think of another story that encapsulates and explores the idea as succinctly and effectively as this one. We get subtle hints throughout that Death cares for meaning over continuation and that the architect is utterly obsessed with escaping – and even defeating – Death.
This obsession robbed the architect of a meaningful life, and the fact that he achieved his goal means that it has effectively done the same for all beings. But does Death deserve a share of the blame for not leaving the old man alone? Returning to that perfect line about entering the house, I think both "unlimited self-confidence" and "unconditional devotion to duty" apply. But is that really obsession? Did Death have "two equally unacceptable options" here, or is he a force of nature thwarted only by man's folly?
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Thanks so much for reading! Let me know your thoughts on this story, I really hope you enjoyed it! Until next week~
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