I’m not a big ‘books by comedians’ person, and may be an outlier in picking this up having not read any of Ayoade’s others, although I like him as an I’m not a big ‘books by comedians’ person, and may be an outlier in picking this up having not read any of Ayoade’s others, although I like him as an actor and presenter. I just found the premise – Ayoade sets out to make a documentary about an enigmatic (fictitious) playwright – impossible to resist. It’s daft but well-written, wry rather than laugh-out-loud funny. I loved the format, which includes interviews, article excerpts and dialogue from Hughes’ gnomic plays alongside a narrative of the documentary’s inevitable collapse into chaos. I had fun!...more
Read that Rob Savage is directing an adaptation of this, then discovered the ebook was free to read on Kindle. It’s a solid graphic novel about a lostRead that Rob Savage is directing an adaptation of this, then discovered the ebook was free to read on Kindle. It’s a solid graphic novel about a lost film. Didn’t really do what I want a lost film narrative to do – it’s too fixed to a single location, the film itself doesn’t seem interesting enough to warrant the reputation it has in-story – but a decent way to pass half an hour. ...more
(Review written July 2020.) An oral history of a fictional musician – so addictive I read it in a single night. It's something like Daisy Jones & T(Review written July 2020.) An oral history of a fictional musician – so addictive I read it in a single night. It's something like Daisy Jones & The Six meets The Life and Death of Sophie Stark, but smarter and wittier than either. Also has a villain so palpably punchable, it's a miracle my Kindle is still intact.
In the world of the book, Geffel was a hugely influential experimental pianist who rose to prominence in the late 1970s. Her impact was such that 'geffel' has become a verb (meaning 'to release pure emotion in a work of creative expression'). Now, however, she is absent, having been missing for decades, and we hear her story via family, friends, lovers, teachers, management and doctors. Adrianne's unique talent, we learn, is attributable to a form of synesthesia: she hears constant music in her mind, and it changes according to her mood. She's also the subject of hideous exploitation by those who see her gift as a way to make money.
The author's background as a music critic undoubtedly contributes to the effectiveness of Adrianne Geffel as a satire. There are some very entertaining asides and cameos (like when Adrianne and Barb inadvertently invent the Walkman, or when Philip Glass comes to fix their toilet). It's equally satisfying as good old enjoyable fiction. I don't know what it is about stories told this way that's so engrossing, but I just couldn't put it down.
I received an advance review copy of Adrianne Geffel: A Fiction from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
(Review written May 2017.) Ex-journalist Sam is writing a book about Robert Wardner, frontman of Manchester post-punk act The National Grid, who has b(Review written May 2017.) Ex-journalist Sam is writing a book about Robert Wardner, frontman of Manchester post-punk act The National Grid, who has been missing for 25 years. The band became famous overnight following a notorious appearance on Top of the Pops, during which Wardner acted out a fake suicide attempt; for years, rumours have persisted that he went into hiding because he murdered a fan. The tale of Sam digging into Wardner's life is juxtaposed with Wardner's story in his own words, plus occasional articles about the band that give a sense of their cultural impact.
At first, I found the plot thrilling, and Mankowski's writing about music and creativity is often excellent. But a great deal of the dialogue is stilted, there are some truly heinous descriptions of women, and overall there's just a bit of an amateurish feel that pervades the whole text. (I also just didn't understand what the purpose of Sam's relationships with Elsa and Camille was. Maybe just to provide a (weak) parallel to Wardner's with Frankie and Nataly? Even so, pretty much all of that material could have been cut to make way for the far more interesting story of Wardner, the band and the music.) A compelling but flawed novel, How I Left the National Grid has a fantastic concept but bumpy execution....more
I loved Newman’s Municipal Gothic so much that I bought and started reading this new collection immediately after finishing it. There’s definitelyI loved Newman’s Municipal Gothic so much that I bought and started reading this new collection immediately after finishing it. There’s definitely more of a folk horror flavour to Intervals of Darkness. Things rise up from the earth, or the sea: an ancient skull in ‘Poor Ned’s Head’, a pair of antlers in ‘The Horns in the Earth’. Echoes of history reverberate through ‘Second Homes’ and ‘Tales from the Levels: ‘Remembrance’’; rural communities reject and/or terrorise outsiders in ‘Night of the Fox’ and ‘Winter Wonderland’.
At the same time, the book continues and reinforces the political slant evident in Newman’s first collection. This is most apparent in two stories I can’t help but think of as a pair, ‘British Chemicals’ and ‘Industrial Byproducts’. In ‘Chemicals’, company directors discuss a factory worker’s mysterious death; though they acknowledge a strange presence on the factory floor, they ultimately decline to award his family compensation, adding a final indignity to a lifetime of exploitation. Strange elements notwithstanding, ‘Byproducts’ really feels like more of a realist, miserabilist story, in which a working-class couple struggle to maintain optimism in the face of the daily grind. The effects of decades of work manifest in unusual physical ways, but really the point is that these shining, beautiful people are ground down to nothing by the simple act of trying to survive.
I loved ‘The Horns in the Earth’, in which a cynical writer visits a series of council estates, hoping to find a topic for a book. He ends up being haunted (and somewhat oblivious about it) after digging a pair of antlers out of an old rubbish heap. ‘Winter Wonderland’, charting a doomed family outing to a Christmas theme park, is excellent, and so cinematic it feels like a ready-made basis for a film. I also enjoyed the Aickmanesque ‘Night of the Fox’, and ‘Competing Theories with Regards to the Origins of the Ghost of Totterdown Lock’ with its multitude of voices.
Overall, I didn’t fall as hard for this book as I did for Municipal Gothic – maybe it wasn’t the best idea to read the books back-to-back, but I was just so excited to discover a new writer to add to my collection of favourites. Although I’d recommend Municipal Gothic first, Intervals of Darkness is well worth a look if you’re interested in modern British horror....more
I just couldn’t put this down. I read the whole thing across a single evening. Like its predecessor London Gothic, this is a disorientating, animate bI just couldn’t put this down. I read the whole thing across a single evening. Like its predecessor London Gothic, this is a disorientating, animate book, full of stories that both unnerve and amuse. The opener, ‘Welcome Back’, is a perfect case in point: it delves into academic office politics, with the narrator getting tangled up in accusations of bias when a colleague resigns. But believe me when I say you will never guess the twist. In ‘Simister’, a man’s attempt to do good deeds turns into a macabre comedy of errors. There are also some cool narrative experiments here, like ‘Disorder’, made up entirely of Joy Division lyrics, and ‘Strange Times’, which (seemingly) collects messages highlighting the homogeneity of language used to address the Covid-19 pandemic, the way phrases spread like... a virus, I suppose.
It’s the longer stories I really enjoyed, though. In ‘The Child’, a man is led on a strange journey after he visits a mysterious video shop. I always adore a lost film story, and this one is so gripping, so rich, I was ready to read it for hundreds of pages more. ‘Someone Take These Dreams Away’ is also a film story of sorts, a more haunting one, framing the experiences of its characters through described visuals from if.... ‘Zulu Pond’ has the most unpromising start (man moves back to Manchester, dwells on the memory of a girl he met for one night years ago), yet it unfolds into a brilliant exploration of the city’s waterlogged edgelands. In ‘The Apartment’, perhaps the most uncanny of the stories, the narrator hears voices above his top-floor flat and finds himself between reality and the ‘people texture’ of an architect’s rendering.
As with Daniel Carpenter’s recent collection Hunting by the River, having lived in Manchester undeniably added to the appeal of the stories for me – but that’s just a nice extra; Royle’s visions of the uncanny are incredibly compelling. I’m looking forward to the final volume of his city-based trilogy, which will be about Paris....more
I’m surprised this book hasn’t had more attention, and a little frustrated to see it getting lumped in with mediocre ‘sad girl’ books. The Cellist folI’m surprised this book hasn’t had more attention, and a little frustrated to see it getting lumped in with mediocre ‘sad girl’ books. The Cellist follows a successful cello soloist, Luciana, as she looks back on a particular time of her life – a period of debilitating stage fright that happened to coincide with her only significant relationship. It’s a deeply introspective, mature story about the question of whether creative practice can coexist with romantic love and the big life changes that often follow it (marriage, children).
When Luciana meets Billy, she’s a rising star and he – an artist – is unknown. Then, after Luciana collapses during a performance, things start to shift. She struggles to find her way back to performing and to understand what effect falling in love has had on her as a musician. None of this happens in a straight line, though, and Luciana’s ability to logically assess her own feelings doesn’t make it any easier to work out the tangles.
Without regaining my certainty, I did not see a way back to the stage. I knew, then, that I had to consider the situation as an event that happened because I’d lost something. Yet I resisted considering it this way. I did not want to think of loss, which could, for all I knew, be permanent. I wanted that night to be an aberration, because I did not want to change any ideas of myself.
There’s a startling clarity of prose here, and Luciana’s narrative voice embodies a confidence that sits interestingly (and uneasily?) alongside the character’s uncertainty. It’s a story that carries a strong sense of emotional truth. I found it extremely moving at points, especially when Billy moves on and Luciana struggles, despite a deeply held conviction that they don’t want or need the same things. In devoting herself to art, has she made the right choice? The answer is always obvious, yet never fully fixed.
I would compare The Cellist to White on White by Aysegül Savas, another elegantly written novel about art and selfhood, and Arrangements in Blue by Amy Key; while Key’s book is non-fiction, it similarly explores the landscape of a life lived without romantic love. Though less of a psychological puzzle, it also reminded me of Delphine de Vigan’s Based on a True Story – the same sense of a a narrator working through the devastating effect of creative blockage, as well as the subsumption of their identity into another person....more
I recently wrote a newsletter about what I look for in summer reading, and this is a perfect example of EXACTLY the sort of book I was thinking about.I recently wrote a newsletter about what I look for in summer reading, and this is a perfect example of EXACTLY the sort of book I was thinking about. Final Act is soapy, fun and easy to read, but it is also extremely well-written and expertly plotted. It follows a ‘lost’, and later rediscovered, painting by the forgotten surrealist painter of the title. The work, ‘Self-Portrait as Sphinx’, is a sensation in the 1930s and later believed to have been destroyed by Juliette Willoughby’s estranged family. In 1991, a student thinks she’s found it, only to have her research derailed by a conspiracy that will span decades. It’s a juicy, absorbing story, Fake Like Me but with a bigger historical angle, and I ate it up.
Given the book’s title and its central focus, it’s perhaps odd that Juliette’s narrative is the weakest of the three. We start with journal entries and then jump into her perspective – I didn’t think this quite worked, the way we’re at a remove from Juliette’s actual experience and then suddenly not, for reasons of narrative convenience. On the other hand, I couldn’t get enough of Caroline and Patrick’s story. Their world feels so rich (perhaps demonstrating the strengths of Ellery Lloyd as a husband-and-wife writing team) and everything is drawn together with surprising poignancy in the book’s concluding chapters....more
I absolutely cannot resist a ‘lost film’ horror novel, so, although I’ve struggled to get on with Tremblay’s books in the past, I was confident this wI absolutely cannot resist a ‘lost film’ horror novel, so, although I’ve struggled to get on with Tremblay’s books in the past, I was confident this would work for me. And it did! It’s the story of a cult film simply titled Horror Movie, as told by the only surviving member of its cast: the man who played a nebulous character known as the Thin Kid. I don’t want to describe the plot much beyond that; it’s one of those books best experienced with little knowledge of what is to come. It reminded me a lot of James Han Mattson’s Reprieve and John Darnielle’s Devil House, but at the same time, it’s doing almost the opposite of those books; a subversion of a subversion. That’s all I’m saying!
I received an advance review copy of Horror Movie from the publisher through NetGalley....more
(3.5) Despite a title that seems to be in conversation with Kunzru’s two previous novels, White Tears and Red Pill, this book dispenses with its p(3.5) Despite a title that seems to be in conversation with Kunzru’s two previous novels, White Tears and Red Pill, this book dispenses with its predecessors’ touches of surrealism (the uncanny song in White, the prophetic TV show in Red) and tells a more straightforward story. The three main characters, all aspiring artists, are in a love triangle as students; many years later, one of them – Jay, now so destitute he’s living in his car – washes up at the luxurious home of the other two, married couple Alice and Rob. It’s also a pandemic novel, with all the key scenes set in the late spring/early summer of 2020. Characters’ panic about the virus manifests in a variety of ways (and is arguably the engine of the plot, too).
Much of the first half consists of Jay reflecting on his short, messy relationship with Alice; these scenes are well-written, but inconsequential. While Kunzru sketches a neat portrait of the young Jay – his naivety and idealism, as well as the late-90s London art scene through which he moves – I wasn’t sure why I should care, or where this was all going. Meanwhile, whenever we return to 2020, the dialogue between Jay, Alice, Rob and another couple has a sheen of unreality. Maybe it was just the Covid references, but I felt like I was watching actors perform a scene, rather than eavesdropping on a real conversation.
And I questioned whether this artificiality is deliberate; we are, after all, encouraged to wonder what is true about Jay. (A sculpture made of multiple, spiralling mirrors – which Jay visits several times, and is even moved to tears by – seems significant here. As does the belief, shared by almost everyone and thus communicated to the reader, that Jay’s presence is too wild a coincidence to have happened purely by chance.) I found Jay’s account of himself unconvincing. Are we supposed to think he’s lying? Partly because he’s still hung up on Alice after so long, it’s hard to believe Jay has had the rich life experience he claims; it’s as though he’s jumped from being a student straight into middle age. Which, of course, for the purposes of the story, he has. But should it feel quite so much like that’s the case? Is it meant to be so noticeable?
As I read Blue Ruin, and especially throughout the climax and ending, I kept thinking of questions like this – about the characters, and about the book. I found myself inventing and discarding theories about what was really going on, and whether some of the vaguely frustrating narrative techniques were a tricksy manoeuvre on the part of the author and/or his narrator (as in something like Ottessa Moshfegh’s Death in Her Hands). Should we ask whether this whole story is part of Jay’s performance art, or is that stretching the metaphor too far, inventing an authorial intention that isn’t there? Is it better for fiction to be thought-provoking than a good story? Even if so, is it enough for it to be thought-provoking?
The closing lines put such a neat cap on the story that they make it all seem weightless. As if Rob, Alice et al have disappeared in a puff of smoke. While it takes particular talent to write something that feels that way, I’m not sure I want to read books where the characters leave no impression. I’m left with mixed feelings about Blue Ruin. It’s more interesting to think about than to read. But then, sometimes I really enjoy that.
I received an advance review copy of Blue Ruin from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
If I see a premise like ‘man remembers a book that everyone else insists doesn’t exist’, I am instantly sold. All My Colors follows an obnoxious wouldIf I see a premise like ‘man remembers a book that everyone else insists doesn’t exist’, I am instantly sold. All My Colors follows an obnoxious would-be writer, Todd, who’s outraged to find he’s the only one among his friends – in his whole town, even – who’s heard of the classic novel ‘All My Colors’ by Jake Turner. When he discovers he’s seemingly the only person who knows of it full stop, he decides to publish the thing himself and cash in. But, of course, when he does so, he quickly realises the original book will (literally) haunt him every step of the way. It’s fast-paced and funny – the blurb uses the word ‘rollicking’ and that actually feels appropriate. I’m always pleased when stories like this manage not to descend into some garbled cosmic horror nonsense; impressively, All My Colors maintains its tone and narrative control to the very end. A fun, quick, well-pitched horror novel that actually lives up to its concept – really good!...more
An utterly perfect novella for me. It’s so clever, all of it – the use of ekphrasis, the title, the nature of the painting, how they all play into eacAn utterly perfect novella for me. It’s so clever, all of it – the use of ekphrasis, the title, the nature of the painting, how they all play into each other – but absorbing and readable at the same time, never too smart for its own good. One of the closest things I have read to Nina Allan’s short fiction, somehow seeming to embody the spirit of her fractured novels: I’m thinking especially of Stardust/Ruby, of ‘Wreck of the Julia’, as well as ‘Four Abstracts’ and Maggots. Reminded me of Aliya Whiteley too: the mystery of Skein Island’s premise, the cyclical nature of Three Eight One. As a horror reader, a lover of strange stories, and someone who’s enjoyed Tuttle’s contributions to anthologies, it’s probably embarrassing that it’s taken an NYRB edition to turn me on to her work. Even worse, in the past I’ve been put off by the covers (the design for A Nest of Nightmares, for example, makes it look exactly like the type of horror I like least). My Death is a revelation: subtle, grounded, yet indisputably weird. I will certainly read more now. And I’ll read this again....more
Whisper it, but I actually enjoyed this a lot more than The Haunting of Hill House. It uses the setting of Shirley Jackson’s novel beautifully, while Whisper it, but I actually enjoyed this a lot more than The Haunting of Hill House. It uses the setting of Shirley Jackson’s novel beautifully, while also playing to Elizabeth Hand’s own strengths, and established style, as a horror writer. Stumbling across Hill House on a drive in the country, playwright Holly thinks she’s found the perfect venue in which to rehearse and workshop what she hopes will be her breakthrough play, Witching Night. Holly is joined by the cast – her talented yet capricious younger girlfriend, Nisa, and a pair of actors, has-been Amanda and never-was Stevie – and at first, rehearsals go wonderfully: the house’s atmosphere perfectly complements the play’s tale of witchcraft. But there’s the matter of the staff who refuse to stay overnight, the hostile woman who lives in a neighbouring trailer, and the terrifyingly huge black hares Holly keeps glimpsing (a brilliant addition). As tensions increase, Hill House’s influence begins to feel less like an illumination of Witching Night’s themes and more like an infection. Everyone in the book has their own ghosts, cleverly feeding into their own personal hauntings. I was frequently reminded of Hand’s previous, equally good (if not better) novel Wylding Hall; clearly, sticking a bunch of creatives in a haunted house makes for a foolproof horror formula in her hands.
I received an advance review copy of A Haunting on the Hill from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
So, I have had some time to let this settle and I have very mixed feelings here. I love Janice Hallett’s storytelling, and this was another addictive So, I have had some time to let this settle and I have very mixed feelings here. I love Janice Hallett’s storytelling, and this was another addictive read comprising a series of messages, journal entries, emails and reports. But...
The idea is that three examiners are assessing the coursework and other documents from a ‘Multimedia Art’ master’s degree. One of them believes ‘something disturbing’ happened on the course and was covered up by the students, so they ask the others to read all the documents (i.e. the text of this book) and make up their own minds. This on its own is convoluted enough – just the degree, a combination of art-making and marketing skills, is convoluted enough – before we even get into the plethora of links between the characters, dramatic backstories, and bizarre solutions to problems. And the plot hinges on not one but two incredibly stupid MacGuffins that make very little sense. I mean, I know all Hallett’s books have silly elements, I’m not expecting Crime and Punishment here, but this really does take it a bit far.
I wish I hadn’t read this so early now – I’d love to get some different perspectives on the story. And thinking about this makes me wonder if what I’m really looking for is someone to convince me it’s better than I suspect it actually is. I had fun, but I’d like to feel the story is at least a little more plausible than this (The Appeal, for example, works so well partly because its English village eccentrics and ‘big fish in a small pond’ types are instantly recognisable and true to life; not so the broad caricatures that make up the students in this book). I love Hallett’s approach in general, and I’ll definitely still be reading whatever she writes next. For me, this was probably better than The Twyford Code but didn’t reach the heights of The Appeal or Alperton Angels.
I received an advance review copy of The Examiner from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
While reading The Others of Edenwell, and especially after finishing it, I kept thinking the same thing: why isn’t this book getting more attention?! While reading The Others of Edenwell, and especially after finishing it, I kept thinking the same thing: why isn’t this book getting more attention?! With its wartime setting, beautifully atmospheric description and slow-burn queer romance combined with elements of folk horror, this is a novel that feels ripe for obsessive fandom. If I was in charge of marketing it, I’d be targeting fans of Natasha Pulley and In Memoriam. This is a book that takes its time to set the scene: the Edenwell retreat comes to life in full colour; its staff are more than just background characters; it’s a whole world. There are so many threads here – from Freddie’s relationship with his dad and Scole’s secret to the creeping terror of ‘the German’ and the chatterings of the corvids – yet all are seamlessly woven together in what is both an elegaic war novel and a haunting ghost story. Read it now before it becomes the cult hit it deserves to be....more
(3.5) True-crime novels are having a big moment, and Kill Show wades into this increasingly crowded field with a relatively underused hook: a document(3.5) True-crime novels are having a big moment, and Kill Show wades into this increasingly crowded field with a relatively underused hook: a documentary TV series, the fictitious Searching for Sara. The show, broadcast in real time, became a phenomenon. It changed the lives of everyone involved: the family of a missing girl suddenly catapulted to a very strange kind of ‘fame’; the producer who built a career on the back of Searching for Sara’s notoriety; the residents of a small town suddenly overrun with media and conspiracy theorists. Kill Show purports to be an oral history of the show, documenting its effect alongside the fate of the girl at its heart, 16-year-old Sara Parcell.
Kill Show is compulsive reading – fast-paced, full of revelations, lots of characters, the plot rarely pausing for breath. This makes it a very compelling book, yet ultimately a little empty as a story, because we never learn who any of these people are beyond archetypes. The voices also don’t come across distinctly; these very different individuals all talk suspiciously similarly (this would probably be much less of a problem in audiobook format). Unlike recent novels in the same space – think True Crime Story, Six Stories, Penance – it doesn’t attempt any metatextual analysis beyond gesturing towards the idea that any engagement = consumption = perpetuation. Definitely worth a look if you enjoy stories of this type, but more of a beach read than a meaningful examination of true-crime-as-entertainment.
I received an advance review copy of Kill Show from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
This year has been packed with horror novels featuring premises that seem perfect for my tastes. Mister Magic is the latest: 30 years after productionThis year has been packed with horror novels featuring premises that seem perfect for my tastes. Mister Magic is the latest: 30 years after production ceased on a mysterious kids’ TV programme, its stars are brought back together for a reunion podcast (!), the recording of which takes place at a huge, creepy house just outside an eerily perfect desert town (!!), with things being complicated by the fact that no records of the show exist and everyone remembers it differently (!!!). Clearly inspired by the ‘Candle Cove’ creepypasta, Mister Magic builds a fantastic setup and explores it well – the inserts between chapters, where we get to see extracts from various online discussions about the show (and even its Wikipedia page), were my favourite parts. Ultimately, however, the plot goes in a different direction than anticipated, examining the psychological effects of a cult-like community. It’s pretty effective, it’s just that I would have personally preferred to read more about the mythos of the show. Plus the relationships between characters are sweet but a bit cheesy. I liked The Devil’s Playground, Experimental Film and Blue in Green better as stories about cursed media of various types.
I received an advance review copy of Mister Magic from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
Ashok and Danielle are old friends/lovers who discover an old film of the deadly 1955 crash at Le Mans (a real event) that shows the horrific aftermatAshok and Danielle are old friends/lovers who discover an old film of the deadly 1955 crash at Le Mans (a real event) that shows the horrific aftermath – and may have captured something even more terrifying along with it. Their plan to sell it to an unscrupulous collector goes awry; it seems the cursed footage has other ideas. This book scratched every itch for me: the lost media trope, a creepy and original haunting, an investigation-based plot, strong characters and narrative voice. It’s a ghost story... but it’s just as much about Ashok’s slightly pathetic infatuation with Danielle. The novella format is perfect for it – long enough to establish the characters properly and flesh out the world in which they exist (I loved the asides implying a near-future backdrop), not so long that any particular aspect is overcomplicated. Doesn’t put a foot wrong. Loved it....more
Novels about lost or cursed films seem to be coming thick and fast lately, and here’s another: Burn the Negative follows journalist Laura, one-time chNovels about lost or cursed films seem to be coming thick and fast lately, and here’s another: Burn the Negative follows journalist Laura, one-time child star of legendary 90s horror flick The Guesthouse, as she’s sent to interview the cast of the inevitable reboot series. After a series of deaths linked to The Guesthouse, Laura has reinvented herself, but she’s dragged into a Hollywood nightmare when the ‘curse’ begins to affect the remake too. While I always enjoy a cursed-media story, pretty much everything about this one – plot twists, characters’ behaviour, pivotal scenes – takes suspension of disbelief to new heights. I can’t decide whether this is an appropriate critique or an ironic one, but much of the action would be better suited to the screen than the page. The fast-moving, drama-packed narrative leaves little time to explore what sometimes seem like baffling choices made by the characters. Overall, a bit sillier than I was hoping for, but if you enjoy horror in the Grady Hendrix/Clay McLeod Chapman mould, it’s worth a look.
I received an advance review copy of Burn the Negative from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
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