We do book reviews, and we don’t. We’re interested in undercurrents, themes and interconnections, though we do appreciate good prose in its own right. So it’s easy enough to state that the debut collection by Laura Mauro, Sing Your Sadness Deep (Undertow), is a work of fine and accomplished writing, as near to flawless in its execution as you might wish for. Her language is evocative but clear; her characterisation is compelling. And…

We almost want to stop there, not because we have some wormy criticism to add – this is simply an excellent collection- but because it’s often more difficult to put down quite what captures the imagination, and explain why some stories reverberate. Also, Laura Mauro is young, clever and interesting, qualities which really annoy crumpled old writers like greydog. But we shall be brave…

SING YOUR SADNESS DEEP

Laura Mauro, Undertow Press 2019

There is a mythic quality to many of the tales included here. It’s a quality you see in a number of contemporary female writers – Priya Sharma and Gwendolyn Kiste immediately spring to mind, along with others – and suggests the creation of new myths which ought to be old. Themes which you feel are timeless, applied to, and acted out by, genuine people rather than vaguely sketched archetypes.

Being mythic, sacrifice and transformation therefore abound in Laura Mauro’s stories. Characters make sacrifices for love, for family (‘Obsidian’) and also for understanding (‘Letters from Elodie’). ‘Obsidian’ could easily be a genuine Finnish or Scandinavian folk story, painted afresh to apply to real life. People do things which are unwise; they do things which have an inevitability about them. The sacrifice of a former existence or of a degree of security in favour of an unknown future; the willingness to embrace change.

Transformation is everywhere – any minute you expect a troubled young woman to mutate into a huge swan and soar into the night, free of natural restraints at last. Possibly a tattooed, risk-taking swan, though, not a self-satisfied princess. Matters of the body corporeal are not stinted on. From ‘Sundogs’ to ‘Strange as Angels’, physical change is as important as any psychological shift, and the two interact on a number of levels. And the transformative aspects of medical syndromes and illnesses are also represented in a number of stories – birth conditions, disease, and leukaemia (‘In the Marrow’) amongst them. Mauro ‘gets’ bodies.

Our other reflection, which sometimes seems to get skipped in reviews, is about the reader. Not ‘Is the collection inventive?’ or ‘Has it literary merit?’ (that’s a Yes to both in this case), but ‘Is it basically a good read?’ Contemporary weird fiction (which we love, by the way) can occasionally be – how shall we put it? – liminal, multi-layered and slightly incomprehensible. Stuff happens, and it happens intriguingly, even amazingly, but you may have to suspend any yearning for clarity. We often look at a new collection and ask – if the reader isn’t already an enthusiast of the field, will they get anything out of it?

This particular collection is absolutely a good read. That’s not only down to Mauro’s evident command of her craft, but also down to her presentation of stories which hold up in different ways. ‘Looking for Laika’, for example, is a tale for anyone. It’s sad, moving – and accessible. ‘When Charlie Sleeps’ is what we might call weird horror – not graphic but strange and satisfying; ‘In the Marrow’ harks back to a particular folk belief, but executed almost perfectly; reality, myth and delusion are beautifully entwined until you can’t be absolutely sure – but it still has a ‘completeness’ about it. ‘The Grey Men’ explores an utterly weird occurrence, but acts as both a strong story and a question about ourselves; ‘The Looking Glass Girl’ is – well, it’s a ghost story.

Laura Mauro is also an internationalist – an added bonus is the wide range of settings, and the varying feel of tales in different geographies, from the States to Siberia.

Just to end on a contrary note, we rather liked ‘Red Rabbit’, which doesn’t quite end, doesn’t necessarily make any sense, but where the ride for the reader is worth it, even if the ride for the characters involved is rather less satisfying. So we’re probably not consistent – weird fiction does that to you – and you can ignore us.

Except that we think you should pick up a copy of  Sing Your Sadness Deep by Laura Mauro. Don’t ignore that bit.

Laura can be found at her blog here: https://lauramauro.com/