STRANGE NESTS AND CRYPTIC CARDS

As any fule kno, we do not cover the Beast That Is Poetry at greydogtales. Except when, occasionally, we do. Which is all very strange. However, we have two fine examples of this vexing animal in hand – Jessica McHugh’s Strange Nests, and Paul St John Mackintosh’s The Great Arcana, and they crept far enough into our kennel to deserve mentioning. These are two books of verse, but they’re as different as chalk and something which is definitely not chalk. Here’s a taste of them, both widely available now…

STRANGE NESTS by Jessica McHugh

strange nests

Following her Bram Stoker and Elgin Award nominated collection, A Complex Accident of Life, Jessica McHugh draws this time on the Frances Hodgson Burnett classic, The Secret Garden, for a new collection of her blackout poetry*. What’s that, then? Essentially, blackout poetry is sculptural, carving away at an existing text until you’re left with the words you want.

A Complex Accident of Life, inspired by Mary Shelley‘s Frankenstein, was our first extended exposure to the form, and we were sold – if not on everything about blackout poetry in general, certainly on McHugh’s remarkable ability to carve new and evocative meanings from literary monoliths. It’s a fascinating read, and now we have Strange Nests, which McHugh described to us as:

A collection of horror blackout poetry exploring the consumptive and transformative power of grief.”

The Secret Garden is an interesting choice as a source text, and one of which we approve, as it is set in Yorkshire. We ourselves have a secret garden at the back of our Yorkshire hovel, but unlike that of Misselthwaite Manor, ours is a quagmire created by too many dogs digging and peeing on everything.

Here’s a sample of the unadorned text…

strange nests

And here’s the graphic way in which McHugh works and presents the full form alongside the extracted core:

strange nests

The venerable Ginger Nuts of Horror review site said of Strange Nests:

A thought-provoking and powerful collection of short poems exploring a range of emotions and experiences that even a novice poetry reader can appreciate and learn from. It is worth a look, even if it is just to get a glimpse at the fascinating world of blackout poetry.”

https://gingernutsofhorror.com/fiction-reviews/book-review-strange-nests-by-jessica-mchugh

We agree. McHugh is a textual sculptress, and the reviewers are right, this one is definitely worth a look.

*If you’d like to know more about the form, there’s quite a lot of detail here:

the history of blackout poetry

And there’s an Amazon link here:


Given our second book of the week, mentioned below, we would like to have linked Frances Hodgson Burnett, and the tarot, but the chain is thin. Her own interest in the occult and spiritualism, which developed in later life, seems to have been more centred around theosophical concepts. She stated:

“I am not a Christian Scientist, I am not an advocate of New Thought, I am not a disciple of the Yogi teaching, I am not a Buddhist, I am not a Mohammedan, I am not a follower of Confucious. Yet I am all of these things” (New York Times, Oct. 12, 1913).

However, the Brink Literacy Project, a non-profit organization dedicated to changing the world through storytelling ran a campaign last year for The Literary Tarot, a project due in 2022 which includes both The Secret Garden and Frankenstein:

We reached out to some of the greatest authors and cartoonists of our time and asked them to pair a tarot card with a seminal book that embodies the meaning of the arcana.”

Bestselling author Leigh Bardugo (Ninth House and Shadow and Bone) pairs the Ace of Parchment (Pentacles) with Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden, and Isaac Marion (Warm Bodies) brings Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to life in the iconic major arcana card The Hermit.

So maybe McHugh is onto something…


THE GREAT ARCANA by Paul St John Mackintosh

A visionary cycle of 22 sonnets for the 22 trump cards of the traditional Tarot pack, with accompanying classic Tarot cards to illustrate them, delving into the symbolic, cultural and historical heritage of the Tarot.”

Our other rhythmic offering today is both ancient and modern, a set of sonnets based on the Major Arcana of the tarot.

The entire matter of the tarot is something which has been subject to an astonishing number of interpretations – considering that in the fifteenth century, it was merely a card game played by idle apprentice Italian builders when rain stopped yet another bout of civic piazza construction.

“ ‘Ere, Giovanni, how come this pack’s got more than one Pope in it?”

Ecumenical schism, innit? And stop lookin’ up me sleeve.”

On the other hand, maybe the tarot does contain the hermetic, transcendental wisdom of Thoth. What would we know? The theosophist Helena Blavatsky said:

The real Tarot, in its complete symbology, can be found only in the Babylonian cylinders, that anyone can inspect and study in the British Museum and elsewhere. Anyone can see these Chaldean antediluvian rhombs, or revolving cylinders, covered with sacred signs; the secrets of these divining ‘wheels,’ or, as de Mirville calls them, ‘the rotating globes of Hecate,’ have to be left untold for some time to come.”

Paul St John Mackintosh, accomplished writer, poet and journalist, knows more than we do about all sorts of stuff, and has written his sonnets in order to reflect on each of the tarot trump cards. He says of The Great Arcana:

The Tarot I based these sonnets on, almost entirely, is the Tarot de Marseille, purely because it’s the oldest complete suite of designs and motifs for the Major Arcana. I was very concerned with authenticity and origins when working on this cycle, on the basis that, if the Tarot has anything to teach or reveal, it probably is found most authentically in its earliest forms, not in the later rewritings and interpretations of the system by A.E. Waite and his ilk. I’ve only drawn heavily on the Rider-Waite Tarot deck for one poem — II, The High Priestess — and I don’t particularly care for any of Waite’s readings of the cards. However, imaginative inspiration has been my real guide all the way through, pulling me away from being too much of a dogmatist in any particular direction.”

Here’s a sample – which does not do justice to the style and layout in the actual book:

The Magician

Charlatan, mountebank, you stand,
behind your table set out on the green,

minor arcana laid in your demesne;
cups, coins and swords ready under your wand,
answering to your oh so puissant hand,
your prestidigitation passed unseen,
and so arcane we can’t tell what they mean
and leave the spread for you to understand.
Yet is that rakish hat Infinity,
the cryptic symbol of Eternity,
and Ouroboros wrapped around your waist?
Your Moebius brim, your artfulness proclaim
the occult wisdom hid in your shell game,
as you divine from squares of pulp and paste.

(c) Paul StJohnMackintosh, 2022

It’s a stylish and thoughtful work which both informs and teases, with each sonnet set against a classic image of the card to which it relates.

Find it on Amazon here:

The Great Arcana



ALSO IN BOOKS NEWS…

The Kickstarter campaign for Sherlock Holmes and the Occult Detectives volumes 3 & 4, and The Book of Carnacki, all three coming from Belanger Books and edited by John Linwood Grant, began on the 21st February. It greatly exceeded its initial goal within hours, but is a good way to pick any or all of the books concerned, singly or as bundles. E-book, paperback, and hardback formats are available. Lots of detail about the books themselves on the Kickstarter page:

The Book of Carnacki/Holmes & the Occult Detectives

 

 

Share this article with friends - or enemies...

CAUGHT IN THE UNDERTOW

Greetings, O Best Beloveds. Today, as keen supporters of independent presses, we’re pleased to have a special feature on the superb work of Canadian publisher Undertow Publications. We have on offer our own fresh-baked review of Kay Chronister’s collection Thin Places (Undertow, 2020), a reminder of Laura Mauro’s debut collection Sing Your Sadness Deep (Undertow, 2019), and a weird welcome from Michael Kelly himself, the Dark Presence behind these and other cunning volumes (plus some brilliant cover art).

Undertow (n) An underlying current, force, or tendency that is in opposition to what is apparent

So let’s start backwards, as always, and hear from Michael about his press first…


MICHAEL KELLY SPEAKS

 

We’re thrilled to be featured here at greydogtales. Like greydogtales, we’re endearingly weird. And proud of it.

The boring stuff:

Undertow Publications is a celebrated independent press in Canada dedicated to publishing original and unique fiction of exceptional literary merit. Since 2009 we’ve been publishing anthologies, collections, and novellas in hardcover, trade paperback, and eBook formats. Our books have won the Shirley Jackson Award; the British Fantasy Award; and we are a 4-time World Fantasy Award Finalist.

Blah, blah, yada, yada.

Fact is, we love books and stories. Strange, beautiful, macabre, transcendent, odd, scary, lush, lean, numinous, oneiric, and unclassifiable books and stories. We’re almost exclusively known for publishing short fiction, whether in our magazine Weird Horror, or anthologies and single-author short fiction collections.

https://undertowpublications.com/weird-horror-magazine

“Yeah, but what kind of stuff do you publish?”

“Uh, I don’t know… weird fiction?’

“Oh, that’s my least favourite kind.”

“Oh. Sorry. I guess.”

Our aesthetic is beauty and terror, and we believe a book can be judged by its cover.

Our occasional anthology series Shadows & Tall Trees has won the Shirley Jackson Award, and several stories from the series have been reprinted in various “Best Of” anthologies.

https://undertowpublications.com/shop/shadows-amp-tall-trees-vol-8-paperback

Two more Shirley Jackson Award-winning books — Priya Sharma’s All the Fabulous Beasts and Aickman’s Heirs, edited by Simon Strantzas — continue to sell well for us.

Both are masterfully crafted and will, I’m certain, endure. I mean, at least until my death. Please check them out.

https://undertowpublications.com/shop/all-the-fabulous-beasts-trade-paperback

https://undertowpublications.com/shop/aickmans-heirs

Finally, we’re really proud of what we accomplished with the Year’s Best Weird Fiction.

From 2014 – 2018 we produced 5 volumes, and thanks to our glorious guest-editors it showcased the breadth and diversity of the field. I’m still asked, “What is Weird Fiction?” Who knows? The first 3 volumes are out of print, but you can grab volumes 4 and 5 (which won the British Fantasy Award) still.

https://undertowpublications.com/shop/years-best-weird-fiction-vol-5-trade-paperback

That’s us! Weird. Endearingly so.

Michael Kelly, 1/21


SOME DAYS YOU’RE JUST A READER

(as dictated to a large dog by John Linwood Grant)

There is something odd about hyacinths; I always find their scent disturbing yet intoxicating, their appearance waxily strange, and yet beautiful. Which is, conveniently, how I feel about many of the stories in Kay Chronister’s Thin Places

I initially picked this one up not as a reviewer or a writer, but simply because I wanted to see what weird fiction was up to. Out of pure curiosity (I don’t read in my own backyard when I’m actively writing, and I must have been drafting some murderous Edwardian shenanigans at the time).

So, without any expectations, I took a half hour off to read the collection’s opening tale, ‘Your Clothes a Sepulcher, Your Body a Grave’. And I thought it wonderful. Truly evocative weird fiction with a certain Gothicism – and an abundance of actual hyacinths in it. I could see I was going to like Kay Chronister. A few months later, I had chance to read the entire collection through in one go, and I had thoughts.

Contemporary weird fiction is the creature which you recognise when it crouches on your chest, but which you can’t always adequately describe to others. Well, the good stuff is, anyway. The poor stuff is just people being too clever, too vague, or raiding the thesaurus.

This is a book which suffers from none of the above weaknesses, with one proviso – many of the stories are about change and transformation, and the exact nature of the change, and what it might generate, is not always spelled out. Chronister brushes you with monstrosities, but doesn’t overplay her hand. It’s not that the stories don’t end ‘properly’, as is sometimes said of pieces of weird fiction, it’s that you are left to ponder. And pondering is important.

kay chronister

Chronister deals with generational relationships, and most of the book is concerned with lineage, especially the core matrilineal nature of the world, mother:daughter and sister:sister relationships, and their consequences. This is not to say that men are necessarily demonised or excluded herein, lest some sensitive boy-readers begin to worry – there are some intriguing male characters as well – ‘Life Cycles’, for example, deals deftly with the desires, needs and dooms of men and women, as does ‘Your Clothes a Sepulcher, Your Body a Grave’.

The yearning to give birth and the consequences of doing so are both explored within. There are touching moments, but many are of transformational horror – what we choose, what we submit to, what we become. Birth creates both victims and monsters; it creates us. The cyclical nature of this process infects the book.

Your Clothes…’ is an excellent example, and stories such as ‘Life Cycles’ and ‘Too Lonely, Too Wild’ also stand out. But for me, the single finest story outside of the opener is ‘The Fifth Gable’ where Chronister melds folk-tale sensibilities with the fantastical to great effect (not the only story where a folk/fairy tale grimness lies beneath). Unnamed women in a house with many gables make ‘children’, each in their own way, isolated from the world – and then comes a visitor, who wants a child of her own…

Whilst the mother:daughter axis is a big part of her core material, Chronister is very skilled with landscape and the built world; her stories are rich with psychogeography (geometaphysics, if there’s such a thing?). The very feel of people’s surroundings seeps into you. And at least half of the collection could be described as Folk Horror — ‘The Women Who Sing For Sklep’, set in Eastern Europe, is a particularly strong F/Hish example.

Reviews should not always gush throughout. If I have reservations about any of the contents, they pertain to the title story itself, ‘Thin Places’, which is again finely written, with nice characterisation in the shape of the protagonist/observer, but a little slender underneath, and ‘White Throat Holler’, whose premise doesn’t stand up as well as the writing of it. Even so, neither of these lack their satisfying moments, and would out-run many of their competitors in the overall field.

In short, Thin Places is very rewarding, and well worth picking up.

https://undertowpublications.com/shop/thin-places

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B083GZRNV7/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_VQZYHJCGRE4VRBV82G0K


SING YOUR SADNESS DEEP

 

An Undertow book which we’ve covered before but must mention again, is Sing your Sadness Deep, by Laura Mauro. It’s perhaps no coincidence that this collection by a skilled female writer of the contemporary weird also concerns itself much with women’s lives and transformation, though Mauro’s wings are spread wide over different landscapes from Chronister’s (the latter is perhaps more claustrophobic and tinged with the Gothic than the former).

At the time we said:

The debut collection by Laura Mauro, Sing Your Sadness Deep, is a work of fine and accomplished writing, as near to flawless in its execution as you might wish for.”

And that is still true. Again, recommended, as is Priya Sharma’s All the Fabulous Beasts, mentioned by Michael above – another wonderful and rewarding collection.

You can read our full piece on Sing Your Sadness Deep here:

http://greydogtales.com/blog/laura-mauro-sacrifice-and-transformation/



Whilst you’re waiting for your Undertow books, why not have a look at John Linwood Grant’s own recent second collection,Where All is Night, and Starless (Trepidatio 2021). It’s not bad.

AVAILABLE NOW THROUGH AMAZON UK & US, AND THROUGH THE PUBLISHER, JOURNALSTONE

Amazon US: Where All is Night, and Starless

Amazon UK: Where All is Night, and Starless

Share this article with friends - or enemies...

ON THE SEVENTH DAY, SHE RESTED

Annnnnd… we’re back. Winter, work, COVID and all that stuff got in the way, but greydogtales is powering up for 2022. Weird literature, strange trivia, and of course, lurchers. So today let’s whet appetites, just for fun, with a new short tale of Mamma Lucy, the old hoodoo woman who travels through 1920s America, ‘adjusting’ things as she goes…

ON THE SEVENTH DAY, SHE RESTED

 

Willie Brown stole a hog.

Cepting he didn’t steal it – he bought it fair from Nate Rivens, when Nate had gone too far down the jug one night. But Nate, as he stuck his head under the pump the following morning, was minded that Willie had been so plumb happy at the deal, he’d left behind the bill of sale. Which got Nate thinking. Paper burned easy; Willie was only one of them colored boys, and surely Nate had the right of it through being what he was – an honest, winsome Rivens, and white as curds, no less? So he bothered his neighbors, he yelled some, and he made out that Willie Brown had gone and took the beast, never a dime in return.

Ole Casper Rivens, Nate’s uncle, had ridden with the judge, days past, and the local constable was no stranger to Ole Casper’s pockets, so it seemed set to be a clear day for the Rivens. They hauled Willie to the courtroom, the judge set a heavy fine for his thieving – it was that or a whipping and the jail at Gainesville – and they took the hog, who didn’t know master from mud-bath.

And that would have been the way of it, had an old conjure-woman not turned up in town the day after the trial. Barefoot and gangly in her faded print dress, she came with a look to her that made hats tip, even those of a few white folk. Some said she was called Mamma Lucy, and that she’d walked heavy through Barrow County once; others kept names to themselves. Whichever way, Willie Brown’s mother knew her face, and had a need.

Y’all know my boy been wronged, Mamma.”

That’s a steel-hard truth,” said the conjure-woman, her milk-and-honey eye staring way off from the other. “But hold them tears, girl. We’ll see this through… iffen the Good Lord wills.”

So Willie’s mother bit her cheek, wept a mite more, and went home. Around noon the same day, Mamma Lucy set herself on the crooked hickory bench by Casper Riven’s seed-store. Abe Johnson saw her clear.

She hunkers down with roots an’ such from that there carpet-bag o’ hers,” he told the drug-store moochers. “And she spreads ‘em out in her lap, like she’s a-waitin’. Don’t use no words, though, not as I heared. Then she jess puts ‘em away, and up she goes, bound for the creek.”

In the night, rats got into the store’s cellar and made play with some of Casper Rivens’s best seed. Ole Casper woke to this bad news, and a bellyache besides, one which Doc Meredith’s powders wouldn’t shift. As for the rats, their bellies ached fit to burst too, but there weren’t a body listening to hear their side of the matter.

The noon which followed, Mamma Lucy was spotted again, squatting in the shade of a live oak, and maybe she had a green felt bag ‘tween her fingers, maybe she didn’t. The oak wasn’t that tall nor wide, but it happened to stand tidy on the edge of Casper Riven’s yard. Again, she didn’t stay long.

That night, Casper’s wife Mercy cut herself whilst peeling taters (for the help had sickened). Cut herself bad, and Doc Meredith had some sewing up to do. With all the fuss and feathers in the house, Casper’s bellyache got worse.

By now, folks all allowed that the conjure-woman was sure seen often near Casper Rivens or what he owned – and he owned plenty. Everywhere he stepped, there – but not any too close – was a dark, gangly figure. Yet she never tried to jaw with him, nor did anything that might raise a holler. Ole Casper himself wouldn’t stoop to speak to her sort; the constable passed by her a few times, all sweat and nerves, but the old colored woman had coin, talked polite, and always moved on if she was told direct.

Casper’s lumbago took a turn for the worse around that time, and his belly weren’t no better.

On the sixth day, a hand told Casper that Mamma Lucy had been seen chawing cane outside the bank where the Rivenses did their business. When the telegraph clattered a few hours later, turned out that he had lost ninety cents in the dollar on an oil claim that proved dry, sudden, out Aintry way…

Ole Casper was done with hogs. Grim as a Hessian’s horse, he strode to his nephew’s shack, and a mighty ruckus was heard. A half hour after, Nate, scrubbed and tight-collared, went calling on the judge. Seems that a bill of sale for the hog had ‘slipped clean down between two boards,’ but now was found. Right sorry was Nate, so he said, and the judge, though hardly sorry, did grumbling justice. Willie Brown got his name and his hog back by sundown.

Outside the courthouse, Doc Meredith and the conjure woman watched a thin colored boy leading away his rightful property. It weren’t no more than his due, and surely less than should have been, but in those times, matters could have been much worse.

That’s some witchin’ you done there, Mamma,” said the doctor, soft-like. He didn’t look so bothered, though, for the Rivens always put him in mind of temples and ‘dens of thieves’.

Ain’t no witch.” She gave him her big, horse-teeth smile. “And who says I laid a single trick all week? What folks choose t’believe, well, that’s in other hands.”

Mamma Lucy was an ornery hoodoo woman when the need arose, but she was also in the head-business. And she knew her trade, as Ole Casper Givens could attest…



Next up this week, a spotlight on Michael Kelly’s excellent independent press Undertow.

In the meantime, do have a look at my recent second collection, Where All is Night, and Starless (Trepidatio 2021), which is less Edwardian but more wide-ranging…

AVAILABLE NOW THROUGH AMAZON, AND THROUGH THE PUBLISHER, JOURNALSTONE

Amazon US: Where All is Night, and Starless

Amazon UK: Where All is Night, and Starless

Share this article with friends - or enemies...

Deliverance of Sinners: Ambrose Bierce Lives!

We are by nature trivia-hounds, fascinated by those odd little nubbets which litter the universe – facts and fancies which provide endless interconnections between people, places, and events, often to no great purpose. And thus we were delighted to receive a copy of Don Swaim’s new collection, Deliverance of Sinners: Essays & Sundry on Ambrose Bierce (Errata Press, 2021) – the book you didn’t realise you wanted (but you should).

Hang on, you mutter – is this going to be some dry, scholarly meditation on yet another dead white writer? Well, fear not. Deliverance of Sinners may be scholarly under the surface, but Swaim is (as was Bierce) a journalist as well as an author, and has the knack of drawing you willingly into the most peculiar rabbit-holes. This is, quite frankly, a great read, darting in and out of so many aspects of Ambrose Bierce’s life, his work, and his contemporaries that we’d be surprised if you didn’t find something of interest.

Amongst enthusiasts of the weird, Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?) may be best known for his tales of supernatural and psychological horror, such as ‘The Damned Thing’ and ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge’, and for his origination of Carcosa, in ‘An Inhabitant of Carcosa’, which went on to be a keystone of Robert W Chambers’ famous King in Yellow stories*. And of course, many have speculated about the (-1914?) element of his biography, as Bierce’s date and place of death have never been established.

Deliverance of Sinners

* See also our article on Carcosa, its roots, and the Carcosan art of Michael Hutter:

http://greydogtales.com/blog/joe-pulver-his-highness-in-yellow/


“Bierce will remain an equivocal figure in American and world literature chiefly because his dark view of humanity is, by its very nature, unpopular. Most people like writing that is cheerful and uplifting, even though a substantial proportion of the world’s great literature is quite otherwise.”

S T Joshi


Drawn together from articles and pieces written by Swaim over the years, Deliverance of Sinners produces a picture of Bierce and his times which is more entertaining and intriguing than many a biography.

Deliverance of Sinners
Don Swaim

It teases, speculates and subverts, as well as providing a wealth of sourced material. The overall style is wry, yet Swaim’s erudition and his understanding of Bierce shine through.

Contrast, for example, a detailed look at the unusual figure of Colonel Robert G Ingersoll (1833-1899), the rousing agnostic author and speaker who was, like Bierce, a veteran of Shiloh, with Swaim’s light-hearted explanation of how rumour of Bierce’s death relates to the Marfa Lights of Texas.


“The ‘Marfa Lights’ of west Texas have been called many names over the years, such as ghost lights, weird lights, mystery lights, or Chinati lights. The favorite place from which to view the lights is a widened shoulder on Highway 90 about nine miles east of Marfa. The lights are most often reported as distant spots of brightness, distinguishable from ranch lights and automobile headlights on Highway 67 (between Marfa and Presidio, to the south) primarily by their aberrant movements.” Judith Brueske


Or try an imagined interview between Swaim and Bierce on politics, religion, terrorism and other issues, using Bierce’s own words to provide the responses, followed by the author going on a road-trip with Bierce through contemporary America, in ‘Return to Carcosa’. Bar-fights and pithy remarks galore.

Want something more complex and literary after that? Then dip into a fascinating article on Stephen Vincent Benét* (1898-1943), the author of ‘The Devil and Daniel Webster’ (and of the Pulitzer-winning epic poem ‘John Brown’s Body’).

It’s a story they tell in the border country, where Massachusetts
joins Vermont and New Hampshire.

Yes, Dan’l Webster’s dead–or, at least, they buried him. But every
time there’s a thunder storm around Marshfield, they say you can hear his rolling voice in the hollows of the sky. And they say that if you go to his grave and speak loud and clear, “Dan’l Webster–Dan’l
Webster!” the ground’ll begin to shiver and the trees begin to shake.

And after a while you’ll hear a deep voice saying, “Neighbor, how
stands the Union?” Then you better answer the Union stands as she
stood, rock-bottomed and copper sheathed, one and indivisible, or he’s liable to rear right out of the ground. At least, that’s what I was
told when I was a youngster.

* A selection of Benét’s tales can be found in Thirteen O’Clock: Stories of Several Worlds – dry and odd in places, but often imaginative.

Deliverance of Sinners also includes what is perhaps one of S T Joshi’s most extensive interviews (conducted by Swaim), covering Lovecraft (who described Bierce’s fictional work as “grim and savage”), Bierce himself, George Sterling and all manner of other topics.

Then there’s a piece on Bierce’s appalling ‘Little Johnny’ sketches, dreadful mock-bumpkin ‘shorts’ which no one but Bierce seemed to like – and no one seems to know why he kept writing the ghastly things – followed by a far more worthy offering, Swaim’s own one act play concerning the relationship between Bierce and the feminist writer Gertrude Atherton (1857-1948). Based on true events and drawing on Atherton’s 1932 autobiography Adventures of a Novelist, this is both touching and informative; we had read this one before, and found it just as good to revisit.

Atherton will also be known to supernaturalists for her disquieting stories, such as ‘The Striding Place’, which can be read in full here:

the striding place (free to read)

There are many more snippets and curios in Deliverance of Sinners, enough to absorb the idle reader for some time, or to set the acadmeic on new trails. In short, this is a fine read and an excellent resource – studious and playful, clever and self-aware.

Deliverance of Sinnersamazon uk

You might also be interested in Swaim’s novelisation of Bierce’s last days, The Assassination of Ambrose Bierce: A Love Story

amazon uk



John Linwood Grant’s recent second collection, Where All is Night, and Starless (Trepidatio 2021) is out now in Pb and Kindle formats.

AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON UK & US, AND THROUGH THE PUBLISHER, JOURNALSTONE

Amazon US: Where All is Night, and Starless

Amazon UK: Where All is Night, and Starless

Share this article with friends - or enemies...

Literature, lurchers and life