Tag: short fiction

Still: ‘Still’ by S.L. Grey

The photograph: a row of pale green doors, with a board advertising a raffle half-visible behind one that’s open.

The story: a two-page piece by S.L. Grey (the collaborative pseudonym of Sarah Lotz and Louis Greenberg), set at a funfair. Fragmented dialogue contributes to a sense of unease, as we uncover the horror of the narrator’s predicament. Definitely a story that carries greater force than its length might suggest.

Links: S.L. Grey’s website / interview with Grey on their story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘The Owl at the Gate’ by Nicholas Hogg

The photograph: the decoration of an owl on top of a wrought-iron gate.

The story: with his mother dead and father away at war, the protagonist lives with his bullying cousin Maria. Escaping the house one day, he runs into a local man who’s as happy as Maria to take advantage of the boy’s timidity – but help is at hand from an unexpected source. I like the ambiguity in the ending of this piece, and especially how it illuminates the narrator’s character.

Link: Nicholas Hogg’s website

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Short Story Week: some favourite collections

It’s National Short Story Week, so I’ve decided to dig into my archives and highlight some of my favourite story collections from the last few years. The links are to my original reviews, and the list is in alphabetical order of author’s surname. All come warmly recommended by me.

Nina Allan, The Silver Wind – five interlinked tales of ‘time disrupted’, though it may be the gaps between pieces that hold the real story.

Chris Beckett, The Turing Test – a very human take on science-fictional staples.

Hassan Blasim, The Madman of Freedom Square – a collection examining how stories shape people’s experiences of war.

China Miéville, Looking for Jake – a varied sampler that made me look at Miéville’s work anew.

Keith Ridgway, Hawthorn & Child – a mosaic novel which dismantles the comfort of narrative coherence.

Robert Shearman, Love Songs for the Shy and Cynical / Everyone’s Just So So Special – the fantastic and the everyday combine in two superlative collections exploring themes of love and history.

Shortfire Press launch titles – three fine stories by Nadifa Mohamed, Laura Dockrill, and Elizabeth Jenner.

A.C. Tillyer, An A-Z of Possible Worlds – a collage of stories portraying imaginary places, with each tale in its own booklet.

David Vann, Legend of a Suicide – one version of events is not enough to tell the truth of a family tragedy.

Lucy Wood, Diving Belles – contemporary stories drawing on Cornish folklore.

Still: ‘In the Dressing Room Mirror’ by Claire Massey

The photograph: a shabby, utilitarian dressing room, with a row of plain square mirrors and the overhead lamps that would have illuminated them.

The story: a woman describes the envy she had as a child for another girl who was a much more natural dancer than she – and the repercussions that still affect her to this day. Its supernatural twist gives this tale a very effective chill.

Links: Claire Massey’s website / interview with Massey on her story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘Ten a Day’ by Jan Woolf

The photograph: a clock (showing five past ten) on a bare stone wall, off-centre as we view the image. Part of a blue board can be seen below the clock.

The story: a woman thinks about how much better life would be – how much more time there’d be – if the 24-hour clock were replaced with the decimal time used in the French Republic. What gives this story its edge is a clear sense that this is a false hope, and that the protagonist can’t move on in life because she won’t let go of the idea.

Links: Jan Woolf’s website / interview with Woolf about her story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘Waiting’ by Justin Hill

The photograph: a view of a derelict work-room or store-room, with peeling walls and debris piled on surfaces.

The story: a well-constructed mosaic of events from Justin Hill’s life, with recurring themes of memory and going through doors – and the melancholy undercurrent of knowing that, once you’ve gone through a door in life, you can’t go back.

Links: Justin Hill’s website / interview with Hill on his story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘Morayo’ by Sarah Ladipo Manyika

The photograph: rows of empty bookshelves.

The story: Morayo, an old woman about to move into a nursing home, thinks about her beloved books, which are shortly to join her – but Tom, the social worker set to bring them over can see only a messy pile that needs to be disposed of as efficiently as possible. This piece is both a portrait of the emotional value that books can have to someone; but it’s also a poignant tale of loss – with Tom”s failure to recognise or consider which books matter most to Morayo acting as an indication that the person she has been is becoming lost.

Links: Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s website / interview with Ladipo Manyika about her story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘Sere’ by David Rose

The photograph: the corner of a room, with a flyer for an old amateur operatic performance lying among the dust and flakes of wallpaper.

The story: the word ‘sere’ means ‘dry’ or ‘withered’, and the old narrator of this piece is feeling that way in relation to the modern world. Rose captures a certain stiff formality in the voice of his protagonist; and the range of details focused on creates an effective sense of diffuseness.

Links: David Rose’s website / interview with Rose on his story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Still: ‘A Job Worth Doing’ by S.J. Butler

The photograph: an old telephone, with its handset off the cradle, sitting on a large wooden meeting-room table.

The story: a cleaner goes to do one last shift at the defunct and empty town hall. This story recalls (coincidentally) the first entry in Still, ‘Midnight Hollow’, which takes a very similar premise. Butler’s story is as evocative as Piggott’s, but the tone is warmer, less melancholic. If ‘Midnight Hollow’ is a story of loss, ‘A Job Worth Doing’ is more a celebration of what has passed.

Links: S.J. Butler’s website / interview with Butler about her story

This is one of a series of posts on the anthology StillClick here to read the rest.

Paul Rooney, Dust and Other Stories (2012)

Paul Rooney is an artist who often works with text-based materials. Looking at the publication credits, many of the pieces in Dust first appeared in other forms – as video or sound works, or different kinds of written text. Now they’ve been brought together in this collection, a joint publication by Akerman Daly and Aye-Aye Books.

Voice is a key concern in these stories, and perhaps especially the extent to which the ‘voice’ of a story can be trusted. In ‘Towards the Heavenly Void, a musician with a sideline in mediumship finds himself channelling the voice of Les Dawson – or at least of someone who claims that the comedian we know as Les Dawson was someone with whom he swapped lives, whilst the man who’s ‘talking’ went off to South America in search of Che Guevara. Rooney captures the tone and character of one of Dawson’s monologues, leaving us with layers of voice that – as the tale’s ending symbolises – evaporate when you try to unpick them.

Rooney also makes use of different textual forms in Dust. ‘Transcript’ (a collaboration with Will Rose) purports to document a Q&A session between Rooney, Rose, and a film-maker. The talk soon gets maddeningly and entertainingly out of hand with audience interruptions, which dissolve the text into a clamour of voices – all overlaid with the interventions of the anonymous transcriber. It’s typical of Rooney’s playful approach that, as a character, the author says nothing; though of course his words are all over this piece.

Other stories have more conventional structures but come at the author’s concerns in equally effective ways. ‘Words and Silence’ tells of a call centre worker who creates elaborate personas for herself when making calls; eventually her imaginings threaten to swamp her view of reality. ‘The Kendal Iconoclasm’ turns a spy thriller into a tale of existential horror: its characters know they’re in a story – they can see it being typed out in front of their eyes – but not who the writer (or writers) are. Rooney’s protagonist tries to exert some control as he heads up the motorway, but he seems not to realise just how deeply enmeshed he is in the story – there’s no escaping from this escapist fiction. It’s just one example of the treachery of stories and words, as seen in so many ways throughout this collection.

Any Cop? Yes – taken together, the stories of Dust are an interesting exploration of voice and text. And Rooney’s diverse approaches means that there’ll always be something different on the next page.

(This review also appears at Bookmunch.)

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