Every time I started a new story in Children of the New World, I kept thinking: surely at least one of these is going to be something less than absoluEvery time I started a new story in Children of the New World, I kept thinking: surely at least one of these is going to be something less than absolutely brilliant, surely this is the one that's going to let me down. Spoiler: it doesn't happen.
The stories here are soft sci-fi, sitting in the near-future genre alongside Black Mirror, Her and Luke Kennard's excellent The Transition. A few of the stories hint at a shared universe, different points in could-be future, giving the collection a David Mitchell vibe. Virtual existences loom large. Memories are bought and sold, jobs performed remotely, social media accessed through implants rather than devices. Real-life parenthood is an anachronism: instead, couples raise clones of themselves or adopt, and buy robot siblings for their kids. Real-life relationships are replaced by artificial memories and real-life sex supplanted by impossible erotic experiences in virtual reality. Meanwhile, the real world is ravaged, depleted. The background details are just as effective in setting the scene. In one story, a baby gnaws on a discarded iPhone; in another, hybrids have been superseded by solar cars – to the point that the next-door neighbour who still insists on driving the former is depicted as the equivalent of a climate change denier.
Several of the stories come with commentary (but not preaching) built in, taking aim at the tendency for technology to create as many problems as it solves – or solve problems that never really existed in the first place. This is most obviously satirised in 'Moksha', in which spiritual enlightenment is achieved by way of an obscenely expensive, underground electrical procedure, with seekers of this high ignoring and avoiding anything that might actually make them happy; and in a section of 'Excerpts from The New World Authorized Dictionary', in which we learn that addiction to 'continual wireless therapy' leads to the creation of a social network for chronic users to provide each other with virtual support, and so on, ouroboros-like. Weinstein also works in a number of nods to climate change and what the 'new world' might mean for nature. In 'Heartland', soil has become such a valuable commodity that everyone's sold it off, turning land into clay fields; on the news, 'it's day nine hundred of the oil spill'. 'Fall Line' is set in a rapidly melting ski resort, post-'Big Thaw'. The characters in 'Migration' rarely leave their homes – they log in to school and work, order their food online – and when one of them ventures outdoors, they encounter a positively post-apocalyptic landscape of overgrown gardens and abandoned malls.
It's hard to pick favourites, but for what it's worth... 'Saying Goodbye to Yang' opens the book with a bang (rhyme not intended) and perfectly sets the tone, combining a futuristic scenario with direct, matter-of-fact narration. 'The Cartographers' is an ingenious tale, a kind of cyber-noir which feels too complete for you to have any sense of the devastating twist until the last minute. 'Children of the New World' perhaps realises the potential of the collection most successfully: I loved the humorous details (spam emails and viruses embodied as sinister or pathetic figures appearing unexpectedly in your home), but this is also the most emotionally affecting story. 'Fall Line' is one of the simplest, in that its portrait of an ex-skiier whose career comes to a halt after a terrible accident could be set against almost any backdrop – it just happens to take place in a world where people stream video through their eyes and snow is the stuff of legend. 'Migration' balances reality and fantasy as immaculately as anything I have ever read (which is something you could also say about the entire book).
What makes the stories work so wonderfully is not their vision of the future, but their human elements. It's the way in which Weinstein draws a line through the past, present and potential future to show what remains constant. There are all types of relationships here, families and couples and friendships, and almost everything about the interaction is familiar, full of sentiment and empathy and ordinary mistakes. As one character says, 'human contact is all there really is'. There are a couple of little weaknesses here and there, but nothing with the power to dull the transcendental glow of Children of the New World as a whole. A fantastic collection.
I received an advance review copy of Children of the New World from the publisher through NetGalley.
(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 January 2018.) It's make-or-break time for thirtyish couple Nick and Hannah. They're discontented, always bickering; Hannah has been m(Review written January 2018.) It's make-or-break time for thirtyish couple Nick and Hannah. They're discontented, always bickering; Hannah has been made redundant, and while Nick isn't sure how he feels about getting married, Hannah wants nothing more. It takes an almost-breakup for Nick to realise he can't live without Hannah. He's so grateful to get her back that not only does he propose, he agrees to move with her from New York City to Dutchess County, further upstate, so she can take on a new job: caretaker of the Wright Historic House. This small museum was once home to a writer, Edmund Wright, and his family. The tragic death of Wright's youngest son led him to dabble in occult practices, and local rumours say the building is haunted.
At first, the couple are blissfully happy. The move out of NYC invigorates their relationship; living in the museum is cosy and charming, a whimsical adventure. But after a while, cracks begin to show. Hannah starts behaving erratically, and Nick worries about her mental health. One night, she insists she can hear voices in the empty house. She barely sleeps; spends hours going through old paperwork in a cluttered office. Nick discovers she has stopped taking the medication prescribed ever since a nervous breakdown in her early twenties, and shortly afterwards, she goes missing. The aftermath sends Nick into a spiral of depression, confusion and guilt. What happened to Hannah? And what does it have to do with Wright's experiments in spiritualism?
I just tore through this one – it's so readable, as smooth as caramel and totally compelling. It's not really a ghost story, but there's always the promise of strangeness just around the corner. Dolnick makes his protagonists incredibly likeable yet makes sure the reader is aware something – the true nature of what's going on? – is out of their reach. The way Nick tells his story, with careful trepidation, assigning retrospective significance to certain incidents, only adds further layers of intrigue. If you're looking for a proper supernatural tale, look elsewhere; while there is horror here, it is (mostly) of the more existential kind. However, it's no less effective for that.
I received an advance review copy of The Ghost Notebooks from the publisher through NetGalley....more
(Review written November 2016.) Many of these stories have similar features: ponderous beginnings – through which you must slog to get to the good stu(Review written November 2016.) Many of these stories have similar features: ponderous beginnings – through which you must slog to get to the good stuff – and sudden endings, cutting them short just as they've become interesting. One of them actually ends in the middle of a sentence. 'The Room in the Tower', 'Mrs Amworth' and 'The Man Who Went Too Far' are worth seeking out; the rest, sadly, feel like filler. It seems this is often the way with collections of ghost stories by authors who wrote them but weren't best known for them (see also E. Nesbit's Horror Stories).
Spinach A brother and sister work as mediums, each claiming to have the power to channel a spirit guide. When one of their best clients encourages them to holiday in her seaside cottage, they head off, only to find that the previous tenant is still very much there... in spirit. This doesn't go the way you might think – the siblings really do seem to be able to channel ghosts, and their communication with this one is successful, though it leads to a macabre discovery. I liked the depiction of these characters, and the dialogue is sharply observed and amusing, but the story doesn't have a proper ending. As an opening to the collection, I enjoyed 'Spinach', but it adjusted my expectations: rather than fully-formed ghost stories, I assumed the rest of the collection would be made up of similar witty scenes.
In the Tube A more traditional ghost story, using the familiar 'storytelling' framing device: a first-person narrator hears a spooky tale from an acquaintance. The acquaintance has been haunted by visions of a man, both before and after his demise by suicide. Again, the story ends abruptly. Contrary to my aforementioned expectations, it isn't especially witty, and doesn't seem likely to stick in my memory for long.
The Man Who Went Too Far A lovely atmosphere in this, with description that really captures the beguiling magic of its rural setting. Two old friends meet after several years' separation, but Darcy is alarmed and intrigued to see that Frank has the appearance of a man fifteen years younger. His explanation is that he has adopted a way of life that brings him closer to nature, ridding himself of all pain and suffering (or proximity to it). However, it's not hard to guess from the title how this is going to pan out. In the end, the story seems to read as a cautionary tale about the dangers of eschewing Christianity.
Mrs Amworth A very enjoyable vampire story set in an otherwise sleepy, picturesque village. It doesn't exactly offer a new take on the genre but, even so, I'd probably say this is my favourite of the collection so far.
(The above reviews were written separately as part of a review-in-progress, each one completed after I finished the story. At this point, however, I got a bit fed up and resolved to finish the rest off in one go. I also remembered why I don't usually do this: because it ends up taking me a month to read a sub-200-page book.)
The other five stories are a similarly uneven bunch. The best of the lot is 'The Room in the Tower', in which a man finds a recurring dream appearing to come true, and is menaced by a diabolical painting; it's by far the most successful at conjuring up a genuine sense of dread and terror. The story that follows it, 'The Bus-Conductor', is both unremarkable and far too similar to 'In the Tube'. There are two stories about gigantic evil slugs (!), which makes this sound like a MUCH more exciting book than it is. And the last one is about poor put-upon caterpillars taking revenge on a couple of obnoxious caterpillar-taunting fops. At least that's how I read it. ...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
Dipped into this in order to read Kirsten Tranter's story, 'The Passenger'. The plot is of a type that doesn't particularly appeal to me, but her writDipped into this in order to read Kirsten Tranter's story, 'The Passenger'. The plot is of a type that doesn't particularly appeal to me, but her writing, as always, is divine.
Merged review:
Dipped into this in order to read Kirsten Tranter's story, 'The Passenger'. The plot is of a type that doesn't particularly appeal to me, but her writing, as always, is divine....more
First things first: I had no idea that Elizabeth Hand’s ‘Near Zennor’ – literally my favourite short story of all time – would appear in this anthologFirst things first: I had no idea that Elizabeth Hand’s ‘Near Zennor’ – literally my favourite short story of all time – would appear in this anthology. For anyone thinking of buying Bound in Blood, Hand’s story is an absolute masterpiece that is worth the price of the book on its own. I wrote about it in my review of her collection Errantry, and there’s not much I can add to that, but again: it’s a masterpiece.
Yet its inclusion means I find Bound in Blood more difficult to review, overall, than I might otherwise. For me, ‘Near Zennor’ is such a standout it makes even the good stories here look mediocre by comparison. That’s not to say that it’s a bad collection, just your typical mixed bag. As with something like Darkness Beckons, I found this to be such a mixture of styles and subgenres of horror that I inevitably found myself skipping over some of the stories. As a result, I’m not sure I can assign a single rating to it.
With that said, Lucie McKnight Hardy’s ‘Broken Back Man’ is excellent: a barman is spooked when a customer reminds him of childhood night terrors; it’s truly atmospheric and creepy. As a non-enjoyer of cosmic horror, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed Charlie Higson’s ‘From the Sea’, an ingenious and funny reinvention of Lovecraft that reminded me of Lynne Truss’s Cat Out of Hell. Other highlights were A.G. Slatter’s enjoyably gothic ‘Bell, Book and Lamp’; Robert Shearman’s odd, original ‘Beneath the Diaphragm, the Gut Itself’; and Alison Moore’s ‘The House Witch’, a typical Moore combination of mundanity and the weird....more
I enjoyed If We Were Villains when I read it in 2017, but I’m puzzled by the reputation it’s acquired in the years since. It seems to be treated aI enjoyed If We Were Villains when I read it in 2017, but I’m puzzled by the reputation it’s acquired in the years since. It seems to be treated as one of the totemic campus novels, often spoken about as though it is equivalent to The Secret History rather than a pastiche of it (I always assumed it was a deliberate one – an homage in which Shakespeare takes the place of Classics). Rio’s second novel, then, arrives with a lot of expectation heaped on it. Can the author create a similarly compelling story outside an established and well-loved formula?
On the evidence of Graveyard Shift, I’m not convinced. It starts well enough, with five friends meeting at midnight in a churchyard that sits on a university campus, only to discover a mysterious open grave. Definitely academic, certainly dark. Too bad, the rest of it’s a damp squib. Despite being short, it’s devoid of tension or urgency, and the prose is riddled with cliches (‘like a dog with a bone, she refused to let the matter drop’ is a typical sentence). The characters are a grab-bag of features with no real personality, and the ending is silly. This might have made a decent episode of a podcast or something but it doesn’t work as a book.
I received an advance review copy of Graveyard Shift from the publisher through Edelweiss....more
(3.5) I haven’t read anything from PS Publishing for a while, and when I went to browse their recent releases, this – a new novella from the author of(3.5) I haven’t read anything from PS Publishing for a while, and when I went to browse their recent releases, this – a new novella from the author of The Ghost Sequences – caught my eye. Grackle follows master’s student Andi as she travels to the ‘famously haunted town’ of Drakesburg on a research trip. With her sister reluctant to join in, she ends up with fellow student Emanuelle in tow. And it’s Emanuelle who tells her the story of Grackle, a piece of folklore she’s never heard before... and a story that, thereafter, seems to haunt her all over Drakesburg.
Grackle is not as good as the strongest stories in Sequences; for my money, ‘The Nag Bride’ is a more successful treatment of some of the themes also found here (grief, family ties, folklore). I liked the investigation elements best, and would have preferred more clue-chasing, less abstract stuff. It has bags of atmosphere, though, and the kind of evocative description that makes it easy to imagine a film adaptation. ...more