Fry's Lurkish Delight.

Lurker is the latest novella from Gary Fry and is published by DarkFuse. It tells the story of Meg, recently moved to the coast in order to rebuild her life following a miscarriage, seeking rehabilitation in the splendour of the countryside which is now her home. The story begins with the line "He was leaving her again" - specifically referencing the fact that her husband is leaving for work, meaning a two day absence because of the distances now involved, but also cleverly and succinctly  providing insight into the state of their relationship. Harry's insensitivity, selfishness and lack of awareness are established in these opening scenes, somehow he sees himself as the victim, that it's him who's made all the sacrifices.
Instead of support and love, Meg feels only isolation - those feelings exacerbated by the surroundings she now finds herself in. Only a few pages in and already the tone is set, disaster must surely be lurking just around the corner...
There's beauty too of course in those surroundings and a vivid picture is painted of that environment. An incorrect classification of a centipede as an insect aside, Gary does a great job in describing the wildlife and scenery of the landscape around Whitby, creating - for a while at least - an image of rural idyll.
It's when Meg stumbles upon some ancient mine workings that the so far understated feelings of isolation and paranoia come to the fore. Ruins are creepy places, dripping with atmosphere, and that atmosphere is brilliantly captured in the sequence where Meg becomes aware of something lurking in the shadows...
Lurker is a monster story but there's still some doubt as to its actual nature, what - or who - it is, even after the final page has been turned. This is a Gary Fry story so its the psychology that's as important as the narrative thrust and it's this that gives the story its edge. How much of what Meg sees and experiences is real and how much is a figment of her own imagination, her damaged psyche? The tale is very cleverly constructed with images encountered in the "real" world - including TV documentaries and kids playing outside the house, (arthropods in the garden) - taking on a darker significance in Meg's eyes. Many authors would have chosen to write this story in first person, creating an unreliable narrator so it's to Gary's credit that he tells the story in third person but still manages to create an extremely effective air of ambiguity.
I'd recommend, if at all possible, that you read Lurker in one sitting and thereby immerse yourself fully in the experience, allow the repeating - though subtly changing - imagery to get inside your own head.
The denoument of Lurker is open to interpretation - but then all the best ones are. It's a subtly crafted tale that packs a lot into its relatively short length. In much the same way that a certain American author has created an outstanding canon of work set in his own North Eastern coast, so Gary Fry is slowly doing the same thing here in the UK.
I loved Lurker and thoroughly recommend it.

Falling Over.

Falling Over is a collection of short stories written by James Everington and is the first time I’ve encountered his work. It won’t be the last. It’s a special moment when you read a new author and immediately get the feeling that you’re onto something special and such was the case here. The stories in this collection are evidence of great talent at work, both emotionally and intellectually stimulating.

The first story gives the collection its title and is one of the best stories I’ve ever read about paranoia. (And I don’t just say that because they will probably read this). Written in first person – as it had to have been – it’s a marvellously ambiguous tale that slowly builds an - ultimately almost unbearable - atmosphere of confusion and mistrust. There’s a hint of Bodysnatchers about it but the premise is presented in wonderfully written prose that allows the reader to tap into, and experience for themselves, the paranoia of the narrator. An unreliable narrator? Probably. Maybe. Possibly not… An uncertainty that adds another layer of enjoyment to the story. It’s an intelligent, thought-provoking piece of writing and a strong start to the collection.

The theme of paranoia is also evident in Sick Leave (which riffs on ring-a-roses, another reference to falling over) but which also throws fears of sickness and death into the mix along with a hint of alienation, the latter something it shares with New Boy which incorporates an extra measure of guilt for good measure. (And which also features a fall…)

Fate, Destiny and a Fat Man from Arkansas explores themes of – well, fate and destiny as it happens, the eponymous American a manifestation of the unavoidable karma meted out on two burglars who choose to break into the wrong house.

Light relief comes in the hundred words of Haunted which delivers everything you could possibly want from a piece of flash fiction with great aplomb.

The Time of Their Lives presents another view of mortality and is cleverly written from the perspective of a young boy, unable to grasp the reality of what is happening in the hotel he is begrudgingly staying in with his grandparents. The central theme will call to mind a couple of films which I won’t name for fear of spoilers but I will mention that the atmospheric writing conjured up images of sequences in Kubrick’s The Shining for me.

I personally believe that one of the circles of Hell (one quite near the centre actually) is made up entirely of thousands of suburban neighbourhoods, each with their own residents committee setting the standards of what’s required in order to "fit in" with the community. If you’re of a similar mindset then you’ll probably end up rooting for The Man Dogs Hated – an individual who falls way outside expectations in this tale which exposes the petty mindedness and hypocrisy of those who cast judgement on others, those who fail to conform to their own version of what’s right and proper.

The last two stories in the collection are perhaps the darkest. Drones is another first person narrative (and all the more effective because of it) from a soldier whose job is to carry out remote attacks by UAV, witnessing the death and destruction via computer monitor. This distancing effect has a profound effect on him, desensitising him to the terrible acts he is committing, rendering the act of killing automatic and emotionless. It’s a descent into madness tale which – if I was being overly-analytical – could have something to say about video gaming but, whether this was the intention or not, the ending is very dark, and very effective indeed.

The final story has the ironic title Public Interest Story – just how ironic it is becomes apparent as you read. It’s basically a (well deserved) diatribe against the British Press and the monumental hypocrisy of that institution. It’s not press intrusion that’s the theme here, rather manipulation and the horrifying ease with which public opinion can be influenced by untruths and prejudices presented as facts. There’s another theme running through the story too, that of mob mentality - the two feeding off each other to bring about a conclusion horrifying as much for its inevitability as what actually happens.

Falling Over is a fine collection of intelligent, thought-provoking horror which I thoroughly recommend that you buy. You can do that here.

The Hole.

The Hole is the latest novel from William Meikle and is published in a variety of formats by Dark Fuse.. It tells of the bizarre happenings in and around a small town in America where a strange humming noise brings about headaches and nosebleeds in the local population. It brings about much more besides however, namely huge holes in the landscape into which large parts of the town – and its inhabitants – topple.

As if this weren’t bad enough, creatures begin to emerge from the hole, to terrorise the survivors…

Oh, and the Government have set up barricades manned by military personnel around the town with orders to let no one leave…

So the scene is set for another tour de force of pulp fiction from the imagination of the best purveyor of out and out genre fiction currently plying their trade.

The Hole cracks along at a fair old pace (and is relatively short for a novel) and I devoured it in three sittings. Even though the narrative hurtles along, there’s still room for character development which makes you care about what happens to the protagonists despite their genre cliché origins – no mean feat in itself and testament to William’s skill as a writer.

The story’s influences are many and varied, strongest I guess is Invasion of the Body-Snatchers but I also felt the resonance of Stephen King’s Under The Dome and The Mist with their themes of isolated groups of people under the threat of something beyond their comprehension. The Hole is very much its own beast though, using – and acknowledging - these themes and influences but adding a hefty dose of originality to produce an end product which is a heady mix of science fiction and horror with some genuinely creepy set-pieces. There are contemporary cultural references too, HAARP, CDC and FEMA get a look-in and, as a resident of the “desolate” North East of England, I was pleased to see fracking getting a mention too.

On his website, William explains that he writes as an attempt to escape and that’s exactly what I did when reading The Hole. It’s a thoroughly entertaining book, one that took me back to the novels and films that first captured my interest in the genre. You pretty much know what you’re going to get with a William Meikle book which I say not as a criticism but as something positive as, without fail, they always meet – if not surpass - those expectations. I like to think that he has a whale of a time writing his books, I know I do when I’m reading them.

Differently There.

Differently There is a new novella from John Llewellyn Probert and is published by Gray Friar Press. It tells the story of Paul Webster, admitted to hospital on the night prior to his operation to remove a cancerous tumour. The nature and location of the lesion mean that the operation is a risky one, the outcome uncertain and it's this enforced confrontation with his own mortality that provides the context for the story which unfolds.
Anyone familiar with John will know that he has faced a similar situation himself recently and this experience obviously informs the writing which, as expected, is a joy to read. The subject matter means that this is indeed something different from John, a more contemplative, melancholic piece but in so being, proves just how good a writer he is, whatever the style or theme of the story. There is a touch of whimsy at the beginning of the tale, with descriptions of the mundanity of the room in which Paul finds himself and the furniture therein. It's actually a very effective device and it was nice to see it reprised at the story's conclusion.
The novella is written in the present tense which works beautifully and is entirely appropriate given the storyline. As Paul drifts in and out of consciousness, he dreams of past experiences, gradually realising as the night progresses that there is a significance attached to them and also that there is something more to them than merely reminiscence. The memories he has are subtly altered, at first it seems by his love of fantasy and horror somehow merging into them but in reality by something a lot more sinister.
To describe more would be to give away too much but the truth of what is really happening is slowly revealed and leads to a moment of decision that is the most important of Paul's life.
Differently There is an exploration of how the decisions we make, the memories we collect influence our lives and make us who we are. It's about the mistakes we make and how we respond to them. It's about optimism and, dare I say it, the human spirit. It's a love story - or, if I may be so bold - a love letter. John's own love of horror and science fiction shines through and it's significant that special mention is given to Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man.
It's a fabulous piece of writing - I use the word in its most literal sense as well as its more colloquial. There's a moral for sure but it's written with so much style that it's nowhere near preachy. It's ironic that a story whose subject matter is death and mortality is actually such a life-affirming piece of writing. I had goosebumps when I finished reading Differently There - and yes, I had to wipe away a little moisture from my eye. (I think the bloke sitting next to me on the train believed me when I said I had some grit in it). It pretty much goes without saying that I recommend it most highly.

Conjure House.

Conjure House is the latest novel from Gary Fry and is published by Dark Fuse Publishing. The striking cover art hints at what lies within, suggesting another venture into Cosmic Horror and indeed that's exactly what the reader will get with a tale of ancient horrors resurfacing in the present day.
There's a lot more to it than that though, a whole lot more. As well as being on one level a thoroughly enjoyable horror story, with some well constructed set pieces, Conjure House is also an exploration of some fairly weighty topics; the nature of perception, the pursuit of omniscience and whether it's science or art, intellect or emotion, the head or the heart that best allows an understanding of the universe we live in, of what we are - of why we are.
Deep stuff indeed and fitting that the small village in which the story unfolds is called Deepvale. (On the subject of names, I have to admit to getting quite excited at reading a novel where the main character shares my christian name (I need to get out more, I know) but some of the gloss wore off when I realised that "Anthony" was probably chosen in order to be shortened to "Ant" - with all the insignificance that variation carries with it). The theme of perception is probably the strongest to run through the book, a new twist on the story of the four blind men describing an elephant giving rise to imagery and symbolism that becomes increasingly significant as the story progresses.
The four main protagonists are nicely drawn characters but in reality they are little more than devices to explore the science v art debate, being a psychologist, a musician, an artist and a writer. This isn't a problem once you accept what their role in developing the narrative is, that narrative being more of a fable rather than an attempt at gritty realism. Gary has a very distinctive voice, easily identifiable. It's cerebral, intellectual - (and any of the other words my thesaurus has listed against "scholarly") - and sometimes I've had problems with that, not because I don't understand some of the longer words - even though that has been known to happen - but rather when it seeps into the voices and thoughts of the characters in the story. This does happen on occasion within Conjure House but the narrative flows along at such a rate that it's a minor quibble. (Another minor quibble, but one that took me out of the story is that Lisa, the writer, a writer of horror screenplays, doesn't recognise the word Cthulhu. I rationalised this away by assuming that within the novel Cosmic Horror was a reality and therefore the fiction of, say, Lovecraft didn't exist (much like characters in soap operas don't watch soap operas) but that's not the case as Paul, the musician, has appropriated the name for his band. As I say though, a minor quibble).
The psychology theory in no way overwhelms or distracts from the narrative though, in fact blends in to it perfectly, enhancing it to produce a quality piece of writing that will stimulate both emotion and intellect. It's a rare skill to be able to combine the two but Gary has it in abundance. I enjoyed Conjure House very much and it definitely gets an opposable thumbs-up from me.

North American Lake Monsters.

It's always a joy to come across an author whose work you haven't come across before and be blown away by the quality of what you read. Such was the case last year when I read Nathan Ballingrud's novella Wild Acre in the Gary McMahon edited Visions Fading Fast. That story was one of my best reading experiences of that particular year so it was with much anticipation that I began reading his latest collection of stories, North American Lake Monsters which is published by Small Beer Press.
Wild Acre is one of the nine stories making up this collection, all of which are as impressive - if not more so - than that particular tale of a man under pressure undergoing a transformation, a theme that echoes throughout all of these stories. There's redemption to be found here, but not always, but in most of the stories the characters undergo an epiphany of sorts, usually as a result of some kind of interaction with - for want of a better phrase - supernatural forces.
And therein lies one of the strengths of Nathan Ballingrud's writing. The supernatural elements are woven into the narrative effortlessly. They never appear tagged on, their presence in the stories appearing perfectly natural, part of the plot rather than the key device around which everything hangs. There are real monsters in these stories, and yes, the unholy trinity of vampire, werewolf and zombie all appear but in ways that are subtle and understated and which enhance rather than exploit the mythologies built up around them.
The true horror in these stories lie within the protagonists and, in more than one case, the lives they lead. These are broken people in broken relationships and are all expertly drawn characters. The dialogue is perfect, often short and terse but conveying a wealth of character in only a few words. There's an element of sadness and despair in most of the stories and the conclusions are often abrupt and ambiguous. There are those who will complain at this, those who like everything neatly resolved and tied up come the story's end. I'm not one of those people so I loved all of them.
North American Lake Monsters is a stunning collection of stories. Intelligent, literary writing that uses horror in a profound way, examining and exposing the darkness that lies within us all.

The Condemned.

The Condemned is a collection of six novellas by Simon Bestwick and is published by Gray Friar Press. These aren't new stories - the oldest dates back to 2001 and the most recent is from 2010 - but they were all new to me and, given my admiration of Simon's other work, it was a collection I was very much looking forward to reading.
World War One is a bit of a fixation for me so you can imagine my delight at discovering the first of the stories, Dark Earth, used those events as its backdrop, a first person narration by Private Bill Sadler, giving testimony at his court martial for murder, mutiny and desertion (thereby the most literal of the "condemned" in this collection). The story doesn't hold back on its descriptions of the horrors of war (the concept of battlefields being made up mainly of human remains a particularly chilling one) and benefits from the use of first person - and the unreliability frequently associated with it - to present an alternative explanation as to why the madness was perpetuated. It's a barn-storming start to the collection with strongly drawn characters which manages to be thought-provoking amidst the blood and guts.
There's a change of tone in the second story The Narrows which tells of a small group of survivors escaping a nuclear blast by entering an underground canal system. Unlike the visceral horrors of the first story, this is more a psychological horror, expertly creating a palpable sense of claustrophobia as the group travel deeper and deeper into the underground darkness. It's unremittingly bleak and utterly encapsulates the feeling of despair felt by its protagonists, a story that slowly chips away at the reader, drawing them into the nightmare unfolding before them.
A Kiss of Old Thorns comes as some (relatively) light relief after the intensity of the first two stories, employing the trope of Arcane Ritual To Defend Against Ancient Evil to good effect, the arrival of an escaping gang of bank robbers disrupting the world of this story's guardian - to devastating effect. It's probably the most conventional horror story of the collection.
The Model returns to more psychological themes but has a wonderful creation in Ken, a shadowy figure who employs life models but who takes much more than just sketches from them. It's an atmospheric tale, hinting at its horrors rather than explicitly showing them.
And then there's The School House, the highlight of the collection for me and up there amongst the best stories I've ever read. Reading this story is like having a waking nightmare; it's full of disturbing images - and acts - and moves seamlessly between past and present, dreams and reality in a confusing, overwhelming and utterly terrifying way. In his story notes, Simon explains his attempts to "evoke the feel of someone going out of his mind as intensely as possible". He has succeeded admirably in this - The School House is one of the most powerful stories I've read and is a wonderful piece of writing.
The Condemned is - given the author - fairly free from political statement. There's comment on the futility of war in Dark Earth of course, and it's no coincidence I'm sure that the protagonists in many of the stories are homosexual, "condemned" not in their own eyes but by the attitudes of others. The last story in the collection however, Sleep Now in the Fire, grabs hold of political metaphor and symbology and has a whale of a time with them. The demonisation of the inhabitants of sink estates takes on a more literal meaning within this tale and I smiled when I saw that the "monsters" here were called BLUEboys and that the weapon used to combat them them were red stars (along with a socialist concept of co-operation and revolution). Not as much as I laughed when the location of the source of the evil was discovered mind you... There's even a nice little dig at religion. It's a rollercoaster ride of a story with its tongue firmly planted in its cheek and makes an entertaining conclusion to an excellent collection of stories.
I heartily recommend The Condemned, horror writing at its best.