Myths, fairy tales and women’s lives @commapress

Today I want to share with you a rather wonderful collection of short stories which came my way recently. The book is entitled “True North” by Sara Maitland, and it’s released by an indie publisher who’s made regular appearances on the Ramblings – Comma Press. I’ve covered a number of their city-focused anthologies as well as releases by M. John Harrison. However, Maitland is an author new to me and I must admit that I was a little intrigued when Comma approached me about the book.

Sara Maitland has been publishing regularly since her first novel in 1978. She’s written many novels, numerous short story collections, and also produces non-fiction. “True North” is an interesting collection of her short stories, something of a ‘best of’ which serves as a brilliant way to discover to her work. The stories to be included were chosen by friends, colleagues and family members, and it comes with an introduction from her friend, Richard Coles. Containing stories covering the span of her writing career, the collection has an interesting range of topics, too, with a focus on myths and fairy tales, as well as women’s lives and loves.

The book opens with “Moss Witch“, the title of one of her collections, and a striking tale about what happens when humans fail to understand the dangers of nature; “Her Bonxie Boy” deals with the relationship between humans and wild creatures; and “Why I Became a Plumber” delves humorously into the breakup of a marriage, and the fanciful encounter which follows it. Myths are subverted too, with “Andromeda” exploring the Greek myth from the point of view of a woman given no choice about her place in the world; “Rapunzel Revisited” and “Hansel and Gretel” are two touching stories which explore what happens to fairy tale characters after the narrative we know finishes.

Historical stories are here as well; “Claudia Procula Writes a Letter” looks at a significant world event from the point of view of someone who’s just bored with her surroundings; and “The Edwardian Tableau” witnesses a woman risking her future to stand by the views she believes in. Maitland is very good at human relationships as well, with “The Eighth Planet” in particular capturing the nuances of a couple’s gradual growth apart, with the realisation that it might not take much to get them back into sympathy again, although the moment may have passed.

The title story is a dark one, again drawing on a kind of mythological setting where an old woman and a young woman live together in relative harmony in a bleak, isolated landscape. The arrival of a young man will throw things out of balance, and the ending is stark, unpleasant and dramatic.

I have to say that I think Maitland writes beautifully; her prose is elegant, she captures character and place vividly and manages to compress so much into each tale – always the sign of a great short story writer in my view. Her setting can be the wilds of the north or hotter climes; fantasy lands or legendary countries; but they’re all wonderfully drawn. Her main characters are female, whether fairy tale princess or ordinary woman, and each tells her story from an angle which we might not expect. Quirky, thought-provoking and sometimes challenging, many of these stories recast the traditional myths and make you look again at a story you thought you knew well.

Running through the stories is a deep understanding of, and reverence for, the natural world. Whether tree, moss or creature, everything has a part to play. Maitland’s world, however, is one where nature really is red in tooth and claw (whether human or animal) and her riffs on the fairy stories are more Grimm than Disney! “True North” was a thoroughly enjoyable and very immersive book; each story stood out and it was interesting to see the list at the back of who had chosen which story to be included. Despite being drawn from a lifetime’s work, there was a coherence about the narrative voice, an individual and distinctive tone from an expert storyteller. Maitland’s stories will stay with me, and I *am* keen to read more of her work.

(Review copy kindly provided by Comma Press, for which many thanks! Comma also publish Maitland’s collection “Moss Witch”, and her work features in a number of their anthologies)

“Mankind is the only endangered species on this planet” #bookofprague @commapress

As you might have noticed from my end of November post, I read a good number of short story collections during that month. Two of those were focused around stories from specific cities, and the one I want to talk about today is from an indie publisher I’ve mentioned before on the Ramblings – Comma Press. As well as publishing excellent collections by M. John Harrison, they’ve also released a series of books which gather stories focused on a particular place. I’ve covered the “The Book of Newcastle” and “The Book of Beijing“, both of which were marvellous. So when they offered me a review copy of “The Book of Prague“, I jumped at it; the city itself is fascinating, and I was intrigued by the list of authors.

Prague is somewhere I’ve never visited but have read about over the years. It has a long history, stretching back many hundreds of years, and is one of those European cities which has changed countries many times owing to shifting borders and changing empires. Currently part of the Czech Republic, the city spent a period under Soviet Communist rule, and many of its ancient buildings narrowly avoided destruction during WW2 – but more of that later…

“The Book of Prague” contains ten stories, and only one of the authors is a name I can be sure of having read before is Bohumil Hrabal; so I was very keen to explore the new-to-me writers featured here. And I was pleased to find that all of the stories are very varied and all very good; this is, I feel, the measure of a well put together anthology. But I’ll pick out a few stories which really stood out for me.

The opening work, “Everyone Has Their Reasons” by Simona Bohata, was a powerful way to begin the book, exploring as it does the past and future of a hardened criminal who’s released from prison to find that his city has really changed. He finds it hard to accept this new world, struggling to connect it with the place he remembers; and it takes a chance encounter and some startling information to decide his course of action, which is perhaps a little unexpected…

“All’s Well in the End” by Irena Douskova is a story which mixes humour with pathos, as Zed, the main character, struggles to deal with his mother’s dying wishes. She’s asked to be buried in the Jewish cemetery, which unfortunately now lies under a giant TV mast… Add to this that his mother has only converted to the religion, and things become very complicated. It’s the perfect example of how times change, landscapes alter but people’s needs and wishes remain the same.

Another standout was “A Summer Night” by Michal Ajvaz; this short, punchy, surreal and amusing story tells of a man being chased around Prague by a giant clam! The creature even pursues him as he flees on a tram, and the nightmarish images the man faces are humorous yet unnerving. Perhaps a homage to that most famous Prague author, Kafka, the story is one of the most entertaining in the book.

In the end, all evil is transformed into a twisted romance. Into a product. Into a comically marketable commodity. Hitler is the true saviour of marketing. Call something Hitler and you’ve got it made. Anna, believe me: Hitler draws people’s gazes like a pretty girl. Move Hitler from side to side and people watch him like a tennis match. Every historical character becomes a brand, a pathetic symbol consisting of two or three Wikiquotes. Something tasty which can be consumed simply and quickly and is easy to digest.

Stylistically, the stories are wonderfully varied, and “Realities” by Marek Sindelka was perhaps the most experimental. With long, stream of consciousness sentences, its narrator takes the reader on a journey through night time Prague, accompanied by the enigmatic Anna, to whom he seems to be directing his words. Observing the modern world, discussing the state we’re in, the narrator and Anna explore the past and the future in a way which is both bleak yet evocative. It’s a marvellous story.

Of the featured authors, Marie Stryjova has perhaps the most interesting history. She lived for only 46 years, committing suicide in 1977, and according to the introduction has only recently been discovered; none of her writing was published during her lifetime, and she’s now beginning to gather a following. On the strength of her story here, “Blue”, I can understand why. It’s an evocative tale of two young students struggling to connect, with the young woman unable to cope with being in company or close to the man. I hope there are other examples of her work available in English because I really would like to read more!

Those are just a few of the highlights, but this is again one of those anthologies where I could have written about every story; they’re that strong. They explore the past of Prague, and what it’s like currently; and the latter comes out very strongly in the final work, “Waiting for Patrik” by Veronika Bendova. In the story, Veronika narrates a day in her life: working at a kind of antique shop, going to the cinema and drinking with her colleague and her dog Beastie, and thinking about the past of Prague. Towards the end of the narrative, she reflects on the fact that Prague and its historic landscape only survived WW2 because the country surrendered to Hitler to avoid being bombed to oblivion. It’s a salutary reminder of the horrors of past conflicts, horrors which still seem to be sadly very relevant today. Human beings really don’t seem to be able to co-exist in harmony…

“The Book of Prague” is edited by Ivana Myskova and Jan Zikmund, and there are 12 different translators involved in rendering the stories into English, which is a real achievement; all the more so when it seems that Czech is regarded as a minor language. It’s a shame that sometimes bookish timing can be a little off, as this book would have been ideal for Stu’s recent Czech reading month, but I am so glad I had the chance to read it now. It’s highly recommended from me, and if Stu holds another event next year you could do no better than pick up this book!

“So what is Beijing?” @commapress #bookofbeijing #WITMonth

August is, of course Women in Translation month, and I’ve taken part in this wonderful event for many years now. However, we’re quite well into the month now and I haven’t covered anything for WIT yet – so let’s put that right today, with a book from a lovely indie press! The publisher is Comma Press, and I’ve featured several of their books on the Ramblings, including a couple of wonderful titles from the great M. John Harrison and also “The Book of Newcastle”, which was excellent. In fact, Comma have a whole series of city books, and it’s their latest release I want to share my thoughts about today – “The Book of Beijing“.

These book are subtitled ‘A City in Short Fiction’ and bring together works which paint a vivid portrait of the city in question. China is a fascinating and complex country, and Beijing apparently has the largest population of any national capital city in the world. That element of overcrowding is something that creeps into many of the stories, and I was particularly keen to explore it when I realised how many of the writers were women. Of the ten stories, half are by female authors and so I’m happy to include this book in my #WITmonth reading.

“The Book of Beijing” is edited by Bingbing Shi, who also provides an introduction, and there are ten translators involved (who I’ll list at the end of my post). The fictions included here range over an interesting variety of topics and genres, from slightly scary visits to abandoned camps, through stories dealing with the complexities of everyday life, making a living and finding a home, to sci fi offerings which look at possible futures for what is a very overcrowded city. There wasn’t a duff story here for me, and I was really impressed overall with the book.

It’s always difficult writing about short story collections, but I’ll pick out a few stories which particularly struck me. The opener, ‘On the Subway‘ by Fu Xuiying, is an interesting one; her narrator bumps into an old acquaintance on the subway and the pair look back to their days of studying, their mutual friends and reflect on the differing paths all have taken. However, the background of the train rattling through the city, and the images of Beijing which the author describes flashing by, add an extra element to what could a traditional fiction.

‘Dogshit Football‘ by Xu Kun is a very different kind of story, exploring the impact of Western culture flooding into China, and here specifically an obsession with the footballer Maradona. The author’s female perspective on the mob culture surrounding the sport will probably surprise no-one who’s been in that kind of crowd, and her protagonist’s reaction is heartbreaking – literally. ‘The Second Ringroad‘ by Yu Wenling takes on the housing issues in Beijing and the extreme competition involved in trying to fund and find a suitable place to buy in the ‘right’ part of the city. Here, the female narrator is being financed by her mother and an inheritance, but struggles to find something her heart is happy with. The complexities of buying a property in Beijing, as revealed here, sound immense and frankly not something I would like to undertake…

Both of the sci fi entries here are really interesting: Gu Shi’s ‘The MagiMirror Algorythm‘ explores the effect of technology on people’s interactions with each other and is very thought-provoking. ‘Reunion‘ by Han Song takes things a little further, going into the extreme future when Beijing West Railway Station has grown into an uncontrollable organism with a life of its own – the effects are dramatic…

I think the story which stood out most for me, however, was ‘Date at the Art Gallery‘ by Wen Zhen; a subtle, beautifully written story told from the point of a young woman about to leave Beijing for the West, it explores her relationship with the man she’s leaving behind, her need to step away from the traditional route expected for Chinese women and the lack of understanding between them about this. It’s a powerful and heartbreaking story, and really lingered with me after finishing it.

So “The Book of Beijing” turned out to be a wonderful read; full of powerful, memorable, amusing and insightful stories, it’s entertaining, thought-provoking and gives a real insight into the city of Beijing. I’m never likely to visit China, but that’s the joy of books and stories like this – they can take you to places you’ve never seen and convince you that you know and understand them. The Cities series from Comma is a laudable one, and “The Book of Beijing” a stellar entry – highly recommended!!

*****

I thought I’d list the authors and translators – the latter do deserve kudos for their work, and I thank whoever is responsible for translators every day!!

Fu Xuiying – Christopher MacDonald
Xu Zecheng – Eric Abrahamsen
Xu Kun – Katherine Tse
Qui Huadong – Paul Harris
Gu Shi – Florence Taylor
Wen Zhen – Jack Hargreaves
Shi Yifeng – Hongyu Jasmine Shu
Ning Ken – Alison Sharpless
Yu Wenling – Helen Wang
Han Song – Carson Ramsdell

*****

Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!

#ReadIndies – some independent publishers from my shelves!

As you might have noticed, we’re edging ever closer to February and Reading Independent Publishers Month! Hopefully you’ve all been trawling your TBRs to find suitable reads, or even purchasing the odd book or three to help support our smaller presses. However, I thought it might be nice to share a few images of some of my indie books – let’s face it, gratuitous pictures of books are always fun, and this also might give you a few ideas for interesting reads, should you need them. So here goes!

First up, let’s take a look at Fitzcarraldo Editions, the subject of Lizzy and my Fitzcarraldo Editions Fortnight last year:

These are books from the publisher I’ve read – quite a few of them actually! And all were marvellous, whether blue fiction or white non-fiction titles. However, I still have some unread:

All of these look wonderful, and there are also some ARCs hanging about the house too. There will definitely be Fitzcarraldo titles read during February – watch this space to see which ones! 😀

Next up let’s have some Versos:

Verso are a left-wing publisher with a wide range of publications from politics and philosophy to fiction and biography (and they do a diary and a notebook…) I signed up for their book club last year and haven’t regretted it – some fascinating physical books (and shedloads of ebooks) have come my way and I am also certain there will be Verso books appearing in Febuary’s posts. I mean, look! A Saramago I haven’t read yet!!

A more recent discovery for me has been Little Toller:

A smaller collection of these so far – but both were recent successes (the Skelton is here and the Thorpe here). I have another Little Toller lurking which promises to be just as good!

One of my all time favourite indie presses is Notting Hill Editions, and I have a larger collection of these:

NHE produced beautiful books, often essay collections or anthologies, but also works which are unclassifiable – but all are wonderful, and since they published my beloved Perec and Barthes they’re always welcome on my shelves. Plus, they *also* do notebooks… ;D

Let’s see what else I can track down – well, here’s a few things from another lockdown discovery, Sublunary Editions:

Based in the USA, they publish all manner of fascinating texts in different formats and I’ve loved what I’ve read from them so far. Like many of the indies, they push the boundaries in terms of both form and content, which is wonderful.

Based ‘oop North’ in Manchester, Comma Press produced some amazing books; as well as two wonderful collections of M. John Harrison’s shorter works, I loved their Book of Newcastle.

Here are the MJH books; Comma is definitely an imprint worth exploring!

A publisher I’ve been reading for a bit longer is Pushkin Press and here’s some of my collection (probably not all of them, as I they’re not all shelved together):

Not shown here are my Russian author Pushkins which are on my Russian shelves. But you can see a few other interesting publishers like Peter Owen, Calder, Granta and Melville House Press (assuming they’re all indies…)

Some poetry next, in the form of Bloodaxe Books:

Again, this is not all my Bloodaxes – I have several on the poetry shelves and also the TBR. The great Basil Bunting features here and plenty of stuff which hails from Newcastle. Really, I should consider doing a month of reading only poetry…

Back to US publishers, and here we have some works from NYRB Classics – again, I’m presuming they count as an indie press. I’ve read a *lot* of their books and have many TBR – always fascinating, and lovely to see them reissuing so many lost works.

And last, a couple of more recent finds, in the form of Fum d’Estampa and Renard Press:

Here you can see a few of my Fum d’Estampa titles – beautiful translations from the Catalan, and in such lovely covers. At least one of their books will be featuring in #ReadIndies month! And next to them is the beautiful shiny edition of Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own” from Renard Press – here is another image:

Both of these indies are presses I’ve subscribed to, and haven’t regretted it; a regular supply of interesting and beautiful new reading material has been helping keep me sane in these pandemic times.

So there you go – just a few of the indie books on my shelves. There are so many other publishers I could have mentioned or featured, had I more time and space (and been able to find them – where *is* my small collection of Peirene Press books???) But hopefully this might give you some ideas of what to read during February – there are riches to be found from independent publishers! 😀

2020 in Books – in which I once again fail to pick an outright winner…. ;D

As is traditional on the Ramblings, I’m going to take a look back over my year of reading to pick out some highlights. It certainly has been a very strange and unpleasant year, unlike any I’ve known – I hope 2021 will be better, but who knows what’s to come. Books have, as always, been a comfort and my coping mechanism; and I *have* read a little more than usual, despite the strains of coping with a pandemic world. As usual, I’m not going to do any kind of countdown or top ten – let’s just look at the bookish things which have kept me going!

Comfort reading

A favourite from this year’s BLCC’s releases!

2020 has most definitely been year when there’s been a need for comfort reading. My go-to books are Golden Age crime and once again the British Library Crime Classics have been a source of great joy. I’ve read a good number, and not a dud amongst them! I’ve also felt the urge to do a sudden bit of re-reading – for example, at one point needing pick up Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day and revisit the wonderfully perfect ending. Longing for less complex times, I guess.

Indie Presses and Subscriptions

Some of the treats from my Renard Press sub.

If this year has been anything for me, it’s been the year of indie presses and subscriptions! Despite the lockdowns and restrictions, it’s been a joy to see independent publishers flourishing, supported by the love of serious readers and booklovers. I have spent happy hours with many wonderful indie imprints, authors and books, including Notting Hill Editions, Little Toller, Fum d’Estampa, Salt, Galley Beggar, Sublunary Editions and Renard Press; in fact, I did a nice little Q&A with Will Dady, the man behind the latter, for Shiny New Books. And of course it’s been lovely to keep up with Fizcarraldo Editions, who’ve released some quite marvellous volumes this year.

Which leads me on to…

Challenges/Events

I tend to steer away from most of these nowadays, as I find I get all enthusiastic about joining in then instantly want to go off in another direction! However, I did get involved in a Twitter-based readalong of the marvellous Malicroix (published by NYRB Classics), thanks to the influence of Dorian Stuber! A wonderful book and a great joy to take part in this! I’ve managed to reboot some of my personal reading projects, and even expand their scope – let’s see how that works out then…

Fitzcarraldos – I love Fitzcarraldos…

I also ended up co-hosting a two week celebration of the aforementioned Fitzcarraldo with Lizzy – Fitzcarraldo Editions Fortnight. Not only was this great fun, but it also got me reading quite a bit of my TBR – result! 😀

Which leads me on to…

Reading Weeks

As usual, Simon and I co-hosted two Reading Club Weeks this year, focused on 1920 and 1956. These are always such fun – if you haven’t encountered them, we basically read whatever we want from the year in question, review, post on blogs and other social media and share ideas of great books from the year. We’ll be hosting another in April 2021 so do join in! 😀

Social Media

Social media of all kinds has become pretty much a lifeline over 2020 and it’s been great to be able to keep in touch over the various platforms. Book Twitter is particularly lovely and I have been lucky enough to interact with some wonderful people on there. There have been postcards going around the world and moral support offered to our online friends who have suffered losses over the year. It is a lovely place to visit. Of course, there are always so many reading events to tempt me there, but mostly I manage to hold back because I know I will fail… I didn’t with Malicroix though, so result!

A little pile of my Harvill Leopards!

Twitter was also responsible for the Harvill Leopard Hunt, as it shall be titled, where a number of interested bookish people contributed to a wonderful master list of books issued in that imprint by Tim at Half Print Press. It was huge fun being involved in the detective work, and the resulting checklist is a thing of great beauty and use – you can check it out here! (Do take a look at Half Pint Press too – they produce some gorgeous things!)

Roland Barthes, a documentary and another interview!

Although I was often looking for comfort reads, it hasn’t all been lightweight this year. In particular, I seem to have been haunted by the spirit of Roland Barthes! I first read his Mythologies back at the end of 2019, reviewing it in January this year, and have revisited his work at various points over the year. He’s not always an easy read, but certainly fascinating, stimulating and thought-provoking!

Professor Richard Clay with Dr. Lonnie Bunch (c. Clearstory/BBC)

This also tied in with my Documentary of Year (and Decade!) 21st Century Mythologies with Richard Clay – it was quite superb, and I was delighted to welcome Richard back onto the Ramblings for a return interview. He’s always such an interesting interviewee, brimming with ideas! No doubt I shall continue to return to Barthes – there are several titles I have lurking on the TBR…

Shiny New Books

I continued to provide some reviews for Shiny New Books, the wonderful independent recommendations website. I always enjoy reading other people’s contributions and SNB covers such a wide range of books. Always worth checking out if you’re not sure what to read next, or want to find out what’s come out recently and is worth reading!

Trends in my reading

A translated work I enjoyed very much this year, which led on to many other reading ideas…

I’ve continued to read a lot in translation, from the Russian of course but also from French, German, Portuguese, Polish…. I’ve enjoyed poetry, and also a lot of non-fiction this year. There have been times when I’ve felt that I couldn’t engage properly with fiction, and so essays, philosophy, history, nature writing, travel writing and books which don’t actually fit into any category have been there for me to turn to in times of need. I plan to continue to follow no path but my own and read what I *need* to read!

Outstanding books

I’m not going to pick a best of the year, because I can’t. The kind of books I read are so disparate that it seems unfair to measure them against each other. However, I *shall* highlight some particularly special reads from 2020.

First up, I have ended the year reading Robert Macfarlane’s Underland and it’s a stunning book. Mesmerising writing and brimming with ideas and visions, it certainly lives up to its hype and it was the perfect book with which to finish off the year.

I’m a huge fan of Paul Morley’s writing, and so was delighted to be able to review his latest book, A Sound Mind, for Shiny New Books. A wonderfully Morley-esque exploration of classic music in all its shapes and forms, I absolutely loved it.

Another author whose work I’ve loved for a long time is M. John Harrison. He’s hit the public eye a bit more than usual recently, and this year saw the release of a new novel The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again. It’s another stunning read, proof that Harrison’s powers only increase with the years, and I was so pleased to see it win the Goldsmiths Prize! Lovely Comma Press also released a collection of his stories, Settling the World, which was another outstanding read.

A newer discovery for me is Andrew Lees; I read his wonderful book Mentored by a Madman last year, in a lovely paperback from Notting Hill Editions; it was a marvellous read, and Lees is such a good writer – in this book proving that literature and science go together. NHE published a new book by Lees this year, Brazil That Never Was, and I absolutely loved it. I described it in my review as a “wonderful blend of travelogue, memoir and reflection”, and Lees’ storytelling skills produced an atmospheric and memorable read. I can’t wait for his next book!

I can’t finish this section without mention of Square Haunting, which I covered in February for Shiny New Books. A quite brilliant book covering the lives of five inspirational women living in the same square in London, although at different times, it was an unforgettable read as well as an amazing work of scholarship – and it deserves all the praise it’s had!

*****

Frankly, that’s probably enough for one post – if I go on any longer I shall end up reliving the whole year and with 2020, that’s not something I necessarily want to do. The books I’ve read this year have been 99.9% pure joy (with the very occasional dud…) Whatever 2021 chucks our way I shall hang onto books as a way of maintaining some kind of sanity. Here’s to a better year for us all!

“There is more, but the handwriting is difficult to interpret.” @mjohnharrison @commapress

Settling the World: Selected Stories by M. John Harrison

M. John Harrison should need no introduction here, as he’s an author I’ve regularly lauded on the Ramblings. I first read his work back in my early twenties, when I was looking for something else which would feed my addiction for anything like Mervyn Peake. A random review sent me in the direction of the Viriconium books (which I don’t think are anything like Peake, to be honest – nothing is like Peake…), and I was an instant Harrison obsessive, gathering everything I could by him – which was not so easy at the time. As you’ll be able to see from a picture further down this post, I have any number of old crumbly editions of his work, picked up with great excitement in second hand shops in those pre-Internet days, plus quite a few sci fi anthologies featuring his stories. I’ve been reading him ever since, and took great joy in reconnecting with his work on the blog back at the start of 2016. A number of his works have appeared here since, most recently his latest novel “The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again”, which I covered for Shiny New Books.

I was naturally very excited, therefore, when I heard that Comma Press were issuing a selection of his short stories (particularly as I rate his work in this form very highly indeed). They’ve previously released a marvellous collection called “You Should Come With Me Now” back in 2017, gathering recent stories; however, the new book is a ‘selected’ volume entitled “Settling the World”. Crucially, this is a career-spanning anthology, and I was delighted when the publishers kindly provided a copy for review!

Harrison’s work first began appearing in print in the 1960s, initially in magazines and anthologies; the first published collection was “The Machine in Shaft Ten” in 1975 (which I reviewed here). Harrison is a prolific writer of short works, and actually keeping track can be complicated as there are so many, and published in many different places. I have a sort of checklist but it’s by no means complete. Add in that the stories have often changed over the years depending on where they appear, and you can see that reading M. John Harrison is always an interesting experience!

Anyway! Enough waffle and on to the book. “Settling the World” contains seventeen stories; the earliest is “The Causeway” from 1971, and the most recent are from our current very troubled year of 2020. The book helpfully gives at the start the original publication date and location, and it fascinates me to see how during a career of over 50 years of writing, Harrison has produced work of such quality which never fails to intrigue and unnerve.

Every day, as we ingest our untailored paste of environmental microplastics, hormones and other transformative pollutants, we move a little further in, losing a little more of what it used to mean to be human and gaining a little more of what it means now.

I was, of course, particularly pleased to see some stories from “Machine…” resurface, as I rate that collection very highly. However, the collection “The Ice Monkey” from 1983 is well represented too, and these stories are particularly stunning. The title story is especially memorable, mixing elements of the unexplained and climbing, two strands of interest in Harrison’s work which often converge. To be honest, he rarely writes what would be called a conventional narrative (which is one of the things I love about his work); and even when something starts out like that (“The Course of the Heart”, perhaps) it doesn’t stay like that. I was also really pleased about the inclusion of the excellent and rather spooky “Doe Lea” which I read and reviewed in chapbook form last year; it’s a wonderfully disconcerting piece of work and deserves a wider audience.

The stories here, like all Harrison’s work, defy classification; there are sci fi influenced stories like the title one, where God has been rediscovered and towed back to Earth, but is not what you might originally think; or “The Crisis” from 2017, which features a kind of jelly-like alien entity focusing its visits to our world on the financial centres. Then there are tales like “The Incalling” from 1978 with strange occult undertones and unexplained rituals; or “The East” from 1996, a story centred on a refugee – but from *what* ‘East’? Then, of course, there is “A Young Man’s Journey to Viriconium”, a story which has appeared in numerous MJH anthologies or collections, and even been subject to a change in title and focus which might be considered startling…

The rest of my MJH collection (apart from a Viriconium anthology currently loaned to Eldest Child…)

Well, you get the picture. The joy of reading M. John Harrison is that nothing is ever what it seems, and even those stories which could notionally be called sci fi are never that straightforward. Interestingly, reading this wonderful mixture of old and new I sensed resonances between a number of the stories and other works by MJH. “The Incalling”, for example, hints at events in “The Course of the Heart” and seemed to me to have echoes in “The Sunken Land…”

Much of the crescent was untenanted. In company with the surrounding streets it had been built as a genteel transit camp and matured as a ghetto. Now it was a long declining dream. I stood at the door of Mrs Sprake’s house, staring at the cracked flags, the forgotten net curtains bunched and sagging like dirty ectoplasm, the tilted first-floor balconies with their strange repetitive wrought-iron figures, and wondering if it might not be better to leave now before anyone had time to answer the bell. All the other doors were boarded up. Old paint hung like shredded wallpaper from the inner curve of an arched window. Across the road one whole building was missing from the terrace – fireplaces and outlines of extinct rooms clung to the walls of the flanking houses.

And one element I picked up on whilst reading this stories was the sheer skill of Harrison’s writing. His prose is excellent, often stopping you short at some marvellous juxtapositions; but I particularly noticed his sense of place and the landscapes he uses in his stories. His characters often occupy marginal spaces, parts of cities or places which are often in a state of complete entropy. Harrison lived in London during the 1960s and 1970s, a time when areas of it were still being rebuilt (and the pre-gentifrication areas are conjured brilliantly). In fact, as someone who can remember the 1970s well and the 1960s a bit, I recognised these outlands; the edges of towns and cities where the old tenements were being demolished and replaced by tower blocks; and those almost primitive, decaying areas are vivid settings for his stories.

In truth, this exemplary collection could more accurately be titled “Unsettling the World”; Harrison’s stories disturb our everyday placidity, and his characters, existing in liminal areas which seem to straddle our world and another stranger one, often experience unexplained events which are the stuff of nightmares. “Settling the World” is a marvellous collection in every sense of the word; it’s an excellent introduction to the range of M. John Harrison’s writing over the length of his career; and I can’t recommend it highly enough!

(Review copy kind provided by Comma Press, for which many thanks! You can get a copy of the book direct from the publisher here)

On My Book Table… 10 – a variety of external influences!

(NB – none of these books is actually *on* the table in the pictures below, but never mind….)

I am nothing if not susceptible to suggestion when it comes to books, and I’ve long lamented the bad (good!) influence of Book Twitter. Specific books themselves, too, have often been responsible for other books arriving at the Ramblings; and there does seem to have been a fair amount of that happening lately… I *have* been sharing pictures on Twitter, but I thought it might be nice to update on the blog some of the more recent arrivals – plus some bookish subscriptions I might just have happened to take out…

The “Philosophy of Walking” effect…

One recent subscription which I took out was to the Verso Book Club, and I shared some thoughts about it here. I offered a little giveaway of a spare book and that will go out to Clare Topping, so I hope she enjoys it! However, one book I ordered from their amazing 50% off sale was “The Philosophy of Walking” by Frederic Gros. It called to me strongly recently and I couldn’t resist (and a review will follow eventually…). However, it’s that most dangerous of things, a book which creates all manner of ideas and lists of other books you want to read; it even has suggested further reading in the back! Now the effect of the body of the book was bad enough – I ended up hauling this little lot off various parts of the TBR…

Interestingly, the Wordsworth ties in nicely with the Romantics three part documentary which is on TV currently (I had been dying for lack of decent documentaries…) However, I also have added substantially to the wishlist, and wasn’t able to resist sending for this lovely thing:

In another piece of bookish synchronicity, the photograph on the cover of this edition is by the early pioneer of the art, Nadar, who featured in Julian Barnes’ “Levels of Life“…

Nerval is an author I’ve been aware of for decades; in fact, the little edition of “The Chimeras” you can see in one of the images above was one I acquired in the 1980s. However, I hadn’t looked at it for absolutely ages, and as I was particularly moved by his story in “Philosophy…” I decided I needed to read more. Truly, this book is a *really* bad influence!!

The Harvill Leopard books

There’s been a really interesting convo going on over on Book Twitter, and I wish I could remember who started it (although I know that Caustic Cover Critic was in there at the beginning)! However, the subject was the Harvill Leopard range of books, a numbered series issued between 1998 and 2005. Now, I own a few of these (and they’re lovely) – mine are mainly Russians, but they also issued a lot of Perec. Somehow, the subject of a complete list of the releases came up which caused a lot of interest, with bookish people pitching in. The very industrious Tim of Half Pint Press revealed that he had a spreadsheet he was attempting to compile (as there seemed to be no complete list). This led to loads of research, lots of chat and in the end Tim setting up the wonderful resource which is 300oddleopards! As well as a complete list (as far as can be gleaned at present) there are also pictures of back and front of as many of the books as he’s been able to gather, with lots of us joining in and sending images of our books!

I had great fun pulling out some titles I hadn’t seen for a while (a few of them are above) and was happy to help with pulling together the site. It’s a wonderful initiative – do check it out if you have any interest in these books and authors, though I can’t promise it won’t be back for your bank balance and shelf space….

Bookish Subscriptions

I can’t remember the last time I actually joined up to any kind of bookish subscription; back in the day, I was in a good number of book clubs, but these fell along the wayside before the turn of the millennium and I haven’t signed up for one since. However, there have been any number of recent temptations, and of course the above-mentioned Verso Book Club!

And during lockdown, I did become very aware of the struggles facing smaller publishers and bookshops. I tried to shift my buying habits to support them (some Little Toller purchases resulted) and another couple of interesting presses caught my eye. One of these was Sublunary Editions, who I first stumbled across on Twitter (as I mentioned in my post on publisher Joshua Rothes’ intriguing book, “The Art of the Great Dictators“). They offer a subscription service, they have some wonderful sounding works coming up and so I succumbed – and this was my first delivery!

What’s so interesting about Sublunary is that their works come in a fascinating array of formats; there are more conventional books (although these are often not…), but the package also includes texts on separate sheets as well as art cards. It’s all rather wonderful and I’ll post more as I read my way through them. I’m looking forward to what comes next! 😀

My second subscription was recommended by a lovely Tweeter when I was offering the Verso giveaway; and it’s an initiative to publish more Catalan literature in translation by Fum d’Estampa Press. My reading of Catalan writing is probably non-existence so this was a good way to widen my horizons as well as obtaining some very pretty books – here are the first two:

Fum d’Estampa are on Patreon and they have a number of different levels of subscription (as is often the case of Patreon – I seem to spend a fair bit of time on there lately, as I also support the wonderful Backlisted Podcast, which I can highly recommend). Anyway, the books themselves are quite lovely and I’m looking forward to exploring further.

As for current reading and what’s actually *on* the Book Table? Well, I’m presently reading and loving the new collection of M. John Harrison stories, “Settling the World”, from the wonderful Comma Press (as you can see from the sidebar) and it’s excellent. Coming up soon – well, October of course will be time for the #1956Club, so I think I’d better start exploring some titles from that year! 😀

Dispatches from the cold north east @commapress #thebookofnewcastle

The Book of Newcastle: A City in Short Fiction
Edited by Angela Readman and Zoe Turner

Comma Press is a publisher based in Manchester which specialises in short story collections, either in anthology form or single author books. A founding member of the Northern Fiction Alliance, their catalogue of publications so far is impressive; and I was blown away by the fabulous collection they issued of M. John Harrison’s stories, “You Should Come With Me Now”, which I reviewed back in December 2017 and which ended up being one of my books of that year.

One of the most intriguing strands of their catalogue is the “Reading the City” collections, focusing on a specific city from anywhere around the world – from Tehran to Birmingham, from Cairo to Leeds, the range is wide and fascinating. So when I saw that Comma was issuing a collection of tales themed around Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I was very keen indeed to read it. Why? you might be asking? What’s your interest in/connection with Newcastle? And that’s a good question!

Newcastle is a city I’ve only visited once, longer ago than I care to acknowledge when my BFF H. was doing her art degree at the university. I visited during a freezing February and stayed for several days; and I can’t remember a lot about it apart from the fact that it snowed, I nearly got frostbite from wearing unsuitable footwear, we visited the Watch House (of Robert Westall fame), saw a performance by a performance artist, existed on a diet of stotties (yum!) and saw Cabaret Voltaire live in a very small club and they were magnificent! So yeah, it was a great visit, and although I’ve never been back I have happy memories of the city. Additionally, I recently discovered the Morden Tower poets who are a real joy; and of course Ellen Wilkinson, who has a strong connection with the area. Since I’m often drawn to the north, I’m obviously going to have to pay the city a visit again at some point, especially as it seems to have had quite a cultural rebirth of late!

Anyways – on to the fiction! “The Book of Newcastle” has its roots in a 2004 chapbook from Comma called “Newcastle Stories” and some of the pieces from the earlier publication have transferred to the new book. The latter collects together ten short stories by a range of writers, and it’s to my detriment that I’ve never read any of them before – because they’re obviously mighty talented! The stories cover all manner of topics – coping with a dreary day job by dropping into fantasy; negotiating a re-encounter with an ex-lover and his pregnant new partner; facing up to a future without a dying parent; the complexities of female friendship and how lives can diverge; and smoking (nor not being able to any more!) plus the decline of libraries. One particularly memorable work was “Thunder Thursday on Pemberton Grove” by J.A. Mensah, which explores the intersections in the lives of the people living uneasily side by side in that street when heavy rains cause floods and overflowing drains. “Magpies” by Alison Readman is a dark, allegorical look at losing touch with your teenagers when the dangerous outside world is tempting them. And “The Here and Now” by Margaret Wilkinson is a wonderful piece about the blurring of the lines between past and present; in a city like Newcastle, with a long and varied heritage, I guess there are always reminders of what’s gone before.

“The Book of Newcastle” is a stunning collection of writing, and there’s not a dud in here; each story is clever, memorable and moving; each spoke to me strongly. And of course running through all of them is the thread of the city itself; a former industrial centre, it’s had to reinvent itself over and over again, and that’s never without its problems. The Town Moor, the green heart of the city, is a vivid presence, as is the Tyne and its bridge. However, one theme which recurred and resonated was that of the Tyneside Flats, Victorian housing which is still in existence in the city and provides an almost communal living space. A fact which is relevant is that they consist of a row of dwellings with a joint loft space, and this really struck a chord with me; not only did my late mother-in-law live in a terrace with such a loft, but it’s also an important element in C.S. Lewis’s “The Magician’s Nephew”, and I was obsessed with the Narnia books as a child. “Loftboy”, a darkly humourous entry in the book, relies heavily on this element! The Tyneside Flats almost seem like an additional character in the stories, and I must admit that when I finished the book I felt as if I’d been *living* in Newcastle for the duration, alongside all of the very memorable protagonists.

Tyne Bridge by Bob Castle [CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D

I suppose it’s the measure of a really good book when you get to the end to find you wish there was more and you want to just go on reading and reading; and I felt like that when I finished “The Book of Newcastle”. These are wonderful stories which will stay with me; vivid settings full of real characters dealing with everyday life, the past, the future and hardest of all, the present. I could easily have written a post on each of the stories, which is testament to just how good they are; but instead I’ll just encourage you to seek out this (and any of the other City books) from Comma. On the evidence of “The Book of Newcastle”, they’ll all be very much worth reading! 😀

(The stories are all so good that I feel a roll-call of the authors is necessary! So take a bow – Jessica Andrews, Julia Darling, Crista Ermiya, Chrissie Glazebrook,. J.A. Mensah, Sean O’Brien, Angela Readman, Glynis Reed, Degna Stone and Margaret Wilkinson. )

Review book kindly provided by Comma Press, for which many thanks!! 😀

The slippery nature of reality @mjohnharrison @commapress

You Should Come With Me Now by M. John Harrison

As the press blurb states, MJH is considered by many a figurehead of genre writing in the UK. His stories first began appearing in sci-fi collections in the 1960s, and he went on to produce some stunning novels featuring the fictional world of Viriconium, which are landmarks of speculative writing in my view. As well as many other sci-fi works (including the highly regarded “Kefahuchi Tract ” trilogy), he’s written mainstream novels and numerous quite brilliant short stories – the latter format being, of course, the one he began with. MJH aficionados tend to be a bit passionate and protective about his work; I think he’s one of the hidden jewels in the literary crown of this country, and so I was very, very excited by the prospect of a new collection of shorter works.

“You Should Come With Me Now”, published by Comma Press, contains a remarkable variety of works, ranging in length from half-page flash fiction fragments to longer stories, and all are frankly brilliant. In fact, the title and cover illustration are apt, as we are encouraged to take Harrison’s hand very trustingly and let him lead us into the labyrinth of his dazzling, unsettling and quite unique stories.

The shorter works are intriguing: tantalising fragments which tease you into wondering what would happen if they were developed into something longer, yet still satisfying in their own right. They’re often dry and laced with dark humour, reflecting the sheer fertility of MJH’s mind (and how can you not love an author who casually drops mention of Woolf. Mansfield and Richardson into a story?)

As for the longer pieces – well, where do I start? He’s a master of the twist and his stories constantly subvert your expectations. “In Autotelia” is a fine example; what begins as something which could be a relatively straightforward tale of a person on a train in an ordinary setting soon displays disturbing elements and ends by completely overturning any expectations you might have had. It’s the kind of storytelling MJH does so well and it’s amply on display here.

The realms created by MJH are often nebulous and undefined, and maybe that’s what I love about them. World-building can be too absolute, and since the real world is a fluid place, perhaps our fictional alternatives should be too. Certainly, the relationship between the places and people we’re reading about here and what we see outside our window is often unclear, which adds to the unsettling quality of the stories. Harrison’s work often negotiates the slippery intersection between reality and the fantastic in all its shapes and forms, an area notoriously difficult to navigate and which he handles with aplomb. Within all this, however, MJH is a wonderfully acute observer of human behaviour with all its foibles, quirks and eccentricities; whatever the setting, whether real world now or future world or world off to the side somewhere, humans are always humans…

M. John Harrison

The stories range far and wide over subjects as diverse as visiting aliens and the complexity of relationships in the modern age. MJH often looks at the darker side of things, but there is plenty of spiky wit too. Picking favourites would be unfair with such a rich and varied collection but I particularly noted: “Animals”, an unnerving take on the ghost story, featuring a woman encountering a tangible presence in a rented cottage; “The Good Detective”, perhaps the ultimate story of alienation from the modern world and your own psyche; “Psychoarcheology”, which takes the discovery of the remains of Richard III and riffs on it; “Imaginary Reviews” a series of capsule reviews of books which may or may not exist; and similarly “Babies from Sand”, a series of short numbered paragraphs peopled with shifting names, fluid characters and possibly spurious paintings. It’s not for nothing that the book is subtitled “Stories for Ghosts” as so many of the beings and their situations are undefined, fleeting and often not really there.

I was happily reading away and then suddenly, boom! About two-thirds of the way through the book we are clearly back in the vicinity of Viriconium with the story “Jack of Mercy’s”. Although this is not stated explicitly, any regular reader will recognise the names Crome, Ashlyme and Audsley King, which is enough of a giveaway. The tone of the writing in this story seemed to me to be particularly Viriconium-ish too; although that ever-shifting, ever-changing, ever-fluid place seems to have edged ever closer to our own world over the years, so much so that the lines are very blurred here. Needless to say, this was a particular treasure in the collection.

“You Should Come With Me Now” showcases Harrison at his best and each of these pieces, short or long, is an absolute gem, distinct and remarkable in its own right (which is something you can’t often say about a book of shorter works). The writing us just stunning; his powers have not ebbed over the years and if anything they’ve strengthened with maturity. I could go on and on about how brilliant these stories are; “You Should Come With Me Now” is a virtuoso performance by a master of his art, and a highlight of my reading year. What else do I need to say to convince you to make sure you read this book? 🙂

If I’ve managed to interest you at all in M. John Harrison, you can follow his blog here.

Review copy kindly provided by Comma Press, for which many, many thanks! 🙂