Recent Publications

The latest issue of Ellipsis Zine, which includes my story, The Lonely Mermaid.

I decided a little while ago to periodically share updates on my writing ventures. With that in mind, here are a couple of links to pieces I was lucky enough to get published recently. I’ve also included the first line of each piece, to hopefully whet your appetite.

The latest issue of Ellipsis Zine had a ‘creepy and unsettling’ theme, and was released nicely in time for the Halloween season. It includes my somewhat sinister take on The Little Mermaid, and is available to purchase in physical and digital form, here. (First line: ‘My story begins after ‘happily ever after’, with the truth your mother doesn’t want you to know: I loathe my prince.’)

Issue six of Cauldron Anthology had an LGBTQ+ theme. My short piece of fiction, Todd, drew inspiration from the lore of the androgynous Japanese figure, Inari Ōkami. It can be read online for free, here. (First line: ‘Fresh wounds intersect with old scars in a map of fear and loathing.’)

Many thanks to anyone who checks out either piece. Happy reading!

Advertisements

Dracula | Theatre Review

Show: Dracula
Venue: King’s Theatre, Edinburgh
Date: 3^rd November 2018
Director: Eduard Lewis
Writer: Jenny King, based on the novel by Bram Stoker
Principal cast: Olivia Swann (Mina), Andrew Horton (Jonathan), Glen Fox (Dracula), Jessica Webber (Lucy), Evan Milton (Doctor Seward), Cheryl Campbell (Lady Renfield), & Philip Bretherton (Professor Van Helsing)

Dracula

The gorgeous King’s Theatre played host to a new take on Bram Stoker’s classic tale of horror, produced by a team from Broadway and London’s West End. The calibre of the creative team behind the adaptation certainly showed in the quality of the production. Brilliantly convincing practical illusions and special effects helped to convey the otherworldliness of the eponymous Count, whilst clever use of set, sound and lighting design delivered some genuine scares (there were shrieks and nervous giggles aplenty from the audience).

Writer Jenny King’s interpretation of the original text was faithful at large, hitting most of the major plot points, but I must concede that some of the subtext and subtlety were lost in the translation to the stage; the queer coding and reversal of gender expectations much less apparent. Ironically, given how well I thought they handled the visual aspect of the play (it really is a visceral production), some of the most striking and memorable moments from the book were left out (that is the curse we bookworms must often bear). I understand that certain cuts are necessary for the sake of time, pacing, and practicality on stage, but any short-fallings in comparison to the text were always going to be more apparent given how recently I read and loved it.

Though it was generally tense and atmospheric in tone, and captivating from a sensory perspective, it did play a little with the audience’s assumed knowledge of the titular character, allowing for moments of tongue-in-cheek humour. This was fun, and necessary to break the tension, perhaps, but it did lend some of the lines a slightly hammy feel.

Top row: Jessica Webber as Lucy, & Glen Fox as Dracula. Bottom row: Cheryl Campbell as Lady Renfield, & Olivia Swann as Mina. Pictures courtesy of King’s Theatre.

The stand-out performance was definitely that of Cheryl Campbell. Her Lady Renfield (a gender swapped version of the book’s asylum inmate) was delightfully eccentric and enigmatic. Whilst some of the others did slip into brief bouts of the aforementioned hamminess at times, all did a fine job. It really was an ensemble piece, and I appreciated the way they managed to reflect the book’s multiple perspectives, even finding a way to give a nod to its epistolary style.

It may have been an imperfect production, but it was an enjoyable, immersive, and unique viewing experience that captured the enigma of a timeless villain, and the corrupt and uncomfortable sensuality of vampirism. A fine way to round off the Halloween season.

October Wrap Up

The books I read in October

I was very much in the mood to embrace the spirit of the season with my reading this month, and I did precisely that. As such, most of the 12 books I picked up were gothic or horror reads. Here are some thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews over on Goodreads.

Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This collection of short stories isn’t about outright scares, focussing instead on a creeping sense of menace, and an eerie dream logic. A few flirt with the supernatural, but most explore the disturbed side of the human psyche; peeling back the facade of mundane everyday life to expose the darkness that lurks beneath polite society. Jackson is a master at building tension to its peak, before abandoning the reader in a state of bewilderment; the true horror left to our imagination.

The Upstairs Room by Kate Murray-Browne

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This book markets itself as a ghostly thriller, but that sadly isn’t what it delivers. The haunting element of the story only ever feels like a sublot, shoehorned in as a metaphor for the book’s real theme, which is a woman who feels suffocated by her domestic situation. There are some interesting ideas at play, and it was very readable, but I felt it moved in circles too much, and didn’t offer up anywhere near enough chills.

Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A gripping, first-person character study that reads like one extended monologue, King once again displays his skill at crafting a complex, captivating anti-heroine. Despite making clear the main outcome from the off, he still manages to create tension, intrigue, and emotional impact, whilst exploring the crippling effect of living with secrets, and asking us to ponder the ultimate moral question: can murder ever be justified?

Dracula by Bram Stoker

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is one of those classics that is so iconic, I thought I knew it before I’d even read it. In finally picking it up, it delivered so much more than I expected, in terms of both reading enjoyment and literary merit. Gothic, atmospheric, and transporting, its handling of gender and sexuality is fascinating; its structure highly effective in adding a sense of realism; and its insight into the birth of many horror conventions both fun and satisfying for a lover of the genre.

Autumn by Ali Smith

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I wanted to break up the horror reads a little, but still opt for something seasonally appropriate, hence reaching for Autumn. I had a very odd reading experience with this one; equal parts wonderful and maddening. Smith’s prose is undoubtedly gorgeous; her evocation of the season wonderful, and her nuanced exploration of interesting ideas such as the power of art to capture a specific moment in time, and the concept of invisible boundaries that separate us, was very intriguing. However, I felt emotionally distant for much of the story, and it did veer into alienating psychobabble at times. I’m definitely eager to try more of Smith’s work.

An Unwanted Guest by Shari Lapena

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] A fun and easy reading experience, but ultimately underwhelming, this is essentially a love letter to old-school locked-room mysteries, with a group of strangers trapped in a remote hotel, and the body count on the rise. With many tongue-in-cheek references to the golden era of crime, it had a cosy, nostalgic vibe, despite the sinister goings on. But a couple of tired clichés, an info-dumpy reveal, and a lack of climax stopped the book from wowing.

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] As desperately sad as it is chilling, this is an ambitious, intelligent, and affecting novel. The plot follows a family who become the subject of a TV documentary when they suspect their eldest daughter’s increasingly strange behaviour may be caused by demonic possession. It soon becomes clear, however, that the real horror here is the demonization of mental health, and the moral depravity of a society obsessed with exploitation as a means of entertainment. Its use of perspective, and its critical look at the horror genre at large are also hugely successful.

The Monsters We Deserve by Marcus Sedgwick

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Visited by the ghosts of Mary Shelley and her most famous characters, a writer broods on the relationship between art and artist; writer and reader. It’s thought-provoking, experimental, and very meta. Whilst I loved the philosophical questions it posed about creation and legacy, and its visceral evocation of a remote alpine setting, I found its sexist handling of Shelley and her work very problematic. As a think-piece on the power of writing and reading, it’s well worth a read; as a ‘celebration of the legacy of Frankenstein’, somewhat less so.

Unbury Carol by Josh Malerman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] This twisted take on Sleeping Beauty is about a woman who slips into deathlike comas, and the wicked husband who plans to use her condition to bury her alive and steal her fortune. It’s fairy tale-meets-Western-meets-dark fantasy, and there’s no denying that Malerman both writes well, and knows how to tap into our primal fears. However, it’s hampered by a meandering pace, and though the author sets out to subvert classic tropes – like the damsel in distress and the disfigured villain – he never does so fully enough to avoid falling back on a sense of predictability, meaning that the book ultimately underwhelms.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A rare re-read for me; I think I actually enjoyed these creepy graphic novel-style short stories a little more this time around. Carroll’s striking and unconventional use of colour and layout adds to the strange, eerie, and hypnotic atmosphere of these twisted tales. There are deeply unsettling moments and haunting images throughout, making it a great little read for this time of year.

The Old Nurse’s Story by Elizabeth Gaskell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The title story in this slim volume is a great Victorian chiller. Ghostly and gothic, it tells a full and satisfying story with plenty of intrigue and atmosphere. The accompanying story, Curious, if True, worked less well for me. It had an interesting, fun premise (a man stumbling upon a party full of fairy tale characters), but it wasn’t creepy, like I’d hoped, and I found the ending a little cliché. Still, I enjoyed Gaskell’s descriptive prose, and this was a nice little introduction to her work.

Bitter Orange by Claire Fuller

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Though I didn’t find this as gothic as its comparisons to du Maurier and Jackson would suggest, it was a surprisingly melancholic story about the toxicity of living with secrets, and the search for understanding – and I flew through it. The motif of façades is used well throughout the narrative to drive home the theme of repression, with each of the characters being flawed and richly drawn. They all seek penance in their own tragic ways, and I appreciated that Fuller could provide a satisfying conclusion without tying everything up too neatly in a bow.

***

There we have it! My reads for the year now total 108. My favourites this month were Dracula and A Head Full of Ghosts; what were yours?

The Coffee Book Tag

I was kindly tagged by Hadeer @ Cairene Librarian to do The Coffee Book Tag. Let’s just jump right in, shall we?

Black coffee: a series that’s tough to get into but has hardcore fans

I’m going to go with A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin (aka Game of Thrones). It certainly has a lot of hardcore fans, but many of them discovered the series through the TV adaptation, and are daunted by the hefty books that came before it.

Peppermint Mocha: a book that gets more popular during the winter or a festive time of year

I’m going to go with Harry Potter. Firstly, because it gets my generic HP answer out the way early, and secondly, because the inherent magic and nostalgia attached to the series have a lovely draw at that time of year.

Hot chocolate: a favorite children’s book

Huntress of the Sea

The first novel for children that I remember reading over and over again is Huntress of the Sea by Alan Temperley. I eventually met the author and got my battered old copy signed, and I still own it now.

Double shot of espresso: a book that kept you on the edge of your seat from start to finish

The Corset

A recent one that comes to mind is The Corset by Laura Purcell. It’s not a thriller, per se, but I felt so enthralled by the brutality of the world, and so invested in the life of the protagonist, that I was compelled to keep reading.

Starbucks: a book you see everywhere

The Heart’s Invisible Furies

I’m going to go a little unconventional here and say The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne. This book isn’t technically everywhere, but a lot of my online bookish friends have read (and adored) it, and I’ve been meaning to get to it for so long that by this point I feel like it pops up all the time; taunting me for still not having picked it up…

That hipster coffee shop: a book by an indie author (a shoutout)

The Naming of Cancer

The Naming of Cancer by Tracey S. Rosenberg is a slim collection of poems, published by the small indie press, Neon Books. Each piece focusses on a different perspective of cancer, to highlight the various ways it can affect a person’s life: be it the sufferers themselves; the spouses watching as doctors poke and prod their lovers; the colleague not sure what to say to the man who’s just lost his wife; or the cancerous cells themselves as they lament the destruction of their host. It’s powerful yet accessible, and beautiful yet urgent, with barely a superfluous word.

Oops, I accidentally got decaf: a book you were expecting more from

The Bear and the Nightingale

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden. I’m still a little sad about this one; I even included it on my list of 5 star read predictions. The blurb makes it sound right up my street, and so many people rave about it, but I just didn’t click with it at all. I sometimes wonder if it was a case of right book, wrong time.

The perfect blend: a book or series that was both bitter and sweet, but ultimately satisfying

All We Shall Know

I feel like I mention this in tags almost as often as Harry Potter these days, but bitter, sweet, and satisfying is exactly how I’d describe All We Shall Know by Donal Ryan. It’s a gut punch in novel form, but the way Ryan brings everything together is masterful. At the turn of each page, he can break or mend your heart all over again.

Green tea: a book or series that is quietly beautiful

The Travelling Cat Chronicles

The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa. Upon first glance, it would be really easy to write this off as a somewhat twee little read about a man and his cat, but it is remarkably human, subtly exploring what it means to find family, process grief, and make peace with the past.

Chai Latte: a book or series that makes you dream of far off places

Burial Rites

I associate Burial Rites by Hannah Kent so strongly with Iceland. Not only is it set there, with the landscape captured perfectly in all its raw and majestic beauty, but I read the book whilst visiting the country for the first time. The two will always go hand-in-hand for me.

Earl Grey: favorite classic

Rebecca

Ooh, I like a fair few classics. Tess of the D’Urbervilles is the first one I had to read for school that I loved, so even though it’s been years, I still think of it fondly. More recent favourites are Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, and Dracula by Bram Stoker. But my very favourite classic, and perhaps my favourite book in general (but don’t make me commit to it), is Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

***

There we have it! Thanks again to Hadeer for tagging me. I’ve done a few tags in recent times, so I’ll leave this one open to anyone who wants to get involved.

Macbeth | Theatre Review

Macbeth

Show: Macbeth
Venue: Festival Theatre, Edinburgh
Date: 25^th October 2018
Director: Rufus Norris
Composer: Orlando Gough
Principal cast: Michael Nardone (Macbeth), Kirsty Besterman (Lady Macbeth), Ross Waiton (Macduff), & Patrick Robinson (Banquo)

***

This was a unique and striking take on Shakespeare’s Macbeth. With a story as iconic as they come, it can be difficult to create something that feels fresh, without deviating from the source material, but I think The National Theatre managed to do so here with aplomb. Though it very much honours the original script (of course, changing Shakespeare’s words would be tantamount to treason in most circles), the setting and timeframe have been completely reimagined. Forget sumptuous castles and sweeping heaths. This production is set in a bleak, modern, post-apocalyptic landscape that has been ravaged by civil war; cloaks and crowns ditched in favour of torn jeans and army fatigues; grand halls replaced by battered bunkers and whatever shabby supplies can be scraped together.

The first thing this does is add a heightened sense of desperation to the characters. The impression is that they are the figureheads of the decimated few that remain, making their insatiable hunger for power seem all the more frivolous and misguided. Strong performances from the lead cast allow this theme to really resonate. It’s a very visceral production, however, and it’s the sensory elements that become the real stars of the show. Imposing set design, great lighting, and a score that is at times unsettlingly eerie, all add real atmosphere; with haunting imagery and sound design during the witches’ scenes proving particularly effective.

Michael Nardone as Macbeth; the three witches; and Kirsty Besterman as Lady Macbeth. Pictures courtesy of National Theatre.

Some may find the contrast between archaic Shakespearean language and alarmingly modern visuals somewhat jarring, but to me it instantly highlighted how timeless the show’s themes of power, greed, and corruption in times of conflict truly are. By making the narrative feel more immediate and recognisable, it adds a layer of discomfort to the story, allowing it to hit a little closer to home. We live in a time of fear and paranoia; political point scoring, and angry border disputes. By reimagining Macbeth’s story in a world frighteningly like the one we’re descending into (the staging not unlike scenes unfolding in places like Syria), it takes on a new sense of urgency, and perhaps even poignancy; all without altering The Bard’s actual words. This is a Macbeth for the modern age; its cautionary message about the pitfalls of selfishly chasing supremacy more familiar than ever.

The show is currently touring the UK and Ireland with a new cast, following a sold-out run in London. Here’s a trailer of the original production to give you a flavour of what it’s like.

My Bad Reading Habits Tag

Let’s share our bad bookish habits…

I was kindly tagged by the lovely Marina @ Books of Magic to share some of my bookish bad habits. Let’s just jump right in, shall we?

Putting off longer reads

For some reason, it takes real willpower for me to pick up anything long, especially it it’s 500+ pages. Even if it’s a book I think sounds amazing; even if I’ve seen nothing but rave reviews for it; even if it’s written by an author I already adore; if it’s a hefty tome, chances are it will sit unread for considerably longer than its slimmer shelf-mates. I suspect this bad habit stems from my ever-growing TBR. The logical side of my brains says: ‘I could read 2-3 short/regular sized books in the time it would take me to read that big one’. And so, my desire to get to as many exciting reads as possible wins out more often than not, and I put off the longer books. It’s silly, given that there are some long reads I’ve been excited to try for ages (I’m looking at you, The Heart’s Invisible Furies and Jane Eyre), and I get through an objectively large number of books either way, yet I can’t seem to shake the habit.

Counting pages

When I put a book down of an evening, I always check how many pages I’ve read that day, with an inner monologue along the lines of: ‘Okay, I read 90 pages today. The book is about 360 pages long. If I read the same amount each day, I should finish the book in another 3 days.’ Why does it matter? I can’t know how much reading I will or won’t get done in the days that follow anyway, so it’s arbitrary. I know I should just read the damn thing, and I’ll finish it when I finish it. Alas, I can’t stop counting…

Not using the library

I’m a big believer in the wonder and importance of libraries, but I’m a hypocrite, because I never use them myself. Living in the countryside, the library closest to me is tiny. Especially given my eclectic reading tastes, and the sheer volume of books I get through (compared to the average person, that is), it just can’t cater to my personal reading needs. Not to mention the fact that I treasure books as physical objects, and so I love owning a vast collection of my own. Still, long live libraries!

Chasing pretty editions

When I’m particularly excited about a book, I can fall down an internet rabbit hole, spending a wholly disproportionate amount of time trying to hunt out different editions, all in search of the prettiest cover. And yes, I’ve been known to pay more, and wait longer for delivery, just to get the copy I think is nicest.

***

There we have it; a few of my bad reading habits. Thanks again to Marina for tagging me: You should definitely check out her excellent blog if you haven’t already. I’d be interested to know the bad reading habits of Rachel, Alex, and Ally (no pressure to take part though, of course), but if anyone else would also like to get involved, please feel free!

Book to Film | Frankenstein

Frankenstein’s book cover (left), and film poster (right).

There have, of course, been many screen adaptations of Frankenstein over the years, but the one I’m going to be talking about here in relation to the book is the 1994 version, directed by Kenneth Branagh.

This iteration seems to generally be considered the most faithful to the original novel, which is part of the reason I was keen to give it a go. I can absolutely see why it is regarded as so, as the main arc does indeed stick pretty close to Mary Shelley’s iconic story, albeit with a few extra bells and whistles to ramp up the drama. Unlike many other pop-culture versions of Frankenstein’s creation, I was glad to see that this one was as pitiable as he was monstrous; as indeed Shelley herself intended. This meant the integrity of the book’s core themes – like the moral ambiguity of pushing science too far; the risks of trying to overcome death; the destructive nature of blindly pursuing our obsessions; and the question over how we as a society truly make monsters – are all still largely intact.

All that said, there is something about the film that just never fully clicked for me. Though the story and themes are still there, the subtlety and nuance are gone. Everything feels a bit too extra, from the frantic direction to the overbearing soundtrack. This somewhat hectic feeling means that the emotional beats of the narrative can’t always resonate properly, as we are relentlessly rushed onto the next scene.

The film’s principal cast: Kenneth Branagh as Victor Frankenstein; Helena Bonham Carter as Elizabeth Lavenza; and Robert De Niro as The Creation.

Alongside the big names heading up the cast, there are a number of well-known actors in supporting roles – including Ian Holm, John Cleese, Celia Imrie, and Richard Briers. I can’t say anyone’s performance blew me away, but I suspect this was due in part to the film’s overall sense of erratic melodrama. De Niro is certainly charismatic as The Creation, able to evoke the tricky blend of pity and revulsion. Bonham Carter is also ethereally captivating in the film’s climax, when her character is given a fate more theatrical and disturbing than in the book, yet undoubtedly more visually haunting too.

Ambitious and aesthetically striking, I suspect Branagh simply tried to accomplish too much in a runtime of less than two hours. Still, it was enjoyable enough, and I was glad to see a version that tried hard to honour the intent of Shelley’s masterpiece, even if it wasn’t always entirely successful.