One Night Two Souls Went Walking by Ellen Cooney
Published by Coffee House Press, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Ruminative yet understated, this beguiling novel explores the fine line between life and death, and the elusive nature of the human soul.
In One Night Two Souls Went Walking, we follow a young interfaith chaplain as she carries out her nightly duties on a hospital ward, easing patients through their final moments and comforting loved ones in their newfound grief. She was drawn to the job through her fascination with the concept of souls – how they are formed, where they reside, and whether or not they ever truly leave. Though not hugely plot driven, we do see glimpses of the ways her unwavering dedication to this role has impacted her personal relationships, and through subtle hints of magical realism, the emotional toll it can take to so often be forced to say goodbye.
Despite the melancholy subject matter, the novel has a gentle quality that mirrors the narrator’s characterization. That said, Cooney hints at a complexity beyond simple kindness, showing us the white lies she is often compelled to tell in order to ease the woes of the dying so they may pass in peace.
You can read my full review over on BookBrowse. I also wrote a piece about Animal Assisted Therapy to go alongside it, which you can read here.
I’m a big fan of Ingpen as an artist and particularly like to collect his illustrated editions of children’s classics. This brief original tale started life as a project to entertain his granddaughter.
I knew heading into this one that it would be a gamble, since magical realism doesn’t often work for me. But, when it does it tends to be when it’s in short story format, and having heard such good things about Kawakami’s other work, I decided to give this collection of micro fiction a shot.
Anderson’s novel, Speak, follows a teenage girl in the wake of sexual assault as she attempts to handle depression, navigate social isolation, and find the confidence to speak her truth. First published back in 1999, it is highly revered by many and had been on my radar for years. When I heard that Anderson was working with artist Emily Carroll (whose work I’m a big fan of) to adapt the story into a graphic novel, I knew it was the edition I wanted to get hold of.
A person of indeterminate age, gender and race, with apparent amnesia and an unwillingness to speak, is found sleeping on a church pew in an unnamed American town. A local family offers to take them in, giving them the nickname Pew. Although claiming to be charitable, the town grows increasingly impatient with Pew the more they refuse to answer questions or conform to strict societal roles.
Set in an unnervingly believable dystopian future, the climate crisis means water is now commodified; the vast armoured trains that transport it around the country often attacked by frustrated, displaced citizens. Though not hugely plot driven, we move between various perspectives, gaining insight into the new normal, and the persistence of love, loss, and the will to survive when it feels like hope is lost.
Following the death of her mother, Fiona moves into a new house, but the ghosts of former residents haunt her new home as much as Fiona’s guilt and grief haunt her.
I’m not generally a re-reader, but something seems to compel me to keep returning to this collection of graphic short stories at this time of year. This is the third or fourth time I’ve picked it up now, and my appreciation for it has grown each time. I always explain that as individual pieces, the majority of the stories fizzle out somewhat from a narrative perspective, but the concepts and atmosphere are so consistently creepy that the collection as a whole leaves a very strong lasting impression. If I were to pick a standout piece, however, it would definitely be The Nesting Place.
When he is badly injured in a car crash that kills his wife, Oghi is taken into the care of his mother-in-law. What follows in an understated though unnerving look at grief, isolation, painful truths, and bitter revenge. It does a great job of capturing an atmosphere of claustrophobia and mounting unease, and it certainly taps into our fear of losing autonomy and feeling like a prisoner within our own bodies (Oghi is left paralyzed and largely unable to communicate). I don’t want to say much else, as the core plot follows a very predictable trajectory, but there is more going on beneath the surface than first meets the eye.
Set in 1850s London, this wonderfully evocative debut looks at art, autonomy, love, and obsession. Iris makes her living painting faces onto dolls alongside her twin sister, but she longs to be taken seriously as a true artist. When she is offered the chance to model for up-and-coming pre-Raphaelite artist Louis Frost, she agrees, on the condition that he will tutor her in return. But someone else is watching Iris’s every move. Silas is a lonely collector of curiosities with whom Iris shared a brief, (and for her) quickly forgotten encounter. Entranced by her unique beauty, however, Silas’s longings for friendship will soon develop into something decidedly more sinister.
I love all things inspired by the dark side of folk and fairy tales, so when I caught sight of this collection of narrative poems from Robin Robertson, I was instantly intrigued. From stories of ghosts, witches and doppelgängers, to tales of selkies and changelings, the poems draw on Scotland’s rich tradition of mythology and storytelling to explore themes of heartache, revenge, and transformation. Often focussing on those who are vilified for their differences, thematically the pieces pay homage to the classics as much as they resonate within today’s society.
In this singular new offering from Emezi, we follow Jam, a teenage girl who lives in a world that has supposedly rid itself of “monsters”. She soon finds herself confronted, however, with a strange creature that has emerged from one of her mother’s paintings. Calling itself Pet, it tells Jam that a monster lives among them once again and that they must hunt it down together. Worse still, it tells her that the monster lurks within the home of Jam’s best friend, Redemption.
Some of Poe’s most iconic short stories and poems (including The Tell-Tale Heart, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Raven) are given new life by artist Gareth Hinds. When it comes to Poe, I tend to enjoy his creepy atmosphere, striking concepts, and strong visuals (all of which are emphasised here by Hinds’s artwork), but I find his prose and narrative arcs do little for me, often fizzling out after a lot of excellent promise.
Frankenstein is one of my favourite novels of all time, so it was fun to revisit it with the added bonus of some deliciously gothic artwork. The team that worked on this did a fantastic job. Though the text is slightly abridged to allow the art to supplement the story (a couple of my favourite lines got the chop, hence the docking of a star), the core prose, themes, and narrative that made Shelley’s work so iconic still feel largely intact.
