Poe: Stories and Poems by Edgar Allan Poe, art by Gareth Hinds
Published by Candlewick Press, 2017
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
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.
All-in-all, this is a great little sampler if you want to dip your toe into the author’s work. And while I’d say the collection has been curated well on the whole, the inclusion of the poem Annabel Lee feels at odds tonally with the rest of the selection, with otherwise focuses on horror. That said, it’s fun to explore where a lot of modern-day genre tropes began, so fans of horror will no doubt get a kick out of Poe’s work if they haven’t already tried it, with Hinds’s art proving suitably gothic and moody to go alongside it.
Frankenstein: The Graphic Novel by Mary Shelley, art by Declan Shalvey & Jason Cardy
Published by Classical Comics, 2009
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
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.
The visuals add a new dynamic for those looking to re-explore the birth of the sci-fi-horror genre, but they also make a potentially daunting classic feel all the more accessible for those who may have been putting it off.
When an ad boldly announces an upcoming murder in the local newspaper, nosy neighbours flock to the appointed location expecting a silly parlour game or an elaborate prank. Rather, the lights cut out, a gun is fired, and someone drops down dead. In typical Christie fashion, we quickly begin to unravel a complex, tangled web of secrets and lies in pursuit of the killer amongst them.
With biting hints of the rise in feminism that was to come, Penelope Mortimer’s The Pumpkin Eater chronicles the breakdown and attempted mental reconstruction of a woman left deeply unsatisfied by her role as wife and mother. There are whispers of scandal and rumour bubbling beneath the surface, and an oddly gripping quality to the somewhat scant narrative. That said, the book focusses on a perceptive look at society, and a sense of subtle power, over any salacious shock value. In that respect, it’s the kind of feminism that feels quietly revolutionary for its time, rather than anything particularly ground-breaking for the modern reader.
Consider me shook by how much of this book is actually about fishing. From the way people talk about it, I expected rich allegory, thematic depth, and philosophical musings. But no, the only time the old man ever stops talking about fishing is to talk about baseball, or to club a dolphin over the head. Not my jam.
Blake’s poetry is the kind of thing most people think of when they hear the word ‘poetry’. By this, I mean it’s full of archaic language, strict rhyming schemes, and a lot of religious imagery. As such, it’s also the kind of poetry that sadly puts a lot of people off. This kind of work has its place, of course, but it does little to spark excitement in me as a reader. There are some nice lines, especially those that draw on nature, but there’s just not enough variation in themes or ideas to make the collection feel fresh, engaging, or relevant to the modern reader.
This is the first of the Faber Stories range that sadly didn’t work for me. It wasn’t bad, per se, but a story about a father’s anguish as he awaits a potentially life-changing diagnosis for his young son should have made me feel emotional or tense. Instead, I have to concede that I felt a little bored by its tangential style.
This slim volume collects three short stories by McCullers, often described as a master of the Southern gothic. The prose throughout is sensitive and observant, yet highly readable, and though this was my first taste of her work, it certainly won’t be my last.
This collection brings together three little-known short stories by Mary Shelley, the revered author of Frankenstein. Each is a fantastic example of her writing prowess, and the ways in which she pioneered the science-fiction and horror genres.
It’s such a nice feeling to return to a favourite author after a while, and to instantly be reminded why you fell in love with their work in the first place. From the very first paragraph of this book, I was transported once again by du Maurier’s lush, descriptive prose. It captures such a wonderful sense of time, place, and atmosphere, and is just a delight to read.
Another thoroughly readable yet deceptively intricate yarn from the queen of mystery. This one captures the gossip fuelled nature of life in small, rural towns with characteristically wry humour and whip-sharp dialogue. I also enjoyed the brief though interesting commentary on society’s dismissiveness of older people’s worth, and the psychology of criminals (with characters questioning whether illicit behaviour is learned or inherited; free choice or an affliction of the mind).
One of Penguin’s Little Black Classics, this slim volume brings together three short stories by Katherine Mansfield, who is often considered a master of the form. The selected stories compliment each other well in both theme and tone. Each captures a character’s sense of loneliness and longing, and a quiet moment of realisation which sees their illusion of contentment shattered. There’s a couple who realise they have drifted apart; a woman who spends her Sundays people watching in the park; and a man who craves his wife’s exclusive attention.
