Let’s Recommend | Halloween Reads

Let’s recommend some reads for Halloween

With Halloween fast approaching, I thought now would be the perfect time to once again recommend a few creepy reads, in case you’re on the lookout for something to get you into the spirit of the season as the day itself draws ever closer.

Final Girls by Riley Sager

Final Girls is like a love letter to the horror genre, indulging in many of the old-school tropes that make it famous, and yet in a way that really works. And so, for all its twists, tension and gore, it manages to capture a fun and even nostalgic quality that will remind you of popcorn flicks of days gone by. The characters are fleshed out, flawed and unreliable, adding to the absorbing nature of the story, which in itself centres around three young women known in the press as the Final Girls, as they were each the sole survivor of a mass murder; two of whom must band together after the other is found dead.

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin

This is a very recent read for me, and one I suspect will linger in my mind for quite some time. It’s the story of a young couple who move into a luxury apartment block, with the wife eager to start a family. They befriend an elderly couple on their floor, but become suspicious of their true intentions when they become increasingly involved in their lives, and in particular Rosemary’s pregnancy. It gets right under your skin and builds a sense of dread incredibly well, and all at the perfect pace to keep you gripped.

The Resurrectionist by E.B. Hudspeth

The Resurrectionist is presented as though it’s non-fiction. The first half is the ‘biography’ of a famous yet hugely controversial scientist who conducted mysterious experiments in his bid to prove his hypothesis that birth defects and deformities are merely the body’s attempt to revert to former states, with all mythical beings and creatures having once been real and humans being their descendants. It’s deliberately vague and unsettling, with his obsession driving him to take drastic measures that will no doubt disturb. The second half of the book is his magnum opus; painstakingly detailed and macabre anatomical artwork that lays out how he believes such creatures would have evolved. I love the idea of people finding this book on a dusty library shelf in decades to come and believing, just for a moment, that it could perhaps be real.

Some examples of the macabre artwork found inside The Resurrectionist.

The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs

If you’re looking for something brief to pick up of an evening and creep you out, a short story like The Monkey’s Paw could be ideal. It’s a classic of the ‘be careful what you wish for’ message, in which a family come into possession of a magical (or cursed) monkey’s paw that will grant them three wishes, though each coming with horrifying consequences they could not foresee. It’s very atmospheric and testament to the fact that what you don’t see can be as powerful and unnerving as what you do.

The Beauty by Aliya Whiteley

The Beauty is a dystopian novella that centres around a group of men after a fungal disease has wiped out all women. They await inevitable death whilst living on the memory of everything they have lost, until a strange new species begins to grow from the bodies of the deceased women. The way the men choose to treat these beings will determine the entire future of society. Whiteley manages to create a world that is both beautiful and revolting, and it’s one of those stories in which the cruelty of mankind itself becomes the true monster of the piece, with themes of gender roles and storytelling adding even greater depth to this hypnotic fever dream of a story.

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What reads would you recommend to get into the Halloween spirit?

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Book to Film | High-Rise

High-Rise’s book cover (left) and film poster (right).

If the book version of High-Rise was a strange yet all too plausible nightmare, then its film adaptation is the full-blown fever dream that pushes its alarming themes to the next level, making it perhaps a little less accessible, yet arguably all the more disturbing.

The novel was written in the 1970’s by J.G. Ballard and was, at the time, considered speculative science-fiction, focussing on the inhabitants of a then seemingly futuristic skyscraper that held a completely self-contained society, including its own apartments, supermarket, school, salon, bank, gym and swimming pool; everything they could possibly need. When things start going wrong with the building itself (power outages, faulty elevators, no water supply, etc.) tensions arise, with the poorer residents of the lower floors rebelling against the selfish upper echelons of society who live on the top floors. They quickly degenerate into an entirely dysfunctional, animalistic state, with full-blown warfare erupting between the rival floors and alcohol-fuelled chaos reigning supreme.

What ensues is, frankly, a display of madness. It examines the class divide within British society, the risks of living within isolated communities, and the dangerous, cruel side of humanity that lies so very close to the surface.

The film version retains these major themes, and translates them to the big screen in a visually striking and stylish way that reflects the bizarre nature of the story. I appreciated that the mirroring of the degeneration of the building itself and the sanity of the people within it was retained very well. I also liked that they retained the unique timeline of the novel, opening in the aftermath of the building’s erosion and then going back to show the events that led there. I would say, however, that the film felt more self-indulgent of its themes than its written counterpart. Whilst the major strength of the novel for me was how eerily well it felt Ballard had predicted our current world, and that it thus felt so real, as though these events could be taking place in any number of now commonplace, faceless high-rises we walk past every day, it was perhaps the bold, visual and upfront nature of the film that made it cross into the realms of straight-up allegory, that whilst effective in its own way, made it feel no longer believable.

As a social satire and a warped cautionary tale about the class structure and too great a reliance on convenience in modern life, the film works, but you have to be prepared to be held at arm’s length, as it feels produced purely to convey these ideas far more than it does to tell a coherent story.

The stars of the large, ensemble cast; left to right: Sienna Miller, Keeley Hawes, Jeremy Irons, Tom Hiddleston, Luke Evans, Sienna Guillory and Elisabeth Moss.

Thankfully, the cast (which is an impressive roll-call of [largely] British talent) are enigmatic enough to hold the whole thing together, and the gorgeous nature of the visuals (including sets, costume design and hair and make-up that capture a quasi-futuristic take on the 70s) combined with a great soundtrack also helped to hold my attention and see me through the almost hallucinatory plot.

I think the major difference between the two is that I finished the book feeling firmly in the ‘I enjoyed that’ camp, whereas I finished the film feeling a bit dazed and unsure of how I felt about it. I can see and appreciate what they were trying to achieve by taking on the book’s themes, but can’t help but feel that an approach that was perhaps too stylised and surrealist will leave too many viewers feeling shut-out.

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Have you read and seen High-Rise? How do you think the two compare?

September Wrap Up

All the books I read in September

Autumn is upon us and it’s time for another wrap up. Throughout September I managed to finish a total of 11 books (5 novels, 2 novellas, a short story collection, 2 non-fiction books and a Little Black Classic). This took my yearly total up to 96, meaning that with any luck, I should hit my 100 book target sometime within the next month, which is a rather nice feeling!

The standout read of the month was definitely The Beauty by Aliya Whiteley; a beautiful yet disturbing dystopian that follows a group of men after a fungal disease has wiped out all women. A strange new species grows from the bodies of the deceased women, and the decisions the men make about how to treat these creatures will determine the entire future of mankind. It cleverly explores gender roles, the concept of female beauty, and the notion of storytelling, all in hypnotic prose. I can’t wait to try more of Whiteley’s work.

My other favourites were Perfume by Patrick Süskind; an immersive and evocative exploration of scent that uses the senses to great effect in the story of a man with a super-human sense of smell who turns to sinister methods to try and create the ultimate perfume; and Such Small Hands by Andrés Barba, a gothic and brooding story about a girls’ orphanage where the children’s games get out of hand. It explores the notions of fitting in and the muddy waters of transitioning from childhood to adolescence. I also thoroughly enjoyed Trumpet by Jackie Kay, a book about a famous jazz musician who has lived his life as a man, but is found to have been born biologically female upon his death, and the ways his widow and adopted son deal with the fallout. The message of the book is very much ‘love is love’, with the subject matter handled with compassion and sensitivity, and not scandalised at all, which I really appreciated.

I also enjoyed Good Me, Bad Me by Ali Land, a solid thriller that I think would be a great read for those who feel the genre often lacks character development, since it includes a much stronger emphasis on the main character’s mindset as she tries to cope in the wake of trauma.

The rest of the books I read were a mix of largely ‘okay’ reads, truth be told, but made for a solid reading month overall, including Yeonmi Park’s memoir about escaping North Korea that I think is enlightening for Western readers if not the most reputable book about the country; a collection of short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald that I found strong in concept but underwhelming in execution, and which prompted me to accept that his style is just not for me; The Bone Sparrow, which is the story of a child raised in a refugee camp that is very timely and which makes the subject matter approachable for young readers which is a great achievement; Little Nothing, which is a magical realism story about a woman who is born with dwarfism and whom undergoes various bodily transformations that was well written but bordered on the ‘weird for the sake of being weird’ side of things that I’m not too keen on; Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s manifesto about how best to raise a young girl to be a feminist in today’s world that is sensible and accessible in its suggestions but limited in its scope with regards to being very binary; and a few classic old-school horror tales by Edgar Allan Poe.

I rate and/or review everything I read on Goodreads, so you can head over there if you want to see more in-depth thoughts on any of the books mentioned, or by all means ask me in the comments.

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What was your favourite read in September? Are you on track to meet your reading goals?

Spotlight | Dieter Braun

Dieter Braun

Today in my series all about sharing bookish love, I’m shining the spotlight on Dieter Braun, a German illustrator who has released two companion books, Wild Animals of the North and Wild Animals of the South. Each celebrates the variety of species native to its respective hemisphere, with the animals depicted in Braun’s gorgeously vibrant and expressive art style that has an almost geometric inspired quality to it, making it a unique and instantly recognisable style that I love. I could open either of his books on pretty much any random page and would happily have it framed on my wall.

The pictures are accompanied by simple but fun facts about the animals’ characteristics, habitats and suchlike, like how a single humpback whale can weigh as much as six adult African elephants; giraffes have the same number of vertebrae in their necks as humans; and macaws can live for up to 60 years and mate for life. These add an extra layer to the books and make them suitable for all ages, which I also really appreciate. In fact, I think they would make particularly wonderful gifts for any lover of nature or art.

Aside from that, there’s not much else to say, so I’ll just let his work speak for itself.

Some examples of Braun’s beautiful artwork, taken from his two books.

Autumn/Winter TBR

I am far more an Autumn/Winter person than I am a Spring/Summer one. The nights get longer, the weather gets colder, and my dark little soul gets happier. I jest somewhat, of course, but it’s true that I do feel far more comfortable in the darker, colder months, and I think the mood of them is far more suited to my favourite kind of books anyway: atmospheric, immersive, gothic reads that you want to take in by a roaring fire with a cup of tea – you know the kind I mean.

I don’t do well with set TBRs on a weekly or monthly basis, since I’m very much a mood reader, but I thought a general outline of some of the books I’m hoping to get to over a broader range of time would still give me plenty of scope to pick up other things as and when I want. So, without further ado, here are some books I’m particularly excited to try and pick up sooner rather than later.

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

This book follows a recently widowed woman in Victorian England as she moves to an Essex village gripped by rumours of a mysterious, mythical serpent possibly stalking the area. It got a lot of buzz a while back and is supposedly beautifully written and thick with brooding atmosphere, so sign me up.

The House on the Strand by Daphne du Maurier

This is, in some ways, a placeholder for pretty much any du Maurier book. I think the style of her stories, wonderfully immersive in their vivid settings and often sinister intrigue, is perfect for the season. I have a fair few of her books to get to on my shelves, but this is the one I’ve had my eye on recently, given that it’s very different from her usual work in a lot of ways, with elements of time travel, no less. The development of a potion that can send you to the Medieval era leads a man to become addicted to it, resenting the days he must spend in his own time.

Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie

When better to read the Queen of Crime than on a crisp, Autumnal day or a Cold winter’s night? Classic crime noir at its best, I’ve loved the Christie books I’ve read thus far and this is the one I’d like to pick up next. It sees a group of people reuniting a year after the death of their friend to remember her, but suspicions arise that one of them may have been her killer all along.

Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith

I haven’t tried her work yet but I actually get a lot of du Maurier and Christie vibes when I hear about some of Highsmith’s books, and that is A-OK with me. More crime noir, the plot of this one follows two men who meet on a train and end up embroiled in a plan to each kill someone on behalf of the other. It sounds deliciously twisted!

The Essex Serpent, The House on the Strand, Sparkling Cyanide, and Strangers on a Train.

The Good People by Hannah Kent

I loved how atmospheric and transporting Kent’s debut was, and am excited to see if she can pull it off again. The Good People is about three women in 19^th century Ireland trying to save a young child who has been condemned by their suspicious and paranoid community for being unable to walk or talk properly. They believe him to be a changeling responsible for their misfortunes, and the women’s attempts to exonerate him will supposedly put all their lives in danger.

In a Lonely Place by Dorothy B. Hughes

Yet another classic crime noir, this seemingly approaches the genre in an unconventional way, exploring the dark underbelly of the American Dream. There’s a killer of young women on the loose, and to make matters more complicated, the lead suspect is a close friend of one of the detectives working the case. I don’t know about you, but I’m sold already.

Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson

I adored We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Jackson and really want to try some more of her work. Having started with one of her best-known books, I thought I’d opt for one a little less known next, and this fits that bill, plus the concept of “the bitter cruelty of the passage from adolescence to womanhood” sounds brilliant.

The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge

Truthfully, I swithered about whether The Lie Tree would be my cup of tea or not, but I have heard a lot of good things and there’s an edition with illustrations by Chris Riddell, who I really like. Also, if I’m being totally honest, I saw the cover for Hardinge’s upcoming release and it’s so pretty that I want to own it, but felt I should at least try this first.

The Good People, In a Lonely Place, Hangsaman, and The Lie Tree.

Matilda by Mary Shelley

I loved Frankenstein, and this novella by Shelley about a man with a strange obsession with his own daughter apparently horrified her father so much that he suppressed its publication, meaning it wasn’t released until more than a century after it was written. Consider my interest piqued.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell

A crumbling country estate? A mysterious locked room? A creepy doll? Comparisons to Shirley Jackson? I don’t think I need to tell you why I’m excited about this one. Besides, the cover alone would be enough to get my attention.

Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison

This one doesn’t sound particularly Autumn/Winter-esque per se; it’s just one I’ve heard some good things about and I’m excited to get to. I do think it’s pretty dark though, as I believe it’s a harrowing coming-of-age story about a young girl determined to escape from her abusive step-father.

Sweetgirl by Travis Mulhauser

Set amidst a ‘harsh frozen landscape’, this is one that looks and feels particularly well-suited to a cold winter’s night when the winds are howling and the snow is falling thick and fast. It centres around a teenage girl who inadvertently rescues a baby from the den of a group of criminals, not realising what she’s getting herself into. When the criminals notice the baby is gone, they’re determined to get it back, and a deadly chase ensues. Props to Mulhauser for being the only man to make it onto this TBR. My list being dominated by women was entirely accidental, but I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.

Matilda, The Silent Companions, Bastard Out of Carolina, and Sweetgirl.

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There we have it; by no means a comprehensive list, but one I’m very excited about nonetheless. What are some of the books you’re hoping to pick up over the coming months?

Let’s Recommend | Short Story Collections

Let’s recommend some short story collections

Today, I’ve decided to recommend a few of my favourite short story collections. You’ll be able to tell that, as with longer-form fiction, I have a tendency to lean towards the darker side of things, and think it’s a tone that is, in fact, particularly well suited to a short story. Each of these collections contains individual stories that I think stand on their own merits, but which also combine with the others to create one cohesive work that blends well together.

The Doll by Daphne du Maurier

Ah, my beloved Daphne; mistress of intrigue and atmosphere. Several of the stories in this collection have stayed with me so vividly, including some with deliciously sinister undertones, and a couple that follow a woman who has fallen into a life of crime and prostitution, narrating her life to us like a poignant and enigmatic dramatic monologue. Being some of her earliest work, the stories show her brooding talent as a writer, and try out several different tones and themes, from light-hearted to down-right creepy, meaning it’s a great sample of how diverse she can be.

Sweet Home by Carys Bray

This collection of stories tackles all the big themes; love, loss, life and death. Most are grounded in reality and show quiet glimpses into the beauty and pain of everyday life (like an elderly woman dealing with the early onset of dementia; a helpless couple watching their son spiral into the grip of drug addiction; and a man suffering from OCD who is terrified that he’ll kill his own unborn baby), whilst some flirt with a sense of magical realism and fairy tales. All, however, offer insight into the sad struggles of everyday family life.

Revenge by Yoko Ogawa

Though they all stand on their own, the stories in this collection are all very cleverly connected in subtle ways, with characters from one re-appearing in others, sometimes in surprising ways that add new meaning to previous stories. There’s a sense of melancholy and the macabre throughout, with Ogawa exploring the hidden darkness that lurks beneath the surface of many people’s lives, with characters including a mother who buys a cake for her dead son every year on his birthday; an elderly woman with a dark secret buried beneath her vegetable patch; and a dissatisfied young woman who fantasises about torturing her boyfriend.

A Portable Shelter by Kirsty Logan

This is another collection of connected short stories, but with a bit of a twist. Between each of the stories is the ongoing narrative of two women awaiting the birth of their first child, taking turns to tell the baby tales that mask important truths about the world, having vowed never to tell the child a lie. The stories themselves are the tales they tell their soon-to-be-born baby, and they have a whimsical, fairy tale-esque feel, with Logan taking inspiration from folklore, and crafting what is essentially a love letter to the power and importance of storytelling.

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There we have it. As always, I encourage you to share your own recommendations in return, so what are some of your favourite short story collections?

Book Series I Won’t Finish

Book series I won’t finish

I should probably start this post by saying that I don’t typically read series very often; I’m much more a one-book kind of guy. Because of this, I’m probably even less inclined to carry on with a series that can’t hold my interest. After all, persevering to finish one book that isn’t doing much for you is one thing, but forcing yourself through a further two or more books when there are so many other exciting and tempting things sitting on your TBR just seems futile. That said, here are a few series I have fully accepted I likely won’t be finishing.

Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

I actually somewhat enjoyed this when I read it and initially had every intention of carrying on with the series, but months have come and gone, and I still haven’t even gotten round to buying the second book, despite walking past it on bookshop displays several times. I think that kind of speaks for itself. The more I reflect on it, the less interested I am, truth be told. It wasn’t as creepy as I had hoped, and I thought the gimmick of behind inspired by (and literally based around) real life, old photographs felt forced at times.

Magonia by Maria Dahvana Headley

I read this ages ago, and again, it was perfectly fine at the time but simply did very little for me, and so I haven’t even bothered to check if/when the follow up was released, nor, frankly, do I feel any need to do so now. It had a pretty cover and was getting a lot of buzz when it launched, so I hopped on the bandwagon, but I’m happy to hop back off again and let it keep on rollin’ with those who enjoyed it more than me.

The Chronicles of Alice by Christina Henry

This, on paper, could and should have been something I loved. It’s a dark and twisted retelling of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but in my opinion, it went about the process of a retelling all wrong. Rather than using references to add depth or show themes in a new light, it felt like the author was shoehorning in as many as she could, like ticking boxes on a list. Despite being billed as an adult book, it read very much like YA in terms of the writing and character development, was ‘dark’ only in the simple sense of blood-blood-and-more-blood, and I thought the ending was a major let-down, which sadly left me with no momentum to pick up book 2.

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There we have it. It’s not lost on me that two of these series are YA, and that one of my criticisms of the other is that it read like YA. Over the last few years, I’ve found myself picking up YA books far less often and feeling largely let down by them more often than not when I do give one a go (there are definitely gems out there though), and that is probably another reason why these no longer appeal to me much.

I suppose I should probably put a little disclaimer here to say that it’s totally cool if you enjoyed these books – each to their own. Also, don’t let my opinion alone put you off if you haven’t read them yet and want to; I’d be happy to hear you went on to enjoy them more than I did!

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What book series have you decided to ditch?