Emergence by Gary Fry

Emergence by Gary Fry

Published by DarkFuse in March 2013

ASIN: B00BYFFQJU

 

When a retired teacher looks after his young grandson, he discovers more than mysterious cones on the beach. The two of them find their deficiencies counterbalance each other making their loving relationship able to combat menacing phenomenon.

 

I’ve always rebelled against symmetry but there are moments when I can appreciate it, such as the Parthenon although seeing higgledy-piggeldy residences on a Spanish hilltop in random shapes pleases me more. I was the one who graffitied my sixth-form college with “Entropy will win” and yet when I encountered a pattern, even aspects of fearful symmetry in Emergence, it brought a warmth, a smile of appreciation.

The symmetries are more balances such as new and old, the emergence [sic] of understanding in a young boy versus the decline in the facilities of the senior character; the strangeness inherent in written alphanumeric characters when examined minutely by granddad finds resonance in the boy’s dyslexia then again later in the plot. Mention of which I ought to allude to for this review’s readers. Spot the similarities in my life – a coincidence?

A mother leaves her seven-year-old son, Paul, in the charge of Jack, his widowed grandfather. I too, am occasionally obliged (with pleasure) to supervise and edutain grandchildren. Jack is a retired teacher and so am I. Beautiful phrasing here “He’d been a good teacher, before cultural conditions had become so challenging that the task of pedagogy had been usurped by damage limitation.” Every former teacher will be nodding reading that. Jack is in his sixties, so am I. Jack lives on the coast of North East England – I don’t but my dad did, and I have been known to scramble for miles along the beaches looking for fossils and semi-precious stones. Jack finds conical objects sticking out of the beach. I found ichthyosaurus bones (and coprolite – fossil poo) on a beach. Grandson Paul and Jack get as excited about their beach discoveries as I do with mine, but there the story reaches the edginess of rationality allowing spooky paranormality to weave its ‘magic’ into the plot.

We don’t know the precise location of Jack’s house except that it is far enough away from the ‘silver tsunami of old people’ in estates of the elderly inhabiting many coastal honey pots around Britain.

Jack worries about a possible onset of dementia manifested by a recent difficulty with reading. He ought to consider AMD as the cause and treat other symptoms of old age with denial, as I do. Some aspects of life are immutable to Jack – and to all of us – such as “boys playing in sand is an inviolable cosmic rule”. A concept finding symmetry later.

Events in Emergence become more dramatic both on the beach and in Jack’s bungalow. He’s remarkably cool, considering the accelerating of weirdness happening in their isolated location, and he’s the responsibility of being in charge of Paul, but then the lad has skills offsetting Jack’s out-of-date expertise. The boy comes up with hypotheses for the oddities happening.

Although there is a science fantasy theme here, the story is more about the relationship between a grandfather and his grandson. It is beautifully crafted. Look out AL Kennedy and MR James even if they marry and produce literary offspring.

It could be said that there is a danger of both characters being too affable and the conflict in the narrative relies on the plot events. However, both man and boy have problems, which present their own conflicts resolved to an extent by them both having a meeting of minds – met my mind too.

Jack’s wife was a teacher, and so is mine. A gathering of coincidences then as I suggest above? No, although Gary Fry knows little about my life we now have proof of quantum entanglement. I am merely a particle of an atom, the other particle of which is a pen on the coast near Whitby. More stories like this and there will be a tsunami of literary tourists plaguing the Fry hideaway. Be warned.

 

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In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed

In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed by Mitzi Szereto

Reviewed by Geoff Nelder

Published by Cleis Press, 2009

Paperback 316 pages

ISBN: 978-1-57344-367-8

My review copy of Mitzi Szereto’s erotic fairy tales came sizzling through my letter box in time for me to read over the Christmas period. Of course I was travelling around the UK visiting relatives and many an eyebrow lifted at the sight of the book along with its saucy cover image. For the more prudish relative I explained that I was doing research because each tale has the historical background of the literary and folklore in fascinating detail before we are treated to a fictionalized interpretation by Mitzi herself.  Prurient relatives begged to have a read for themselves.

I have known since my English Literature classes that unadulterated versions of Chaucer (such as the Miller’s Tale) and Shakespeare were more ribald than young eyes were allowed to see. Unlike many historical tomes on the subject, Mitzi Szereto’s prologues to each tale is just long enough to be of academic interest yet short enough to whet appetites.

The story telling is pretty much in the style of the tales you would have heard as a child but with the naughty bits included and with a more subtle adult vocabulary. In some tales such as Rapunzel, a contemporary feel sneaks in.  In most of the stories there are twists you don’t expect. Right from the first story, Cinderella, the Prince on finding the delicious young girl, enjoys her in a most surprising way. Little Red Riding Hood, too is given a treatment beyond the obvious. Reading all fifteen tales along with the vastly informative introduction, will both educate, tease your lateral thinking and excite you.

Readers are reworded with not instant but satisfying gratification. Congratulations to Mitzi Szereto and Cleis Press for this delightful addition to anyone’s erotic bookshelf.

Around a dark corner by Jeani Rector

Around a dark corner by Jeani Rector

Reviewed by Geoff Nelder

 

Published by Turner Maxwell Books

First published 2008

 

ISBN: 978-0-9561884-0-3

 

Jeani Rector writes noir fiction in an original way. Don’t expect gore and axes to leap into your face from her pages but you will squirm with discomfort. Luckily, the gore is on her characters’ faces and yet it is under your skin that  the real horror lurks. You could walk away but instead you will feel compelled to read on.

 

There are nine short stories and an intriguing novella – a ghost story in which a teenager reluctantly walks through a graveyard she finds the expected terror but not without being fascinated by it.

           

The anthology ranges from medieval to modern revealing that the years have yet to ease the horror potential life has to offer. One of my favourites is A Medieval Tale of Plague, possibly because I have researched the era (one of the fifteenth century plagues rather than the overdone 1665 Great Plague, so kudos to Rector for a wise choice of plague!). In this medieval plague we experience disease-ridden London through Elissa. She survives but succumbs to the horrors having to handle the rotten flesh of her dead employer. She enlists the help of a street urchin, who could be after her purse; so many bad things hide around the next corner. Although Elissa doesn’t succumb to the plague herself, the ordeal of moving around the pestilence is satisfyingly grim.

 

Horrorscope (what a brilliant title) is a neat story based on a man who takes his horoscope too literally and along with his hammer engineers an unexpected twist.

 

Lady Cop is a visual story with two main characters as patrol officers following the discovery of a body in the woods. American setting with an authentic feel. The lady cop is distinctly different from her initially sexist male partner but the two create a workable tension right to the end. Good job.

 

A clever yet understated story is Flight 529 in which we follow a passenger going through dire emotions as he faces ‘certain’ death as the plane plunges.

 

There’s more subtlety to this collection than in most horror anthologies. A modern penny dreadful with all the evil we’ve come to expect from Jeani Rector.