“A strong and sure narrative, this lively set of stories explores truth and fiction, the line between reality and make-believe, and the way one story will influence the outcome of another. Rich in layers and confident in voice, the writing is witty, humorous and charged – and leaves the reader with a delicious set of questions to ponder, without being overly ponderous. It’s a romp through Tony Bone’s world – the good moments (he has a girlfriend!), the sleepless nights, the trip to Vegas – all the while working alongside his, and the narrator’s, existential crisis. Tony Bone has to exist, yes, but there must be a reason; as we learn here: you can’t just take someone from a news story and create a character to bring to your writing group, right? The narrator must build Tony – and plausibility – before our eyes. What a fun and rewarding exploration of the relationship between character, narrator and reader, and a reflection on possibilities, down to the very last marvellous line.”
~Michelle Elvy, author of the other side of better and the everrumble
ISBN 978-1-912095-39-1; 133mm x 203mm; 70pp
£9.99 GBP
Reader, do not be fooled. The brevity of this novella-in-flash belies the breadth and scope of its subject matter. In assured, clear-eyed prose, Karen Jones quickly immerses us into the world of her loyal, smart, brave protagonist. Bernadette is a child who becomes a woman, a bully who becomes the bullied, forever seeking the birthright we all share, that of simple tenderness and understanding. When It’s Not Called Making Love is a breathless, breathtaking, unflinching coming-of-age debut you will not want to miss.
Eleanor Walsh is an assured storyteller. In Stormbred she reels the reader into the life of Ruby, a young Cornish girl searching for connection – to the world and to others. Walsh explores with perception these themes of connection and disconnection, embedding them skilfully in both the form and the language of the novella. An exceptionally rewarding and immersive read.
In The House on the Corner, personal tremors large and small unsettle the foundations of a middle-class, nuclear family at the end of the 1980s. Alison Woodhouse has a novelist’s gift for capturing in words the currents and eddies of intimate, private thought. Her characters exist in a world of subtle, shadowy shifts – try as they might to understand what’s happening around them, they are shaped by forces beyond their comprehension and control. Luckily for the reader, Woodhouse knows exactly what she’s doing. She renders her characters’ disappointments and joys in paragraph after paragraph of exquisite prose.
A remarkable story of a woman’s life in an unnamed city in the aftermath of a series of earthquakes. It’s written with claustrophobic, relentless and urgent conviction. What’s most compelling is how the story is gleaned mostly through flashbacks, as though, like the city’s buildings, it’s been broken into fragments and we are picking our way through rubble. Gradually, like rescue workers, we uncover the situation of a hospitalized husband, a lover lost to a building’s collapse, and the tender domestic bonds the woman shares with her father and his colleague. This is a dark, oppressive story but, through it, the writer explores how humanity responds to crisis – and has produced a metaphor for our own times.
Drawing from a range of youthful voices and adventures, Sugar Mountain explores how children learn to deal with hard truths about themselves, and others, and the great wild world. From roller-skating away the grief of a parent, to soapy pranks by a band of camp bullies, to confronting an angry mass of waterfowl in the throes of a pillow fight, each chapter offers a tiny ticket back to a time when the world only seemed less complicated.
Holmes conjures the best qualities of both the short story and the novel to create a lyrical evocation of the beauty, pain, and wonder of growing up. Don’t Tell the Bees oozes with love and conflict and of a girl’s passage into womanhood. Each chapter is a perfect little stand-alone flash story, a stunning example of what the form can accomplish. The reader is thrust heart-first into the difficult life of No-more and a world of unforgettable characters carved tenderly and precisely. Holmes recreates, in sensory-soaked detail, the world of a small French village near the Second World War. I marvel at how the author blends each stand-alone story into one masterful whole: poignant, compassionate, and profound in emotional impact.
‘With This Alone Could Save Us, Santino Prinzi has fashioned a collection of small, smart fictions that read large. Here is work undergirded by innovation, incisive wit, and a keen ability to navigate terrain that is personal, and at once universal to us all.’