Eggshells: a review

Eggshells

Eggshells by Caitriona Lally is a darkly hilarious and moving novel about feeling that you don’t fit in. Vivian lives alone in her dead great-aunt’s house and spends every day (like a 21st century Leopold Bloom) walking the streets of Dublin. Other people and all their words and conversations make no sense to her and she can’t understand how to live in the ordinary world. Vivian believes she’s a changeling, and is looking for a portal to take her back to where she thinks she belongs.

In the vein of the best-selling Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, this novel is a depiction of acute loneliness. Vivian’s parents are dead, her sister can’t stand her and she has no idea how to make friends, so writes a notice and pins it to a tree:

WANTED: Friend called Penelope. Must Enjoy Talking Because I Don’t Have Much to Say. Good Sense of Humour Not Required Because My Laugh Is a  Work in Progress. Must Answer to Penelope: Pennies Need Not Apply. Phone Vivian

For me it took time to get used to Vivian’s strange world but once I did there were many moments of laugh out loud humour. Her neighbours comment on her behaviour:

“Ah, Vivian, would you look at yourself, a grown woman up a tree on a day like today.”

When reminded by David, her social worker to keep an open mind she says:

“I am open-minded … sometimes I wear my slippers on the opposite feet to change my worldview, even though it makes me hobble.”

At heart this is a book about language and how we use and misuse it. As she journeys around Dublin, Vivian collects lists of words making patterns and connections and trying to find hidden meanings. She’s not ‘neurotypical’ and is therefore unlikely to change her (to us) eccentric ways of thinking, so don’t expect character development, but if you love a novel that plays with language you’ll enjoy reading Eggshells. As an unreliable narrator her skewed understanding of the world makes for some very funny one liners and achingly funny set pieces.

She may be a tragic and lonely figure but Vivian is a feisty, determined character getting on with her life against the odds; by the end there are glimmers of hope that something  may change for the better, even if she never finds her portal. Eggshells reflects our own image back as we observe Vivian’s struggles and is a bid for acceptance and understanding of human differences.

Newly published by the Borough Press, Eggshells was first published in 2015 and has recently won The Rooney Prize for emerging Irish writers. As chair of the selection committee, literary agent, Jonathan Williams said: “Caitriona Lally’s only novel, Eggshells, is a work of impressive imaginative reach, witty, subtle and occasionally endearingly unpredictable.

This Is (Not About) David Bowie: a review

Due to be published on 12th November this is a debut flash fiction collection from award-winning writer, F J Morris.

This is not about David Bowiek

It’s a bit like saying ‘Don’t think about an elephant’ so of course you can’t help it, only in this case it’s the ghostly presence of the great David Bowie floating through these stories. His songs (their titles), influential fashion-sense and his (almost) staged and unexpected death link surreal, surprising stories rooted in everyday life with a twist of sci-fi. The collection includes very short flash fiction as well as verse and some longer stories. An impressive range.

In the opening story, When David Bowie moved in, a failing relationship is pushed to breaking point after ‘pieces of Bowie landed daily’. When a woman feels her heart becoming cold and she starts to grow scales, in Loving the alien, she hopes it’s ‘a sickness that would go away’ but ‘It was genetic; an alien gene in my very DNA.’ With this metaphor F J Morris examines the impact on a relationship of the death of a baby, and the way the couple each hide their emotions. Other dark or challenging subjects are given this slant approach: child abuse in Blooming Scars and the loss of a sister in Swings and Rocket Ships. In the poem A Song of Space the writer plays on the contrast between Space with a capital ‘S’, ‘arms holding supernovas and planets and milky ways’ and the minute space formed by ‘the semicolon between now and then.’

Talking of semicolons, I particularly enjoyed the more experimental Slush Puppies that cut punctuation and capital letters altogether, echoing the experimental nature of adolescent sexuality: ‘I know she would taste sweet like her candy-floss hair.’

This Is (Not About) David Bowie is a collection that combines a light touch with serious undertones that question what it means to be human. Now to dig out my old Bowie records…

This Is (Not About) David Bowie will be published on 12/11/18 in eBook and paperback.

The Dreamers: a review

THE DREAMERS

A small Californian town is under threat when a mysterious virus starts spreading from the local college; people fall asleep and can’t be woken. Karen Thompson Walker handles the material very efficiently, building up an atmosphere of disbelief that escalates gradually until the town is cut off from the outside world by a ‘cordon sanitaire’. No one is allowed in; no one can leave. The disease affects everyone, from the smallest new-born baby to the elderly and confused living in a nursing home. There are echoes of Camus’ The Plague and of Rip Van Winkle, laced with theories about sleep and dreaming from ancient Greece via Freud to the latest findings of neuroscientists. All against a quietly smouldering background of global warming: the lake is drying up, trees are slowly dying and the whole area is at the risk of devastating forest fires.

The sense that this illness affects all is echoed by the way the story is told from several viewpoints with no one central character: a young fresher who doesn’t fit in; two young sisters with an eccentric father; a professor grieving for his partner and a young couple patching together their marriage with a new baby amongst others.

The Dreamers is a subtle story where reality and dreaming become mixed, and the decisions we take in how to live our lives are put under the microscope. A quietly devastating page-turner.

Published Feb 2019

The Little Snake: a review

the little snakeVery different from her usual style of writing, A L Kennedy has written a feminist novella for adults based on St Exupery’s well-loved children’s picture book, The Little Prince.

The Little Snake is a fable that gently reminds us that life is more than building great cities and fighting over resources; life can be lived in a small, simple way accepting loss and embracing love. If you take tiny steps across a small garden it makes it appear so much bigger. This is a beautifully-told story, sometimes tongue-in-cheek, that quickly gets its point across and, if you’re familiar with this type of fable it won’t really work for you. I would pitch it more for a YA audience, or for very stressed out adults.

But it’s still a timely nudge to all of us to slow down and to remember that simple activities like flying a kite, being kind to our friends and sharing food is all we need to be happy in life.

The Last Children of Tokyo: a review

the last children of Tokyo

Yoko Tawada’s latest book is a novella set in a dystopian Japan where climate change and disease have forced the country to close its borders – no one is allowed in or out. Even foreign words are banned.

Yoshiro is bringing up his great-grandson, Mumei in a world where the old still work and only get older, and children get sick and die young. The rest of the family have left Tokyo or died.

“The aged could not die; along with the gift of everlasting life, they were burdened with the terrible task of watching their great-grandchildren die.”

Getting Mumei to eat or get dressed is a constant battle; like all children his teeth are soft, he is underweight and at risk of an infection. If he expends too much energy getting dressed, he won’t be able to walk to school.

The future is bleak. And yet the writing is effortlessly light and often darkly humorous: People aren’t called “middle-aged elderly” until they’re well into their nineties. Children without parents aren’t orphans but “independent children”.

A surreal story about human love in the face of an unimaginable future, this is a thought-provoking short novel; it’s images of damaged children living in a ruined world will stay with you. A cautionary tale for our troubled times.

This English translation by Margaret Mitsutani is published by Portobello Books.

Separated from the Sea: a review

Separated from the SeaIn the UK, the short story had its heyday in the first half of the twentieth century, but more recently there’s been a tendency to treat it with caution – an almost anxious feeling each time you start a new story that there’ll be characters you’ve never met, in unfamiliar scenarios. Like being invited to a party where you don’t know anyone. You don’t have the comparative safety of the novel where the author leads you gently by the hand from one chapter to the next, developing the narrative. But, in this age of soundbites and instant gratification, I’m happy to say the short form is quietly being resurrected as a flexible, relevant vehicle for narrative. As in this collection of accessible short stories from new indy publisher Retreat West.

 
Amanda Huggins is an experienced and widely-published fiction writer and has won awards for her travel writing but Separated from the Sea is her first full collection of short stories. Her skill at world-building makes getting to grips with new characters and new settings very easy for the reader – she makes you equally at home in the urban sprawl of Tokyo, in a lonely seaside town in Yorkshire or in a bar in New York. With just a few killer sentences she hooks you into a new world. There are some flawless little stories here – imaginative and concise, which are the basic requirements of a successful short story. Just a couple are less well thought out than others and would have benefitted from more redrafting, but in a collection like this I didn’t mind; like eating a packet of Revels (I may be in a minority here) the pleasure is always heightened by knowing a few of them will be the ones you don’t like (chocolate peanuts in my case).

 
Themes include: decisions made then abandoned, women leaving men and branching out on their own, failing relationships, loneliness, dealing with grief at losing a father, and other losses. The sea as in the title story features in several of these richly-imagined stories. The writing is taut and no word is wasted. In Already Formed a woman dealing with the end of an affair finds out the baby she’s hoped for is ‘not even a line on a pregnancy test.’ The Last of Michiko shows a widower gradually coming to terms with his loss: when a friend gives him a jar of what she claims is his wife’s homemade bean jam ‘He knew it was not Michiko’s; he knew it was a deception. But he understood it was meant as a kind one.’ And in Edgware there are beautiful images from the narrator’s travels: ‘silk scarves billowing like jewel-bright parachutes.’

 
These entertaining short stories are perfect for a summer holiday, a short commute or for your bedside reading.

 

 

Review: Nothing is as it was

Nothing is as it wasA fascinating and timely mix of short stories and flash fiction exploring the impact of climate change. Nothing is as it was places established authors alongside newer writers to make  a unique and wide-ranging collection of voices.

There are apocalyptic visions of a drowning planet or a world about to incinerate. In Lorraine Wilson’s excellent Thirst a woman’s desperate attempts to keep her children from dying  of thirst, side-steps into vandalism. Walking with the Weather is a fine example of what flash fiction can do: ‘We are looking at the fire as it starts to burn my fingers. We are standing and staring at the petition in flames.’ Mirror Image offers a stark choice in two stories back to back: the first ‘assuming massive global action’, the second ‘assuming our current climate trajectory’.

But there is also hope and levity. In Portal a way is found to get rid of our rubbish – it literally disappears through a portal, but the twist in the story is that one day, just as inexplicably, it starts reappearing, along with the scientist who found it: ‘It was only when Reed appeared, dusting himself off with a confused expression, that Kellerman concluded, ‘I think we have a big problem.’  Parental worries about their child’s obsessive hoarding are misplaced in Blue Planet Collection when they find he is single-handedly trying to save the planet from plastic.

What these stories illustrate is that it’s still not too late, but it will take not just individual effort, but decisions and governmental-backed initiatives into research and development at an international level to hold back our runaway global warming.

Retreat west logo

Retreat West Books is an independent press publishing paperback books and eBooks. Founder, Amanda Saint, is a novelist and short story writer. She’s also a features journalist writing about environmental sustainability and climate change. So all Retreat West Books publications take advantage of digital technology advances and are print-on-demand, in order to make best use of the world’s finite resources. Retreat West Books is an arm of Amanda’s creative writing business, Retreat West, through which she runs fiction writing retreats, courses and competitions and provides editorial services. Initially started to publish the anthologies of winning stories in the Retreat West competitions, Retreat West Books is now open for submissions for short story collections, novels and memoirs.

The Retreat West Novel Prize is now open for debut writers without an agent:
Entry fee: £15
Deadline: 19th August 2018

Retreat West Novel Prize