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“…the inevitable limitations of music written on a page.” #readindies #discord #jeremycooper

February 11, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 12 Comments

It’s entirely appropriate that I should read a Fitzcarraldo book for #readindies, as this event grew out of a previous one, Fitzcarraldo Editions Fortnight, which Lizzy and I co-hosted back in 2020. Both of us had a great love of their releases, and in fact I do still have some unread volumes hidden in Mount TBR. However, today’s book is a new title (published tomorrow), and it’s by an author whose work I’ve read and loved over the last seven years – “Discord” by Jeremy Cooper.

Cooper’s first book for Fitzcarraldo was “Ash Before Oak” which I read back in 2019; a novel which takes the form of a diary, it tells of a solitary man living on a secluded Somerset estate, attempting to wrestle with his mental health issues. His next two, however, to my mind form a kind of trilogy with the new one. “Bolt from the Blue” (2021) is an epistolary novel which explores the visual arts, and the much-lauded “Brian” (2023) has as its focus the art of film. With “Discord”, Cooper takes on the world of classical music composition and the results are exhilarating.

The book follows a year in the lives of composer Rebekah Rosen and high-profile saxophonist Evie Bennet. Rosen has been commissioned to write a piece for the following year’s proms; Evie Bennet has been suggested as the soloist-collaborator by Rosen’s agent Piers. The two women are, however, like chalk and cheese. Rosen, an emotionally buttoned up person with a complex attitude towards her Jewish heritage, suffers from a crippling lack of confidence and many strange sensitivities; Bennet, on the other hand, is a buoyant northerner, left-wing and feminist and not easily intimidated. The book explores, from both of their viewpoints, the year of collaboration. Will there be accord or discord? Are their differences too much? Will Rebekah succeed in corralling her vision into a work in which Evie can perform? And will the work be a success, or, frankly, does that matter? “Discord” interrogates these issues, and many, many more, and makes for a fascinating insight into the creative process.

Each woman in the book is a powerful and individual creation. Rebekah, married to Chris Carter and living in Devon on his farm along with his son Simon, is in many ways troubled. Although she loves the farm and the countryside, she’s reaching the age of 50 somehow at odds with it all. The sounds of the area call to her, particularly those of the sheep, and she tries to incorporate these into her work, which is obviously experimental. Evie, young enough to be her daughter, is the current star of the commercial arm of classical, performing and recording all over the world as much as she can. Based in London, she still has strong connections with her family back in Scarborough, including her boyfriend from school George. She seems initially the more grounded of the two, but that’s not necessarily the case.

The months of work with Evie had lightened Rebekah’s step. She had not become a different person, of course not. Life was not a fable. Rebekah still felt excluded, banished to the musical shadows This may have been the reason for her feeling comparatively at ease in foreign countries, unimplicated in their problems or successes, able to take pleasure in her own narrow interest, attending without fear of criticism to the music and musicians she came across and the unfamiliar architecture. Reading the British newspapers on her phone on the train back to Amsterdam, Rebekah was disagreeably reminded of a journalistic habit which irritated her, the insolent claim to speak for everyone.

Over the course the book, Cooper gradually builds up a fuller picture of his two main characters, slowly revealing parts of their life, often in passing. This was a technique he used in “Brian” and he handles it in a masterly fashion. As the narrative progresses, the reader begins to see that there are more similarities between the women than might have been initially obvious. Both are in relationships with men of the land which aren’t entirely satisfactory; both struggle to balance the personal with the creative; and both have darker sides to their nature than are shown on the surface.

But despite this, there is definitely discord between them; their attitudes to life are in many ways diametrically opposed; whether this is a class thing, because of race, due to their background or upbringing, they are at odds on art, composers, hunting and the treatment of animals, and definitely on politics. Evie remains staunchly working class throughout the story, whilst Rebekah often reflects on the shift of her views from the more critical time of her poor upbringing to her move to the right in modern times. The question is, how does this disharmony affect their art?

The answer Cooper seems to convey is that it works. Despite the differences, the women keep faith in each other and the composition comes to fruition, being performed at the Royal Albert Hall, and being performed well, to the relief of everyone. The year of preparation has definitely been a strain on all, and the somewhat open-ended conclusion was unexpected and yet exactly right, leaving me wondering where both women would go next.

As with previous works, the book is studded with cultural references (for example, the Proms, Wigmore Hall, the BBC, Harrison Birtwistle, William S. Burroughs) and these ground the narrative of two fictional woman into a recognisable reality and make the story even more compelling. Cooper’s fictions have interrogated different art forms to stunning effect, and although my knowledge of classical music is limited, I ended the book with a violent urge to go off and immerse myself in exploring it! That’s frankly always the effect of one of his books on me.

What’s also very striking about the book is the shifting viewpoints; each section is told from either Rebekah or Evie’s point of view, and this can be startling. The first time the narrative made that shift, and we saw Rebekah as Evie saw her, a whole other angle opened up on the character, and this happens all the way throughout the book. It’s brilliantly done and really captures the fact that our viewpoint is completely subjective; and also that how we see ourself is very different from how others view us…

There’s something really special about Cooper’s writing, although it’s hard to pin down what it is. I do know that in each of his books, the characters have really got under my skin, and that’s definitely the case here. When I wrote about “Bolt from the Blue”, and its mother-daughter relationship, I commented on how I felt as if I’d lived alongside the two women, immersed in their lives. That took place over a number of years, whereas in “Discord” the narrative follows only a year. Nevertheless, I reached the end and  felt bereft, saddened that I was no longer going to be spending time with Rebekah and Evie, following their lives and their artistic struggles. The insight into the creative process of classical music, the exploration of the balance between everyday life and the need to create, and the compromises needing to be made are all explored in this wonderful book, and it’s been lingering in my mind ever since I finished it. Another triumph from Jeremy Cooper and proof once more that indie presses really *are* bringing out the most interesting books!

(ARC kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks! “Discord” is out on 12th February)

“I will walk into the sea/with no drama…” #readindies #brokensleepbooks

February 9, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 8 Comments

A good number of the indies I follow issue poetry collections, and today I wanted to share a couple of slim volumes released by a press I’ve covered on the Ramblings before – Broken Sleep Books. I’ve previously read three of their titles and found them very varied and really thought-provoking; so I was hoping to find these new books as interesting. Spoiler alert – they really were!

Broken Sleep describes itself as “a working-class indie publisher putting access to the arts at the forefront of what we do”, which is a laudable aim indeed. Established in 2018 by Aaron Kent, a quick look at their website reveals a fascinating array of books, and I’ve not had a disappointment with them yet, despite the fact that the majority of their authors are new to me. The volumes I’m sharing today are a collection from a single poet, plus an anthology, and both made for thoughtful reading.

“Tides, Elemental” by Helen Taith Curtis (2024)

This is the author’s first collection, and contains a selection of works composed over a time when the author was dealing with new life and loss. Her writing is beautiful, sometimes opaque, always intriguing and her work seems to me to be rooted in landscape. Her imagery explores nature, and most noticeably, the sea – regular motifs pop up enveloping oceans and water. The title is apt, as the tides flow through her work bringing both grief and hope, and washing both away.

And here you are, even now,
when the world spawns plague –
you burst from dirt,
scent the air to pull in bees…

Curtis often seems to be grieving specific losses (I suspect a brother and one poem directly addresses the loss of a mother). But nature brings consolation, with tulips in particular bursting forth when least expected and bringing colour into the world. Birth (of all kinds) counteracts the losses and the circle of life is reflected here in all forms. There are occasional hints of pandemic in the background, but this never dominates. As I mentioned, there is an opacity to Curtis’s writing and meaning is not always clear. However, when it isn’t the language is still beautiful and musical, and I enjoyed meditating on her words and imagery. A lovely collection to spend time with and linger over – I’m happy to have been introduced to a new poet!

“Opening Line” edited by Aaron Kent (2025)

This volume is subtitled “An affordable anthology of contemporary poetry” and at a cover price of £3.99 it’s just that! The book’s stated aim is to “dismantle economic barriers that too often limit audiences from engaging with contemporary poetry”, which is laudable and I would say they’re succeeding admirably.

The book collects together 31 poems by the same number of poets, and the range is varied and impressive. Some names I knew – J.H. Prynne, Holly McNish, for example – but the majority were new to me, so this is a wonderful sampler to allow exploration of new poets. The variety of styles is fascinating too – from more traditional style to prose poems, the works cover all manner of subjects, from the personal to the political. The latter subject provides some moving reflections on the situation in Gaza, yet there are deeply personal poems which deal with ageing, nature and even the winning of a Rugby match!

… I lay out my
unrest like white lines on the slope, so that
something out of broken sleep will land
there.
(J.H. Prynne)

I can’t praise this collection enough, nor the ethos behind it. The arts should be accessible for all, whether you’re producing something artistic, or wanting to encounter and appreciate some art form. Class considerations definitely affect the arts, particularly when it comes to publishing and the Big Four; this is exactly why I’m happy to promote indie presses, as they’re the only ones who would release collections like this.

As I mentioned above, I’ve been impressed with everything I’ve read from Broken Sleep and would thoroughly recommend checking out their website here and taking a chance on some of their books. Buying direct from indies is another good thing we could do to support them, and you always have the possibility of discovering your favourite new poet!

“A truncated cone of flame…” #skyhigh #readindies

February 6, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 28 Comments

One indie press I’m always happy to spend time with is British Library Publishing; as is fairly obvious, I’m a huge fan of their Crime Classics and Women Writers imprints, and so #ReadIndies is the perfect time to pick up one of their books. A recent release sounded particularly interesting, and as it’s by an author I’m pretty sure I’ve not read before, I decided it would be a good one to try next – “Sky High” by Michael Gilbert.

Gilbert’s books seem to fall into the slightly later, post-WW2 category of GA crime and “Sky High” was first published in 1955. This setting adds particularly interesting elements to the book and to my mind makes for a fascinating read. Set in the village of Brimberley, the opening pages introduce us to the members of the choir, led by motorcycle-riding Liz Artside. Their main concern is rivalry with nearby village Bramshott and so intense practice is taking place. The choir is made up of a motley crew of locals, including the Hedges children, young Rupert Cleeve, Major MacMorris, Sue Palling and Liz’s son Tim. However, from the start there’s discord brewing; Tim is smitten with Sue, but the Major also seems to be interested. Money goes missing from the collection box at the Church. And the Major appears to be worried about anonymous letters. When his house suddenly explodes, matters become much more serious and of course the police are called in. However, Liz and Tim, plus Sue’s grandfather General Palling, seem keen to do some investigating too, and the plot will become complex and murky before all is made clear!

“Sky High” is one of those mysteries which draws on past echoes, and although events connected to the War play a big part, things go back much further; back, in fact, to a time when Liz was young and her husband was also killed in an explosion. Hints of espionage appear in the plot; there is also a spate of country house burglaries; and a visit by one character to an obscure restaurant in London leads to some dramatic action. How *did* the house explode? Is Tim Artside, an ex-Commando, a suspect, and what exactly is the job he’s doing in London? Where do Rupert Cleeve and his father Bob fit into things? And can all these fascinating and disparate threads be drawn together? The answer to the last question is a resounding yes, and Gilbert certainly has written a stellar and compelling mystery.

GA books, and in fact crime writing in general, is often criticised for its shallow characterisation, but I felt that Gilbert created a well-rounded cast here; they’re human, flawed and believable, and I became invested in the mystery and what would happen to them. He’s good at ramping up the tension, too, which builds as the book progresses. It’s certainly not clear who’s been doing what, and there is a feeling of anybody being a potential victim. And although the book is Village-based, the action often moves further afield (General Palling visiting some archives was particularly intriguing). I certainly didn’t get the solution as such, although I was glad to find out that one specific character who I found particularly creepy and unpleasant got their comeuppance!! More than that I shall not say…

So “Sky High” turned out to be a thoroughly absorbing and enjoyable mystery, and on the strength of this I definitely would like to try more of his books. There are some lovely set pieces which capture the period, and a wonderful section where Liz visits Charing Cross Road (full of bookshops, milk bars and contraceptive shops, apparently!) It was quite sobering, too, to be reminded that Tim had been out in Palestine post-War “protecting the Arabs”; it’s shocking to think that conflict has been happening in that part of the world for so long and is still nowhere near being resolved. A good number of the GA crime reprints I’ve read from the BL have had the added element of being fascinating pieces of social history; good novels of all sorts can do this, opening a reader’s eyes to what it was like living in these eras, and I always find that so interesting. A great read, a great mystery and a title I’d recommend to anyone who enjoys a crime classic with some extra elements!

(Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!)

“…none of Yermil’s plans succeeded.” #readindies #agreedypeasant

February 4, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 30 Comments

One of the things I love about independent presses is the wide variety of books they publish. Some will focus on new works which wouldn’t necessarily get a chance of exposure with a mainstream press whilst others will unearth older or lost works which definitely deserve to be rediscovered. Michael Walmer is one of the latter; originally based Down Under, he now operates out of the Shetland Islands and his list is impressive. One of his imprints is Zephyr, slim hardback editions of classics which have slipped under the radar; and “A Greedy Peasant” by Alexander Ertel (translated by his daughter, Natalie Duddington) is a great example of these!

Despite the fact I’ve read a lot of Russian literature, Ertel was a new name to me, and he lived from 1855-1908. In his relatively short life he published short works and two novels, and was apparently admired by Tolstoy; however, he doesn’t seem to be much talked about nowadays, so it’s good to see Mike reprinting this work. And the title really does reveal what this story is about!

Central to the story are two peasant brothers, Ivan and Yermil, and they are very different! Ivan, the elder, is a hard-working man, determined to support his family by working the last despite the fact that this is a struggle and money is always short. Yermil, unfortunately, is a lazy dreamer; instead of pulling his weight, he aims to make more of himself, and as easily as he possibly can. Mixing with merchants, he sees a way out of the peasant life, and gains a taste for the good life. Unfortunately, this greed will lead him to take drastic action – and his life will change forever, taking a totally different direction than he would have wished.

This novella is very obviously a moral tale, and that could perhaps be why Tolstoy admired Ertel so much! Nevertheless, it’s a fascinating read, as much as for the picture it paints of peasant life at the time, and it’s clear that the author is of the opinion that Yermil has lost his humanity and his connection to his natural world by taking on the life of a merchant. The writing is easy to read and yet some of the descriptions of landscape are very evocative; but despite Ertel seeming to laud the peasant’s lifestyle, I’m not sure it’s one that I would enjoy – the physical work is very, very hard…!

So an intriguing release from Michael Walmer, and one I’m glad I’ve read; I love to discover a new Russian author, although I don’t know that anything else by him is currently available in English, which is a real shame. A fascinating read, though – and do check Mike’s list out, as there are some great titles available! His website is here.

*****

As an aside, I was interested in the fact that the book was translated by Ertel’s daughter, and her Wikipedia page makes fascinating reading. Apparently she moved to England in 1905 (at the time of the first Russian unrest) and stayed here; she was a friend and colleague of Constance Garnett and the two worked together on many translations. Such an interesting life!

“…something painful twisted free.” #readindies @TheEmmaPress

February 2, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 30 Comments

The first book I want to share for #ReadIndies is from a small, Birmingham-based outfit called The Emma Press. I’ve featured their titles on the Ramblings before, and like previous books, this one was a lovely gift from HeavenAli. It’s a slim work called “Hailman” by Leanne Radojkovich, and it’s a thoughtful and intriguing read.

The stories in “Hailman” (first published in 2021) are set in Aotearoa New Zealand, and the book collects together 10 short works, evocatively written and which explore points of crisis for the protagonists. The past comes back to haunt them; they try to come to terms with ageing parents, death and loss; infidelity and dislocation cause suffering; and each story is something of a vignette, capturing these characters at a particular point in their lives.

For example, in the opening piece “War Stories“, the narrator negotiates the impending death of a grandparent, one who has been a harsh influence in her life in the past. In “Double Dose“, Patsy returns to her home town, fragile after an operation, to meet up with her oldest friend Sharon who’s dealing with a parental bereavement. The women are obviously at different points in their lives now, and the visit triggers a pivotal memory from Patsy’s past.

I read book after book, skimming the lines until they turned into a kind of life raft. I read cereal boxes at breakfast, ingredients lists on biscuit packets and baked bean cans.

“Where the river meets the sea” is a particularly powerful story, with the narrator coping with her mother’s death and dealing with the aftermath. Again, the process triggers the resurrection of previous events and secrets which she’s kept submerged all these years. The protagonist in “Drive-by” has similarly buried the fate of her father, but visions of him come back at a crisis point in her life. Those are just a few of the titles which stood out, but they were all moving reads

The subject matter sounds, and often is, quite dark in these pieces, but Radojkovich handles them with a light touch. Her prose can be beautiful and evocative, summoning up the lush countryside or the same landscape under a drought. I don’t know much about her background, apart from the fact that she has Dalmatian heritage and was born in Kirikiriroa Hamilton; but some of her characters hail from Eastern Bloc countries, and that element of not quite belonging does slip through in a number of the tales.

“Hailman” is a book which is very much about emotions and feelings; responses to the world around the narrators and the events they encounter. The imagery in it is vivid, and the stories certainly linger in the mind for a long time after you’ve read them. These are real short stories but they convey so much in so few pages. This was a really thoughtful and memorable read, and proof of how indie presses are really bringing us the most interesting books.

Launching Reading Independent Publishers Month 2026 – with a pile of possibilities! #readindies

February 1, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized 49 Comments

When I decided in January that I would continue hosting Reading Independent Publishers month, my first instinct was of course to make a pile of possible reads. I mean, what’s more fun than digging around in the stacks to see what options you have for a particular bookish event??

So I had a bit of a rummage and was actually a little shocked at how many unread indies I actually own! I gathered together those which came to hand easily and this is what I ended up with…

Frankly, that’s a lot of books!!! There are a number of favourite publishers in there, including Renard, Verso, Michael Walmer, Galileo, British Library Publishing and smaller outfits like The Emma Press and Broken Sleep Books. And that’s by no means all the unread indies I have, but I suspect that will be enough to be going on with. Here are some images with a closer look at the titles:

Even with a month to read indie publishers, I’m afraid I’m not going to get to all of these – despite being a fast reader! So it’s going to be a case of picking what appeals to me most in the moment and enjoying what I can from the stacks. Whatever I choose, it should be fun!

What about you? Do you have piles of indies ready to enjoy? Do let me know if any of these titles appeal to you, and also please share your thoughts and posts on the dedicated #readindies page – I’m so looking forward to seeing what you choose! ☺📚

A long month of reading! #january

January 30, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 40 Comments

January has felt, in many ways, like a very long month and yet at one point it seemed as if I’d read absolutely nothing at all, and that books were taking ages to finish. However, as you can see from the image below it was actually a bumper month, full of some amazing books!

As my photography is always a bit hit or miss, here’s a list of the titles:

Godlike by Richard Hell
Tides, Elemental by Helen Taith Curtis
Opening Line by Various
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym and Related Tales by Edgar Allan Poe
Sky High by Michael Gilbert
A Greedy Peasant by Alexander Ertel
hailman by Leanne Radojkovich
The Classic Horror Stories by H.P. Lovecraft
Grave of the Fireflies by Akiyu Nosaka
The Last of Philip Banter by John Franklin Bardin
Still Waters by E.C.R. Lorac
The Theft of the Iron Dogs by E.C.R. Lorac
Souvenir by Michael Bracewell
Bookish by Lucy Mangan
Is A River Alive? by Robert Macfarlane

It was a month with some real variety, from crime fiction through poetry and classics to fascinating non-fiction – and pleasingly no duds, which is always a win. The Robert Macfarlane was a real stand-out for me, as was (perhaps surprisingly) the H.P. Lovecraft. Reviews of some of the books are still to follow, and the observant amongst you might have noticed that I’ve been reading certain titles in advance… 🤣

So what plans are there for February? 😉 Well, obviously it’s Reading Independent Publishers month, so my focus will be very much on indie presses. I’ll share some potential reads over the weekend, but as usual it looks as if I’ll have more options than time to read them! Watch the blog for more news, and I do hope you’ll join in with the event as there are so many wonderful independent publishers to support!


What about you? Was your January a good reading month and will we see you for #ReadIndies?

“….a contagious nightmare hallucination…” #hplovecraft

January 28, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 39 Comments

For once, I’m delighted that I can recall exactly what prompted me to buy a book!! At the start of last year, I treated myself to a few of the new Penguin Archive 90 volumes, one of which was “The Shadow out of Time” by H.P. Lovecraft; I’d only ever read one of his books before, and was keen to revisit him and give him another try. It turned out to be a compelling read, and Elle commented on my post, saying how marvellous his “At the Mountains of Madness” was. After our little exchange, I felt impelled to read more and picked up an Oxford World Classics edition of “The Classic Horror Stories”. Yes, that was back in May 2025, and yes I’ve only just picked it up to read; but by my standards that’s quick, and the book made the perfect reading for gloomy January nights!

Lovecraft is an interesting figure, and I’m still not quite sure where he stands in literature. From what I’ve read, he was very much ignored in his lifetime, and only really got published widely after his early death. He’s often been dismissed as a pulp writer, and there *are* problematic aspects to his work; yet there’s a depth in his stories and I find them utterly compelling. I spent a happy week immersed in this collection and, as I’ll reveal later, have gone down a bit of a rabbit hole…

This particularly volume contains nine stories as well as an appendix, which is an extract from an introduction he wrote regarding ‘Supernatural Horror in Literature’. The stories, in fact, are often novella length, and they’re presented here chronologically with an introduction and notation by editor Roger Luckhurst. The first, “The Horror at Red Hook”, sets the tone for the whole anthology; although it’s set in the slum area of Red Hook, Brooklyn, it tells a dark tale of kidnappings, strange murders, weird sects and what appears to be some kind of devil worship. A cracking start to the book, then.

Next up is the seminal “The Call of Cthulhu”, and this introduces a mythology which will reappear throughout Lovecraft’s work, ‘The Cthulhu Mythos’. Dramatic mass hysteria events, strange carvings with evil-looking images, sea voyages which provide encounters with unmentionable beings, dreams and nightmares; all of these build up a picture of the “Great Old Ones”, non-human creatures which inhabited the earth for aeons before humans existed. In “The Colour out of Space”, we move to HPL’s creation, the town of Arkham in New England which will be the setting for many of his stories. West of Arkham is an area known as the ‘blasted heath’, the site of a meteorite landing. It has caused strange events ever since, with weird, indescribable colours being seen, and some kind of alarming threat in the well. As often happens in HPL, people are determined to stay in their homes despite the threat, and things do not end well.

“The Dunwich Horror” was for me one of the highlights of the book, and I almost made myself late for work one morning finishing it! We’re back in Massachusetts again, with Arkham’s Miskatonic University making its appearance (it will turn up in numerous tales too). Dunwich itself is a nearby village and the locals are fearful of Wilbur Whateley, a strange creature who develops far too rapidly for his chronological age. His grandfather was a sorcerer, his mother an unstable albino woman and who knows who his father was. Strange things happen at the Whateley house; floors are knocked out as if a larger space was needed, cattle disappear, and there’s obviously some kind of devilry going. Three professors from the university are drawn into the situation, and it will take all of their knowledge of the dark arts to stop what’s happening.

The madness continues in “The Whisperer in Darkness”, one of the longer works. The protagonist is one Albert N. Wilmarth, an instructor of literature at Miskatonic University. Local gossip reports strange things found in flooded rivers, and then Wilmarth receives contact from Henry Wentworth Akeley, a Vermont man who has much to say on the subject. However, he is being watched and pursued, and is obviously fearful of locals who have take up worship of Cthulhu, amongst others. A recording of whispered conversations by these aliens, plus some photographs, make their way to Wilmarth, but the enemy is getting closer and closer. When Akeley sends a letter with a complete change of heart, Wilmarth is confused and curious. His journey to visit Akeley will see him encounter horror and danger.

Central to the collection is “At the Mountains of Madness”, an incredibly powerful story which tells of an expedition from Miskatonic to Antarctica (and again, this is novella length and could well justify a post of its own!) The expedition is led by Dr. William Dyer, one of the few survivors who narrates the story in the hope of putting other people off following in their footsteps. The group travel south and discover ancient ruins, a massive range of mountains and some remains of strange, alien creatures. However, the civilisations they have uncovered are not necessarily dead ones, and there is a catastrophic attack on the expedition. Dyer, along with a student called Danforth, set out to explore the mountains, which are actually the walls of an ancient city. The etchings and murals they discover reveal many old horrors, civilisations under threat and layers of the past. It’s a powerful story, in which Lovecraft gradually ramps up the tension, and his imagination is quite superb.

“The Dreams in the Witch House” takes us back to Massachusetts and delves into the past, specifically the Witch Trials which are referenced in the story although indirectly. In HPL’s view, what happened back in those days was much bigger than just a bit of local magic, and this was a particularly unnerving story; Lovecraft’s touchstone weird architecture is particularly to the fore here, and one of his repeated motifs is buildings which are lopsided, off-centre, sagging or just have the proportions all distorted. This story is followed by “The Shadow over Innsmouth” which takes the reader to another small place which seems to be plagued with strangeness. Here the locals at Innsmouth are hostile to outsiders, very close to the sea (in more ways than one) and seem to be strangely malformed. A visiting young man, interested in researching the place, frankly gets more than he bargained for; the tension and excitement in this story are palpable.

Finally, the book ends with “The Shadow Out of Time”, which of course I reviewed last May. I won’t say much more about it here except that it’s a clever, fascinating and thoroughly unnerving story which again draws on concepts of deep-time history and strange lost races. As I said, what a superb imagination Lovecraft had!

I’ve mentioned each story in this collection because they all deserve it; I can understand why they were picked and get why they’re labelled as his ‘classic’ stories. His concepts, though there are many variants through these stories, of ancient, alien races once having ruled the Earth are fascinating, and there are continuities connecting them. Arkham and Miskatonic University are, of course, constants, but there are even instances of characters like Wilmarth being mentioned in other stories. These are not horror stories in the recognised sense, full of blood and gore; instead, they’re labelled as ‘cosmic horror’ and there’s definitely a sense of terror at the possibilities of what might be out there in the universe; a feeling that humans are small and unimportant and unable to cope with the huger things. It’s a seductive mythology, and I can see why people get obsessed with HPL!

Despite Lovecraft being unrecognised in his lifetime, and his merits still debated, I can see how incredibly influential he’s become. Simple things, like the fact that the ‘Necronomicon’, a magic book he invented for his stories, has passed into the mainstream, prove that his work has more substance than is often accepted. I think he writes well, too – as I’ve said, he’s brilliant at building up that creeping sense of fear, that horror at meeting with tentacled, gruesome, unknown creatures. And did I mention that he can deliver a killer last line? “Dunwich” has one of those which I won’t forget.

Reading H.P. Lovecraft nowadays is not without issues; his racial views are extremely problematic and do rear their heads in more than one of these stories (most noticeably in “Red Hook” I would say). Luckhurst discusses these in his introduction, pointing out that it was not just pulp fiction authors who displayed this sort of viewpoint; and as I always think, putting an author in context is important because of course our views are very different nowadays (or should be…) Putting this aside, however, Lovecraft was an incredibly inventive teller of tales and I found myself absolutely glued to this book for a week. It’s unfortunately had a very bad effect on my TBR as you can see from this image…

According to the notes of the HPL, all of these authors/books were influences on Lovecraft’s work and I couldn’t resist! The Poe was an essential as I’m a Poe addict and couldn’t believe I didn’t already have it; the others sound fascinating and were calling strongly. Trouble is, I should now really wait until March to read them, as only the Machen is from an indie press!!!

“By morning, half the fireflies had died…” #japaneseliteraturechallenge

January 26, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , 42 Comments

Whenever I take part in reading events and challenges, I normally try to pick books which I already have in the stacks; goodness knows the TBR is already gigantic enough without adding to it! However, when it came to choosing something for the Japanese Literature Challenge, I was stuck; although I do have suitable unread books on shelves which would fit, nothing was speaking to me… In the end, I browsed online and purchased a slim novella which sounded intriguing and definitely was going to be ideal for the event: “Grave of the Fireflies” by Akiyu Nosaka, translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori.

Both author and story were new to me, and it seems that this particular work (at 67 small pages, it’s something between a short story and a novella) was issued by Penguin last year to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the ending of World War 2. Between its covers, it contains a harsh and heartbreaking story, that of two war orphans struggling for survival at the end of the conflict, and it makes for poignant and painful reading. Seita and his little sister, Satsuko, are bombed out of their home in Kobe; their mother has been killed in the attack and they lodge temporarily with a distant relative. However, food is scarce and she clearly doesn’t want to deal with the additional mouths to feed. The children take to the countryside, living wild; but they’re too young to cope and there seems to be no-one to help them. The prognosis is not good…

It’s clear from the opening pages what will happen to the children, and after relating their fate, the story loops back to tell how they got into this situation. And the book pulls no punches – the descriptions of death and mutilation are harsh and factual, and the children witness things no child should see. Nosaka’s narrative is delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, baldly stating the awful facts of the situation, and this makes it all the more effective. As is so always the case with wars, civilians – particularly children – are those who suffer, and bearing in mind what’s happening around the world today, the story is incredibly timely as well as highlighting the fact that humanity appears to have learned nothing at all from the conflicts of the 20th century.

“Fireflies…” is a story which I think should be widely read, if only to remind everyone how ghastly and pointless war is, and what a hideously belligerent race humans are. The indifference the children face is shocking, as you read your way through the book, but perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising as everyone they encounter has been stunned and hardened by years of fighting. The afterword, by translator Ginny Tapley Takemori, reveals interesting biographical details about the author, including the fact that he drew on some of his own experiences when writing this. She mentions that a full collection of his stories is in the process of being translated, and on the basis of this one I’d definitely be keen to read more. A painful book, but a necessary one and a stark reminder about the sufferings of innocent children in any conflict.

 

“Oh, Philip, why can’t you remember?” #thelastofphilipbanter

January 23, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , 18 Comments

Back in 2018, Mr Kaggsy presented me with an intriguing omnibus edition of three books by an author I’d never heard of – John Franklin Bardin. It seemed as if the author was quite obscure, even after Penguin had issued this volume, but I was intrigued – and I shared my thoughts on the first title, “The Deadly Percheron”, back in July 2019. I described as like Dashiell Hammett on acid, and it certainly was an unusual, though very entertaining, read. I’m not quite sure why I’ve left it so long to go back to book and author, but I stumbled across it during the post-Christmas stack shuffling exercise, and thought I would try the second story. It turned out to be equally as unsettling and disorientating as the first!!

“The Last of Philip Banter” was first published in 1947 and is narrated in the third person (unlike “Percheron” which was a first person narrative from the pov of a psychiatrist, George Matthews). This novel’s focus, however, is on the titular Philip Banter; an ad man working in an agency owned by his father-in-law, he’s sinking into alcoholism and finds he’s constantly forgetting where he’s been and what he’s done. So when he comes to at his office desk and finds a document on it, apparently a confession written by himself about a marital infidelity, he’s rattled. However, the document indicates that these events will take place that same day – so how is it possible that Banter has confessed to something which hasn’t even happened?

Alarmingly, his wife Dorothy has invited an old friend and his girlfriend to dinner, which was ‘predicted’ in the confession. Events follow that document fairly closely, although Banter fails to spend the night with the friend’s girlfriend, but all of this continues to make him feel unstable. His marriage is on the way out; his father in law has lost patience, particularly as Banter is losing clients; and his grip on reality seems to be becoming more and more tenuous. He talks to another old friend, psychiatrist George Matthews (yes, the same one!) and the latter thinks he needs to deal with the alcohol problem first – he’s not convinced Banter is losing his mind. But when a second confession turns up on Banter’s desk, he’s determined not to allow its predictions to come true. Drunk and almost hallucinating, he spends a day and night attempting to avoid the events in the second document; but is he really losing his mind? Is anyone actually trying to kill him (as he suspects at times?) And what *is* the truth behind the confessions? The reader, frankly, ends up as uncertain as Banter himself, and there’s no way of knowing who is really telling the truth and who’s lying or losing their mind!

I have to say that while this book was just as entertaining as the first one, it *is* slightly less bats! Again, the whole issue of a man’s mental health is at the centre of it, but this time we have multiple viewpoints and that does add an interesting extra element. Cleverly, Bardin gradually reveals elements of the plot through scenes with the different characters; despite this, however, it’s not obvious who has been doing what or why. I confess (hah!) that I did have suspicions of a particular character which turned out to be justified, but the plot is a very clever and twisty one. Certainly, it’s not clear until right at the end whether or not Banter is mad and what’s behind all of the action; but Matthews fortunately has enough experience to see what’s what.

There’s a risk if I say too much more about the book I’ll give away plot points and half the fun of this book is not knowing what’s going on! Bardin writes well, though, and really captures Banter’s mental state brilliantly. He’s not heavy-handed about the issues the characters have, but he certainly hints in a couple of places that some of them have had rather unhealthy relationships with parents, the thought of which was a bit icky. I did actually wonder why Bardin didn’t expand on that aspect a little, but perhaps what he said was enough.

So a really intriguing, unsettling and quite dizzying narrative in places. Bardin was obviously really good at conjuring the state of mind of someone who’s struggling mentally (I believe he had experience of this as his mother suffered with mental illness); and the passages where Banter was racing through the city, trying to make sure the predictions didn’t come true, were memorable. As with “Percheron”, Bardin rounded up the story with something of a conventional mystery ending – another excellent piece of writing, and actually at points earlier in the book I had no idea where he was going with it or how he would tie things up! Bardin was obviously a very clever writer; I thoroughly enjoyed the book and will definitely try not to leave it so long until I read the final story in the collection!

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