Covid Angel Visits.

                                                              (From my sketch book.)

from my sketchbook.

Susan Hill And The Midnight Hour.

 Picked up a couple of Susan Hill books on a recent book trawl. They were sitting on a cobwebby Halloween themed shelf in the Oxfam book Shop in Ann Street. They were both such lovely wee editions I could not walk away from them so I bought them with the intention of a late night autumnal feast. Then found myself reading them almost immediately. They just looked and felt so right for the time of year 

            Although the work feels reminiscent of some other stuff I have read recently , it was in an altogether pleasing way rather than a tumble of familiar tropes. She has her own voice and does her own thing. I was reminded of some of the genuinely unpleasant manifestations which occur in MR James stories. His ghosts are never benign and it is difficult to to think of a more unpleasant spirit than that of the vengeful, wicked and unrelenting Woman In Black, Susan Hill's most notorious creation. Similar fiends stalk the pages of these wee collections. There are no jump scares nor Tales From The Crypt full stops and violent ends. Sometimes years pass without resolution and wisdom always comes too late.

            Which you must admit is a tempting concoction to taste, much less swallow. Why not pick them up, uncork a bottle and retire to your Edwardian study to sup with panthers, or at least listen for their soft padding feet, circling in search of an ending.

Moondust. In Search Of The Men Who Fell To Earth.

 Who were the men who fell to earth? you might well ask. Well, Andrew Smith has the answers to that question. Lots and lots of answers, to questions from the foreground of the brain and questions best motivated by the most human of curiousites, that fear of the unknown, driven by the urge to jump and see. And by heaven for a few years we jumped and saw. Here is the account by an author in search of nine astronauts who along the way details the history of the Space Race and beyond, to paraphrase Buzz. Buzz Lightyear that is, not Buzz Aldrin.

               Whata question these men must have had to ask themselves.; What do you do once you return from walking on the moon? When you have stood on the surface of our nearest cosmic neighbour, trampled in the printless soil, possibly even blotted out the Earth with no more than a raised thickly gloved thumb? That tiny spot in space we occupy where everything that has ever happened, everything that is happening and everything that will ever happen is just a thumbs width from vanishing. Talk about seeing things from a certain perspective. Is one ever able to unsee? Would one even want to?

              Moondust; In Search Of The Men Who Fell To Earth is a truly fantastic mix of history, reporting and personal memoir. In this multi-media age, people descriptions are reduced to user friendly sound-bites, everything must be easily explained, lazily described. In doing so the modern era can diminish the worth of heroism, not so much standing on the shoulders of giants, more like going through their personal mail to find out what they are really like. Not so with Andrew Smith. As the title suggests  he is on a journey, a pilgrimage into the heart of Americanna, an age of marvels. And he does so with dignity and great insight. Along the way he registers many cultural bullet points or rather the points of cultural impacts. impacts shaped in the wake of a group of individuals who were, undoubtebly, lucky enough to reach the zenith of a professionalism that allowed each in their own way to literally blaze a trail to the stars.  From all points of America , the children of the men and women who built America became pioneers at the very start of the next big trek, the trek to the stars ( Ugh, I know. I could not resist it.) Every piece of the hugely complex jigsaw of NASA's history is in place and the picture and the picture revealed is a staggering behometh of ingenuity and scientific hubris. A swaggering new kid on the block with Babel-like potential. It is the culmination of a thousand ambitions and dreams of traveling to space, to the moon, doing what you gotta do and returning safely home. Not quite mad, all truly glad and dangerous to know, the first and last of a dying breed. And for a brief moment in our shared history it truly felt as though mankind were singing from the same aspirational hymn sheet, a prayer to the ages, Wonderful.

             This book is not just a book about the men who traveled to The Moon and back. It is also a book about what sort of man does that, who they were before and who they became afterwards. if it can be believed that any of us can really change who we are. Well, it tries to. Andrew Smith freely admits some of the personalities involved defy introspection, pre or post lunar dander. Stoicism is a word that rarely springs to mind in the modern era but this group of individuals are as steadfast as it is possible to imagine, as if such mental discipline can be programmed, which I suppose it must. To panic in any situation outside the bubble of the blue world is to invite disaster. 

              A fantastic read. A fantastic book.

              Sprinkle a little Moondust on your book shelf.

The London Monster.

Oh My Giddy Aunt! When I lifted this book, on a recent visit to Oxfam Books Ann Street Belfast, I thought I had come across a sequel to The Phantom Raspberry Blower Of Old London Town by Ronny Barker and Spike Milligan (It also being a harrowing true story!)but t'was not the case. This is a bonkers true yarn that stands completely on its own. What a mad old place London was...er, is.

If you can imagine it then it has probably occurred at some time in the history of this ancient city.

Let The Tribe Increase.

Found a copy of The Mob album Let The Tribe Increase. Well, I say found but I really just dug it out from a mountain of old vinyl leaning against the wall.My home is increasingly looking like the set of Steptoe And Son.It crackles in the way well played, well listened too vinyl,does. First discovered The Mob with the single Unexpected Guest.They were a very political band but that was nothing to someone whos ma used to play The Men Behind The Wire all the time.I really got the feelung they meant every word they sang and it was not posturing or posing.I never really thought that way about music, I sort off treated all genres as if they were the same. In fact, i still feel awkward when people wax knowingly about music or film. I always feel as if everyone is aware of a rule book I have not seen. Thankfully, The Mob performed as though there were no rules. Back in the day I had a copy of this magazine and the pages ,including the cover, ended up cellotaped to my bedroom wall. Let the tribe increase,indeed.

Ghostly Double-Bill.

I really cannot recommend these two ghostly treats for Christmas highly enough. Created while the BBC were on topof their game when it came to period drama and these stories definitely feel as though they are off a very different era. Despite the poverty and hardship, the yolk of class and a genuine belief in an immaterial world. I do not believe that MR James , for all his learning and erudation, could have concieved that within two generations God himself might die. They are two beautifully crafted meditations on hubris and greed, seen through a prism of cranky scholarlship. Do your imagination a favour this Christmas and set aside a couple of evenings to enjoy these visions of a lost England, or at least an England that sleeps, its slumber restless and touched by gossamer threads.

Rude Boy Cant Fail.

Have a vistor to the house.Rudi the Rude Boy. Gifted to me by my nephew Eamon Jnr. This explains why i got home the other night to find a Trojan Records compilation blarring out of the speakers,mind you, a quick blast of Israelites does chase away the workaday blue

and speaking of Ghost Stories For Christmas; Dolly.

Could not resist this lovely looking little novella by Susan Hill. Steeped in Jamesian tropes with a subtle flavour all her own devising it has proved to be the perfect little treat for these cold December evenings. There is something delicously satisfying about stories told in this form, in this very format, which lends itself to a Christmas scare. Small but pefectly formed it sits just right .. And you can do the same while reading it.

Behind The Sofa.

Came across this amazing piece of artwork on a letter page of an old British comic, an issue of Valiant from 25th May 1974. I wonder if this was the first time this entered the public shared cultural zeitgeist. The whole "Behind The Sofa" meme is such a broad stroke when it comes to Doctor Who it would be hard to pin down when it first made its way into our shared conciousness. Or the little bit of the shared pop-conciousness we all carry a part off...

The North Water.

I think it was Sir Winston Churchill who once dismissed life in the navy as little more than a life of "Rum, sodomy and the lash.", reading Ian McGuire's compelling and disturbing novel the only thing missing from that soundbite was "Weavils in the cheese."I suppose it could be argued that life on a whaler is different from life in the royalist of navys , but i think the differences might have well come down to "whatever floats your boat" Literally. The tone reminded me of The Tiger Lillies adaption of Rime Of The Ancient Mariner, except the monsters in this story are not slimy products of the slimy sea, they are crew members.One in particular. a sly vicious monster of a man, not some mythical demon but an all too plausable being. Its damn grim up north., all right. Life on board a whaling vessel was not for the faint hearted. I had picked up a copy of The North Water thinking it was an adventure story along the lines of Moby Dick. I now realise that is like thinking Orca The Killer Whale is a bit like Finding Nemo. This is a book, as well as a boat, filled with some bone-chilling personas. As much as I found aspects of the world whaling trade interesting to read and learn about, I also found the industry a source of genuine horror. It involves, after all, the slaughter and butchery of a magnificent species. It was partly a fascination about the extremes of hardship people used to be prepared to subject themselves to, whether it was to further the knwledge of mankind or earn a crust of bread.A source of morbid intrest? Maybe.morbidity abounds.... This book is not for the faint hearted. It is genuinely unsettling. Swimming, as it does, into the dark shallows of the human soul.Some one mentioned to me that the BBC were going to, or possibly already have, produced an adaption of Ian Mc Guire's book. I would have considered certain aspects of this book to be unfilmable. Mind you, I would have said that about a work based on the work of Tolkien that does not involve any work by Tolkien. But what do I know... This ship of fools heads out into dark and dangerous realms. There are few places on any map that ever was that quite covers the dark terrotories of the human heart. Men in extremis are capable of anything and no beast is truly so fierce. One of the few creatures moving on the face of the Earth who is self enough aware to understand deliberately inflicted cruelty and bask in its lurid glow.

Coming Home #1.

I picked up issue one of this new comic COMING HOME, as published by RE-LIVE, a mental health charity based in Wales, one that seeks through using the arts to give voice to marginalised groups. In this instance allowing veterans of conflict to discuss their experiences and in particular what they they went through when attempting to pick up the threads of their lives when returning to Civey street. Nothing is ever as simple and straightforward as we wish things would be, complex, difficult and painfully humane this comic is a great read. Each story echoes the experiences of a different voice, each served by a different artist and it works very well indeed as the stories range in complexity and insight. Have to mention Stretcher Bearer Stan, it takes a very humane observation of the verey complex political and social era of The Troubles and handles it in one of the most insightful and quite moving ways I have seen in any medium. Its a gooed cause and a good comic. Just the perfect mix of human variables. Why not lend an attentive ear and a helping hand.

Death Of A Bookseller.

Was given a proof copy of this fantastic new book by first time writer Alice Slater. Its a tale of two retailers, both booksellers but both very, very different people. Given the amount of deatil in regard to book selling and the life of retailers and their relationship with their product and the people who buy it, I could not help but imagine that she must have at some point worked in bookselling. The book is so laden with an eye for the day to day details and the way book shops are run, she has just got to have spent some time in the trenches of retailing. she carries the scars all right. And while it may be set in a microcosm of the real world, in the bubble of book selling, it also works as a nicely observed thriller with a growing sense of unease as we get to better understand the foibles of the protagonists. After all, these characters are not aware they protagonists in any bodies story but their own. Hardly the stuff of Thomas Harris nightmare visions of the depravity the human soul , but it offers an unsettling glimpse into a very real world where no one is entirely bad nor entirely good. None of us live inside a thriller narrative while no one gets to spend their time in a situation comedy. We are just serving life terms in life stories of our own making. i did feel the book felt very london centric, which is not to rift on its location. how much book selling in London would differ from bookselling in another English city is beyond me. i meant that it feels as though the store itself would not feel out of place in a Richard Curtis script. How that defines its authenticity is anyone's guess. How real is the paper world of such a notion, its subjective I suppose, based more on the notion of how real you want it to be. In anyones story we are in the mind space of another human being anyway. It only has to feel as real as the story requires it to feel. And on that level it does feel completely real. As I grow older I wonder if the past can best be defined as a place as opposed to a mind space, maybe both. The only palete we have to draw upon are our own memories, the only canvas the here and now. On that leve, alone, I really enjoyed this fast moving and well observed book.

Cybermen The Stuff Of Nightmares.

In the Ninth Doctor Episode Dalek The Doctor came across the head of a Cyberman on display in a glass case in the warehouse of demented billionaire ( Are there any other kind?)Von Statten. It was a nod to previous encounters, a slight foreshadowing of horrors yet to come and a reminder this was still the show we grew up with. "The stuff Of Nightmares" was how he enigmatically described them. Mind you this Doctor could talk about marmalade and make it sound enigmatic. He was quite right. The Cybermen, their history and their twisted evolution is truly the stuff of nightmares and a notion that should serve as a cautionary tale for those attempting to expand their existance beyond all reason. Dig out this old issue of the superlative Fortean Times to learn more. There you go; your mission should you choose to accept it is to track this issue down, in whatever way you might. Mind you, no cheating, use of time vechiles would not be playing ball. Think of the temporal displacement for one thing....

( With special thanks to the marvelous Joanne for use of her Jodie cosplay. Tag, shes it!)

The Fiends In The Furrows.

Saw this book on a recent book trawl and snapped it up as soon as I saw it. Folk Horror, whether in book form or filmic form is a gripping genre that quietly yields all amnner of antiquated horrors. Yet Foklk horror has never really made a transition to the mainstream (Although I would not discount some episodes of Emmerdale I have seen over the last couple of years.) So this was an unexpected but welcome find. Nine stories all exploring new and old areas of intrest with regard to folkloric tropes, if they can be said to exist. All nine stories celebrating various aspects of the folk horror tradition. Or at the very least the loose tennents that are the muddy roots of its unsettled furrows. I am not familiar with any of the contributors but in their work they traverse the seperate themes that combine to hold up the lore; strange rituals, even stranger people, paranoid communities existing in timeless isolation. All following their own muddy muderous paths. I jumped in the very night I picked this book up and I am glad I did. Trudging home from the bookshop I picked it up in through an uncleared morass of sopping fallen leaves which set the tone it felt the appropriate time. One story in particular raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A descent into manmade depravity in all too famil;iar places followed. But I will not say which story it was. You can find that out for yourself. The editors of this collection made strong and diverse choices and nothing as simple as a "my favourite" should detract from their bold choices. A great anthology plucked from a fertile field. I doff my flat cap to Nosetouch Press the publishers. Who knows what I mean by this.

Teddy The Cosplaying Dog.

From The Titanic to The Daleks. Teddy slips effortlessly through them all. I think he came to cosplaying late in his dog life but its proved a rich furrow for his paws to plow. Long may he continue.

Amazing World Of Doctor Who.

Because it is.

Ghost Story For Christmas

Look what Big Finish are bringing to the Festive Feast of Christmas this year. I am constantly surprised by the Big Finish Torchwood stories. Again and again they have delivered top notch dramas, mostly quite disturbing and always inventive. Imagine a line of audio stories where the series producer was Robert Aickman and that might indicate the unsettling nature of some of the work. A story may start with something as inoccuos as a cofee cup sitting in an unusual place and it degenerates into a terrifying tale of duplicity and alien incursions. And much as I enjoy the breadth and range of the various character driven tales I do have a fondness for the Queen Victoria stories. In the Doctor Who continuity it was Queen Victoria who sets up Torchwood so it is entirely fitting that she should champion some of the series most startling episodes. They really are that good and worth sekking out.And I shall be seeking out this yuletide treat.

Jet Black R.I.P.