Pushing the boundaries of the traditional whodunnit tale, I Know What I Saw by Imran Mahmood is a remarkable story of grief and memory. “When I remember my life before, I am really reimagining it, in flashes, in tiny abstract glimpses. And in that memory, I compose my own rhythm close enough to match the
The Slasher genre has a mythic status for some, and it is easy to see why: few genres encapsulate the primal fears and survival urge of the human race, and women in particular, the way a Slasher does. Grady Hendrix’s latest novel The Final Girl Support Group goes some way to answering the question of
“Smile! Everyone’s waiting, young man.” She was mad at me again, and it was my fault— again. Camera in hand, she was trying to take a photo of the four of us and I wouldn’t, or couldn’t smile. My eyes were red and I felt self-conscious. Who wants a photo taken of themselves when they
Dwight hovered in front of the vending machine. Oversalted chips, over-sugared candy bars, or the caloric emptiness of gum. Why did the hospital offer such faux nutritional alternatives; wasn’t that a conflict of interest? When he was a kid, vending machines meant something exotic or exciting. The rare trips to Father’s workplace had always involved
The degree to which a gentleman reveals himself to another is a curious state of affairs at the best of times, though I suppose the holding of a razor to one’s throat helps. That said, I doubt anyone would be the slightest bit surprised at a gentleman’s willingness to betray the confidence of another, whether
Silvia Moreno-Garcia has been carving out her own niche in the world of genre fiction for a long time, publishing science fiction, fantasy and horror stories and novels in small presses, and winning several awards. She’s co-edited a magazine, and is the publisher of a small press. She received little mainstream recognition until her breakthrough
Mesmerised, her eyes locked onto the images on the screen. An earthquake in the ocean, its magnitude measuring in at ‘twenty-three thousand Hiroshima sized bombs’ causing a tidal wave forty foot high, its watery fingers grasping at the shore, breaking with the puissance of a racehorse, moving swiftly round the corner, taking the final hedge
Somewhere in the USA, Late September 2017 That losing the show wouldn’t be the worst thing, that there would be financial ruin, bullshit stories, public vilification, name-calling, getting spat at (because yes people do that), private conversations with jerks in dark moments telling him good on you for speaking up — that things would not
Maureen decided we’d redecorate the lounge. Our decor was no longer “chic”. I didn’t know what that meant but I argued it was quite chic indeed if it meant I didn’t have to tear up a perfectly good shag carpet. “It’s very ‘65, you know,” she said with disdain as if ’65 was universally agreed
Bright Burning Things is a quietly beautiful novel that delicately handles the pressures of addiction illness. Sonya, a complex and kind character, pursues a path of recovery when her role as a mother to Tommy is questioned. What follows is an intense and considered portrayal of family life, highlighting strained relationships and darkened pasts. We
