“A weirdpunk trumpet blast loud enough to wake a skeleton—heralding perhaps the end of a world, or the dawn of a new age.” – Matthew Baker – Author of Why Visit America and Hybrid Creatures “Told with honesty and wry humour, and with elements of magical realism and the fantastical, these stories also detail the
Are You Enjoying? by Mira Sethi paints a fresh image of Pakistan that inverts traditional assumptions, offering a funny, complicated and nuanced portrayal of the country. There is a great challenge to breaking away from the past, which many of the characters encounter. The short story collection uses relationships (romantic and otherwise) to explore the
A masterclass in atmospheric and small town horror – welcome to Goblin. I love the use of the elements to elicit a reaction from my readers, Juniper was scorching heat, Tome was constant rain, my third book in my Juniper series will have plenty of… you’ll have to wait and see! The elements is an
It is now six years since the secret disaster at Jurassic Park, six years since the extraordinary dream of science and imagination came to a crashing end – the dinosaurs destroyed, the park dismantled, the island indefinitely closed to the public. There are rumors that something has survived…. When Folio Society announced that they had
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
“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
Intimacies by Lucy Caldwell is one of those collections that you’ll remember for a lifetime, a collection that you remember exactly where you where when you read it – it’s memorable and masterful and proves yet again what a force Caldwell is when it comes to the short story form and why she is one
Open with: two men crushed to death in a campervan. Well ok, two men, potentially crushed to death in a campervan. Fate unconfirmed. And besides, it’s more like a caravan really, if we’re being pernickety. Which we are. So two men potentially crushed to death in a caravan. But perhaps we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. Let’s back
Gil’d kill for some coffee right now. Grains of sleep linger in his lashes. That trail of gross leaves is still there. He stares. Fuck fresh air, he has just decided. Not fresh air as a thing. Not fuck photosynthesis. Not fuck that. Fuck no. But as a judgment. A kind of putdown. That greener
I. Even now, Zoë can remember all the prices in the Melbourne milk bar that her parents owned. Paddle Pops were seven cents. Sunny Boys were three. Violet Crumbles and Smith’s Crinkle Cut chips both sold for five, the same price as the bus fare to her high school. In those days, two dollars a
