Tag Archives: Nicholas Royle

Devolved Fiction

THE FURIOUS WALNUTS

First coinage of ‘Devolved Fiction’ here, so as, in hindsight, to attempt to describe a fiction genre that is devolved to the reader where, inasmuch as the metafiction is so utterly extreme, it becomes, somewhat paradoxically perhaps, unmetafictional.

This relates to my recent coinages of Pronoun Horror and Future Perfect Fiction about The Lighthouse by Alison Moore and First Novel by Nicholas Royle respectively. (Links are to my reviews).

More boulders found on this morning’s ‘walnut walk’ (now so-called!) near where I live:

boulder11 boulder12boulder21 boulder31

boulder41

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Real-Time Regained

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“Click on this image for my Real-Time Reviews: supporting the known and unknown authors of good imaginative literature in a ground-breaking leitmotif / gestalt fashion from Nov 2008 to Oct 2012.”

That’s something I wrote on my site last October, having decided to retire, around the age of 65, from what was becoming an onerous, if enjoyable and hopefully altruistic, task.

Having conducted, in recent days, this experiment in real-time reviewing of Nicholas Royle’s FIRST NOVEL and QUILT, I am having a ‘second wind’. I must have passed through this  marathon ‘wall’!

For this purpose, I have pre-ordered WHITSTABLE (Spectral Press) by Stephen Volk, TALLEST TALES (Eibonvale Press) by Rhys Hughes, JANE (Chômu Press) by PF Jeffery, DEHISCENCE (Ex Occidente Press) by DP Watt and THE LAST GOLD OF DECAYED STARS (Ex Occidente Press) by Colin Insole – and I intend to resume my regular RTRs of future editions of BLACK STATIC (TTA Press) and THEAKER’S QUARTERLY FICTION and anything else that catches my eye, but please remember I continue not to accept free review copies of books.

Eventually these new RTRS will be listed and linked here.

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Novel Doodlings

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A doodling from a novel I’m enjoying at the moment, Lewis holding a chicken leg, the others killing a chicken:

“…I encounter Lewis. He has a shaved head, which he may think disguises his male-pattern baldness,… […] His moon-like face is given a certain definition by strategically trimmed facial hair. […] …while their heads became distended, like rugby balls hovering above their shoulders.”
— from FIRST NOVEL by Nicholas Royle (Jonathan Cape 2013, pp 20-28)

Please see comments below for anything more about this.

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The Lighthouse – Alison Moore

The second of my post-real-time reviews (following the recent completion of all my previous real-time reviews ).

THE LIGHTHOUSE – a novel by Alison Moore (2012)

Salt Publishing – Cromer

The Guardian video — Why The Lighthouse should win the 2012 Booker Prize – is a brilliant summation of this (I expect) memorable novel … and so why add my own review? Well, it’s a story about a perfume container, various smells, a road movie (for one person, not two) except it’s a hike not a car journey (other than the sporadic flat tyres) and involves other points of view in Germany, other points of time. A laid-back, disarming panoply of relationships that uses language sparely to tell of itself, with richly felt undercurrents as we travel from deceptively, craftily, emotionally low-key foray to foray … with a disarming brutality, too, that comes home to roost in a shuffle-toed, almost dead-pan narrative that includes baths, childhoods, cinematic sarabandes — and Proustian perfumes as leitmotifs towards a haunting gestalt.

Well, why my own review, I ask? I was originally trying to relate it to my own identification of something I called ‘Pronoun Horror’ in this very author’s short story in ‘The Screaming Book of Horror’ that I very recently reviewed here. I, me, you, she, he, us, them: as wafting parfumeries, like a morse code of Proustian selves from phare to phare, ferry to ferry…

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