Review by Mike O'Driscoll of "In the Garden" by Brian Howell

Like the central figure of Hieronymous Bosch’s triptych on St Anthony, the protagonist of Brian Howell’s In the Garden is subject to his own mix of erotic and demonic temptations. In what the publishers term a plaquette, traditionally a small bronze relief, but here a chapbook illustrated with reproductions from Bosch’s work, Howell explores both the meaning and effect that the artist’s works, particularly those of a more apocalyptic bent, might have on the viewer. Anthony, our not entirely reliable guide to the paintings, a self-confessed Bosch fanatic, has come to the artist’s home town of  ’s-Hertogenbosch for a rare exhibition of his work. For reasons that remain obscure, Anthony has left his wife and daughter, Angela and Helen, at home in the UK, though he’s at pains to assure us that he has their blessing, if it’s what makes him happy. This last comment hints at Anthony’s need to justify the pursuit of his own interests, interests that are not as purely artistic and intellectual as they first seem. 

On his first encounter with one of the works—The Wayfarer—Anthony has a sort of premonition, "a shimmer of light whose provenance he could not explain," that gives him the permission he needs to stray from his purposeful travels and sink "into a hedonistic stage of life." An accomplice toward that stage appears in the form of Lajla, an expert on Bosch. She offers Anthony a glimpse into the possibilities inherent in The Garden of Earthly Delights. The world of the painting stands in contrast to the mundane, sexless reality of his life with Angela, though his nightly phone calls to her, as well as specific memories which prompt moments of guilt, appear to contradict this interpretation. His supposed surprise at Angela calling him "lover," doesn’t exactly sit with his self-depiction of their relationship. 

Through keenly described scenes from different works, Howell returns again and again to contrasting what Anthony tells us about himself, with a recognition of the more earthly desires that the paintings prompt in him. Lajla, who, because of her preoccupation with the Cathars, one might expect to be sexually reticent—she makes a point of telling Anthony of their disapproval of sexual congress—responds to his latent desires by drawing him into a world where he can indulge both his pleasures and pains. The quiet, understated ending finally allows the protagonist the first real moment of insight, albeit one that comes too late. 

In the Garden follows on from Howell’s superlative collection The Study of Sleep, in exploring the work of specific painters to illuminate the struggle between our desires and delusions, and the contradictions between our false self-perceptions and those moments when we get to see ourselves as we really are.

About the reviewer
Mike O’Driscoll is a writer living in Swansea. His work has appeared in Black Static, Interzone, the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and numerous anthologies. His story ‘Sounds Like’ was adapted for a TV movie by Brad Anderson, as part of the Masters of Horror series. Mike blogs on different aspects of genre writing and film here. 

Review by Mike O'Driscoll of "The Study of Sleep and Other Stories" by Brian Howell

What a pleasant surprise to find that Brian Howell is still writing and publishing fiction. I first came across him years ago in UK literary journal Panurge, and he had at least one story in The 3rd Alternative. We both appeared in Nicholas Royle’s two-volume anthology Darklands, as well as in a best of Elastic Press anthology. That story, ‘The Tower,’ was the last time I encountered his fiction. His latest collection is a timely reminder of just how unique and obsessive—in a good way—a writer he is.

The title story, a novella, is the intricate and elliptical four-part portrait of Martin, a performance artist and aspiring writer, told from the perspective of Philip, a childhood friend, Martin himself, and Lenka, the latter’s former wife, but filtered through the narrative perspective of Julie, Philip’s wife, and herself possibly a former lover of Martin’s. The competing stories, as in Kurosawa’s film, Rashomon, both overlap and contradict each other, so that our take on Martin remains ephemeral and incomplete. This is the case even in his own narrative, where seven photographs of his abused lover, Chiara, at different stages of her life, also seem to offer an oblique commentary on his previous relationship with Lenka, which story unfolds in the novel’s third section, ‘The Decay,’ and which is itself Julie’s written interpretation of their marriage. In other hands, such intertextuality might appear an exercise in cold formalism, but Howell never loses sight of his characters, and in particular of their foibles. It’s the desire to learn the truth behind their yearnings and vanities that keeps us enthralled.

The intertextual play between the The Study of Sleep’s four parts is echoed in the remaining five tales, all of which, in their preoccupation with visual art—in particular the paintings of Vermeer, but also with cinema and the means of visual representation—seem to be engaged in a dialogue with each other. Some of them, particularly ‘The Vanishing Point,’ share the same unsettling mood as Martin’s self narrated tale in the title novella, and like it, lean more toward the macabre. Others—‘The Window’ and ‘New York Movie’—explore the extent to which art suffuses memory, how what we remember of specific works not only colours our memories, but shapes the narratives we create about our own lives. The final story, ‘The Counterfeit Smile,’ tells of Vermeer’s life, and of his search for the elusive face that has haunted him throughout his life, and of how it came to appear in one of his most famous works, ‘The Music Lesson.’ Not only is the story full of fascinating technical and biographical detail, but it offers a powerful and heartfelt representation of the artist’s motivations and desires. Just as Marquand, the protagonist of ‘Dutch Interior,’ finds himself falling into the rooms depicted in a mysterious viewing box, Howell’s elegant prose pulls us deep into the worlds of his characters and their obsessions.

About the reviewer
Mike O’Driscoll is a writer living in Swansea. His work has appeared in Black Static, Interzone, the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and numerous anthologies. His story ‘Sounds Like’ was adapted for a TV movie by Brad Anderson, as part of the Masters of Horror series. Mike blogs on different aspects of genre writing and film here.