Review by Jonathan Wilkins of "A Thousand Souls" by Catherine Tudish

When I was sent this book, I was due to attend a tedious round of tests. My wife, who was accompanying me, hijacked the novel, and she enjoyed it so much I asked her for a short review:

"Loved this book; read it in one day. It was an easy read as it was written so well and each chapter was one part of the whole. By that I mean that this is the story of a small town and each chapter relates to those living there and their stories. It deserves a wide audience as it could easily be a best seller. I’ll certainly be recommending it to my friends."

In A Thousand Souls we have a collection of fourteen stories intervolving the lives of three generations in the isolated American town of Neptune, Vermont. The fourteen stories in Tudish’s beautifully crafted book intertwine the lives of three generations of Neptune as they inevitably touch the outside world. We read of a boy born of an illicit romance travelling to South Carolina for a first-time and meeting with his  father. We encounter a widow and friend who solve the mystery of a missing girl. The local sheriff breaks up a drug operation, only, in a nod to current American affairs, to get arrested for helping undocumented workers evade ICE. The frustrated wife of a mail driver presents him with a nude portrait of herself. A magical section sees a shy girl lose her stutter when she speaks to a black bear. In another chapter a boy has strange nightmares that appear to represent the memories of a stranger’s tragedy.

As in any small town, loyalties and traditions are tested through loss, betrayal and day-to-day living. The town’s characters epitomize the belongingness that comes from a close-knit rural community.

These  charmingly written,  wryly observed, delicate stories give us a view of life that is relatable, conveying the costs of interrelationship and kinship as the years pass. All of them demonstrate how seemingly ordinary lives can take unforeseen and unpredictable twists and turns.

About the reviewer
Jonathan Wilkins is 69. He is married to the gorgeous Annie with two wonderful sons. He was a teacher for twenty years, a Waterstones’ bookseller and coached women’s basketball for over thirty years before taking up writing seriously. Nowadays he takes notes for students with Special Needs at Leicester and Warwick Universities. He has had a work commissioned by the UK Arts Council and several pieces published traditionally as well as on-line. He has had poems in magazines and anthologies, art galleries, studios, museums and at Huddersfield Railway Station. He loves writing poetry. For his MA, he wrote a crime novel, Utrecht Snow. He followed it up with Utrecht Rain, and is now writing a third part. He is currently writing a crime series, Poppy Knows Best, set at the end of the Great War and into the early 1920s.

You can read more about A Thousand Souls by Catherine Tudish on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Rennie Parker of "Saltburn" by Drew Gummerson

Drew Gummerson is evidently a writer from the "more is more" school of creativity, like a speeded-up Dickens with additional body-parts. If the phrase can be made more inclusive, with ideas springing off from ideas like a hi-energy trampoline school, you can bet this author will be on it. For example, he need not say that the University holds its Innovation Fair in the "hired-out" waiting room of the railway terminus, for the simple reason that it must be hired out if it is normally the waiting room, but does it matter? No, because the story rushes on to the next gleaming sentence and the hired-outness serves to illustrate how triple-layered everything is in Saltburn-world. 

Everyone here is on the make. If it moves, you sell it or hire it, because otherwise someone will be selling or hiring you instead. And underneath the relentless bonhomie there's a current of barely suppressed rage at how society has turned out. For example, there's a boardgame comes with "bonus points for disposing of homeless people or setting fire to food banks," although the game itself is based on the 1970s hit "Mousetrap," judging from the description. So it's something nostalgic and sweet, followed by something that kicks you where it hurts; Gummerson knows how to deal both sides of the coin. And he's not bothered whether you find his characters pleasant or not - the somewhat off-colour second son of the glove manufacturer is the sort of person who'd be best avoided on the train, and his eventual paramour Captain Nemo could have done better, methinks.

I loved the evocation of a rundown seaside environment, because we've all been to a version of these places, most likely on a budget childhood holiday. It's the world of McGill postcards garnished with Gillray sentiments, and it's resolutely set in the past, no doubt to encourage our belief in some of the magical-realist events and allegories. If the pricing is judged around the newly decimalised coinage in 1972-73 and all the older ladies look about as appealing as Ena Sharples, it's not so surprising to find a mermaid at work in the penny arcade and to discover that the local nuclear reactor is powered by ex-pit ponies. It's safely in the past, where anything can happen. Sometimes, I feel the author writes things just because he can (for example, his intonation shifts unexpectedly into a hardboiled American phase at one point) and maybe there's an added homage to one of his literary heroes. I'm enjoying the ride, but I would like to see what happens when Gummerson harnesses his writing elan to something where he isn't burning through his subject matter at such speed.

However, don't do what I did and return to the book after a few days away. I've got too many questions. Why is this character collecting underpants? Why is Sven called Sven? Have I missed something? Why does everyone have a Binatone TV? And even though the New Puritan Party attempts to ruin everyone's lives, even if your guesthouse is nightly paraded-past by convicted penitents on their knees, there still might be too many bums and willies for some readers. I suspect I'm not the ideal reader Gummerson was thinking of when he wrote -  or rather, ran gleefully after - this book. The imagination behind this must look like Dinsdale's Joke Shop in the Hepworth Arcade in Hull. I've never read anything like it. And you won't either, which is why you should hie down swiftly to the nearest not-mega-retail-outlet and book an excursion to this most unusual resort. But don't be fooled by the cartoon framing, and be aware that some of the images might be close to the bone.

About the reviewer
Rennie Parker is a poet living in the East Midlands, and she is mostly published by Shoestring Press. Her latest collection Balloons and Stripey Trousers, a nightmare journey into the toxic workplace, came out earlier this year. She works in FE and blogs occasionally here. She is also on Twitter/X and Bluesky.

You can read more about Saltburn by Drew Gummerson on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Laurie Cusack of "Made by Sea and Wood, in Darkness"

 

These outsider stories are full of characters that could live on the fringe and margins of any society. Vital stories! A cracking read for the Greek taverna and Cafe Neon that awaits us. They stimulate and generate insight. Manna from heaven. Bravo! Alexandros Plasatis’s superlative new collection of Greek-cum-Egyptian-related tales are packed with crafted sentences that are balanced, punchy, acerbic, staccato and engineered with quirky detail. 

One gets a buzz when something as good as this blows its way in from left field. In Plasatis’s pugnacious ‘The Legend of Zaramarouq,’ for instance, two local hard men lock horns in a Kavala taverna: blood, sawdust, cigarettes and beer fly in this epic brawl that resonates with mythical undertones: ‘Pavlo moved. He jumped up from his barstool and ran towards the giants. He didn’t know what  he would do once he got there, he just ran, and, when he got close enough, he took a leap and smashed a shoulder against Zaho’s body.’ 

Also, expletives detonate within Plasatis’s prose like an air bomb repeater fired into the hush of night. Such language helps build a rich vernacular tone that fuses the text with verve and believability, often surprising and shocking the reader at the same time: 'Knowing that the young waiter was watching him, he would catch Pavlo’s face and pull a face: “Un-fucking-believable” – then get on with the story.'

Harbour life is often brutal and seedy in Made by Sea and Wood, In Darkness, and Plasatis portrays this in a compelling matter-of-fact fashion. Plaudits. I was reminded of Charles Bukowski, Lucia Berlin and Denis Johnson’s narratives, as I carved through  Plasatis’s pared-back incendiary tales. Life can be scruffy, dark, funny and invariably, tough within their prose. Renowned texts of such ilk have a ‘terrible beauty’ about them – blue-collar-kitchen-sink-dirty- realist-in-your-face truths that knock you for six! In every rollicking story, Plasatis manages to capture these sensibilities. And by the end of this dark harbour stroll, you, too, will be gagging for retsina, ouzo and tsipouro. Down the hatch. Yamas! One for the road, then?

About the reviewer
Laurie Cusack has a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. He is currently working on his first collection of short stories. His story 'The Bottle and the Trowel' is published in the anthology High Spirits: A Round of Drinking Stories. You can read more about his work here. 

You can read more about Made by Sea and Wood, in Darkness, as well as an excerpt from it, on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Sally Shaw of "The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros is a story created from forty-four beautifully written vignettes. Opening this book is like opening a window onto Mango Street and breathing in the Chicagoan-Hispanic air. From the window the reader can see and hear the characters that live on Mango Street as they appear, impact and influence Esperanza Cordera on her journey of discovery. 

Each vignette is a story with its own message. In "The Family of Little Feet," Esperanza tells of the time she and her friends learn to walk in high heel shoes and the effect of this on men who should know better. At first it appears like innocent fun, then the girls change, the atmosphere changes and danger lies in wait: "It’s Rachel who learns to walk the best all strutted in those magic high heels. She teaches us to cross and uncross our legs, and to run like a double-dutch rope, and how to walk down to the corner so that the shoes talk back to you with every step. Lucy, Rachel, me tee-tottering like so. Down to the corner where the men can’t take their eyes off us. We must be Christmas."
  
In "Edna's Ruthie," Esperanza takes the reader with her on a miniature journey away from childhood. She moves from acceptance of her not-so-grown-up friend Ruthie - "Ruthie, a tall skinny lady with red lipstick and blue babushka, one blue sock and one green because she forgot, is the only grown-up we know who likes to play" - to trying to fit in when she meets Sally, and finally to betrayal by Sally, leading to a traumatic experience.  

Each vignette is perfectly crafted.  Cisneros’s writing is accessible to all ages and levels of readers. The vignettes, when read together, tell the full story of Esperanza and how she makes sense of her experiences on Mango Street. These experiences are her guide to what she needs to do to become the person she wants to be, and this ultimately means she must leave Mango Street - in the knowledge it will always pull her back.  

About the reviewer

Sally Shaw is a full-time MA Creative Writing Student at Leicester University. She was a nurse for thirty-three years. She writes poetry and is starting to write short stories.