Review by Anna O'Sullivan of "Open Throat" by Henry Hoke

Open Throat by Henry Hoke is a profound and experimental piece of literary fiction that will linger with you long after reading it. The novel follows an isolated, queer mountain lion living under the Hollywood sign, observing the insular, self-centred conversations between passers-by, whilst navigating the complexities of their own identity. Inspired by P22, a mountain lion who lived in Griffith Park after successfully crossing two major freeways, and monitored by researchers until his death in 2022, Hoke creates a powerful story that can be digested in one sitting. 

Hoke writes in evocative and lyrical prose, comparable to a work of poetry; the lion’s stream of consciousness is non-linear and uninterrupted by punctuation, creating a real sense that readers are experiencing the lion’s deep thoughts. The combination of humour, through the lion’s misinterpretation of words, alongside the emotional turmoil of yearning for connection, adds to the story’s emotional depth and Hoke’s literary brilliance. 

What stands out about Hoke’s novel is his ability to draw from a diverse range of social issues in contemporary society. This is not just a story about a lion losing its way. Hoke discusses the importance of "human" connection, as the lion struggles with segregation from society, and the hierarchical way in which humans regard the animal kingdom as inferior. Another important theme throughout is ecological grief, and the depressing reality of climate change and human impact on the environment; Hoke leans into real-world anxieties, integrating the terrifying destruction of the LA wildfires and the homelessness crisis. 

If you are looking for something different to read, Hoke’s novel offers a new and compelling narrative. Readers of Weird Girl Fiction, a genre expanding in popularity, may be drawn to this novel, as although it does not follow the experience of a "Girl," it has similar components of complex relationships, strong emotions and unconventional themes. Open Throat has earned its strong and unique presence in the genre of literary and contemporary fiction. It offers something new – the point of view of a complex mountain lion, viewing barriers in society through a symbolic lens. If this doesn’t entice readers, then the gripping first line of the book is sure to: ‘I’ve never eaten a person but today I might."

About the reviewer
Anna O’Sullivan is a University of Leicester graduate with a BA in English and MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature and Creative Writing. She enjoys travelling, and recently returned from five months of backpacking across Latin America. Anna’s predominant passion is books; she is an avid reader, BookToker, attendee of literature events and employee at Hachette UK. She is currently guest editor of Everybody's Reviewing. 

Review by Kathy Hoyle of "Cuddy" by Benjamin Myers

 

Cuddy by Benjamin Myers is a deeply moving, highly original novel. Part historical fiction, part poetic ballad, this novel is dappled with dreamlike prose that takes us on a journey across the stunning North-East landscape as we follow the pilgrims of St Cuthbert from Anglo- Saxon times through to present day. 

This is a work of historical fiction. This is a work of contemporary fiction. It is a poetic ballad, a script, literary prose, a whimsical puzzle, a themed collection. In short, it’s a genre-defying, fragmented-yet-fully-formed hybrid novel … and like nothing I have ever read before. 

During the 7th Century Viking invasions, the body of St Cuthbert is resurrected. An unofficial saint, Cuthbert - renowned for his gentle manner and affinity to animals - is protected by his devoted servants who carry his body around the North-East until his final resting place is found – a hill upon which the mighty Durham Cathedral is eventually built. Cuddy rests, yet his connection to the people of the North-East continues, bringing great strength and comfort, not only to those who seek him out, but also those who unexpectedly find themselves drawn to him. 

Myers is a master storyteller and the collection of ‘voices’ we hear throughout the novel are utterly engaging. Much like a traditional short story cycle, each story has its own narrative arc and can be read in and of itself, yet after reading the whole novel, the themes and connections between the characters all fall into place. With Cuddy as the central focal point, and the beautiful coastal landscape and Durham Cathedral as backdrop settings, Myers exquisitely portrays North-East life. Yet this book is not a short story cycle. Nor is it a novel. It is something wonderfully experimental and undefinable. 

Myers gives a voice to the common folk, those most often eradicated from history – the women, the children, the ones who live on the margins, the ones who need the most comfort from their beloved Cuddy. Myers cleverly focuses on spiritual redemption for his characters rather than overtly religious themes, allowing readers to find emotional resonance with the stories, no matter what their own religious beliefs might be.  

At times, the storylines are brutal and harsh, often tense and strange with moments of great sadness. I had instances, when reading, where I had to pause for several minutes, simply to compose my thoughts and overwhelming feelings, so profound was the effect. 

Imaginative, original, and deeply moving, I adored this ‘novel’ and would urge everyone to read it.

About the Reviewer
Kathy Hoyle is a working-class writer form the North-East. Her work has appeared in literary magazines such as The Forge, Fictive Dream, New Flash Fiction Review and the South Florida Poetry Journal. She holds a BA (hons) and an MA in Creative Writing and is currently studying for a PhD at the University of Leicester.

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "raw content" by Naomi Booth

 

Naomi Booth’s latest fiction is a profound and visceral journey into the terrors and fears of new motherhood. This topic is not entirely new territory for the author. Her post-apocalyptic novel, Sealed, centred on a condition that seals people in their own bodies. Booth may have shifted genre, but she revisits and reworks some familiar themes, here: the fear of losing control, bodily imprisonment and strange, otherworldly compulsions. 

The premise is a straightforward one. The novel’s narrator, Grace, reads and edits legal case files, updating judgements with speed and accuracy. This is a world she fully controls, far away from the Colne Valley landscape of her childhood and backdrop for the infamous Moors Murders. It is only when Grace finds herself unexpectedly pregnant, she is forced to accommodate both boyfriend and newborn into her life. 

Almost immediately, Grace’s imagination begins to concoct a series of nightmarish scenarios in which her newborn, Rosa, suffers all sorts of horrific injuries and deaths: ‘The tiled hallway is a long way below us and the distance makes me feel woozy. The ground floor seems to accelerate away from us. I watch Rosa spill from my arms ... I hear the sick sound of overripe fruit splitting against a hard surface.’ Other, equally gruesome fantasies are presented, usually involving everyday objects and people: kitchen scissors, phone chargers, cleaning products, cigarette lighters, boiling kettles and even visiting family members; all become viable threats. Booth’s skill here is that she employs the present-tense mode to have us believe these episodes are unfolding in real time. Grace’s visions and reactions - which are genuine and all-consuming to her - become that for the reader. This is further amplified by the fact that Grace and Rosa are never apart – seen in the infant’s all-consuming need for milk – and provide the novel with some of its most arresting descriptions of physical and emotional, two-way dependency: ‘Half-blind, she gasps all night long, searching for me with her mouth, searching for me with her tiny broken cry, never settling out of my arms.’

Structurally-speaking, the narrative moves smoothly between present and past timelines, helping the reader uncover Grace’s repressed, family history and the reasons for her current behaviour. Here, the landscape comes to fore, the open moors charged with an ancient power and expansiveness, a world removed from the claustrophobic interior of Grace’s home. 

raw content is a highly charged, often terrifying, examination of how parenthood can transform both body and mind.  Booth’s message appears to be that none of us are safe: what constitutes the everyday, the knowable, can suddenly become one’s worst enemy, making raw content a timely reminder of the fragility of contemporary existence and a book that stays with you, long after its final page. 

About the reviewer
Dr. Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, researcher and lecturer living in Cornwall. His interests include dystopian studies, children’s literature and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and academic articles have appeared in print and electronic form, including: Aesthetica, The Birmingham Journal of Language and Literature, Education in Practice & Writing in Practice (National Association of Writers in Education), Dyst: Literary Journal, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, The Crank and Bandit Fiction. His debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle, was recently published by Hermitage Press.

You can read more about raw content by Naomi Booth on Creative Writing at Leicester here.