:: Fiction archive ( 2000-2005, click for articles pre-2006)

enter this place published 08/05/2015

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“A man tipped his hat on a Toxteth street; an old man, a seen-a-war man. Tipped it, not doffed it, and back I nodded, hatless. These the moments you remember. ”

New fiction by Stuart Evers.

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London – 2015 published

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“She had left her small town in Surrey by mutual consent, and on her most recent return, the first thing that faced her at the station was an advert for the St. George’s Day festival, a handwritten poster with an image of a man dressed as a Crusader at its top. The middle class in England had continued to vote Conservative because they still believed it was in their best interests to do so, and she wondered just how miserable their hearts could become.”

#GE2015fiction – a response to Patrick Keiller‘s London, by Juliet Jacques.

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Blue, Unpleasant Land published

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“It’s as if the map of England has been dyed, as if someone put something in the water, or put a new pair of jeans in to wash with the rest of the laundry. It’ll never come out, you think, as you hang it all out to dry in your garden, blue. You look at your hands, stained blue, rub your face with your wrist, blue. Only the sky remains grey. (What’s grey again? Oh, yes: other. God, it seems, remains independent.)”

#GE2015fiction by Jonathan Gibbs

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Rosette Manufacture: A Catalogue and Spotters’ Guide published

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“‘Scythe’ always sounds rather negative and aggressive. Sweeping the nation, the garden. Using only high quality woven-edged polyester ribbon, we can paint rosettes in a garden made for lovers and dead-heading, or paint them in other gardens while singing in a Looking-glass, some yellow flamingo-canaries bent into croquet mallets in the background. ”

#GE2015 fiction by Eley Williams.

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YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M DISAPPOINTED published

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“When disappointment starts to suffocate, the facility advises foisting. Grab disappointment (by the apron if possible). If foisting not working, call 999 (have your medical insurance details to hand). ”

New #GE2015 fiction, by Rachel Genn.

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Claire published

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“It had been a double shift. Sixteen hours in pumps, mopping vomit, suturing wounds. She’d wrestled a broken WKD bottle off a drunk.

She caught the 5.09am out of the city. They passed the suburbs where the lawns were clipped and porches had pillars. Through the estates. She got home after six and looked in on him.”

New #GE2105 fiction by Benjamin Myers.

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Odds & Evens published 05/05/2015

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“7 was the Switzerland of the single-digit set. Under his influence, 4 was shielded and hidden in the number 14. 7 and 4 had a very special relationship; a deep love. It was almost like espionage, somehow. 4 really grew under 7’s tutelage. He was also one of the only other numbers that could really get through to 8 without rancor or a fight. The odd numbers had stronger personalities. The evens were too divisible.”

New fiction by Candy Sue Ellison, with art by Dawn Woolley.

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Words Escape Me published 13/04/2015

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There were lines across the pages but they were imperceptible because of how dark it had become and once a word was written it was quite irretrievable, as if abducted. I went on, sinking words into the pages, perhaps wondering what or who was taking them in. And then, for the first time that day, just as it was ending, I knew where I was — I was beneath the ground.

An excerpt from Claire-Louise Bennet‘s Pond.

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The Game For Real by Richard Weiner – An Excerpt published 03/04/2015

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The following day, strolling on the ramparts, on top of which people lived—the only wise people in this petty-bourgeois town—who didn’t even fake curiosity, he was suddenly handed—it had just gotten dark—a key: “Qui veut faire l ’ange, fait la bête.” – Not words, not a thought. Qui veut faire l’ange, fait la bête. – Like a thing he grasps in his hand, a thing forged with care, with distinct, even somewhat exaggerated contours, a thing that has weight, and that unlocks. A key.

An excerpt from Richard Weiner‘s The Game for Real, translated by Benjamin Paloff.

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Jeremy Clarkson v. JG Ballard’s Crash published 02/04/2015

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The walls of his apartment near to the film studios were covered with photographs of Clare Balding, who was neither Irish or Mexican, nor did she have any known resentment of motor vehicles. In his vision of a car crash with the presenter, Clarkson was obsessed by the impact of their two cars meeting head-on in complex collisions endlessly repeated in slow-motion. (Sometimes even imagining her mounted upon a horse as she rode perpendicular to his accelerating Maserati, but mostly they were both seated in cars). He was measured as he verbally catalogued the resulting damage and explicitly detailed wounds. Noticing his heavy, denim-clad groin I was momentarily quieted by the distinct profile of his aroused manhood. In an effort to make the beast subside, I mentioned the Vauxhall Vectra.

Jeremy Clarkson and J. G. Ballard collide in Graham Bendel‘s cheeky mash-up.

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