{"id":10369,"date":"2019-02-28T16:01:07","date_gmt":"2019-02-28T15:01:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10369"},"modified":"2019-02-22T16:02:07","modified_gmt":"2019-02-22T15:02:07","slug":"unthology-10-edited-by-ashley-stokes-and-robin-jones-reviewed-by-usma-malik","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10369","title":{"rendered":"Unthology 10,\u00a0Edited by Ashley Stokes and Robin Jones. Reviewed by Usma Malik"},"content":{"rendered":"

Unthology 10,\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>Edited by Ashley Stokes and Robin Jones.<\/p>\n

And the question is, always, what to do now? How to act now that the catastrophe\u00a0 is here? Who do you want to be? How do you want to be remembered? A shadow of yourself or the self of your shadow? <\/em><\/p>\n

Fight or Flight?<\/em><\/p>\n

And so readers are invited into the eclectic mix that is Unthology 10. The introduction to the series promises darkness, paranoia, and a touch of the macabre. It\u2019s an intriguing if unsettling premise for the fourteen short stories that follow. The stories range from tales of suburban dreams, fugitives on the run, winged demigods taking flight across the skies, to stories of addiction, loss, grief, and a desire to be haunted. Ultimately, the stories come down to choices. When faced with the unexpected in life, how much agency do we really have to our lives? What do we choose, and how much of \u2018choice\u2019 is an illusion?<\/p>\n

In Rosa and Kelsey<\/em>, by Kathryn Simmonds, Londoner Matthew has bought into the \u2018idyll\u2019 of country life. Except, pretty Cornwall cannot, he discovers, compete with the \u2018galley kitchen and box room, the front door opening onto the beautiful, filthy city he has lost.\u2019 His homesickness permeates the narrative and we\u2019re left with an overriding sense of sadness and futility. There\u2019s \u2018only so much pleasure he can take from awaiting the appearance of a radish\u2019. His toddler, Rosa, \u2018socially confident\u2019, has no trouble settling in. Wife, Megan, with her \u2018pop-choir\u2019 and \u2018Pilates\u2019 on a Wednesday, is thriving. An encounter with a local, beer swigging father simply heightens \u00a0Matthew\u2019s inadequate presence in the country and, in an attempt to prove himself, leaves him teetering, literally, on the edge of a cliff.<\/p>\n

Whilst it\u2019s difficult to root for the man who seriously wonders \u2018how long can a grown man sustain interest in the whims and wants and observations of a toddler?\u2019\u00a0 He\u2019s \u2018reasonably\u2019 agreed to share childcare duties with his wife, and who passes instant, negative judgements on his new neighbours, driving Megan to roll her eyes, \u2018God, Matthew. Just because someone doesn\u2019t read The Guardian<\/em> or follow all your cultural references, it doesn\u2019t mean you can\u2019t be friends,\u2019 you can\u2019t help but feel a touch of sympathy at his final cry \u2018I\u2019m in pain here, don\u2019t you understand? I\u2019m in pain\u2019.<\/p>\n

K.M Elkes\u2019s stand-out Ursa Minor<\/em> brightly builds up excitement, and is swept up in the hot euphoria of love, which then follows the grey fadeout to despair, what\u2019s left is the unhappy taste of anger. \u00a0<\/em>Carrie and Jack are \u2018soulmates\u2019, knowing in the instant they meet that they belong together, swapping childhood stories about \u2018the strange joy-fear of being alone in the woods, the perils of witchobble\u2019 and listening to \u2018the tremolo call of owls\u2019. It\u2019s a whirlwind romance of six months, followed by marriage. But when the hoped for pregnancy does not happen, Carrie embarks on the IVF route. Their relationship moves from \u2018easy together\u2026 sat thigh-to-thigh on the deck\u2026listening to the call of loon birds above the river\u2019 to Carrie\u2019s calender marked with \u2018good days for sex\u2019 and a \u2018silent, clinical rhythm\u2019. Jack finds himself reduced to a \u2018DH\u2019 for \u2018dear husband\u2019 on the IVF forums Carrie obsesses over: his role is functional.\u00a0 Cycle after cycle fails and Jack\u2019s helpless anger at Carrie\u2019s blind hope , her refusal to accept their situation, begins to eat away at the marriage.\u00a0 \u2018I\u2019m sorry. It\u2019s different now,\u2019 is all Carrie can say. She borrows money from her parents to continue. \u2018This isn\u2019t your gig\u2019 friend Dale informs him prosaically, when Jack describes the hospital visits. So he lies awake beside Carrie, longing to simply get up, to leave for the woods like he Carrie used to, before. He imagines, \u2018listening to the night under a spilt litter of stars\u2019.<\/p>\n

Elkes marries beautifully poetic observations and evocative imagery to the cold, hard language of science and facts \u2013 hospitals, sterile waiting rooms, the human futility, the lack of control over \u2018nature\u2019.<\/p>\n

The narrative of Tom Vowler\u2019s Blowhole<\/em> takes readers unawares. In the form of a letter, it begins, \u2018Dear Mrs Stanley, Forgive me for writing,\u2019 shortly concluded, \u2018From Susie\u2019.\u00a0 The relationship between the two women, for they\u2019ve never met, is gleaned from what Susie leaves unsaid, from the silences between the sentences. The unease builds up delicately. There\u2019s just something about the gentle, conversational tone of Susie\u2019s words. You can\u2019t quite put your finger on it. It\u2019s a slow burn, this story. Little moments drawn by Susie\u2019s confessions about her life with her husband, Preston, till you reach the elegantly understated, and therefore all the more powerful for it, reveal at the end. It would be unfair to give it away here. The noncommittal blurb of \u2018Receive a letter from a Stranger\u2019 is, I believe, suitably justified.<\/p>\n

But, it\u2019s not all darkness and despair. Liam Hogan\u2019s humorous Tenth Circle<\/em>, for example, offers readers a welcome respite. A tongue in cheek comment on the publishing industry, the story follows an ambitious Italian writer, Dante, is looking to sell his latest masterpiece, \u2018a Comedia\u2019, it\u2019s the first part of trilogy, the enthusiastic writer explains to his unimpressed publisher. \u2018Peg it back a step, Dante my son,\u2019 is the advice he gets, followed by, \u2018Why don\u2019t you try something lighter, in prose form maybe? And write about what you know, yes?\u2019\u00a0 When that solid advice falls on deaf ears, \u2018Make it real, and true, and funny, and, if you can, sexy\u2019. Needless to say, we know how this one ends.<\/p>\n

Household Gods<\/em>, by Tracy Fells is an uplifting, redemptive story about love, forgiveness, bereavement, and hope. A beautiful, miniature portrait, each word is a brushstroke adding depth and colour to the story\u2019s singular characters, each one locked away in their isolated unhappiness, until the mythical narrative weaves them together into a whole at the end.<\/p>\n

In A Moment That Could Last Them Forever<\/em>, by Dan Carpenter, the narrator is a medium who doesn\u2019t \u2018do Ouija boards, s\u00e9ances or anything\u2019. She\u2019s different.\u00a0 Instead, her customers, mostly the \u2018older crowd\u2019 mark their daily journeys on a map with a line, from and to home, every time they make it. It\u2019s a sad exercise for Edna, exposing the smallness of her world. But, desperate to speak to her husband, Eddie, one more time, she marks it diligently, \u2018her lines scribbled on several times with a black pen, scratching a deep groove into the page\u2026house\u2026high street, the supermarket, and the church.\u2019\u00a0 \u2018I don\u2019t get out much,\u2019 she explains. No matter, she\u2019s assured. The marked lines are sigils, set afire they call for the dead, drawing them home again \u2013 as if the spirits are lost and need the guidance. They function like ley lines, in a way, showing loved ones the path back towards old haunts. Results aren\u2019t guaranteed, but, as our narrator\u2019s father says, \u2018to know that they\u2019re not alone for a moment, that could last them forever\u2019, is enough to keep trying, until a voice answers.<\/p>\n

In Livestock<\/em>, Valerie O\u2019 Riordan skilfully interweaves separate narrative lines that not so much come together in harmonious understanding, but crash into each other. The reverberations continue past the final fullstop.\u00a0 \u2018It was a gale of a Halloween, the day I met Lou-Lou Foley, wind creaming scum off Fernilee Reservoir and spitting it all over the Goyt Valley, skitterings of bonfire smoke whipping from the Buxton hilltops,\u2019 reads the striking opening sentence. \u00a0In typical Unthology<\/em> fashion, readers can expect to be startled, to be made just that little bit uneasy in their skins as the narrative plays out. Riordan is a no holds barred writer: warning, the squeamish should prepare themselves to meet foul mouthed, tough talking Sal. Employed by Bernie Foley to artificially inseminate his herd with \u2018the North\u2019s Finest Bovine Semen!<\/em> \u2019Sal spares us no details. \u00a0When her attempt to do her job goes spectacularly wrong, Bernie\u2019s \u2018fourteen-ish\u2019 daughter Lou-Lou is the only witness. They strike a deal, in exchange for a lift into Stockport for \u2018this \u2013 thing <\/em>I have to do,\u2019 Lou-Lou will keep quiet: \u2018tit for tat, love<\/em> \u2018, Sal agrees, \u2018If she wanted to steal out \u2026to get drunk or go giggling or hook up\u2026\u2019, it\u2019s her business. By the time Sal understands where they\u2019re heading, it\u2019s too late to turn back \u2013 for both of them.<\/p>\n

Relayed in controlled bursts of ferocity, this is a story is about motherhood and abortion \u2013 and agency. There is no romance here, no filters \u2013 and certainly no softness. It\u2019s a cold and uncompromising exploration of the choices, or the lack of choices these characters have in their lives. The older Sal, knows a thing about unexpected pregnancies. Abandoned by her boyfriend, Charlie, who pushes for a termination, and then \u2018demands a christening service,\u2019 before telling her he\u2019d \u2018met somebody else, all right, so could [she] just ever back the hell off?\u2019 She\u2019s struggled alone, her father\u2019s no better support.\u00a0 Watching Lou-Lou poised on the brink of the same choice, Sal veers between jealousy and anger at the options this young girl still has in this moment \u2013 reliving her own choices, wondering how it could have turned out different, had she made the other choice.<\/p>\n

Riordan\u2019s skilful handling of the narrative keeps readers engaged. From the moment Sal agrees to give Lou-Lou a lift we are as invested as she is in following through with Lou-Lou\u2019s journey. And for all that the story deals with tough questions, there are flashes of comedy, albeit dark, in Sal\u2019s characterisation, the opening scene between Sal and Hettie the heifer , the phone call that interrupts at the crucial moment, Hettie\u2019s victorious bellow at outsmarting the human, think Monty Python<\/em> with a dash of Black Mirror<\/em>. You\u2019re laughing, but the reality of it cuts close to the bone.<\/p>\n

In turns bizarre, startling, and oddly off the cuff, Unthology\u2019s fourteen short stories leave readers thinking long after the pages close.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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