Thursday, April 15, 2021

Melissa Wan - Ailsa Cox (ongoing review)


Wan and Watchman



My previous reviews of NIGHTJAR PRESS:

When I read these works, my thoughts will appear in the comment stream below…

One thought on “Wan and Watchman

  1. A9954A39-F436-4F8F-8105-14A459DB7324Numbered 38 out of 200, with 20 pages.

    THIS MUST BE EARTH by Melissa Wan

    “, a woman too big and somehow too dark to be Grace, who had always been pale and slight.”

    A wan Moon, ironically, for the Grace of God, has slipped its tether and become a pencil sharpener or a drawing of a UFO or something or someone else altogether? This is a compelling, if discomfiting, piece wherein off-duty taxi driver George picks his daughter up at the train station for Christmas when more than just the Bethlehem Star has vanished from our dark horizons…
    The out-of-kilter sense of this work as we progress with more and more knowledge of George’s backstory, a watchman in a vigil thus to protect the night sky, in a long line of such watchmen on the spear side of his family if not the distaff, and actually he was born on a notable space exploration date in 1959, and we are also granted inside knowledge revealed for us about his own habits and secret salacious thoughts, and his sneakiness in not being observed by his wife (and I use the word ‘observe’ advisedly), and a gradual inexplicable entropy of expectations in his self worth seems to pan out. This work even causes an accretive lack of confidence by the reader in their own sanctity of self, I sensed, especially in the ability to clinch a bargain with this story and how it does actually end and why — indeed, why do major things go missing or are misunderstood and not recognised, and, just as one example, why was it George chose Mark Murphy and not Herbie Mann when planning the music to play in his unflagged taxi for when his daughter from university got into it after his meeting her train, while, perhaps significantly, thus off-duty….
    Our co-vivid dream for today?

    “Most people seemed only too keen to herald the end of the world.”

    My previous review of this author:


    Cajun moon
    Where does your power lie
    As you move
    Across the southern sky
    You took my babe
    Way too soon
    What have you done
    Cajun moon”

    Herbie Mann music

Literary Stalker by Roger Keen (ongoing review)


Literary Stalker

Darkness Visible 2017

A book by Roger Keen

When I read this, I anticipate conducting a real-time review in the comment stream below…

One thought on “Literary Stalker

  1. 1.

    “This book is a work of fiction – but what does that mean anyway? Who can say where the boundary between the real and the invented exactly lies? All novels have chunks of real life in them, some more than others. Well this one will have rather a lot more than others! Any resemblance between the characters depicted here and real people is not coincidental. And since everything is preordained anyway, there is no such thing as coincidence!”

    I hope the author won’t mind me quoting the whole of the first paragraph as it seems seminal in my philosophical and literary thought patterns of gestalt real-time reviewing books over the years. Yet he MIGHT mind, I suppose. He may see ME as literary stalking, and part of what I DO do is just that, scrying literary and horror/SF genre texts for the inner or preternatural meanings in the book that the authors did not intend in accordance with the Intentional Fallacy — as well as to root out secrets about them that even they did not know about!
    This story is about Nicholas as narrator writing about, well, shall I yet tell you? I do not want to be crucified for issuing plot spoilers.
    I may indeed eke out this reading and parallel review of it, and leave any of my comments till I finish it. Or I may not.
    It starts, though, with a very entertaining depiction of his own feisty relationship with his partner, their fallings-in and fallings-out in their Clifton home, a relationship that is convincingly empathisable.

    “Robin is an ostentatiously camp hairdresser, almost a cliché really, and as if to hammer that point home, his body language sometimes borders on…”

    Borders on what? Well, you shall see. But I do pity Robin’s profession in recent times. But love that passage’s link to Hammer Films, to which the title of this chapter refers.

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Poems of Tamar Yellin - part two (ongoing review)


Tamar Yellin


Early youthful poems (1976-1984) of Tamar Yellin first published in 2020.

My previous reviews of this author:

When I continue to read this book in due course, I hope to give some thoughts upon it in the comment stream below…



2 responses to “Tamar Yellin

  1. November 11th 1977

    “The leaves are gathering at the door”

    This feels like an uncanny presage of a house now disguised as the poet’s memory of a housedog’s instinct or the then present truth, an initial germ of  HOUSE OF LEAVES (2000), then other ‘strange house’ works…echoing those more traditional houses of yore.
    Become strange, that is, in hindsight of what we have all read since? Including this poem fatefully read today when I have been thinking of such things.

  2. Song
    November 18th 1977

    A cosiness by firelight, and a million reflections of the moon through a gap in the curtain.
    Old fashioned with sung legends, if not, I guess, with right-angular cosines in the patterns of dew!

Thursday, April 08, 2021

Affairs of a Cardiovascular Nature by Terry Grimwood


Affairs of a Cardiovascular Nature – Terry Grimwood


Eibonvale Press 2021

My previous reviews of Terry Grimwood: and

and of EibonVale:

When I read this publication, my thoughts will appear in the comment stream below…

10 thoughts on “Affairs of a Cardiovascular Nature – Terry Grimwood

  1. A neato booklet of over 60 pages….



    A nemisised suicide by an eventual nemonymous character once called VEIDT.
    Nifty concept of how to kill a moment of “passion” by reviving a lifelong one.
    Strangely, about half an hour ago, before picking up this booklet to read for the first time, I reviewed here a story by an author named VEIT. The husband in that story was called ‘Des’.


    “…and it is coming, you will be isolated, incommunicado, non-communicational. Lonely. No one will be able to talk to you. Not even your own family.”

    Good! I am that grizzled old smelly curmudgeon imagined by this short work first published in 2015! I relish the time given for reviewing books without interruption from my outdated communication system, even with barely enough WiFi to get such reviews out to you! And, oh yes, that rainy day I always predicted against the grain of optimism has arrived with a vengeance and I enjoy living off my hoarded savings instead of leaving them to others! I told you so!

    “And did those feet…” William Blake

  3. Pingback: Curmudgeon’s Law | The Des Lewis Gestalt Real-Time Reviews Edit


    I had to finish this fiction dialogue from 2008 between a woman called Judy and an airport Police Psychologist entry officer called Anita in order to realise that it was a prophecy of the testing regime today when you come from abroad — here with the metaphor of one’s inner desires and sexual chemistry with one’s original spouse and the loosening of morals by dint of too easy a divorce now made illegal …. I think.
    Makes you think, at least. A mistry that chemistry is spelt with a k in the title. Any comments to supplement my comments on this work would be welcome below.


    From the above affairs of a Kafkaesque nature of Kemical Kompatability in sexual and emotional relationships and the moral compasses involved, to these affairs of engaged couples with ‘compatibility’ of hearts given to each other – by literal transplant! A farce and whodunnit with P.G. Wodehouse-like characters, involving several intertwining motives, and featuring, inter alia, much blood and guns.
    This undoubted unique plot idea would also be even more brilliant for lovers of such bravura with further extramoral prestidigitations upon a theatrical stage.


    A wild extrapolation of the famous nursery rhyme, the one involving vinegar and brown paper. Actually, thinking about it, not so wild as I assumed? The questions asked here needed to be asked. Not before time.

  7. WAR WAR

    Another theatrical dialogue of jaw jaw between two kakistocracies, a performance of Kafkaesque inscrutability of motive between them, by fabrication of war, where collateral damage could arguably become collateral enriching, even by mutual suicide or by whatever needs must in the playpen of the world’s nationhoods today, as constructively-destructively assimilated by the deployment of dubious tactical or strategic examples in past history. 

    This booklet is thick full of wildly productive brainstorming ideas, as optimised from dubious genres of fiction and disguised as another genre called truth.
    Mind-zapping even if you’re dead.