An A-Z of Possible Worlds: Review

An A-Z of Possible WorldsAn A-Z of Possible Worlds by A.C. Tillyer

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A.C. Tillyer manages to pull off an impressive feat, backed up with the exemplary efforts of Roast Books, with the delightful An A-Z of Possible Worlds.

The publisher, firstly, serves up a thoroughly impressive packaging coup. A compact maroon-coloured box containing twenty-six individual short stories in A6 format with card covers. The box also contains an additional leaflet about the author and the content of the box.

A.C. Tillyer has filled each bookette of the A-Z of Possible Worlds set with a short story, ranging from 8 to 18 pages in length. Each book has an alphabetical link (like R for Reservoir or U for Underground) that forms the focus of the tale. Across twenty-six books you have a varied range of plots and stories, from modern to historical, amusing to horror. The brief format makes them easy to digest, a perfect space filler before bedtime, on the loo, while waiting for a bus… whenever. The size of the booklets means you could just stick the next one in your bag or back pocket and not even notice you have it there until you need it.

I don’t think a single story disappointed me – and a few left me wanting more. No repetition or similar stories here, each a little breath of fresh air. Sometimes, I found myself desperate for a few more pages, but never left wanting fewer. The author knows how to serve up just enough detail given the space – and in some cases the compact form and need for multiples of four pages leads to several left blank.

Having read through them all, mostly at bedtime, I now quite fancy going back again to re-read those that excited me or provoked me. I strongly urge anyone intrigued by the title or concept to give in to the urge. Given the format, I can’t really even hint at the stories without giving something away – and when you only have 8 or 12 pages to read, giving anything away spoils a short tale in a heartbeat.

Thoroughly recommended.

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Undead: Review

Undead (omnibus)Undead by John Russo

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

The ‘Undead’ volume gathers together the Night of the Living Dead and Return of the Living Dead into a single volume with an introduction by the author, John Russo. ‘Night’ novelises the movie, with a minor variation here or there, while ‘Return’ provides an original tale that Russo wrote, having retained the rights to the Living Dead franchise, and which gave it’s name, and very little else, to the Dan O’Bannon horror/comedy movie. In many ways ‘Return’ comes across as the better of the two stories. If you’re a fan of Russo and zombies, you will probably enjoy both of these two stories; if not, then you might want to avoid ‘Night’ altogether, or not pick the book up at all.

Fair warning – ‘Night of the Living Dead’ isn’t a good place to start reading this book. Russo’s style and effort to novelise the movie comes across like someone trying to novelise a visit to a hardware store or the supermarket on a particular dreary day. He struggles almost constantly to find alternate ways to say the same thing as zombies launch attacks against people and property. The story struggles, the characterisation falters and the reader, likely, begins to wonder why they parted with their money. The story improves slightly toward the second half, but given you have to get through 50+ pages of poor story before that some readers may never find that out. I admit, at the end, I actually cared a little about what happened – but I certainly didn’t have the sort of emotional response the blurb on the back of the book might suggest.

In ‘Return of the Living Dead’, Russo provides a much more effective and readable tale. The story flows better, the sentences never seem to struggle to find a fresh word for anything, and the characters have just enough individuality for you to care. The story has a little more plot, the zombies have a little more action – better than ‘Night’, but still not thrilling or horrifying. When Russo decides to describe a zombie attack in detail it all sinks worryingly into immature sexualised nonsense about the soft parts of women victims. Despite emphasizing the mindless nature of these animated corpses, a couple attack like wretched adolescents out for a undead grope. It never adds anything to the tale and just comes across like those formulaic horror movies that characterised the 70s and 80s – all scantily clad college kids meeting grisly ends at the hands of psychopaths and monsters.

In the cold light of day, both stories tell a tale that will engage those with an interest in zombies. If you don’t go in with expectations of high-browed literature you probably won’t be disappointed. ‘Return’ definitely reads far easier and provides a more engaging tale – and, to some extent, you could read it first as it makes many references to the original, even quoting whole sections as chapters that recall the civil warning broadcast during the original ‘outbreak’.

At best, a flawed exercise in zombie storytelling. A weak first story very likely to scare off a reader long before the zombies have the chance to really get into gear. The sequel provides more satisfaction, but gives in all too easily to inane acts of adolescent titillation.



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The Quantity Theory of Insanity: Review

The Quantity Theory of InsanityThe Quantity Theory of Insanity by Will Self

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Self knows a lot of big, old, underrated and little-used words and seems intent on using them. This collection of six short stories invites you to sample Self’s rare intellect, but does so like an invitation to the gallery at the back of an auditorium for a lecture you’ve heard a lot about but soon realise have little hope of understanding.

Like the narrator of ‘Waiting’, you start well, rapt even by the wordplay, wit and intelligence, but soon Self has lost you, the rest of the book an “increasingly involved, turgid and difficult” display. Like Stein’s lecture, “the sheer weight of detail eroded my attention… I began to tune out.”

The copy of the book I own has a big fat stain on the back cover, a thick brown ring of coffee-tainted water. I concur that the book probably makes for a better coaster than an insight into anything Self might have to offer. Beyond the first two tales you might consider putting it to stain avoidance duties and consider yourself done with the business of reading.

If I had the option to give this 1-and-a-half stars, I’d do it. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t exactly like it either. I wouldn’t recommend it, unless I wanted to put someone off reading Self for life. On the other hand, if I ever read any other books by him and find they raise the bar, I might suggest reading this to really put his brilliance into perspective. ‘He can sink this low, yet rise to such incredible heights… Do you see?”



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The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox: Review

The Vanishing Act of Esme LennoxThe Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O’Farrell

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

World Book Night gifted my wife with a book. ‘The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox‘ sat next to our front door for a couple of nights before I decided to have a look at it. Two women, one at the beginning of the 20th century, the other at the start of the 21st. Both have issues.

I could see where the troubles for the older woman lay. The story tells of the troubled childhood of Esme Lennox, a girl with her own take on life and a need for something more than marriage. Esme witnesses something terrible in her youth that distances her from her intolerant parents, and then falls into the shadow of her sister, Kitty, who represents the family ideal of the perfect young woman.

Iris, an independent woman, with her own business and a troubled affair with a married man, discovers a relative she never knew existed. As an asylum seeks to offload the last patients in its care, Iris meets Esme for the first time and we follow her over the course of weekend. Both women have something to discover for themselves, some sense of their position in the world, some grip of the events that have moulded their existence.

I didn’t know what I would make of it, but in the end I found I couldn’t put it down. I know you read that sort of blurb on the cover of books all the time, but I’m serious. I consumed this book in the space of a week, or less. I don’t normally read at that sort of pace, but whenever I sat near it the book leapt into my hands and I struggled to stop leafing through the pages. I found the writing style light and engaging. At the same time, when it needed to be serious or distracted and disjointed, Maggie O’Farrell does that well, too. I can see why someone might recommend it, why World Book Night chose to include amongst the volumes on offer. I’m aware of how institutions and families treated women at the end of the Victorian period and into the early part of the 20th century. I felt for Esme and her trials, and this could all so easily refer to a true story rather than simply an act of fiction. I’m sure many women suffered the same fate, and that leaves me troubled, touched.

I thoroughly recommend this read and will definitely pass it on for others to enjoy.



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Is She A Witch?

‘Witch’ provides an improvised entertainment for a small group of people without any need for a gamemaster or referee. In practice, it might be useful for someone to be familiar with the content of this ‘Ashcan’-edition booklet, but by no means imperative as the content could be scanned through and imparted quite rapidly at the start of, and during, the session.

Players assume the roles of a ragtag band of medieval travellers tasked with transporting a supposed witch from London to Lindasfarne. Each player sheet presents some very basic detail, including three questions that warrant an answer during the session and a few flavour lines at the bottom that might serve as the basis for the scenes that will follow.

Over the course of the journey, players take it in turn to frame scenes that involve their characters, the other defined major characters, and any peripheral persona. The person framing the scene can identify a character and a player who will take that role. Here in the middle of the 14th century burning a witch may very well provide a timely and much needed resolution to a plague that ravages the land. Each character has something to invest into this predicament and possible links to the other players – from an inspiring squire and his world-weary knight, to a disgraced Crusader and a wary Brother charged to accompany the witch by the Church.

The game consists of a simple booklet and some strips of paper with the very limited character detail. Only one character sheet has an illustration at the moment – as this edition of the game is still a work in progress. As a player, I didn’t see much of the content of the booklet – but it seems to mainly consist of some short guidance on the game, and narrative sections to frame each phase of the game.

The witch has two ‘envelopes’ to choose from at the start of the game, to determine her guilt or innocence. Her crime may be true or fabricated, and in the course of the game the players need to come to some sort of conclusion. Making the wrong decision will send an innocent woman to the flames, and while the characters may ‘succeed’ in their lives thereafter, the witch character adds a bitter end to their existence. If the players make the right decision, they may rid the land of the plague.

Given the game exists in this half-finished state, I can only judge what I’ve experienced first hand and seen for myself. I wonder what additional material a complete edition of the game might include. As it stands, I’m not overly impressed myself. While I participated and found some role in the game, as the deserter Crusader ‘Sir’ Thorne, I found the whole story massively dependent on considerable effort from the players in creating and developing the narrative. I have played Fiasco and the many random elements generated at the start of a playset provide some character, relationship, and focus to work with. Somehow, I felt ‘Witch’ had cut me adrift. I’m quite a history buff myself and I appreciate you don’t need to adhere to historical accuracy necessarily, but I found the background very limited and the guiding questions and flavour insufficient. I felt uncomfortable playing, even amongst people I have played games with for a while now. The ‘game’ doesn’t feel like it offers much support.

I have read reviews that the game likely offers incredible replay value, but I don’t see it myself. I have played it a single time and now I doubt I would want to play it again, even as a different character or with a different group of players. I can’t quite see how it might engage me or where I might muster the enthusiasm – but, that could simply be me. On the other hand, having played a Fiasco playest (‘The Ice’), I think I could replay that more than once, purely because the elements that make up the game will subtly change with a fresh set of dice rolls.

I can’t judge the outcome of further development or the release of a final version of this game, so I write this review based on what we have now. For the moment, the ‘Ashcan’-edition of ‘Witch’ offers an interesting premise for a genuinely one-off game. I will take an interest in additions and developments, including illustrations for the characters (currently limited to the Brother), but I could, in good conscience, recommend this game to anyone over, for example, Fiasco.