Egaeus's
first two Keynote Editions – in concept at least - presumably mean
to evoke those of John Lane's decadent series of the 1890s'. The
black and gold covers are certainly smart enough, without aping the
originals' Beardsleyan floridities, while described as "an
ongoing series, presenting the best contemporary writers of weird
fiction in high quality, pocket-sized hardbacks."
In an
afterword to the first, Rebecca Lloyd posits the questions that drove
her to the book's theme; "What is it that keeps people locked
into destructive and often bizarre relationships," she asks,
"with those who must dominate?" This - Lloyd's third
collection – plays out what can happen within the midst of such
manifestations. The four long-short tales presented here foreground
her strength, highlighting the nightmarish side of familial
relationships.
In
'Ragman,' a moody, manipulative father decides to isolate himself
from his family, in his junkyard, surrounded by the bric-a-brac of
his trade. His daughter arrives, poorly received, but stays over in a
bid to persuade his return. She is reminded of those parts of the
yard that made her uneasy in childhood and, apparently, still does;
especially the 'mirror hall' and the half-articulated focus of her past
fear that begins to daily emerge in the present. Occasionally, the
wealth of personal backstory feels in danger of crowding out the
plot. This doesn't slow the pace so much as slightly blur the
reader's focus. 'Fetch' features the narration of the type of
arrogant, misogynist husband you want to punch from his first line;
expecting wifely commitment without giving it, while advising upon
writerly knowledge not held. It would be funny if not so dangerously
close to the well-healed middle-manager types of whom it so expertly
offers a glimpse.
'Teuthida,' Lloyd admits in the afterword, was "inspired by
aspects of Lovecraft's life." While this is almost too obvious
in the name of main character 'Henry Lawncroft,' this in no way mars
the slightly seedy and disturbing aspects of soiled gentility well
conveyed through the plot; in particular the odd control-freakery of
his mother. 'For
Two Songs' is the best tale here. A younger daughter, deemed
second-best in the affections of a father, mourning the loss of his
eldest, shares wounds as much psychological as physical. The
Victorian obsession with death and photography are well-utilised
here, where the horror slowly emerges through cool, matter-of-fact
conversations.
I look
forward to Lloyd's interest in dysfunctional families being
fleshed-out and expounded upon at greater length. With a debut novel
imminent, I eagerly await how such ideas might expand given the
chance to breathe in more space.
Oxford
Dictionaries defines 'felicity' as 'intense happiness' and
'the ability to find appropriate expression for one's thoughts.'
'Epigones' is 'a less distinguished follower or imitator of
someone, especially and artist.' The
series second title uses the framing device of two reflective love
letters to one now lost. (The writer playing the author himself,
signing-off as 'D.J.').
'A Tale from Bede' - on a rain-soaked Sunday morning, a driver, on
an aimless journey, arrives at a carboot sale whose silent patrons
appear to be in purgatory. Their soiled goods, it seems, are "all
they have left." A simple, understated parable of desperation
and loss. (Perhaps what Bede himself supposed existed beyond his
rather more optimistic message...). 'Le Frotteur de Livres' --- In this most decadent of tales, (a
frotteur translated as "one who rubs"), a Freudian
analyst recalls an interview he conducted in London with the French
founder of 'The Society of Psychoanalysts' who recalls one of his
most intriguing formative cases with a most notorious 'pervert.' In
particular, his onanistic relationship with increasingly rare texts.
'In
Our Deep Vaulted Cell' follows. (Formerly discussed here http://panreview.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/transactions-of-flesh-homage-to-joris.html). 'Oblivion' returns us to a purgatory of a different, more
interesting, kind with a superb opening line; "It is Tuesday the
43rd
of March and I have hanged myself." 'A Note from the Archivist'
continues the masturbatory, obsessional quality of 'Le Frotteur de
Livres' and the best of Mark Samuels. A film archivist receives
anonymously sent scenes of a great lost film and gradually becomes as
increasingly determined to complete it as its late director.
'Cosmogony of Desire' – previously unpublished – is the
fictionalised tale of a historical event when, in May 1945, priceless
works of art by Gustav Klimt were purposely vandalised by the SS
while departing the Schloss Immendorff near Vienna. The cosmogony
referred to here felt, to me, at first ambiguous; but seems to refer
to male Freudian perceptions of sex and death in art, indirectly
connecting the observer to the decomposing paint from its destruction
and the reader to the recurrent theme of the earlier tales.
Unreservedly recommended.
