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reading now

pre-published and unpublished

I'm very fortunate to have access to some great unpublished and pre-published writing, primarily through membership of Dundee's Nethergate Writers, Aberdeen's Lemon Tree Writers and the flash-fiction peer-review group Wee Tales. What astounding talent!

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Here are some of the pre-published works I'm delighting in at the moment; some I've read in their entirty, others are in progress. The authors can be contacted via the form on my Contact page. Click to find out more:

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martin walsh

mike landay

rhoda neville

martin walsh

 

 

 

THE GIRL WITH THE COOL HANDS

(memoir short-story collection)

 

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(Reading in progress) The Girl with the Cool Hands is a vivid and captivating collection of short stories set in 1960s Sierra Leone and its neighbouring countries, as seen through the eyes of Ben, a young British fisheries researcher. Delivered with immense intelligence, warmth and respect, these beautifully written tales paint a life-affirming portrait of a remarkable place and time.

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extract from the story SNAPPER

 

Old Ibrahim stared gloomily at the empty ocean. The snapper boat lay becalmed, its single ragged triangle of sail hanging limply from the mast. The crew, Mustapha, St John and Kamara, dozed in the afternoon heat, their broad calloused feet splayed out in the bilges. From the coils of fishing lines which lay there, single threads snaked up between their toes, over the gunwales and down into the lifeless sea. Only Ibrahim, who rarely slept nowadays, and his grandson Musa were awake. In every direction the horizon was identical: a razor line between sea and sky, with not a ship, a sail, nor a hint of a coastline to disturb it. Above the slumbering ocean, the only sign of movement was that of an occasional passing seabird. Suddenly something made Ibrahim sit up, and he peered into the distance, eyes narrowed against the sun. Some changed quality to the air made him feel there was something out there, something just beyond the horizon. But no. His instinct must be wrong. However, the instinct that told him the boy was staring at him was real enough, and he turned to look at Musa.

© martin walsh

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LA CASA DEL BACALAO

(magical-realism novella)

 

(Reading complete) In the city of Zaragoza, in north-eastern Spain, Quino Bacalao, the owner of the dried-cod shop 'La Casa del Bacalao' is anything but ordinary. Taciturn and as piscatorial in bearing as his surname would suggest, he nevertheless forges a close friendship with the supremely dignified and elegant Isabella, owner of the neighbouring Stork Cafe. Bacalao and Isabella share similar secrets, which they gradually reveal to each other, aware that this will imperil their friendship.

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extract from CHAPTER ONE:

A CURIOUS-LOOKING MAN

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Señor Bacalao sat behind the counter of his shop, staring lugubriously across its tiled interior and out through the windows onto Calle Don Jaime. He watched a newspaper fly past, whirled suddenly heavenwards in a wild dance before blowing out of sight. El Cierzo had been howling for days now. It roared in off the Bay of Biscay, cooled itself on the snowy peaks of Moncayo, then accelerated down the Ebro valley before funnelling viciously into the streets of Zaragoza. Señor Bacalao detested it: no customers would venture to his shop in this wind unless they had to. As for himself, he feared it above any other weather, even the searing scald of the summer sun. Both dangerously dried his skin until it cracked, despite the copious quantities of a special gel he used to keep it moist. But this wind carried some extra menace: it set up a terrible yearning, a yearning for something, somewhere that he couldn't quite reach, like the shadow of a dream disappearing at day-break.

 

© martin walsh

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For more of Martin's work, see both the Lemon Tree Writers website and the Pushing Out the Boat website

© martin walsh

martin

 

mike landay

SISTERS UNITED

(sci-fi thriller novella)

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(Reading complete) The highly original, nail-biting and immaculately crafted Sisters United envisages a near-future surveillance-state Scotland. Two sisters and a manipulative government agent form a triangle of competing interests and Machiavellian agendas. One sister is alive. The other, long dead, appears as an AI-powered ultra-realistic hologram. Can Matty, the living sister, navigate the moral and existential dilemmas that confront her - and reach the security of Scotland’s Citadel, a place designed to withstand future social breakdown?

 

A novella that really is impossible to put down.

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extract

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And then the Suzie hologram was there - an animated manikin of her sister's head and shoulders looming from the terminal in an aura of pale-blue light, like a ghost materialising from a mist. Despite the ambient blue glow, the software had managed to mimic Suzie's mid-brown skin colour with convincing accuracy. Matty's mouth fell open and she drew in a gasp of air. She leaned back, as if to put a safe distance between herself and the three-dimensional image.

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'Wow! Wow!'

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The hologram responded right away.

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Hello Matty.

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'Oh my gosh …'

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Take your time Matty.

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The voice of her dead sister … but had Suzie ever sounded so calm and measured? Matty stared at the hologram. The face wore a slight smile, and the eyes moved and blinked in an accurate imitation of a living person. The faithful reproduction of her dead sister's mass of shiny black tresses reminded Matty how beautiful Suzie had once been. She was suddenly conscious of how her own hair must look and quickly coaxed it back into shape. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath. 'Well … I guess I should say "Hi Sis". Goodness, this is incredible.'

© mike landay

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PR PHOTO MIKE_edited.jpg

© mike landay

mike

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rhoda neville

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rhoda
RHODA AND TREE 3.jpeg

© rhoda neville

ARKAIG

(gothic ghostly eco-novel)

 

 

(Reading in progress) In Arkaig, the captivating sequel to Rhoda's masterful debut novel, The Gifted, Ailsa McCrae is a house-whisperer who, for nearly twenty years, has successfully eased the problems of troubled properties. Now, she finds herself in a hidden pocket of the Highlands, where her best friend’s magnetic brother is working to expand small shreds of the Caledonian Forest, marooned in mid-century plantation woods. The forest is restless and angry under an onslaught from an unprincipled property developer who would destroy the countryside to achieve his goals.  Ailsa seeks to protect the forest and banish her own ghosts from the past.

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extract

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The deeper they got into the wood, the closer Blue kept to her. Ailsa began to feel what he seemed to be sensing: a sort of glowering, as if they were being urged to turn back. Still, she continued on, determined to find the ancient woods. She wished she'd brought a map. Her phone had no signal at all. She zipped it back in her jacket pocket, went to the burn, and stepped across on large flat stones. Woman and hound climbed the far bank. The woods here sprang with Scots pines, oaks, and a scattering of other broadleaved trees. Blaeberry bushes crowded the ground in this sparser area while in shadier places, islands of ferns sprung up from a dense sea of mosses.

 

The sight might have filled Ailsa with pleasure at having found this place, but for her growing awareness of some undercurrent of turmoil. Her left hand touched her wrist, her fingers automatically ringing the bruise. She moved towards a huge tree near the path ahead. The noise of the forest animals intensified. The birdsong turned to frantic chirrups. With all the birds in the area sounding the alarm, another clamour began. An uncanny, rhythmic noise like hundreds of twigs being scraped together as she neared the tree. Deafened, she put her hands to her ears, turned and saw that Blue had not followed. She moved on, drawn to the  tree. It looked sick to her, large patches of the rosy brown wood turned to grey.

© rhoda neville

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