Category Archives: Cover Art

Four Uncanny Tales in One Volume

Although I have been working on a novel for almost three years, it has yet to see the light of day, for I keep getting distracted by ideas for shorter pieces. Thus it is that over the past eighteen months or so I have published nine tales – novelettes and novellas – on Kindle. None have been long enough to publish in paperback format individually, so I have waited until I have had a sufficient quantity available to issue anthologies. The first, Anthology: Wry Out West, came out last spring, and now the second – Uncanny Tales – has just been published as a paperback. It is also available in Kindle format

So, what does this new anthology contain, you may wonder. Four tales in all, the covers of which you see pictured in the collage above. It is likely that you may not recognise them, as I’ve given them a revamp this week in an attempt to make them look a little more appealing. One of the stories – The Rude Woman of Cerne – was too long to include in the first collection, so is found here alongside the first three novelettes in the Tales of the Uncanny series: The Ghost of Scarside Beck, At Fall of Night, and Epona. The last two of these tales are set in Victorian Wiltshire, and whilst standing independent of each other, are linked by two characters, one of whom is central to both stories.  

Within these pages the reader will encounter four spirits: a mediaeval animalistic heretic; a personification of Death that has journeyed far from its Breton homeland; a Celtic goddess thirsting for vengeance, and a mysterious sickle-wielding hedger. Some are guardians of their place and of their values, caring not for contemporary social mores, or those who cleave to them. Woe to those who care to transgress what they deem to be right! Others wreak a vengeance upon the living to make them atone for perceived injustices, unleashing chaos in the personal lives and relationships of their chosen victims. Beatrice Clemens, the eponymous Rude Woman of Cerne, is something of a living spirit too, and she’s equally rigid in what she believes to be right and just, and doesn’t she just like to let everyone know what those beliefs are! The tone of this particular novella, which is the final one to be encountered in this collection, is markedly different from the others, being primarily satirical, although it does also feature a pronounced supernatural element. It is hoped, therefore, that the reader will finish Uncanny Tales with a laugh, although perhaps a shudder too.  

You can preview and purchase the paperback version of Uncanny Tales by clicking on the link here, or on either of the images in this post. The Kindle version may be accessed by clicking here. Kindle Unlimited subscribers may read the volume for free. As for my novel, I’m not writing anything else – in terms of fiction, that is – until it is finished.

Book Review: ‘Music and Silence,’ by Rose Tremain.

Some books are beautifully written, some are skilfully and intriguingly plotted, whilst others still possess a pace that compels the reader to turn the page and devour the book leaving them wanting more; few manage to combine all three elements. Music and Silence is one of those novels that excels in one of these categories – for its prose is undeniably alluring – and yet fails in the other two. It is written prettily enough, but it lacks pace, and the plot meanders hither and thither, the perspectives constantly toing and froing from one character to another, none of whom I found to be particularly sympathetic. 

The lutenist, Peter Claire, his fingers frozen by a Danish winter, pining for a love denied; the Danish Queen Kirsten, despising of her doting husband, scheming and prone to sadomasochistic horseplay with the German Count Otto, or having herself pleasured by black slave boys; the benevolent King Christian IV, touching his elflock for comfort, forever disappointed by all that is ‘shoddy’, including his marriage to his contemptuous and contemptible second wife, his schemes for bringing wealth and happiness to his people seemingly doomed to failure: these are three of the primary protagonists around whom the ‘plot’ revolves. There are many others, but they fail to move me to mention them.  

Before coming to this book, I had read another of Tremain’s novels – Restoration – which I found to be highly engaging and well paced, so when a friend recommended Music and Silence to me as her ‘favourite book’, I had high hopes for it. At the same time, however, I also possessed certain nagging misgivings, for when someone commends a book so highly, the fear creeps in that I will find in it some significant flaw, and so, in this case, it proved to be. Perhaps my failure to find any great satisfaction in the book derives from the fact that it is aimed, predominantly, at a female readership, or then again, perhaps not. It was its lack of pace that made the reading of it so laborious and turgid, for it lay partially read on my bedside table for some five months or so before I compelled myself to complete it, wolfing down the prose with as much pleasure as if it had been unsalted raw cabbage. Thankfully, unlike the cabbage, it did not leave me with wind afterwards, but neither did it leave me with a desire to read anything else by Tremain, which was a pity.  

The 17th century is a fascinating period in which to set a novel, as it was a time of such intellectual, political and social ferment, but, alas, Music and Silence somehow manages to render it less interesting than it was. In contrast, An Instance of the Fingerpost written by Iain Pears, set in Restoration Oxford and employing four separate perspectives in the narration of the same set of events, is utterly compelling and convincing; it is beautifully written, skilfully and intriguingly plotted, and leaves the reader wanting more at its end.

Meet your truculent Hostess

Looking grumpier and more sinister than ever, Old Crotchet is back. Emerging from a seventeenth-century dresser near you, soon. Whatever you do, don’t forget to invite her to dinner.

Dissatisfied with her former unflattering portrayal, the harridan compelled me to devise this new depiction of her squat and portly frame against an appropriate period backdrop. She does seem to have something of a glow about her, doesn’t she? That said, it doesn’t appear to be a very healthy one. Would I have been able to fool Sir Arthur Conan Doyle into believing that this was the picture of a ghost? Perhaps if I had used a few hatpins and some cardboard cutouts he would have been more likely to believe in its veracity.

Lust, Mushrooms and the Quest for Immortality

These would seem to be the primary inspirations underpinning the activities of the occult-obsessed protagonist of Gwydion’s Dawn, hence the original choice of an image of a psychedelicised fly agaric to grace the novella’s cover. However, given that much of the tale is set in and around Glastonbury, and that it takes its title from the name of the wannabe Crowley in crushed velvet, and one-time acid-rock guitarist Gwydion Turner, this new artwork, featuring part of the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey given an early Black Sabbathesque makeover, seems particularly fitting. That said, I must admit to missing the sinister fly that sat atop the mushroom’s cap.

The new cover artwork should be visible on Amazon in the next day or two, although anyone who downloads the Kindle ebook will find that the cover is already live.

The Rude Woman Uncovered

I never was that satisfied with the crude original artwork that I cobbled together for ‘The Rude Woman of Cerne’, but as it is a humorous tale of the supernatural, the original’s daft imagery served well enough as an interim measure. Now, however, having snapped a suitably unusual and fitting image, I have redesigned the cover – as shown here – and have submitted it to Amazon in the perhaps vain hope that they will update my publication in a timely fashion. After all, it is now about ten days since I attempted to update the cover for ‘Agnes of Grimstone Peverell’, but something has gone awry. Touch wood, this cover will not suffer the same fate, and will instead be live and online before the week is out.

New cover artwork for The Rude Woman of Cerne.

New Cover Art: Agnes of Grimstone Peverell

Having lately been given a wonderful present in the form of a new and much better camera, and not being altogether happy with the original image for the cover art of Agnes of Grimstone Peverell, I decided to revisit this luminous stained-glass window with a view to acquiring a better picture, and what you see above is the result. Unlike on the preceding occasion, this time there were no obstructions blocking my view, which meant that I did not have to take the picture at an angle. The lighting too proved to be much more favourable. All that therefore remained was a little image manipulation to remove perspectival distortion from its uppermost portions. The result is much crisper, and richer in colour.  As there is always a lag between uploading imagery and it going live on Amazon, I should imagine that the new cover will not be displaying on the site until Tuesday, or thereabouts.

For readers unfamiliar with the tale, most of the action unfolds on a single bitterly cold day in December 2009, during which a theatre critic and his wife – Lionel and Frances Smallwood – find themselves enjoying the Victorian Christmas market in the little-known Dorset town of Grimstone Peverell. Chilled to the marrow, they retire to the town’s minster where they are accosted by an enthusiastic guide, who knows a great deal about some things, yet next to nothing about that which would, to most people, seem obvious; she seems keen not to let them go, but return to London they must – Lionel has a play to review. That, at least, is his intention.

The story is heavily larded with black humour, and like others in the series, possesses a wry twist.

Agnes of Grimstone Peverell is available via Amazon worldwide, free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers, otherwise 99p or 99c. To preview and/or purchase, please click on the image above.