There's Nothing Out There

My article on the film, Arctic Void, entitled "Fear and Loathing in the Arctic", has just been published in There's Nothing Out There, edited by Sophie Essex for Black Shuck Books.

This anthology contains 17 passion pieces about films that explore the sensation of being lost. When I was made aware of the premise of this book I naturally began wondering whether to write for it and if so which movie I might select. Having recently watched Arctic Void I had become intrigued by its audacious premise and also the bleak and unforgiving setting. Whilst certainly not one of the best films I've ever seen, it's certainly one that dropped its hooks into me and had me considering it long after I had watched it, and the scenario seemed perfect for working into this book. I won't say much more to it than that, as the film is available to watch on a variety of platforms and of course I go into it in greater depth in the essay, so I suggest you simply buy the book.

As a taster, however, here is the opening:

Some movies linger for reasons that initially appear unfathomable but which gradually take on substance. They tend to be those which appear with little fanfare, are low budget, and which need to be inventive because the central idea is all that they have to play with. I’m thinking here of such films as The Borderlands (2013, Elliot Goldner) where the dialogue-focussed relationship between Deacon and Gray dominates the film and supplies tension, but the absolute terror comes from the realisation of what they are descending into beneath the church. I’m also thinking of Hellhole (2022, Bartosz M. Kowalski), a Polish film that literally turns the standard demon-summoning trope on its head. The images at the conclusion of both films play repeatedly in my mind - despite having only viewed them each once – in a self-perpetuating cycle. Not to mention the final scene in John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness (1987) where a glimpse of continuing evil has infused my dreams and frequently has me waking with a scream in my throat.

To reiterate, "Fear and Loathing in the Arctic" is published in There's Nothing Out There edited by Sophie Essex, and in addition to myself features articles from Jason Gould, Pete W Sutton, Darcy L. Wood, Dan Coxon, Gaynor Jones, Daragh Fleming, Adam Groves, Marcelle Perks, Benjamin Kurt Unsworth, Alex Ringer, Lisa Moore-Smith, Sarah R. New, Frank Schildiner, Gary Couzens, John G Austin, and Ashley Stokes. Buy it here.

The Best Horror Of The Year #16

My short story titled "The Enfilade" has just been included in The Best Horror Of The Year #16, edited by Ellen Datlow. Whilst the book came out in November 2024, due to a mailing issue I've only recently received my copy, which is why I've delayed posting about it til now.

The anthology contains 19 short stories all of which were previously published in 2023. My story originally appeared in the now defunct Black Static magazine (although check out Remains, a new publication by the same editor, Andy Cox), and so I'm going to repost part of my original blog about the writing of my story below:

I'm not entirely sure how I came about the word enfilade but I liked the sound of it and when I saw that one of it's meanings meant a suite of rooms with doorways in line with each other I became intrigued. The word doorway in itself then lead to thoughts of Aldous Huxley's Doors of Perception, and his experiences with mind expanding drugs, and subsequently googling architectural examples of enfilades brought me to Mysore Palace, a magnificent structure in the Indian state of Karnataka. Often it's simple connections like these which grow a story. I envisaged a set of doorways as in an enfilade but as spiritual representations within the human mind. What if someone became so obsessed with finding meaning through such doorways that they attempted the impossible? And what if they succeeded?

This was one of those pieces which subsequently wrote itself. I sat down one morning at 9am and by 5pm I had an 8500 word story. I don't have to edit much nowadays, only a word or phrase here or there, rather than anything structural, so it more or less fell out fully formed. As if through an open doorway. Here's the opening: 

I first met Pryce on the grassy banks of the River Cam, although it was to be quite a different body of water that would signify his destiny. Pryce was a scraggy youth who stood with a dangled cigarette dropping ash into the water, as he gazed out towards Clare College Bridge with its three uniform arches. The structure was the oldest bridge remaining in Cambridge, and bore the oddity of a missing section of the globe second from the left on the south side. One story was that the builder of the bridge received what he considered to be insufficient payment, and in his anger removed a segment of the globe; another is that it was a method of tax avoidance, as bridges were subject to tax only once they were complete. Whatever the meaning, I was unaware of either back then. I was also unaware how the concept of completeness would be a major influence on Pryce’s life, to the point of obsession.

Regular readers of this blog will know I usually listen to music on repeat through headphones whilst writing, and this entire story was written to Coeur de Pirate's album of piano music, Perséides, on continual repeat.

To reiterate, "The Enfilade" is republished in Best Horror Of The Year #16, and in addition to myself features stories from Christopher Golden, Carly Holmes, Adam L G Nevill, Ray Cluley, Priya Sharma, Ramsey Campbell, Steve Rasnic Tem, E Catherine Tobler, Tananarive Due, Stephen Graham Jones, H V Patterson, Caitlin R Kiernan, Patrick Barb, Brian Evenson, Helen Grant, Neil Williamson, Glen Hirshberg and Charlie Hughes. Buy it here.