My short story titled "The Good Men" has recently been published as a single story chapbook by Salò Press, and as usual I'm blogging a few words about how the piece came to be written. There may be spoilers within.
Whilst Salò Press is better known as a poetry publisher, they have dabbled in short stories from time to time and recently decided to develop an imprint dedicated to single short story chapbooks under the name of The Infidelites (their poetry imprint is The Flirtations...). Confession time, my partner, Sophie, runs Salò Press, however she asked me to submit something and after two rejected stories she chose this one (so not quite nepotism in that regard). The other stories launched simultaneously are by James Cooper, Aliya Whiteley, C.A. Yates and Dan Coxon.
"The Good Men" is one of a series of stories I've written riffing off French New Wave cinema (my other stories published in this series include Mont Blanc, Betaville and Hiroshima Was Another Word For Love Then). In this story, my starting point is the 1962 Claude Chabrol film, "Les Bonnes Femmes", but with the genders reversed and the action relocated from a Parisian domestic appliance store to a Birmingham garage; although you don't need to know the film to appreciate the story.
Here's an extract:
The Kia has leather seats that smell of freshly mown animal.
She has her hand on his knee as they exit the outskirts of Birmingham, only lifting in a motion to change gears. This Sunday morning is clement, but overcast. Grey predominates as though they are driving through black and white film, although Jacob reminds himself that there was always colour, just not the equipment to record it.
Some kind people have said the following:
The Good Men possesses a raw, jump-cut poetry and a sense of barely restrained existential crisis. The disaffected, somewhat lost characters seem to be searching for something that can never be found. The New Wave reimagined as the last wave as they are subsumed by inertia and ennui. - Gary McMahon, author of The Grieving Stones
In The Good Men, a superb switchback ride of a story, Hook displays yet again his mastery of the form, marrying a cinematic aesthetic with an admirable sense of control and economy, creating a subversive gem. - Andrew Humphrey, author of Debris
Hook observes his characters like a cinematographer. The words convey, in precise and telling detail, the mundanity of self-oppression. These mechanic(al) lives are full but paradoxically empty. The story is driven by sensuality and pursuit but somehow, behind the mask, it aches with a longing and an undefined sadness. - Stephen Volk, author of The Good Unknown
Regular readers of this blog will know I usually listen to music through headphones whilst writing, and this entire story was written whilst listening (perhaps unsurprisingly) to Paul Misraki's score for Les Bonne Femmes.









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