A rollicking good read: some reviews for Mittens

Mittens appeared in Black Static 53, accompanied by Richard Wagner’s artwork (below). Here’s a few reviews of the story:

Stephen Hargadon steps up … with the evocative and imaginative Mittens. Following the discovery of a grotesque murder, the apparent felon – sideshow manager Percy Scollop – pleads his innocence by recounting tales of his history in showbusiness… most importantly, in managing the astounding talents of master knitter Neil O’Neill.

Full of life, drama and a palpable sense of wonder, Hargadon’s Mittens blends the magic of the stage with the malignancy of self-doubt, wanderlust and, yes, bloody murder. O’Neill’s signature stage show is brought to gleaming life – a bombastic spectacle that comes close to placing the reader right before the stage – whilst the gloomy, blood-slicked horror that follows is equally affecting in Hargadon’s hands.

Throw in the twisting effects of an unreliable narrator who may be that worst of narrative leaders – the insane showman – and you have yourself a rollicking good read.

Dread Central

~~~

“The years go quickly but they arrive slowly.” As ever, this Hargadon is crammed with stunning turns of phrase, wise saws, suppurating homilies, witty but down-to-earth conceits … the central conceit of the variety act in question is too good to spoil or unspool in a review such as this … And its staggeringly disturbing finale has to be encountered cold to be fully appreciated.

DF Lewis

~~~

Impresario Peter Scollop is found in a room in the Foxbridge Hotel in Buxton, naked except for a pair of pink knitted mittens, with blood on them, and the dead body of a woman in the cupboard: strangled, her chest cut open and knitting needles in her major organs. Scollop denied everything even his name and that the woman was dead. We get a wonderfully imaginative story with descriptions of the incredibly bizarre acts that he presented to the public. One of the best was Neil Niall O’Neill, the remarkable knitter. He could knit at a remarkable speed. But he went into a rough patch and went out with his most unbelievable act of knitting. But was that his last creation? Imaginative, entertaining and very unsettling

SFRevu

Black Static 53 is available from TTA Press here (or from Amazon). Well worth buying a subscription.

mittens

Illustration by Richard Wagner

Roll up, roll up: Mittens, a new story.

The last story I had published in Black Static was ‘Listen, Listen‘, back in March.

Time moves quicky, the world is a different place, perhaps a shittier place, and here I am again, in the current issue of Black Static, with a new story, ‘Mittens’, a treat for afficiandos of fine knitwear and fast knitting.

The accompanying artwork, stylish and eerie, is by Richard Wagner, who illustrated ‘The Visitors‘ in issue 45.

Here’s how the story begins …

The first time I met him he was sat on the edge of a bed, naked except for a pair of pink mittens. The Foxbridge Hotel in Buxton. We found the body of a woman in the cupboard. She had been strangled and her chest had been cut open. Knitting needles pierced her major organs. There was blood on Percy Scollop’s mittens. Under the bed we discovered a black sports holdall containing several skeins of yarn and a selection of knitted items such as dolls, gloves, half-finished scarves. Scollop denied everything. He said he wasn’t Scollop. And he said the woman in the cupboard was not dead.

Black Static 53 Contents

BS 53 looks a strong issue, with stories by Priya Sharma, Steve Rasnic Tem, Harmony Neal, Kristi DeMeester, Danny Rhodes, Charles Wilkinson, plus regular features by Stephen Volk and Lynda E. Rucker. There are Peter Tennant’s book reviews, while Gary Couzens casts an eye over the latest DVD and Blu-Ray releases: The Witch, Penda’s Fen, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Goosebumps, The Hound of the Baskervilles, That Cold Day in the Park, Journey to the Shore, Evolution, Night of Fear, Inn of the Damned, Me and My Mates vs the Zombie Apocalypse, The Club, Even Lambs Have Teeth, Cherry Tree, The Ones Below, Visions, Baskin, i-Lived, The Forest, Intruders.

Black Static 53 can be bought here.

BS53cover

Cover illustration by Tara Bush

Reviews for ‘Listen, Listen’

Some reviews for ‘Listen, Listen’ (Black Static 51)

When his father dies, Robert Haig moves into his house. His aunt tells him she had been telepathically in communication with his father and that his last words were about a place that had been burned and in which a man who died. The ghost of old Haig reprises his last dream. A nasty, very effective, grim tale. Sam Tomaino at sfrevu.com

Hargadon is the name of an author of whose work I have become a fan over the last few years … The main theme, of how one dies and what is supposed to happen after death, depending on whether one dies peacefully or while dreaming, is certainly original … We have spontaneous combustion, regrets, guilt, collected toys, Yeats’s Byzantium, father-son relationship, life without dreams not being a life at all, workers-boss relationship, money-making, the nature of bodies when burning, telepathy, death as the most dramatic thing you ever do… DF Lewis

In ‘Listen, Listen,’ Stephen Hargadon introduces us to Robert Haig, who inherits his toy-making father’s fortune. But Robert’s old man comes back to torment him in a unique way in this wonderfully written study of ghosts and the afterlife. The Horror Fiction Review

… reminds me a little of Mark Samuels crossed with Reggie Oliver … There’s far too little witty, decadent and disturbing prose out there, and I’m delighted to have discovered another author who is so good at it. John L Probert

Black Static 51 is available from TTA Press or Amazon.

LL

Illustration by Vince Haig: barquing.com

 

Listen, Listen

I have a new story, “Listen, Listen”, in Black Static #51.

The March–April issue also contains new novelettes and short stories by Mark Morris, Stephen Graham Jones, Gary McMahon, Caren Gussoff, and Norman Prentiss. The cover art is by Martin Hanford, and interior illustrations are by Vince Haig, Jim Burns, Ben Baldwin, and Richard Wagner. Features: Coffinmaker’s Blues by Stephen Volk (comment); Notes From the Borderland by Lynda E. Rucker (comment); Case Notes by Peter Tennant (book reviews and an interview with Molly Tanzer); Blood Spectrum by Tony Lee (DVD/Blu-ray reviews).

You can read and see excerpts from issue 51 here.

I’m particularly pleased by Vince Haig‘s artwork for “Listen, Listen”. Seems to capture its tone and atmosphere very well.

LL

Here’s how the story begins:

“Richard Haig, known to long-standing business acquaintances and certain family members as old Haig, died five weeks ago. On hearing the unhappy news, his eldest son and heir, Robert Haig, had returned from Peterborough where he had been working on his memoirs (two hundred and forty-one pages of rhyming couplets) to attend the funeral, a grand, sombre masque of white blooms and black veils. The whole town came out to smirk. Robert softened himself on gin and swapped polite words with various unremarkable cousins, nephews and simpering admirers of the dearly departed. Resisting the call of Peterborough (where his latest muse, Emily, was waiting for him in a flat above a fish and chip shop), Robert decided to stay on at Haig Heights, an ugly Tudorish pile perched on a hill at the northern end of town. Its timbers creaked and moaned in the cold winds that blew in from Russia. The home, if it can be called a home, had all the charm of a dusty and infrequently visited provincial museum, a certain dull menace, and was efficiently run by a robust housekeeper called Mrs Furnivall. No one knew if this woman was married, or had been married, or wished to be married; it seemed unlikely that she would tolerate something as frivolous in her life as a husband. On the other hand, no one could quite imagine that she had ever been a little Miss, all ribbons and plaits and moonlit intrigues. It was as though Mrs Furnivall had turned Mrs into an entirely new category of being, the mysteries of which were known only to her. While at the Heights, young Haig did his best not to interfere with Mrs Furnivall’s endless round of cleaning and arranging. He retreated to the leathery gloom of the library and set about putting old Haig’s estate in order. But young Haig wasn’t so young anymore and he wasn’t very good at putting things in order. Quite often he abandoned the library for the Cock and Badger, where he found strong ale and a serviceable muse.”

Black Static 51 can be bought here.

Enjoy. And don’t work too hard.

 

 

 

 

Some reviews of The Toilet (published in Black Static 49)

“Down in the neon gloom of the Toilet, among the mumblers and dribblers, the dead souls with their dead dreams, Rio Snagg indicated, with a buyer’s nod, that he wanted the same again; the same again being a pint of the celebrated local brew, Knicker Sniffer, a fierce and sooty fluid cited as the malign inspiration behind many a Friday night coshing and bludgeoning.”

The Toilet Stephen Hargadon Black Static 49

Since it’s appearance in Black Static #49, a few curious passers-by and hardy souls have stepped into The Toilet. Here are their thoughts:

 

Stephen Hargadon steps up to bat next [in Black Static #49] and, quite frankly, knocks it out of the park with The Toilet. Doing what he does so well – urban horror that takes the everyday sights and sounds of the city and twists them into something much grimmer – here he takes us on a journey into a semi-hidden inner city bar that serves a very special kind of home brew.

When a murder occurs outside, police inspector Burroughs heads into the dingy joint in an effort to collect statements… only to find himself trapped in a waking nightmare. It’s a remarkable piece, and despite the short length, Hargadon manages to dredge up an atmosphere so sickly, decrepit and smeared in human excretions that you can almost smell it. It’s dark, it’s nasty, it’s slightly confounding (don’t expect to grasp its secrets easily on the first read)… and it’s bloody brilliant.

Gareth Jones ~ Dreadcentral.com

~~~

While investigating an assault, detective Frank Burroughs becomes addicted to an unusual beer in Stephen Hargadon’s ‘The Toilet.’ The Toilet is a small bar, located a flight below street level. Burroughs’ life changes after he visits the restroom in this creepy, noir-ish mind bender.

The Horror Fiction Review

~~~

Rio Snagg is felled by someone with a hammer outside of a pub called the Toilet. Detective Burroughs investigates but runs into trouble. I can’t go into more detail but this one was very strange

Sam Tomaino ~ sfrevu.com

~~~

Hargadon is my cup of tea as a writer … Here the drink is stronger, Knicker Sniffer on the pump, in a basement pub that used to be a public convenience … Hargadon’s … labyrinth of The Toilet’s own lavatory has to be read to be believed. It is something else altogether. REALLY.

DF Lewis ~ The Dreamcatcher of Books

~~~

Want to go to The Toilet?

The print edition of Black Static 49 (November-December 2015 issue) can be bought here. It contains new novelettes and short stories by Ralph Robert Moore, Thana Niveau, Simon Bestwick, Stephen Hargadon, Erinn L. Kemper, and Tim Lees. The cover art is by Martin Hanford, and interior illustrations are by Ben Baldwin, Martin Hanford, and Vincent Sammy. Features: Coffinmaker’s Blues by Stephen Volk (comment); Notes From the Borderland by Lynda E. Rucker (comment); Case Notes by Peter Tennant (book reviews and an interview with Nicole Cushing); Blood Spectrum by Tony Lee (DVD/Blu-ray reviews).

An electronic version is available from Amazon & Smashwords.

Black Static 49

Berryl St

The other morning I went to collect a parcel from a depot. An item of knitwear. It was a chore I did not much resent, for time was on my side and it meant a relatively untaxing stroll through one of Manchester’s tattier and more interesting corners, the Baring Street industrial park, near Piccadilly Station. It’s a seedy and dilapidated zone – unpretty signs, cracked brickwork, soiled concrete, and intimidating gates of rusty, corrugated iron. But among the grimy backstreets and rubble-strewn ginnels there are functioning businesses. Some of the buildings look abandoned, the most notable being of course the old Mayfield Station, a quite impressive ediface of decay and neglect which I did not have the inclination to inspect. The Medlock, usually no more than a brown, feculent, niggly dribble of a river, has been gorging on rain and actually looks quite potent in its own insignificant way. A strange, crudely-painted emblem adorns the bridge over the river. Two creatures, one cream, the other a rather sickly blue pose and prance next to a dull shield. There is graffiti – RZ has been doing the rounds – and a leather jacket lies in the gutter. Some wag has modified the sign for Berry St. You can glimpse this not-quite-destroyed world from platform 14 of Picaddilly Station. It is tucked behind the clean, curved mass of the Macdonald Hotel, where hen parties, business men and football fans stay. Next time you’re up there, on platform 14, waiting for your train to Blackpool or Horton Parkway or Liverpool Lime Street, take a look  at the world outside, at those dirty, littered streets, just beyound the confines of your daily business. They are unloved streets, perhaps even unwelcoming for the right kind of visitor, but they are not with a certain charm. The old warehouses are attractive. The peeling paint and moss-furred pipes are pleasing on the eye. Perhaps my view that morning was coloured by the excitement of collecting a package. The jumper was too small by the way.