Publisher : Titan Books (UK) Language : English Paperback : 368 pages ISBN-10 : 1789094755 ISBN-13 : 978-1789094756 In my last review I mentioned how hard it can be finding horror fiction featuring realistic portrayals of older people. And while social media is full of folk pushing for greater representation of all kinds of minorities in fiction, the prejudice of ageism often seems to fly under the radar. This state of affairs is even worse if you’re talking about older women, although at least the blatant intersection of sexism and ageism does ensure that the subject gets a mention by online feminists from time to time. But for all genders, to age is to become transparent, and even to become a ghost in your own life. Meanwhile, it seems like the generation gap is yawning wider than ever as Millennials and Gen Z-ers continue to foot the bill for the bacchanalian consumer orgies of many Baby Boomers. But are anger and indifference all that today’s and tomorrow’s elders can expect from the young? Aliya Whiteley’s new collection at times seems almost designed to address this question. The title story, “From The Neck Up”, “The Tears of a Building Surveyor, and Other Stories” and “Reflection, Refraction, Dispersion” all feature people trying to navigate the divide between generations, either within their families or society as a whole, though the theme is stated most forcefully in the opening novella “Brushwork”. It’s narrated by ex-teacher Mel, who after a “beast of a life” (in which the coming of a new Ice Age has been just one of the horrors) has now found a degree of peace living and working in a greenhouse of a massive faceless corporation that tends the last fruit and veg in the world (she does melons). The corporation has specifically chosen to employ the old because they are easier to handle than the increasingly furious young, but Mel’s peace is shattered when a pack of terrorists take over the complex and attempt to run it themselves. Mel is a likeable narrator, unsentimental and smart, and her tart observations slice through all the bullshit spouted by both young and old to justify their actions (or inaction). Ultimately, Whiteley’s prognoses are painfully lucid but also hopeful in a way that feels realistic. “Brushwork” casts its green shade over the rest of the collection, which is often more sci-fi than horror. Eco-futurism is a major theme and I enjoyed the numerous appearances of greenhouses, but Whiteley also returns repeatedly to the phenomenon of growth, fruiting, harvesting and what these things can mean socially and emotionally. More than one ‘fruiting body’ makes an appearance, often in ways that intersect with the monstrous or abject feminine, though these are not the most convincing or original tales (the exception being “Into Glass”, a pretty and incisive story that explores the uneasy relationship between artists and their muses.) There is, however, a choice bit of botanic horror waiting in “Stars in the Spire”, a story of mingled horror and beauty that could be described as pastoral post-apocalyptic, peopled with some very Ramsey Campbell field creatures. There are lighter stories amongst all the dystopias and body horror, and in fact my favourites belong to this category. “Loves of the Long Dead” and “Chantress” are fables examining women and their place in the world in a way that is funny but without too much of the Victoria Wood bathos that often haunts this kind of thing. In her best stories Whiteley is able to say a lot without making too much racket or wasting too much paper, which is likely to make her very popular with trees, humans and everything in-between. And if From The Neck Up makes one thing clear, it’s that there are a lot of stages in-between… From the Neck Up and Other Stories |
Archives
May 2023
|
RSS Feed
|
|