Musings From Oblivion's Vault

I write almost exclusively to satisfy myself - unless I'm invited to contribute work to an anthology - so it is always extremely pleasing when I discover that something I have written finds a connection with someone out there in the wide and wondrous world. I would be the first to admit that my tales are not everyone's favourite tipple. So seeing my work in print is always, and I hope will always remain so, one of my ultimate thrills. So I was delighted a few week's ago to come across a very generous mention of Saraband of Sable and A Damask of the Dead  on a blog entitled oddly weird fiction . Many thanks Nancy O. Also, for those interested, Des Lewis has always been very kind to my work. His real-time reviews are always highly enjoyable. They can be read here and  here .

Saraband of Sable is now up for pre-order from the publisher, Egaeus Press . The volume is a highly pleasing production in their Keynote Series: the format is pocket-sized, a delightful elegance in a mournful black and gold that you can journey anywhere with and be the envy of everyone you meet. Of the eight titles that go to make up the contents of Saraband of Sable , two have never been published before. One of them, 'Protector of Thieves' , is a Clark Ashton Smith pastiche set in his Hyperborea series. This piece was originally written several years ago for a collection of new Hyperborean tales, but it wasn't used. On reflection, I'm quite pleased it was never accepted for its proposed destination because the stories used in the anthology were, barring the odd one or two, generally uninspiring fare. The second unpublished tale,  'In the Palace of the Lost Winter Stars', grew out of two phrases that I suddenly thought of  - "the rose-opal twilight...

I would like to announce a new collection of my work due soon from the superb Egaeus Press . This will be in their Keynotes series: a small format volume in black cloth with a panel in gold for the title and author. A beautiful and elegant design and I am extremely pleased to be a part of this occasional series from an excellent small press. The title of the new book is Saraband of Sable and it will consist of a number of uncollected, unpublished and hard to find tales. I am very happy indeed with this collection and  I look forward eagerly to its publication. Currently Saraband of Sable is due for publication sometime during July 2018, When I have any further news I will of course announce it here. Pan Paramount, Laurence Housman http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration////housman/28.html

Due soon from Brian Shower's excellent Swan River Press is an anthology of ten new stories edited by Mark Valentine, tales that respond in many differing ways to the themes of Oscar Wilde's  The Picture of Dorian Gray . The line up of authors is as follows: Reggie Oliver, Caitriona Lally, Lynda E. Rucker, John Howard, D.P. Watt, Rosanne Rabinowitz, Avalon Brantley, Timothy J. Jarvis, John Gale and Derek John. My contribution is entitled 'A Labyrinth of Graves', the title taken from a poem by John Warren, Lord de Tabley. I was working on the story when Mark asked me if I would be interested in writing for the anthology. Obviously, I said yes. Fortuitously the main themes of the tale in progress seemed to fit perfectly. The story has quite a long history, because I originally had the idea for the tale at the end of the 1990s. I only wrote around a hundred words at the time, and under a different title, 'The Ship Forever-Seeking', before I...

Just after last Christmas I completed a new story called In the Palace of the Lost Winter Stars, unfortunately I failed to finish it in time for the anthology it was intended for, so at the moment it's awaiting a home. However, I felt that the first few hundred words, with a little editing and a fresh ending, would make a decent little prose poem. So here it is. The ending here, by the way, is closer to my original intention for the story: the longer piece - over 5000 words -  has a completely different dénouement.   In Opal Twilight I walked out into the white and wondrous garden with my visitor; out into the transformed world that was now filled with the rose-opal luminescence of twilight, for a fine snow had fallen heavily for half the day. We strolled to the end of the pallor-mantled garden and through the black gate in the white yew hedge, then across the lane, now hidden beneath a crisp mask of ermine, and so into the wood beyond. My pal...

I began the following tribute to Tanith Lee a few days after I had heard of her sad passing in May 2015. It grew out of a re-reading of one of her most re-printed tales, 'Bite-Me-Not or, Fleur De Fur' [1984] and the beautiful stained glass imagery of the opening paragraph. Serenity: A Song in Stained Glass Through stained glass of leaf-green peridot of pallid blue jacinth through silk-fine glass of storm-dark amethyst of an ancient dusk of charcoal through stained glass of a woodland of green crystal of a soft descent of blue perfumed twilight through stained glass she looks serenely… the silver snows of sleep have fallen of velvet petals hued with fluid moon pearl of the salving argent of slumber of the caressing wings of white birds… the sharp, the sable shades of a sepulchre have been salved away have been cast down into oblivion have had the fragrant balm of lily-white birds of snows of silver of slumber of ...

Whilst Tanith Lee is rightly celebrated for her many fine novels, I personally think that when she was composing in the short form she excelled . Over the last few years many fine collections of Tanith Lee's short stories have been issued, but this new gathering is particularly poignant because it appears to possibly be the final one that she personally assembled. The theme here is the sea and it weaves through these tales in all its various guises, temperaments and hues.   The earliest story is Paper Boat (1978) based on the final days of Shelley. The opening lines are gloriously feverish: The summer heat had come. It burned the hills to blocks of standing smoke. It filled the bowl of the shore and the spoon of the bay with its opium, it painted the terracotta of the house in progressively darkening washes of red and umber. The sea, a throbbing indigo, pulled itself to the beach and tumbled there as if drugged. The latest work in Legenda Maris are tw...