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"Without a previous sunset to recall, there can be no sunrise to forget."

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Iritis

Saturday, 6 February 2010 8:30 P GMT+01
  Iritis is a rare, mysterious and potentially serious eye condition. I’ve suffered from iritis intermittently since 1973 – in either eye, but mainly the left. Thanks goodness, so far, never in both eyes at once! I have had it i

Butterflies in the Wind

Friday, 5 February 2010 9:48 A GMT+01
Following yesterday's article on Gunfleet Sands Wind Farm:Findings have just been announced today that moths and butterflies surf the wind; http://news.discovery.com/animals/migrating-insects-butterflies.html They instinctively or deliberately di

Gunfleet Sands Wind Farm

Thursday, 4 February 2010 7:24 P GMT+01
 Where I live.This was the then mysterious beginning of the process (November 2008):  And here today is the end result:

Dawn's Game

Wednesday, 3 February 2010 6:11 P GMT+01
In the old days, each day was indeed so old it could not recall anything with its failing memory. The people who lived during those old days – like me – tried to help each day as it dawned by calling up for it our own memories that we bel

Deal or No Deal

Tuesday, 2 February 2010 6:01 P GMT+01
  The Ligottian Banker on 'Deal or No Deal' certainly had a field day today. He even had his own rat army in the sewers. Noel Edmunds said he had tempered what the Banker said. So who knows to what creative depths of Horror the

Primeval Wood - by Richard Gavin

posted Monday, 20 July 2009
 

 

 

A DFL real-time review in one sitting, upon the 40th anniversary of Neil's visit to the Moon.

 

Primeval Wood

by Richard Gavin

(Burning Effigy Press 2009)

 

Having real-time reviewed Richard Gavin's collection OMENS (HERE), I couldn't wait till I entered that 'often parish' again ... so the arrival of my purchase of this novelette in my bungalow-house today was timely in order to quench such cravings.

 

As well as being a fan of Gavinostic fiction, I am a lover of Proustian works, too... and here we have a concept of Proustian weekends, whereby the protagonist, Neil, spent self-indulgent decadent periods insulated within his bed pigging, tripping and reading...

 

No wonder that another point-of-view (his girl friend Kate) left him for yet another point-of-view (Darren) - and Neil goes to the holiday cottage alone instead of with Kate. So, Neil, upon this voyage of discovery towards consciousness (as tutored by a believable discussion forum on the internet) ... to become what? A spoiler in himself for other points-of-view to suffer? A muse that is the actual author rather than an external force? An Aickmanesque 'fetish' of textured Wood? He is all these these things and more. Leaving the reader himself literally growing out of Primeval Wood or even, perhaps, being sodomised by the wooden soul within its pages' paper?

 

[Kate left Neil a note early on saying 'We're Done' on the medicine chest mirror. NightSun on the internet forum may also notice that the holiday cottage had a note faded out into: WE___ME.]

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My previous real-time reviews are linked from HERE.

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