'Grave Misgivings & other stories' by Caroline Wood

These are robust, vivid stories crafted from startling ideas; in Growing Things buried animals are reborn as if they are plants. In Foothold, a woman has hands for feet. In Wings – the story is a well-written feast of gothic sumptuousness and in Shaggy Dog Story a son sends his mother telepathic pictures of what he wants.

There are memorable characters, like Ronnie, in The Cobbler who engage us and the skilful storytelling compels us to find out what happens to them – even though we also kind of know – because we are abetting a mischievous authorial voice that lurks out of sight providing us with sly jokes just as the hapless characters are reaching their dénouements – for example the doctor who finally comes to take Ronnie (the cobbler of the title) away is called Dr Last. ‘Be the Kipper you need to be – be the sort of Kipper you really are. Let your inner Kipper shine through…’ says the mentor to the unfortunate Norman (nicknamed Kipper), in Touchy Feely. Poor Norman:  ‘I enable them to own their feelings and then re-direct them towards me,' he says, 'That way, they don’t carry things back to the work place. It seems to be successful and I’ve had no trouble persuading them to focus their resentment on me.’

In Resident Power a woman accepts a house-sitting assignment in a village of perfect, pastel painted cottages, so that a frail old lady can have a holiday with her sister, a nun who is only allowed out into the world once a year. ‘I saw myself wandering down country lanes on sunny days, or cycling along riverbanks…’ the woman tells us, but somehow, once we've seen her bedroom; ‘…a room with a sloping ceiling, billowing white curtains and flowers from the garden on the dressing table…’ we just know that this isn't going to end well. The woman finds everyday reality: ‘… scraps of circling litter, a clattering, jingling milk-float that stopped as soon as it had started…’ coexisting with the surreal: a post office where a monstrous woman refuses to sell her anything; a petshop full of caged hedgehogs.

And, in Menu, the ghost of Sweeney Todd rises up as soon as the protagonist notices that there is a strange smell in the unfriendly pub she has to stay in.

Characters spring instantly to life, like Neville, the cat: ‘…with huge fluffy feet and

deliberate intentions. Had he been human, Neville would be the sort of person to stride up and shake hands very firmly. As it was, he threw his feline bulk at my calves and looked up at me with a cheerful face.’ The author is adept at scene setting: for example in Clean: ‘Then I saw the two paths and noticed curtains in the upstairs windows. That’s the only way you can tell, really. All the windows have mis-matched curtains upstairs and down. Sometimes there’s a real clash of tastes, with plain, neat nets on the lower floor, then frilly, flouncing ones above.’ Wood deftly achieves maximum information with minimum fuss while conveying something of the uneasy watchful caution of the protagonist. Or: ‘The neat little shed was opened for my inspection – a warm, dry

place holding trapped sunshine and stored apples.’ We are given precise, spatial and sensory information. Sharp eyed observation and succinct language is in evidence throughout the collection, not only to describe settings or characters (one memorable image evokes a shop assistant whose blue eyeshadow gave her the look of a 'chilled parrot') but also to make social comments; for example neighbours borrowing things from one another: ‘There was no particular kindness in this give and take arrangement, but rather the necessity of favours.’

Economy of language is a great thing in a writer and Caroline Wood's economy extends to titles too – like the excellent Foothold, a beguiling story which, like the other stories showcases the author’s impressive power of description e.g. this, about the inside of the body: ‘Strands as fine as hair weaving in between his pulsing, beating organs – visible like underwater rocks, dark vibrating shapes. And his bones – ivory segments of spine like a line of church candles, the ribs a sculptured cage.’ Or: this, of a dwelling, in The Cobbler: ‘Surrounded by rambling, tilted outbuildings and a shed made entirely of old doors, the house looked abandoned.’

This collection has affinities with Grimms fairy tales in the length and pace of each story and the short titles. It bears kinship to legend, magic and myth; such things keep shifting into view and disappearing – silkies, vampires, Alice in Wonderland, Stepford Wives, Midwich cuckoos, The Prisoner, these are its cousins. It has grotesques like the Savage twins with their purple Punch profiles; it has hostile taxidermy and a Fellini-esque dwarf barber. Its protagonists often have a sense of unreality. Their dreams reflect their predicament or they are haunted by illusory memories that they can’t quite bring into focus. The stories are unsettling in the way that all the best spooky stories are. And, in my head at least, the ghost of Sweeney Todd rises up as soon as, in Menu, the protagonist notices that there is a strange smell in the unfriendly pub where she has to stay. 

This collection would make a good TV series - it reminds me of Tales of the Unexpected.

Download it as an ebook from Smashwords.