“The Pale Ones is an impressive debut.”
ERIC BROWN, THE GUARDIAN
“An insidiously disquieting tale, flavourfully told. What begins as a dark comedy of book collecting gradually accumulates a profound sense of
occult dread, which lingers long after the book is finished. It’s a real addition
to the literature of the uncanny and
an impressive debut for its uncompromising author.”
RAMSEY CAMPBELL, author of the Brichester Mythos trilogy
“To a soundtrack of wasps, The Pale Ones unsettles in the way of a parable by some contemporary, edgeland Lovecraft, or another of the authors the used-book dealers in this story no doubt seek out, Arthur Machen. The unnerving images which flicker in a sagging English landscape of charity shops, seaside bed and breakfasts and amusement arcades, washed with stale beer, linger in my imagination ages after reading.” ANTHONY CARTWRIGHT, author of Heartland, BBC Radio 4
Book at Bedtime
Pulped fiction just got a whole lot scarier
Few books are treasured. Most linger in the dusty purgatory of the bookshelf, the attic, the charity shop, their sallow pages filled with superfluous knowledge. And with stories. Darker than ink, paler than paper, something is rustling through their pages.
Harris loves to collect the unloved. And in helping people. Or so he says. He wonders if you have anything to donate. To his ‘children’. Used books are his game.
Neat is sweet; battered is better.
Tears, stains, broken spines—ugly doesn’t matter. Not a jot. And if you’ve left a little of yourself between the pages – a receipt or ticket, a mislaid letter, a scrawled note or number—that’s just perfect. He might call back.
Hangover Square meets Naked Lunch through the lens of a classic M. R. James ghost story. To hell and back again (and again) via Whitby, Scarborough and the Yorkshire Moors. Enjoy your Mobius-trip.