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“a veritable living, breathing map of the fantastic fiction that is emerging into the world in these troubled times. Venture deeper, and you will find more than a decade of reviews and ruminations, all writ in an erudite, enjoyable, idiosyncratic style; a treasure that I suspect will become, (and already is), one of the most important and essential chronicles” – Karim Ghahwagi

Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction #60

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My previous reviews of TQF publications HERE

Stories: “The Lost Testament” by Rafe McGregor, “Turning Point” by Nicki Robson, “Yttrium, Part One” by Douglas Thompson, “Amongst the Urlap” by Andrew Peters, and “Doggerland” by Jule Owen

When I review this fiction, my thoughts will appear in the comments stream below… (My reviewing queue of purchased publications is growing longer and I don’t expect to catch up until late October).

Black Static #60

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My previous TTA PRESS reviews HERE

Fiction by Carole Johnstone, Tim Lees, Ray Cluley, Stephen Hargadon.

When I review this fiction, my thoughts will appear in the comments stream below… (My reviewing queue of purchased publications is growing longer and I don’t expect to catch up until late October).

Interzone #272

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My previous TTA PRESS reviews HERE

Fiction by Aliya Whiteley, Paul Jessup, T.R. Napper, Erica L. Satifka

When I review this fiction, my thoughts will appear in the comments stream below… (My reviewing queue of purchased publications is growing longer and I don’t expect to catch up until late October).

Hawling Woolf

I must start when you pluck at me with your children, your poems, your chilblains or whatever it is that you do and suffer. But I am not deluded. After all these callings hither and thither, these pluckings and searchings, I shall fall alone through this thin sheet into gulfs of fire. And you will not help me. More cruel than the old torturers, you will let me fall, and will tear me to pieces when I am fallen. Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and escape from here and now.
— From THE WAVES by Virginia Woolf

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