protean depravity

Shall I believe my eyes or not, dear reader? A reading event at the Otherland Bookstore Berlin? The last time I saw something similar was, like, at least two years ago, so the pandemic is indeed coming to an end, I guess. Seriously, I'm so happy it's a horror reading, PLUS it's Mats Strandberg who is the nicest horror person in the world and the appointed Swedish Stephen King on top! I'd say don't miss this... Here's the Otherland's message: "Have some fine Swedish horror and delightful talks about pain and blood when we welcome Mats Strandberg, author of Blood Cruise , The Home and Die Konferenz (in German translation) on Friday the 13th ... ah ... no, the 23.09. at the Otherland. Don't worry, we mop up afterwards. The event starts at 8 pm and is for free, just drop us a mail so we know you're coming: service(at)otherland-berlin.de" See you all there!

The time for shorties has come again! I have actually tried to read a little more experimentally this past month - two short story collections, two first-time reads by authors, Ruth Ware and Matt Shaw, who are both madly popular in their respective fields mystery and extreme horror, two short novellas and finally a collection of BBC dramatizations of Agatha Christie's work revolving around her most sassy and fabulous inspector, Hercule Poirot. I did have a lot of fun, especially with the latter, so I hope you do too. Enjoy!

The real curse of womanhood, […] is that we never get to forget we have a body. On the verge of her 50th birthday, Mary has many problems: hot flashes, irregular menstruation, mood changes and ...ummm, hallucinations and voices in her head? Her GP thinks this is all normal for her age and dismisses her symptoms as by-effects of her impending menopause. But on top of it all she loses her dream job at a bookstore because it needs "fresh" faces, her rent gets a hefty and unaffordable raise and her allegedly dying aunt demands she come back to her hometown and take care of her, and that's just too much. When she leaves New York City for the desert town Arroyo, Arizona, she finds that not only do her hallucinations and the voice increase in intensity, she also starts auto-writing a book during phases of unconsciousness. That's a lot to take already but what does it all have to do with the almost religious obsession of the townsfolk with the desert and its best known citi...

Catriona Ward has the rare and a little eerie skill of rummaging around your soul and pulling out emotions you didn't know you had in that intensity in you. She then plays with that - like a cat with a mouse; misdirecting, leaving red herrings or genuine tracks for you to stumble upon in your quest to find out if and which character of hers is worthy of those strong emotions she just evoked. A kind of mindfuck, if you like. And I love it! I was burning to read Sundial after last year's ridiculously successful The Last House on Needless Street , which had me completely head over heels. I don't remember the last time I had so much joy (but also pain) reading a book and I couldn't wait to go again through a similar experience. This was my mindset.