Nocebo

The Peninsula

by R. Ostermeier

R. Ostermeier’s new collection comprises four longer tales of peninsular folklore and history, including the long-out-of-print Upmorchard as well as three new stories— Winn’s Clock and Mommick draw from deep wells of rural disquiet, while the long novella Moving the Yew tells of the unsettling consequences from an act of rescue. Nocebo revisits and reknits themes familiar from A Trick of the Shadow and Therapeutic Tales yet, as ever, it might not be for you—

Genres: Short Stories, Horror, Fiction

284 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2023

Reviews

[Nancy Oakes · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think at this point, having read now all of his work, "R. Ostermeier" could write milk-carton copy and I'd be glued to it and find it fascinating. Full post is here:

https://www.oddlyweirdfiction.com/202...

and let me just say that five stars as a rating is so meaningless because this book is clearly worth a thousand times plus that and more.

First things first: a mega thank you to Jamie Walsh -- you know why.

I had actually started this post Tuesday of this past week, and I had meant to finish it long before today, but I've had a weird week of waking up at 4:30 in the morning and have subsequently been living in a haze from the lack of sleep. Today's the first day of clarity since.

The latest volume published by the phenomenon that is Broodcomb Books is Nocebo, a collection of stories that I've been raving about to anyone who will listen. Once again we find ourself back at the Peninsula, not surprising since Broodcomb Press is, as noted on its website, the "House publisher " for the region. First time visitors should know that the Peninsula, according to a quote from the author's Therapeutic Tales, is a place that is "welcoming to the unusual."

Three new stories grace this book along with a fourth, "Upmorchard," which was published in 2021 as a limited-run hardcover book. The publisher made it very clear at the time that Upmorchard was "never to be reprinted as a standalone volume," so anyone who missed it at the time has a second chance now. I strongly urge you to take it. It was such a disturbing story that I had to stop reading for a couple of days after finishing it because I needed a mental reset. It still bothered me this time around with the second reading, especially in the context of what comes before it.

In "Winn's Clock," which opens this volume, there is a particular moment in which the narrator finds himself in conversation with a green-eyed girl, and wonders if his participation in that discussion, "having grown up on the peninsula, with its long history of strange tales..." might "close a door" between the fields he knew and the fields he "knew not -- vanishing behind me so I'd never be able to return." I tabbed this particular passage when I'd gone back to reread this story after finishing the book because it hit me at the time that in its own way, it characterizes what happens throughout all of the stories in Nocebo.

The dustjacket notes that "Winn's Clock" and "Mommick" draw from deep wells of rural disquiet," and that's an understatement, especially with "Mommick." The ending of "Winn's Clock" left my jaw on the floor, I'm sure, and with "Mommick," despite the darkness, it is on many levels a most poignant and very human story. It completely scared the holy bejeezus out of me while simultaneously hitting me very hard on a gut, psychological level. "Moving the Yew" hit some deep level of resonance within, largely due to my own interests in myth, folklore and ritual, as well the author's focus on the connections between humans and the natural landscape through time. When I closed the book after finishing it, I said to my husband that this may be the best Broodcomb book yet, but as he replied back, "you say that about each one." This time I'm positive. Beyond positive. Well beyond positive.

So highly recommended that it's off the charts highly recommended, and anyone who has become a fan of Broodcomb and the Peninsula should definitely not miss Nocebo. It will also appeal to readers of the strange and the weird, and quite honestly, I don't know how the author continues to produce such great, intelligent work but please, keep it coming.

[Bill Wallace · Rating 5 out of 5]

The best collection yet from Ostermeier, more than ever my favorite contemporary writer of strange stories. Four lengthy stories – one previously published – and every one of them is an evocation of devils from deep human time or places inside our heads that we usually see only in nightmares.

The longest and best of the four,“Moving the Yew,” is a terrifying story that lives up to its terrific name and that would make an excellent film in the right hands. The other two new stories, “Winn’s Clock” and “Mommick,” are both first-rate examinations of some of Ostermeier’s recurring themes, and “Upmorchard” is still splendid on a second reading. Apart from the brilliant peninsular setting, other story elements are suggestively similar but always turned to new purpose, something like M.R. James’ body of work but often weirder.

Absolutely recommended.

[Neal Carlin · Rating 5 out of 5]

A new peak for this “series.” Particularly loved “Moving The Yew” - I imagine John Langan pulled from similar folklore for aspects of The Fisherman and what will become The Cleaving Stone. “Mommick”: scarecrows, art, shades of Villeneuve’s Prisoners, and a surprisingly moving ending. “Upmorchard”: seaside town, archeology, ancient runes, academic obsession. It checks all the boxes.

[Χρυσόστομος Τσαπραΐλης · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another mixed Ostermeier collection. The first two stories (Winn's clock and Moving the yew) are pure gold, with the ending of the first being a really high point. Folklorish, with horror mixed in, as well as mythological archetypes, and elegant, vivid language, they reminded me of why I keep ordering the author's books. The first is about a weird clock that the protagonist's grandfather treasured. The second, as its title says, is about the moving of a giant yew.

Unfortunately, the 2 other novellas (Mommick and Upmorchard), despite revolving around some great ideas (gruesome scarecrows and the stone remnants of a giant), were mired in the psychological meanderings that are, unfortunately for me, so characteristic of the writer behind Broodcomb. It is obvious that he is well versed in psychology, having either studied, practiced, or really really enjoyed reading and musing about it. Alas, the sheer amount of psychology and personality analysis in his writing weighs down the plot of the stories.

[Sam Parker · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another piece of an increasingly essential body of work, just spot on