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The Numbers
16 pages, Paperback
Published June 1, 2016
6 people want to read
About the author
Christopher Burns
61 books6 followersNARRATOR:
Christopher Burns has performed in the London and Broadway performances of Stones in His Pockets and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. He holds a Master of Fine Arts in acting from NYU and a Bachelor of Arts in comparative literature from Colorado College. In addition to Broadway, Christopher has appeared onstage in numerous New York City and regional shows as well as on TV and film.
(source: Dreamscape)
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name.
Christopher Burns has performed in the London and Broadway performances of Stones in His Pockets and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. He holds a Master of Fine Arts in acting from NYU and a Bachelor of Arts in comparative literature from Colorado College. In addition to Broadway, Christopher has appeared onstage in numerous New York City and regional shows as well as on TV and film.
(source: Dreamscape)
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
October 29, 2016
The two newest chapbooks from Nightjar Press – The Numbers by Christopher Burns and
Jackdaws
by Neil Campbell – are so of a piece it's hard to talk about them separately. They share (non-identical) twin cover images: Time Out I and II by Jen Orpin. Both explore the other side to their picturesque rural settings. Both start off with scenes that feel recognisable: a man visiting his brother on their family farm; a solitary narrator listing the landmarks he passes on a country walk. Unlike the stories I have read so far from Nightjar, these tales do not involve any trace of fantasy or the supernatural. But both take dark turns, making them perhaps more horrifying than horror.
In The Numbers, Danny arrives at the farm where he and his brother, Martin, grew up and Martin now lives. On the way there, Danny thinks he might have seen a fox. It's not a particularly happy meeting: the brothers struggle to get on the same footing in their conversation. We gain the impression Danny may have a learning disability, or something of that nature, though it's unclear. Martin comments that he is 'not the brightest with numbers... not the world's best planner'. There are allusions to an incident that occurred between Danny and Martin's wife Sarah last time he visited the house; that Sarah, consequently, may be dismayed to find him there. When Danny goes into the kitchen, there is a strange tension, and an edge to Sarah's words.
So far, so domestic. And then the story FLIPS. It suddenly becomes something violently different and yet the calm, steady tone is retained... all the way through escalating scenes that keep pushing the boundaries of the story further, right up to the brutal, deadening climax.
Jackdaws starts quietly too, as the narrator, about whom we know close to nothing, describes a series of walks. (I assumed the narrator was male, and use male pronouns here for simplicity, but this is never actually stated.) There is almost obsessive attention to detail in the narrator's account as he makes an inventory of every single place he encounters, many of them bearing unusual, evocative names – all real, as far as I can tell. Swine's Back, Mount Famine, Chinley Churn. The jackdaws are a motif (and it's quite a thing to sew a recurrent motif into such a short story), appearing against the landscape to act as the narrator's witness.
Jackdaws pulls off a similar trick to The Numbers; it lulls the reader into a false sense of security, becoming so soporific with its listing of place names and different weather conditions that you forget there is bound to be a twist, forget what kind of story you are reading. But a sinister conclusion is inescapable, even if its blink-and-you'll-miss-it nature stands in contrast to the savage ending of The Numbers.
Reading over my notes here, I recognise even more similarities between these two stories. Both invite (and reward) reading between the lines. Both create a distinctive tone and maintain it throughout. Both remain deliberately sketchy about their protagonists' identities, the better to foster an effective ambiguity.
My previous reviews of books from Nightjar Press can be found here and here.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
In The Numbers, Danny arrives at the farm where he and his brother, Martin, grew up and Martin now lives. On the way there, Danny thinks he might have seen a fox. It's not a particularly happy meeting: the brothers struggle to get on the same footing in their conversation. We gain the impression Danny may have a learning disability, or something of that nature, though it's unclear. Martin comments that he is 'not the brightest with numbers... not the world's best planner'. There are allusions to an incident that occurred between Danny and Martin's wife Sarah last time he visited the house; that Sarah, consequently, may be dismayed to find him there. When Danny goes into the kitchen, there is a strange tension, and an edge to Sarah's words.
So far, so domestic. And then the story FLIPS. It suddenly becomes something violently different and yet the calm, steady tone is retained... all the way through escalating scenes that keep pushing the boundaries of the story further, right up to the brutal, deadening climax.
Jackdaws starts quietly too, as the narrator, about whom we know close to nothing, describes a series of walks. (I assumed the narrator was male, and use male pronouns here for simplicity, but this is never actually stated.) There is almost obsessive attention to detail in the narrator's account as he makes an inventory of every single place he encounters, many of them bearing unusual, evocative names – all real, as far as I can tell. Swine's Back, Mount Famine, Chinley Churn. The jackdaws are a motif (and it's quite a thing to sew a recurrent motif into such a short story), appearing against the landscape to act as the narrator's witness.
Jackdaws pulls off a similar trick to The Numbers; it lulls the reader into a false sense of security, becoming so soporific with its listing of place names and different weather conditions that you forget there is bound to be a twist, forget what kind of story you are reading. But a sinister conclusion is inescapable, even if its blink-and-you'll-miss-it nature stands in contrast to the savage ending of The Numbers.
Reading over my notes here, I recognise even more similarities between these two stories. Both invite (and reward) reading between the lines. Both create a distinctive tone and maintain it throughout. Both remain deliberately sketchy about their protagonists' identities, the better to foster an effective ambiguity.
My previous reviews of books from Nightjar Press can be found here and here.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
January 14, 2021
“…but the mist is clearing and the rising sun is the colour of a communion wafer.”
Please note the date of this real-time review, this dreamcatcher of fiction, as if it has itself dreamcaught the spirit of this short cathartic or angry period in British political history. As if it is a sudden storm out of nothing, having begun like an episode of The Archers, with motivations as nonchalant nuances, the nagging weight of past misuderstandings or mistakes as two brothers meet unexpectedly at the whim of one of them, alongside the catalyst of the other one’s wife. Self-pity of the whimsical brother…
And if I tell you any more, it will spoil this effectively described story of unscryable intention and poetic phrase – and spoil any shock it might or might not hold for you especially after what recently happened on the streets of Britain in recent days and whether the brother’s tontine prize is to remain or leave…
Please note the date of this real-time review, this dreamcatcher of fiction, as if it has itself dreamcaught the spirit of this short cathartic or angry period in British political history. As if it is a sudden storm out of nothing, having begun like an episode of The Archers, with motivations as nonchalant nuances, the nagging weight of past misuderstandings or mistakes as two brothers meet unexpectedly at the whim of one of them, alongside the catalyst of the other one’s wife. Self-pity of the whimsical brother…
And if I tell you any more, it will spoil this effectively described story of unscryable intention and poetic phrase – and spoil any shock it might or might not hold for you especially after what recently happened on the streets of Britain in recent days and whether the brother’s tontine prize is to remain or leave…
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews