The longest of these stories explores the Japanese underworld. Other topics include a young father's inability to eradicate the ghostly memories of his little twins who have died, and a group of children daring each other in a game of depravity while their parents sip drinks.
Tobias Hill was an award-winning English poet, essayist, writer of short stories and novelist.
He was born in Kentish Town, north London, to parents of German Jewish and English extraction: his maternal grandfather was the brother of Gottfried Bermann, confidant of Thomas Mann and, as owner of S. Fischer Verlag, German literature's leading publisher-in-exile during the Second World War. Hill was educated at Hampstead School, a comprehensive institution, and Sussex University.
Hill first came to attention in the 1990s as a poet and author of short stories, with early work appearing in magazines such as The Frogmore Papers: he later became established as a novelist. As a poet Hill published four collections, Year of the Dog (1995), Midnight in the City of Clocks (1996), influenced by his experience of life in Japan, Zoo (1998) and Nocturne in Chrome & Sunset Yellow (2006): the last of these was described by The Guardian as "A vital, luminous collection...it is rare to come across a collection of poetry that you know with certainty you will still be reading years from now, but for me, this is such a book."
Hill's only collection of short stories, Skin (1997), was serialized on BBC Radio 4, was shortlisted for the 1998 John Llewellyn Rhys/Mail on Sunday Prize, and won the International PEN/Macmillan Silver Pen Award.
A collection of short stories, linked with recurring motifs, themes and phrases, filled with sadness, loss, escape, lurking violence and social isolation. Beautiful prose, but distinctly off kilter and strange.
This book begins really well. The first story centres around the Japanese underworld and is told in vivid, striking detail that lingers in your mind long after you're done with the book. But as the pages turn, that intense engagement begins to lapse and turn lackadaisically soft. By the third story, I admit my attention was on weak ground and by the time I got to Brolly, I did not want Tobias Hill to make love to my eyes any longer.