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Rusticles
In Hilligoss, a tired man searches for a son, a flamingo enthrals the night, and fireworks light up the lost. In these stories and more, Rusticles offers a meandering tour through backroads bathed in half light, where shadows play along the verges and whispers of the past assault daydreams of the present. Walk the worn pathways of Hilligoss.
106 pages, Kindle Edition
Published July 8, 2017
2 people are currently reading
130 people want to read
About the author
Rebecca Gransden
21 books256 followersThis author has always lived by the sea.
She tends to write about the edges of things so if you inhabit the fringes you may find something to like.
If you are interested in reading any of her books then send her a message and she'll get it to you in the digital format (PDF, MOBI, or eBook) of your choice.
Fellow indies - feel free to get in touch.
She tends to write about the edges of things so if you inhabit the fringes you may find something to like.
If you are interested in reading any of her books then send her a message and she'll get it to you in the digital format (PDF, MOBI, or eBook) of your choice.
Fellow indies - feel free to get in touch.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
August 26, 2017
The stories in this collection shimmer with colors that are intermittently overshadowed by indistinct forms. The impression one gets throughout the pages are of watercolors forming moody landscapes. Some of the stories clarify into crystal impressions of wistfulness and ingrained memories. Others hint at ghosts and the silhouettes of animals in distress. The imagery in each story sets the mood for what will occur. Sometimes the edges of reality are blurred, but the content is lush and engaging.
August 2, 2017
The author asked me to read and review her short story collection Rusticles and I am glad she did. There is a rich universe here of colors, tastes, feelings, a wonderful contrast between light and dark. The style is dark and brooding with plenty of heartbreak and desperation. I enjoyed her creativity and the uniqueness of her voice. Rusticles includes 11 stories that occur mostly around the fictional location of Hilligoss Hills in the UK somewhere. My favorite stories in this collection were "Dreams of His Skin" about unrequited love, "Dilapidated Flamingo" for its poetry and evocation of yearning, and "Blue and Black" for its use of light to heighten the moodiness of the story. I think the most interesting idea was that of The Bowl in "Downstairs". There is an interesting stream of consciousness story, "Miles", that I enjoyed, but it contained an anachronism that bugged me: the story is set "in the early nineties" but the narrator casually mentions ebay which wasn't created until '95. I know, minor detail. Still, I think that Ms. Gransden has immense talent and look forward to read more of her work.
August 3, 2017
Generally, I’m not much into reading books of short stories. I find they can sometimes be too unconnected to warrant being a collection, or that they feel like germs of ideas for novels that haven’t been fully realised. But there are exceptions to that, and Rusticles is definitely one of them.
I read an advanced copy of this book a while ago and had so many reflections racing through my head about each story that I felt I was ready to write a review straight away. Then I found myself pondering on this book so much after reading it, that I knew I needed time to let it digest; exactly the same as when I read Gransden’s novel anemogram.
I’ve now read this book twice and I feel I don’t want to comment on particular stories at all, because above plots and content, this book simply makes you FEEL something. What that something is, I’m still not quite sure. But I feel it all the same.
One clever thing about Rusticles is that there are unconnected stories which are sewn together by simply occurring in the same place – around the town of Hilligoss (a name surely inspired by the Bros twins’ lesser known sister, to make a lame joke that ninety percent of people won’t get). Threading these stories together in this way works much like The League of Gentlemen comedy series taking place in Royston Vasey; which made it become something more than just a sketch show.
I can’t rate Gransden’s writing highly enough, but I’m also aware that it’s not necessarily for everyone.
Firstly, her descriptive prose always blows my mind. I can find myself stuck on a sentence for a good ten minutes just because I need to let the sounds and adjectives flow through my head in the way that good poetry makes me stop and reflect at the beauty of the craftsmanship. There seems to be somewhat of a backlash against ‘flowery prose’ (which is an unfair term to place on Gransden’s writing) these days – both in poetry and literature, and I often feel this is a shame. But it usually comes down to the fact that so many writers are bad at writing highly descriptive prose and end up with descriptions like ‘the cottonwool clouds in the bleak, azure sky’. Gransden’s writing isn’t like that at all. She’s the master (or mistress?) of description. If I started giving examples, I’d be quoting a third of the book, so I’ll let you discover it for yourselves.
Secondly, I think her writing isn’t for everyone because she writes about the edges of things. She leaves holes for the reader to fill. She gives a glimpse into worlds you have to decipher for yourself. It’s about what she doesn’t say just as much as what she does say. And she knows how to do that in a very accomplished way indeed.
Gransden also writes about the ordinary, but you’ll find plenty of extraordinariness amongst it as well. Her stories take place in parks and underpasses... places on the outskirts. And her characters are often relatable, down to earth, working class… Gransden really has her finger on the pulse of motorway lay-by Britain.
So, not everyone’s going to like Gransden’s work for those reasons given, but that just makes it all the more special for those of us who can’t get enough of her prose.
And: ‘Rusticles’ - what a damn perfect name for the feel of this book.
March 26, 2018
I'm not sure whether it's Rebecca Gransden's work ethic that I should be jealous of or her innate talent. Maybe both. My lack of certainty stems from the impossibility of distinguishing craftsman - craftswoman - ship from natural flair in the beautifully elegant prose of these short stories. They are polished - if indeed they are polished - to the point of transparency, by which I mean that there is no sign left of the extensive effort that any mere mortal would have to expend in order to produce sentences of such fluidity and apparent ease. The text just flows, the tone always perfect and the mot always juste, there of necessity, derived from the context rather than chosen for effect.
I hesitate to draw the obvious comparisons - to Raymond Carver or Maupassant - because while there is so much attention to detail, Gransden's writing is also highly impressionistic, creating an atmospherics of liminality. The fall of the light, the minutiae of a gesture, the inflection of a word, the focus on the apparently insignificant, all combine to conjure a world, to imply it, to refer to it tangentially, while nonetheless allowing us to see it clearly. It is a world both uncanny and immediately recognizable; its strangeness allows Gransden to evoke the unspeakable, that which lies on the margins, in our peripheral vision, giving it form and substance without ever pinning it under a spotlight like a specimen. By suggesting, and only suggesting, this elsewhere world, in which lives are just as fully lived as they are in our daylight land, she manages to tell us everything, not just about those lives, but also about the world they live outside.
I hesitate to draw the obvious comparisons - to Raymond Carver or Maupassant - because while there is so much attention to detail, Gransden's writing is also highly impressionistic, creating an atmospherics of liminality. The fall of the light, the minutiae of a gesture, the inflection of a word, the focus on the apparently insignificant, all combine to conjure a world, to imply it, to refer to it tangentially, while nonetheless allowing us to see it clearly. It is a world both uncanny and immediately recognizable; its strangeness allows Gransden to evoke the unspeakable, that which lies on the margins, in our peripheral vision, giving it form and substance without ever pinning it under a spotlight like a specimen. By suggesting, and only suggesting, this elsewhere world, in which lives are just as fully lived as they are in our daylight land, she manages to tell us everything, not just about those lives, but also about the world they live outside.
October 23, 2024
Rusticles opens with a story tangential to Gransden’s debut novel anemogram. Its darkly questioning theme sets the tone for the stories that follow, while also engendering a familiarity in the shared fictional place known as Hilligoss, despite bearing only sparse connections to the novel. Place and ambient conditions are central to Gransden’s writing, and their descriptions ground the reader in a world similar but not identical to our own—a world where the unexpected is the only constant to be expected from one page to another. This and the sparing use of character names and identifying features allow these stories to flow easily from one to the next, further lending cohesion to the collection.
Gransden’s fiction is always feral yet, paradoxically, also tightly controlled. Her intricate language and imagery—even when articulating the commonplace, such as unmet love—electrify what in the hands of less inventive writers would soon fade away in a reader's mind. Her settings and the events where they unfold are imbued with cryptic meaning—hazy with indistinct borders, beyond which we can imagine but cannot perceive with clarity. Difficult while it can be to sustain over the course of a novel, this style thrives in the short form, where slices of characters’ interiority are cut in with mysterious events in the darkly enchanted world of Hilligoss. Throughout these stories, the erotic and the horrific coalesce into an uncertain yet oddly sublime nightmare, as titillating as it is frightening to behold. The warped ecology of Hilligoss is magnetic, and its polarity both attracts and repels.
Gransden’s fiction is always feral yet, paradoxically, also tightly controlled. Her intricate language and imagery—even when articulating the commonplace, such as unmet love—electrify what in the hands of less inventive writers would soon fade away in a reader's mind. Her settings and the events where they unfold are imbued with cryptic meaning—hazy with indistinct borders, beyond which we can imagine but cannot perceive with clarity. Difficult while it can be to sustain over the course of a novel, this style thrives in the short form, where slices of characters’ interiority are cut in with mysterious events in the darkly enchanted world of Hilligoss. Throughout these stories, the erotic and the horrific coalesce into an uncertain yet oddly sublime nightmare, as titillating as it is frightening to behold. The warped ecology of Hilligoss is magnetic, and its polarity both attracts and repels.
July 24, 2017
I love this author's style of writing - eerily tender and deliciously enticing, yet original and unclichéd. Her work really is indescribable, and for me to try to describe it would most certainly be an insult to her, so I'm not even going to try. You really do have to see for yourself.
This collection is comprised of 11 hypnotising short stories based around the fictional town of Hilligoss. These stories are not exciting or entertaining, they are surreal and elusive. You will be thinking about them for a while afterward. Even a re-read will create a different reaction.
This collection is comprised of 11 hypnotising short stories based around the fictional town of Hilligoss. These stories are not exciting or entertaining, they are surreal and elusive. You will be thinking about them for a while afterward. Even a re-read will create a different reaction.
November 27, 2017
There’s no such place as Hilligoss. Except that there is. It’s the prototypical English town and its suburbs. Rebecca Gransden’s collection of short stories, Rusticles, sucks us into her imaginary town – Hilligoss, that most normal of places – and then confronts us with the unknown, the sinister and the supernatural against a background so familiar that these stories have a weirdness all their own. They are also written in simple, elegant prose. In fact these stories are compelling – for me. But they are subtle, and some may find that Gransden has buried her meanings a little deep.
The most accessible of these stories is the second, Dried Peas on a Wall, in which young girls dare each other to ring the doorbell of the house of a reclusive lady who is rarely seen. Nothing happens. It is only from the girls’ conversation that we realise one of them has seen something elsewhere in the town that really is dreadful. It left me a little in shock. Other stories are indirect. In the one that follows, The Serpentine, a man makes his annual trip to see the local smackheads and ask if they know what has happened to his son. His actions when he returns home make us wonder if he does not, in fact, know all too well. But we are not told. Another story involves the ghostly presence of a child and there is a hint of how his life may have been ended, but again we are not told; we must use our imagination.
This subtlety endows Gransden’s stories with real impact, if one reads them with care. If one does not, they will convey little. I read this collection twice and it was only on the second reading that I realised a thread connected the last three stories; I am still not sure what that thread was for, but it is for me to invest it with meaning, and it will have more as a result.
But this is probably what Gransden intended. She has done this before. In her 2015 debut novel, anenogram. (sic), a mysterious young girl is picked up by an adult man, and they travel together through the English landscape; you know at once that this may not end well. But it is not clear who the girl is and where she came from. After a while, however, you realise that this might not be the point. Moreover in anemogram., as in Rusticles, a big part of the book’s power lies not in the story but in the telling of it, for both are beautifully-written with a very detailed, evocative sense of place.
I greatly like Gransden’s writing and would like to see more of it, but I think we’ll be waiting a while. She clearly crafts her work with care, and one suspects it doesn’t bother her if a short story takes her a year. It will be worth the wait. In the meantime, these stories are challenging – but those who are prepared to read them with attention will not regret it.
The most accessible of these stories is the second, Dried Peas on a Wall, in which young girls dare each other to ring the doorbell of the house of a reclusive lady who is rarely seen. Nothing happens. It is only from the girls’ conversation that we realise one of them has seen something elsewhere in the town that really is dreadful. It left me a little in shock. Other stories are indirect. In the one that follows, The Serpentine, a man makes his annual trip to see the local smackheads and ask if they know what has happened to his son. His actions when he returns home make us wonder if he does not, in fact, know all too well. But we are not told. Another story involves the ghostly presence of a child and there is a hint of how his life may have been ended, but again we are not told; we must use our imagination.
This subtlety endows Gransden’s stories with real impact, if one reads them with care. If one does not, they will convey little. I read this collection twice and it was only on the second reading that I realised a thread connected the last three stories; I am still not sure what that thread was for, but it is for me to invest it with meaning, and it will have more as a result.
But this is probably what Gransden intended. She has done this before. In her 2015 debut novel, anenogram. (sic), a mysterious young girl is picked up by an adult man, and they travel together through the English landscape; you know at once that this may not end well. But it is not clear who the girl is and where she came from. After a while, however, you realise that this might not be the point. Moreover in anemogram., as in Rusticles, a big part of the book’s power lies not in the story but in the telling of it, for both are beautifully-written with a very detailed, evocative sense of place.
I greatly like Gransden’s writing and would like to see more of it, but I think we’ll be waiting a while. She clearly crafts her work with care, and one suspects it doesn’t bother her if a short story takes her a year. It will be worth the wait. In the meantime, these stories are challenging – but those who are prepared to read them with attention will not regret it.
July 10, 2017
I’ve read this collection several times. While the stories themselves are elusive, there is one unanswered question that interests me the most: what are rusticles?
I think they are icicles made of rust. There are no such thing, and they don’t explicitly exist between these pages. That is, they are not objects that exist in these stories but perhaps something imagined by its characters. Something seemingly nonsensical, fantastic, inexplicable, seemingly purposeless maybe, but something new and disturbing and curious and worn and forgotten. Corroded but not yet dust. Natural and yet not. Imaginable and yet non-existent. Relatable and yet never seen before. Fantastical yet grounded. And really, if there is an apt symbol to represent the feel of Hilligoss, the mood and content and style of these stories, it is one that the reader must invent themselves, and one that itself goes unexplained.
Anyone who has read anemogram will likely be familiar with Gransden’s uniquely lush and organic minimalism, her “ivy-laden shopping cart in a drained, mossy swimming pool at night” aesthetic (as I like to think of it), and have probably been clamouring for this next collection. Anyone who is yet to discover Gransden, well, first of all what the eff, and secondly, this is an excellent starting point.
These roaming stories build Hilligoss. Or rather, like a streetlight pushed over by a fox when no one was looking, they reveal what seems inopportune, partial, exterior, and ask you to fill in what’s missing. For that, you’ll use your own tools, which means that Hilligoss is no longer just Gransden’s but also yours, and that your Hilligoss is your own. And when you see it like this, you think, the fox has as much right as anyone to contribute to what’s worth looking at. You think, why is observing what’s so frequently considered best to look at what I want to do? Wouldn’t I rather see what the fox wants me to look at? Or, maybe we spent so long expecting to see a rigid circle of streetlight along the highway that it took the chance interruption of an unnamed fox to suddenly let us see the world in a way both familiar and yet so different. And if that’s true, how can you be so sure, when you examine your memories, your environs, yourself, that you know where you’re supposed to look? What if the most salient information passed you by? In which case, why not look where you want to, if any angle will reveal just as little, or as much?
If someone was to ask me, then, what it’s like to read this book, I could say, ‘It’s like discovering a rusticle for the first time.’
You then might respond, ‘What’s a rusticle?’
And I’d say, ‘Don’t ask me. Ask yourself.’
I think they are icicles made of rust. There are no such thing, and they don’t explicitly exist between these pages. That is, they are not objects that exist in these stories but perhaps something imagined by its characters. Something seemingly nonsensical, fantastic, inexplicable, seemingly purposeless maybe, but something new and disturbing and curious and worn and forgotten. Corroded but not yet dust. Natural and yet not. Imaginable and yet non-existent. Relatable and yet never seen before. Fantastical yet grounded. And really, if there is an apt symbol to represent the feel of Hilligoss, the mood and content and style of these stories, it is one that the reader must invent themselves, and one that itself goes unexplained.
Anyone who has read anemogram will likely be familiar with Gransden’s uniquely lush and organic minimalism, her “ivy-laden shopping cart in a drained, mossy swimming pool at night” aesthetic (as I like to think of it), and have probably been clamouring for this next collection. Anyone who is yet to discover Gransden, well, first of all what the eff, and secondly, this is an excellent starting point.
These roaming stories build Hilligoss. Or rather, like a streetlight pushed over by a fox when no one was looking, they reveal what seems inopportune, partial, exterior, and ask you to fill in what’s missing. For that, you’ll use your own tools, which means that Hilligoss is no longer just Gransden’s but also yours, and that your Hilligoss is your own. And when you see it like this, you think, the fox has as much right as anyone to contribute to what’s worth looking at. You think, why is observing what’s so frequently considered best to look at what I want to do? Wouldn’t I rather see what the fox wants me to look at? Or, maybe we spent so long expecting to see a rigid circle of streetlight along the highway that it took the chance interruption of an unnamed fox to suddenly let us see the world in a way both familiar and yet so different. And if that’s true, how can you be so sure, when you examine your memories, your environs, yourself, that you know where you’re supposed to look? What if the most salient information passed you by? In which case, why not look where you want to, if any angle will reveal just as little, or as much?
If someone was to ask me, then, what it’s like to read this book, I could say, ‘It’s like discovering a rusticle for the first time.’
You then might respond, ‘What’s a rusticle?’
And I’d say, ‘Don’t ask me. Ask yourself.’
February 5, 2020
I'm always impressed by writers who can marshal evocative details, things that capture times and places. This short story collection is a tutorial on how details can bring stories to life. Through prose that often borders on poetry, the author teases, provokes, and haunts. There is real magic in these stories. Often, the mechanism of this magic is her ability to focus on the details of a setting that people overlook.
Flaking paint, faded and moldy blue jeans, the texture of a plant, or the bareness of an apartment.
In this book, every stone has a story.
Here are the opening sentences to this collection:
"Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams. She looked straight up to the dead stars. All those miles with nothing between her and that light. She could shoot at it, ride on her will in space, travel with nothing in her way."
Another element I love about Rebecca's style of writing is how she can use interesting word choice to shake up a sentence and give it life. "Her posture could fob off the world." Fob is a verb I would never even think to use. And it works. Her writing is filled with little flourishes that make simple scenes interesting. In this way, her writing is as much poetry as it is prose.
Two stories, in particular, touched me. "Dilapidated Flamingo" was a favorite of mine because it evoked the wonder of childhood/ young adulthood in the setting of waiting for a flamingo to appear in your garden. There was real magic in that story that I will not soon forget. "Breakneck Hill" is a haunting story of remarkable simplicity that takes place in the span of three pages.
I can't wait to read more short stories by Rebecca.
Flaking paint, faded and moldy blue jeans, the texture of a plant, or the bareness of an apartment.
In this book, every stone has a story.
Here are the opening sentences to this collection:
"Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams. She looked straight up to the dead stars. All those miles with nothing between her and that light. She could shoot at it, ride on her will in space, travel with nothing in her way."
Another element I love about Rebecca's style of writing is how she can use interesting word choice to shake up a sentence and give it life. "Her posture could fob off the world." Fob is a verb I would never even think to use. And it works. Her writing is filled with little flourishes that make simple scenes interesting. In this way, her writing is as much poetry as it is prose.
Two stories, in particular, touched me. "Dilapidated Flamingo" was a favorite of mine because it evoked the wonder of childhood/ young adulthood in the setting of waiting for a flamingo to appear in your garden. There was real magic in that story that I will not soon forget. "Breakneck Hill" is a haunting story of remarkable simplicity that takes place in the span of three pages.
I can't wait to read more short stories by Rebecca.
August 14, 2017
Really well written short stories with an almost eerie-ethereal feeling to them. I was a particular fan of Breakneck Hill, The Neon Black, and Starlight Dumpers.
August 23, 2017
When a magician distracts you with one hand while pulling off a trick with another, it's called sleight of hand. What Rebecca Gransden does must be called sleight of words. She has you looking at all kinds of little details in her stories, distracting you with vivid imagery, and then you find that something else has been going on all along. That something else is often something strange, leading to some good we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore moments. ("Toto, I have a feeling... wait a minute, are those garbage robots?") My favorites were The Serpentine, Dilapidated Flamingo, and Downstairs.
October 20, 2017
Whilst reading this book a thought kept popping into my head, "This is Fringe Fiction". It feels like that in Hilligoss there is a big story happening and there are some big players involved, this book though doesn't cover that story, this is about others that live in Hilligoss and the strange things that are happening in their lives.
The stories are short and the writing grabs you right away, you feel as if you already know the characters. Having read Rebecca's previous book I was ready for the relentless questions I would have, that wouldn't get answered, instead you are left to come to your own conclusions. Being prepared for this I enjoyed the book much more.
You could almost imagine this as a bizarre little TV show, each story being an episode, now I've finished I'm left wanting a second season.
Sooooo anybody wanna meet me at The Bowl to put on a show?
Blog post is here: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2017...
The stories are short and the writing grabs you right away, you feel as if you already know the characters. Having read Rebecca's previous book I was ready for the relentless questions I would have, that wouldn't get answered, instead you are left to come to your own conclusions. Being prepared for this I enjoyed the book much more.
You could almost imagine this as a bizarre little TV show, each story being an episode, now I've finished I'm left wanting a second season.
Sooooo anybody wanna meet me at The Bowl to put on a show?
Blog post is here: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2017...
October 22, 2017
A great little collection from Gransden. She does what few writers can do which is capture the complexity of the mundane beautifully. So many lush sentences swirling off the page. I could read them forever.
September 8, 2017
Each short story makes its own impression like the growth rings of a tree. It's structure strategically crafted from the roots to the crown in creating Hilligoss, its setting, characters and storytelling. These are the kind of stories that can be told over a campfire or by moonlight in the stark silence. Think of them as dark nuggets setting stage and scene with the reader as the captive audience not willing to move or speak to interrupt the varied ambience. Like watching a Shakespearean play and being breathlessly taken by the tragedy of it because you know you won't forget it, you'll never be able to forget it. This is how this book was for me. Like understanding Shakespeare's works at its deepest core, the relationships of characters, their interactions, their relatability and how the words are so easy to understand despite the timeless beauty in which they are written or portrayed on stage. I was interpreting Shakespeare for my classmates and my teachers when I was barely out of middle school. I've always been an open book and an enigma at the same time, something that people find out quickly when they meet me in person. Being a very different sort that I am I had no problem falling into the writer's style with ease and depth of understanding. I love deep impressions that leave their mark on my soul forever. Not many things can do that, (when it comes to books) not unless they're of the classic literature variety. But there are the rare modern ones that can hold a place.
July 27, 2017
I was first introduced to Rebecca when I read her novel Anemogram in exchange for an honest review, find that here: https://lifehasafunnywayofsneakingupo... and I also had the pleasure of interviewing her, https://lifehasafunnywayofsneakingupo...
Rebecca has such an unusual and beautiful way of writing of which I have never seen the like, the only author I can possibly compare her to is Peter S Beagle, which I have said before. Take the opening sentence of the first story in the collection that is Rusticles 'Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams.' Rebecca writes stories that read like poetry. Simply incredible. She writes the way I dream I could write if only my pen would obey my mind, and she writes like she's painting a picture.
Rusticles is a gorgeous collection of short stories which continue the magic Rebecca created with Anemogram you can never really be sure what each story is about but only that it touches the fringes of your mind somewhere. Mostly I just sink into the pleasure of reading such phantasmagorical prose.
I can honestly say that I never understood the term 'weird and wonderful' fully until I read Rebecca Gransden.
Rebecca has such an unusual and beautiful way of writing of which I have never seen the like, the only author I can possibly compare her to is Peter S Beagle, which I have said before. Take the opening sentence of the first story in the collection that is Rusticles 'Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams.' Rebecca writes stories that read like poetry. Simply incredible. She writes the way I dream I could write if only my pen would obey my mind, and she writes like she's painting a picture.
Rusticles is a gorgeous collection of short stories which continue the magic Rebecca created with Anemogram you can never really be sure what each story is about but only that it touches the fringes of your mind somewhere. Mostly I just sink into the pleasure of reading such phantasmagorical prose.
I can honestly say that I never understood the term 'weird and wonderful' fully until I read Rebecca Gransden.
February 27, 2018
If the purpose of any form of art is to provoke a reaction, then I’d have to say that Rusticles succeeded. Unfortunately, my reaction was mainly bewilderment. I’m sure that says more about me than about the skill of the author, as I’m aware the book has received many rave reviews from other readers.
Whilst I could admire the originality of some of the writing, there were some similes/metaphors that I found puzzling – ‘The pavement reflected a bitter light like vomit’ from ‘Neon Black’ or ‘He fought to hold his skin together, a wilting prism underneath’ from ‘The Serpentine’ - or just plain weird – ‘a maroon the shade of three days old menstruation’, also from ‘The Serpentine’.
I had rather the same reaction to the stories. There were a couple I liked. For example, ‘Dried Peas on a Wall’ about a childhood game of knocking on the door of a reclusive woman, where I felt the author really captured the style of conversation of the two teenage girls. ‘Dilapidated Flamingo’, in which a boy becomes obsessed with watching out for a flamingo that visits his garden, was pleasantly daft. Both ‘The Boy at the Table’ and ‘Breakneck Hill’ had an eerie quality about them. However, I confess to being completely bewildered by ‘Miles’ which consists of a single sentence in the manner of stream of consciousness.
I’m grateful to the author for providing me with a review copy of her book. I'd sum up the book as strange, impressionistic and, at times, just a little bit weird. As I said earlier, I can admire the imagination and creativity of the stories in Rusticles but, sadly, will have to put it in the ‘really not my thing’ category.
Whilst I could admire the originality of some of the writing, there were some similes/metaphors that I found puzzling – ‘The pavement reflected a bitter light like vomit’ from ‘Neon Black’ or ‘He fought to hold his skin together, a wilting prism underneath’ from ‘The Serpentine’ - or just plain weird – ‘a maroon the shade of three days old menstruation’, also from ‘The Serpentine’.
I had rather the same reaction to the stories. There were a couple I liked. For example, ‘Dried Peas on a Wall’ about a childhood game of knocking on the door of a reclusive woman, where I felt the author really captured the style of conversation of the two teenage girls. ‘Dilapidated Flamingo’, in which a boy becomes obsessed with watching out for a flamingo that visits his garden, was pleasantly daft. Both ‘The Boy at the Table’ and ‘Breakneck Hill’ had an eerie quality about them. However, I confess to being completely bewildered by ‘Miles’ which consists of a single sentence in the manner of stream of consciousness.
I’m grateful to the author for providing me with a review copy of her book. I'd sum up the book as strange, impressionistic and, at times, just a little bit weird. As I said earlier, I can admire the imagination and creativity of the stories in Rusticles but, sadly, will have to put it in the ‘really not my thing’ category.
August 18, 2017
When I finished reading the Anemogram, this author's first novel I was in awe of her talent. I predicted major literary awards to come to her way one just day. The feeling was so solid as to expect with much excitement her next offering and holding her work in the highest esteem, as many others do. I just finished the Rusticles and the feeling is much amplified. How can you call greatness other than with its own name? Because this is my take as a reader. That I just encountered greatness. The kind of greatness that you expect to find in well established and celebrated great writers.
How else can one describe the confidence to break rules in such an effective way? Gransden does not need to fall into desperate cliches that we have been accustomed to tolerate and forgive to otherwise good writers. She doesn't rely on the thrilling or the sensational to hold your attention. She is confident to handle the prosaic, the ordinary, even the no hard plot driven angst and turn it into magic or sublime. The plot is a consequence of being human and often is an ellipsis. She sees raw realism through soft, out of focus lenses so when her characters release hardness it's dynamic. This property is often used to create sharp and witty dialogues. Mostly she uncovers tenderness and pathos in subtle ways. What remains after pain and vulnerabilities are exposed is stoicism, and quiet re-concealment. Some of her characters are children. Restless primordial little souls whose struggle is of comprehending the strangeness or whatever it is they haven't learned yet. The knowledge evades them, ambivalence prevails, their struggle is met with a feeling of loss instead.
In Gransden's universe the landscape is paramount. People serve its largesse, assume roles to suit their environment, they are almost a symptom of the environment. Stoically -again- they seem to be aware of their smallness. ‘I’m not doing anything Fate. You just do what you want. I’m not going to rush you, force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. When—or if—you feel like doing anything then you can bet I’ll be ready but until then I’m just sitting here doing my thing, waiting for whatever you decide.’ (Dilapitated Flamingo, perhaps my favourite story).
The evidence of inexhaustible resources for great literature from this writer is overwhelming. And as I wrote before the evidence of her greatness is not on being a crowd pleaser. Gransden I expect is mainly the critics' favourite child. Her commanding tone, her wondrous craft will haunt and astonish. And the best of all is how naturally it all flows, the illusion of the effortless. It leaves you feeling exalted, emotionally nourished and more sophisticated.
My left hand was smacking the right one all along not to type the cheesy 'golden speckled Rusticles' but, hey, it didn't work. There, I said it!
How else can one describe the confidence to break rules in such an effective way? Gransden does not need to fall into desperate cliches that we have been accustomed to tolerate and forgive to otherwise good writers. She doesn't rely on the thrilling or the sensational to hold your attention. She is confident to handle the prosaic, the ordinary, even the no hard plot driven angst and turn it into magic or sublime. The plot is a consequence of being human and often is an ellipsis. She sees raw realism through soft, out of focus lenses so when her characters release hardness it's dynamic. This property is often used to create sharp and witty dialogues. Mostly she uncovers tenderness and pathos in subtle ways. What remains after pain and vulnerabilities are exposed is stoicism, and quiet re-concealment. Some of her characters are children. Restless primordial little souls whose struggle is of comprehending the strangeness or whatever it is they haven't learned yet. The knowledge evades them, ambivalence prevails, their struggle is met with a feeling of loss instead.
In Gransden's universe the landscape is paramount. People serve its largesse, assume roles to suit their environment, they are almost a symptom of the environment. Stoically -again- they seem to be aware of their smallness. ‘I’m not doing anything Fate. You just do what you want. I’m not going to rush you, force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. When—or if—you feel like doing anything then you can bet I’ll be ready but until then I’m just sitting here doing my thing, waiting for whatever you decide.’ (Dilapitated Flamingo, perhaps my favourite story).
The evidence of inexhaustible resources for great literature from this writer is overwhelming. And as I wrote before the evidence of her greatness is not on being a crowd pleaser. Gransden I expect is mainly the critics' favourite child. Her commanding tone, her wondrous craft will haunt and astonish. And the best of all is how naturally it all flows, the illusion of the effortless. It leaves you feeling exalted, emotionally nourished and more sophisticated.
My left hand was smacking the right one all along not to type the cheesy 'golden speckled Rusticles' but, hey, it didn't work. There, I said it!
September 6, 2019
Sep 19 Read
This was my fourth or fifth read-through in about 15 months! I never stop loving these stories.
First Read
You can read my much more in depth review of this on my blog, Random Melon Reads, where this was awarded a Golden Pip (the best of the best)!
I’m so happy I walked the worn pathways of Hilligoss! After reading anemogram. and falling in love with Gransden’s writing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I got on this.
I genuinely love every single story in this book. They are full of Gransden’s cryptic, mysterious, and at times mind blowing trademarks. The stories within Rusticles share an intimacy in the way few stories manage. With each one it felt like I was being treated to a secret aspect or moment of someone’s life. With each reading, I entered a world that took me on a journey that explored humanity and the joy and misery that comes along with it. The contrast between darkness and light is a common theme in each story. They explore the dynamics of life.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Gransden is a master of the short story. She flexes her considerable writing muscle and skill in capturing the reader, taking them on an engaging and thought provoking journey, and then just at the perfect spot, leaves you wanting more. I read a lot of short stories, and I often find that they are either too short or feel rushed. Gransden’s stories are the complete opposite of this, never too much, never too little. I think it’s safe to say that I’m at the point where if a Gransden story is published, I’m going to read it without hesitation.
Anyway, I’m off to check the garden for flamingos. Until next time, Peace and Love.
Random Melon Reads | Blog | Twitter | Instagram
This was my fourth or fifth read-through in about 15 months! I never stop loving these stories.
First Read
You can read my much more in depth review of this on my blog, Random Melon Reads, where this was awarded a Golden Pip (the best of the best)!
I’m so happy I walked the worn pathways of Hilligoss! After reading anemogram. and falling in love with Gransden’s writing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I got on this.
I genuinely love every single story in this book. They are full of Gransden’s cryptic, mysterious, and at times mind blowing trademarks. The stories within Rusticles share an intimacy in the way few stories manage. With each one it felt like I was being treated to a secret aspect or moment of someone’s life. With each reading, I entered a world that took me on a journey that explored humanity and the joy and misery that comes along with it. The contrast between darkness and light is a common theme in each story. They explore the dynamics of life.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Gransden is a master of the short story. She flexes her considerable writing muscle and skill in capturing the reader, taking them on an engaging and thought provoking journey, and then just at the perfect spot, leaves you wanting more. I read a lot of short stories, and I often find that they are either too short or feel rushed. Gransden’s stories are the complete opposite of this, never too much, never too little. I think it’s safe to say that I’m at the point where if a Gransden story is published, I’m going to read it without hesitation.
Anyway, I’m off to check the garden for flamingos. Until next time, Peace and Love.
Random Melon Reads | Blog | Twitter | Instagram
July 30, 2017
I am unfamiliar with this author’s work so the first time I read each story two thoughts struck me: they are unique in that they are written in an oblique style difficult to grasp initially; much is implied within phrases and partial , seemingly unfinished dialogue. And secondly, that these tales are almost poetic prose. I say almost, because for me, they stopped just short of creating flowing images; the pictures they create are elusive. And this, I think, is what Rebecca Gransden is aiming for in Rusticles; that tenuousness grasp of understanding. So that the readers is forced to interpret each story in their own way. This place, Hilligoss, is filled with characters that tell a tale, a moment in their time, of their lives, through an individualistic, idiosyncratic point of view. I suppose there is no right or wrong way for the reader to decode what they are reading.
I liked the cover; the blending of the colours, the vague images. The way the eye is led to the light. The rust shades that reflect the title. Said aloud the title rolls of the tongue. I had to look up the meaning of the word. The interpretation is as follows:
A rusticle is a formation of rust similar to an icicle or stalactite in appearance that occurs underwater when wrought iron oxidizes. They may be familiar from underwater photographs of shipwrecks, such as the RMS Titanic and the German battleship Bismarck. Rusticles are created by microbes that consume iron.
So it’s a clever title. I just wasn’t sure of the stories. They weren’t really to my taste as a reader. But I may be missing the whole point of this book. I’d be interested to see what other readers think.
I liked the cover; the blending of the colours, the vague images. The way the eye is led to the light. The rust shades that reflect the title. Said aloud the title rolls of the tongue. I had to look up the meaning of the word. The interpretation is as follows:
A rusticle is a formation of rust similar to an icicle or stalactite in appearance that occurs underwater when wrought iron oxidizes. They may be familiar from underwater photographs of shipwrecks, such as the RMS Titanic and the German battleship Bismarck. Rusticles are created by microbes that consume iron.
So it’s a clever title. I just wasn’t sure of the stories. They weren’t really to my taste as a reader. But I may be missing the whole point of this book. I’d be interested to see what other readers think.
March 15, 2018
Emma Donoghue said that “the great thing about a short story is that it doesn’t have to trawl through someone’s whole life; it can come in glancingly from the side" (original source unknown). That is precisely what we see in Rusticles, subtle glances and memorable snapshots of human lives. What you find here is something hauntingly beautiful and refreshingly different from your classic short story, here Gransden lays out stories akin to Polaroid pictures, capturing the raw emotional moments of daily life.
There are eleven stories in total, each with their own disturbed characters and a dark edgy rawness that will keep you up until late at night. You will wonder how a story ended, because Gransden does not always provide the reader with a conclusion, which I thought was a very interesting and brave technique to use. She is denying the reader the satisfaction of an ending, she is not allowing them that gratification. However.....READ THE FULL REVIEW ON WWW.SELCOUTHSTATION.COM
There are eleven stories in total, each with their own disturbed characters and a dark edgy rawness that will keep you up until late at night. You will wonder how a story ended, because Gransden does not always provide the reader with a conclusion, which I thought was a very interesting and brave technique to use. She is denying the reader the satisfaction of an ending, she is not allowing them that gratification. However.....READ THE FULL REVIEW ON WWW.SELCOUTHSTATION.COM
July 16, 2018
Rusticles was a pleasantly literary read after months and months of genre books, something to wrap my mind around and dig my teeth into. It's a series of short stories interconnected by themes and locations and just a general, overall mood of melancholy, my favourite of which is Dilapidated Flamingo, a story about a boy trying to feed a mysterious flamingo that keeps appearing in his garden. Like the other stories, character is key. There's a mystery or mysterious event occurring, but it's the emotions of the characters that are explored, with the events being catalysts for character development.
"I'm starting to think it knows I'm watching. I was at my window and it appeared from beneath, like it had been hovering around the backdoor waiting for its moment. It opened its wings right there, waving them around a little, putting on a show. Its feathers were all bent and drooping and its neck looked like someone had kicked it sideways. The flamingo proceeded to prance around the decking, its faded pinkness and rotten skinned legs making me feel sorry for it."
I don't want to talk too much about the stories, because each one is like a little gem waiting to be mined and best discovered on a one-to-one basis. What's paramount is the writing, and the confidence to take risks with it (one story has no punctuation but has a wonderful rhythm). Early on there was a vague feeling of the writing riding the cliff-edge of trying too hard, but you soon realise there is a solid understanding of how to develop a sentence or a paragraph. The writing is tight, pleasingly devoid of passive voice, and when you get a long, complicated sentence, it's followed by some shorter ones. The prose rises and falls poetically.
"I'm starting to think it knows I'm watching. I was at my window and it appeared from beneath, like it had been hovering around the backdoor waiting for its moment. It opened its wings right there, waving them around a little, putting on a show. Its feathers were all bent and drooping and its neck looked like someone had kicked it sideways. The flamingo proceeded to prance around the decking, its faded pinkness and rotten skinned legs making me feel sorry for it."
I don't want to talk too much about the stories, because each one is like a little gem waiting to be mined and best discovered on a one-to-one basis. What's paramount is the writing, and the confidence to take risks with it (one story has no punctuation but has a wonderful rhythm). Early on there was a vague feeling of the writing riding the cliff-edge of trying too hard, but you soon realise there is a solid understanding of how to develop a sentence or a paragraph. The writing is tight, pleasingly devoid of passive voice, and when you get a long, complicated sentence, it's followed by some shorter ones. The prose rises and falls poetically.
August 18, 2017
You watch a huge white canvas from the comfort of your armchair and a painter mixing colors before applying her first spontaneous strokes on its surface. A rough sound of brush mingles with the enthusiastic chirping of the birds, the dance of the wind and the light curtains at the open balcony door and the clinging of the ice in the half-filled glass of lemonade sweating in your hand. Soft French music plays on the gramophone in the darkest corner of the room. Maybe Edith Piaf? Non, je ne regrette rien followed by La vie en rose?
Rebecca Gransden is the painter and Rusticles is the painting. As you read it in the silence of your room, devoid of outside distractions of the modern world, you are contemplating the beauty that prostrates before you. One short story after another, one stroke of a brush giving you goosebumps after another.
This is the book you need to read slowly. Only then you will grasp its depth and the ingeniousness of the writing that sometimes surprises you and sometimes leaves you with brief questions to which you must find answers by yourself. This is the intelligent collection of short stories and—oh boy, why I am not surprised?!—it may not have the fate of a shooting-star-bestseller-to-be-replaced-with-another-bestseller in a few days, weeks, months. It rather tastes and smells like evergreen... like a potential classic.
I am glad I bought this book and I recommend everyone who craves for the beauty of the written word to have it in their library. I hope for its long life as it conquers the hearts of many readers, like a perfect rosebud or a breathtaking painting coated with a fine layer of protective rust.
Time is gentle with things of significance and real beauty never dies.
Bernard Jan
www.bernardjan.com
Join my mailing list, subscribe to blog Muse!
Rebecca Gransden is the painter and Rusticles is the painting. As you read it in the silence of your room, devoid of outside distractions of the modern world, you are contemplating the beauty that prostrates before you. One short story after another, one stroke of a brush giving you goosebumps after another.
This is the book you need to read slowly. Only then you will grasp its depth and the ingeniousness of the writing that sometimes surprises you and sometimes leaves you with brief questions to which you must find answers by yourself. This is the intelligent collection of short stories and—oh boy, why I am not surprised?!—it may not have the fate of a shooting-star-bestseller-to-be-replaced-with-another-bestseller in a few days, weeks, months. It rather tastes and smells like evergreen... like a potential classic.
I am glad I bought this book and I recommend everyone who craves for the beauty of the written word to have it in their library. I hope for its long life as it conquers the hearts of many readers, like a perfect rosebud or a breathtaking painting coated with a fine layer of protective rust.
Time is gentle with things of significance and real beauty never dies.
Bernard Jan
www.bernardjan.com
Join my mailing list, subscribe to blog Muse!
September 20, 2017
Rusticles is a bunch of short stories with meaning. Never before have I read a story with such detail, amazing work. Rebecca Gransden is a new author to me and I really enjoyed her work. The stories are very different from most short stories that I have read in the past. Some of them I had to sit back and go back over the story to get the gist of it, hopefully I interpreted them right. Below is my short review of each of the short stories in Rusticles.
1) The Neon Black
The Neon Black is about a teen girl that had a very frightening experience when she was 7. As the night turns to midnight. she meets her brother at the place that it all happened. Why? To face her fears and find the truth as to what happened.
2) Dried Peas on a Wall
Do you remember as a kid that one house in the neighborhood that everybody was afraid of? The person inside never came out and rumours has that person as a witch or serial killer? Then the dreaded dare to go to the door and knock, as you are scared out of your wits already.
3) The Serpentine
As a parent, you will go to the end of the earth to find your child. As David walked the tracks and through the tunnels, on his path looking for the men once again to see maybe that this time, they may remember something to lead to his son. Anything at all would help to find Jim, a parents worst nightmare.
4) Dilapidated Flamingo
Have you ever seen an animal in the yard as a kid and wonder why it is there? Why it comes back when it really doesn't belong there? Night after night you watch for it and when it finally does come back, it is not in a good way?
5) The Boy at the Table
As a child have you ever came into the room and saw a boy or girl sitting there and wonder who they are? Then you sit at the table with them and try to comprehend who this person is? The child knows you, but you don't recall them?
6) Blue and Black
A hot, bright summer's day and people are going about their business. You get a call from your friend all freaked out and asking if it has it there yet? What? What am I looking for to hit here? Your friend hopes that it won't go that far to where you are. Then the sky goes black.
7) Starlight Dampers
Young teen boy and girl on the side of a hill to watch something Spectacular. As night fell, the creatures emerged and he had something he hasn't had before in more ways then one.
8) Breakneck Hill
A bus driver and his route. As he picks up passengers, one in particular stands out. She forgot to ask for a return trip ticket. The bus driver says, maybe we will get it right next time. Residue
9) Dreams of his Skin
"Love" What is true love? As your best friend leaves with his fiance to start a new life in another town. "Love" You question if it really exists. Does these feelings really occur? Can you still love even though that love is leaving? You don't say how you feel, does that other person already know? "Love"
10) Miles
Abusive Step-Father, wanting love and attention from his Mother, but thinking of Heaven and Hell to escape.
11) Downstairs
Two young teens sneaking to take a peek at the older teens having "fun" at "Lover's Lane". Leaving their mark behind, that they only know who did it. Girls just want to have fun! Is it worth the outcome?
Cardboard Wall Empire releases
Synopsis
Anemogram by Rebecca Gransden
Out Black Spot by Leo X Robertson
Sinkhole by Leo X Robertson
Rude Vile Pigs by Leo X Robertson
Hang Out by Bill Medicine, Leo X Robertson
Sexual Healing by Bill Medicine, Leo X Robertson
If I have figured it out right, all these stories take place in the same town. Each story has it own person endeavor in the town. I really enjoyed the short stories' and would like to read more of Rebecca Gransden"s work some time.
1) The Neon Black
The Neon Black is about a teen girl that had a very frightening experience when she was 7. As the night turns to midnight. she meets her brother at the place that it all happened. Why? To face her fears and find the truth as to what happened.
2) Dried Peas on a Wall
Do you remember as a kid that one house in the neighborhood that everybody was afraid of? The person inside never came out and rumours has that person as a witch or serial killer? Then the dreaded dare to go to the door and knock, as you are scared out of your wits already.
3) The Serpentine
As a parent, you will go to the end of the earth to find your child. As David walked the tracks and through the tunnels, on his path looking for the men once again to see maybe that this time, they may remember something to lead to his son. Anything at all would help to find Jim, a parents worst nightmare.
4) Dilapidated Flamingo
Have you ever seen an animal in the yard as a kid and wonder why it is there? Why it comes back when it really doesn't belong there? Night after night you watch for it and when it finally does come back, it is not in a good way?
5) The Boy at the Table
As a child have you ever came into the room and saw a boy or girl sitting there and wonder who they are? Then you sit at the table with them and try to comprehend who this person is? The child knows you, but you don't recall them?
6) Blue and Black
A hot, bright summer's day and people are going about their business. You get a call from your friend all freaked out and asking if it has it there yet? What? What am I looking for to hit here? Your friend hopes that it won't go that far to where you are. Then the sky goes black.
7) Starlight Dampers
Young teen boy and girl on the side of a hill to watch something Spectacular. As night fell, the creatures emerged and he had something he hasn't had before in more ways then one.
8) Breakneck Hill
A bus driver and his route. As he picks up passengers, one in particular stands out. She forgot to ask for a return trip ticket. The bus driver says, maybe we will get it right next time. Residue
9) Dreams of his Skin
"Love" What is true love? As your best friend leaves with his fiance to start a new life in another town. "Love" You question if it really exists. Does these feelings really occur? Can you still love even though that love is leaving? You don't say how you feel, does that other person already know? "Love"
10) Miles
Abusive Step-Father, wanting love and attention from his Mother, but thinking of Heaven and Hell to escape.
11) Downstairs
Two young teens sneaking to take a peek at the older teens having "fun" at "Lover's Lane". Leaving their mark behind, that they only know who did it. Girls just want to have fun! Is it worth the outcome?
Cardboard Wall Empire releases
Synopsis
Anemogram by Rebecca Gransden
Out Black Spot by Leo X Robertson
Sinkhole by Leo X Robertson
Rude Vile Pigs by Leo X Robertson
Hang Out by Bill Medicine, Leo X Robertson
Sexual Healing by Bill Medicine, Leo X Robertson
If I have figured it out right, all these stories take place in the same town. Each story has it own person endeavor in the town. I really enjoyed the short stories' and would like to read more of Rebecca Gransden"s work some time.
March 17, 2018
Full review from my website
Rebecca Gransden’s Rusticles quickly makes two things apparent. First, it lends its focus most intently on sensory language and imagery (consider introductory story “The Neon Black”‘s opening line: “Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams”). Second, this book has very little use for the standard ingredients of narrative fiction. Full of cryptic, off-kilter language and scenarios driven by obliqueness and obscurity, Rusticles declares itself as something other than a collection of plot-driven stories. In this way, it instructs the reader to read in an unusual way.
Although it bears hints of magic realism, dark fantasy and horror, the book never announces its station within a certain genre camp. Its deft and mysterious relationship to genre brings to mind the works of Daniel Braum, but Gransden’s commitments are so much different than those on display in a book like The Wish Mechanics. Rusticles is so strikingly anti-narrative that it is actually incredibly difficult to describe its contents in any detail.
The book displays interest in the possibility of loosely impressionistic fiction-writing, wherein plot is not only secondary to mood and atmosphere, but is actually lingering somewhere outside the pages. These stories are made up of residue, periphery, those ingredients which usually go ignored. It is a bold and sometimes fascinating approach to fiction-writing. Unusual syntax abounds, with occasional bursts of remarkably focused prose that borders on poetry. One line from “The Boy at the Table” stood out to me in particular: “He was a picture made of sand.” I don’t think I know what it means, but I really like the way it reads. Interestingly enough, I could apply this same sentiment to the majority of the book. Gransden demonstrates a unique point-of-view with this collection, and for that reason alone it is worth a read.
Rebecca Gransden’s Rusticles quickly makes two things apparent. First, it lends its focus most intently on sensory language and imagery (consider introductory story “The Neon Black”‘s opening line: “Out of the blue and into the black neon night, along a street made of pulse shaking off its dreams”). Second, this book has very little use for the standard ingredients of narrative fiction. Full of cryptic, off-kilter language and scenarios driven by obliqueness and obscurity, Rusticles declares itself as something other than a collection of plot-driven stories. In this way, it instructs the reader to read in an unusual way.
Although it bears hints of magic realism, dark fantasy and horror, the book never announces its station within a certain genre camp. Its deft and mysterious relationship to genre brings to mind the works of Daniel Braum, but Gransden’s commitments are so much different than those on display in a book like The Wish Mechanics. Rusticles is so strikingly anti-narrative that it is actually incredibly difficult to describe its contents in any detail.
The book displays interest in the possibility of loosely impressionistic fiction-writing, wherein plot is not only secondary to mood and atmosphere, but is actually lingering somewhere outside the pages. These stories are made up of residue, periphery, those ingredients which usually go ignored. It is a bold and sometimes fascinating approach to fiction-writing. Unusual syntax abounds, with occasional bursts of remarkably focused prose that borders on poetry. One line from “The Boy at the Table” stood out to me in particular: “He was a picture made of sand.” I don’t think I know what it means, but I really like the way it reads. Interestingly enough, I could apply this same sentiment to the majority of the book. Gransden demonstrates a unique point-of-view with this collection, and for that reason alone it is worth a read.
March 18, 2019
This collection of short stories is a bit like a Tough mudder for the mind. It frequently confronts the reader with obstacles and challenges and exercises more cogniative abilities than you ever believed you had. I ended the book feeling I had been stretched to my limit but had emerged a better person.
Rebecca Gransden seems to have that rare abilities of taking the mundane and make it amazing. Yes there are some strange moments but mostly it's about observations of the human state.
Rebecca Gransden seems to have that rare abilities of taking the mundane and make it amazing. Yes there are some strange moments but mostly it's about observations of the human state.
July 20, 2017
Gransden has a real gift for creating such immersive, tangible atmospheres. That slightly-off-kilter sense of place has a magnetic effect upon the reader and ties these stories to one another. Favorites from this volume included "Black & Blue," "Breakneck Hill," and "Dilapidated Flamingo."
September 2, 2017
As the author’s bio and book description should make clear, these stories are different. Some might call them strange or even weird. Like the one about the park some people go to have sex, the high school boys who like to spy on them, and the two girls who decide to do something about it and how that turns out. If you think I just wrote a run-on sentence there then I wonder what you’ll make of the story called The final diary entry of Miles Feist. It’s 1232 words in one long sentence. (Maybe it’s Miles’ last entry because his English teacher saw his diary and turned murderous.) These are offbeat stories that leave room for the reader to fill in the gaps. Definitely not for everyone, but if it is for you, I’ll bet you’ve figured it out by now.
**Originally written for "Books and Pals" book blog. May have received a free review copy. **
**Originally written for "Books and Pals" book blog. May have received a free review copy. **
August 17, 2017
It was interesting. It was enjoyable, it made me think, and it is definitely something to read if you're not looking for anything particular. It is made up of little short stories than are almost just random thoughts because they don't aren't stories like I'm used to (stories like Lord of the Rings, or Reign of the Marionettes, or even the short story I wrote). This is nice in its own right, because you don't feel the need to grow attached to the characters and you don't feel a rush to get to the end of it. Each little story is interesting in its own right (some more so than others), and there is a little bit of everything for the people who enjoy these type of stories. It was worth the read.
I didn't give it three stars because it was bad in any stretch. There was definitely a couple of short stories in the collection that I didn't enjoy, but there was always that possibility. I enjoyed this collection of short stories and that is why I gave it three stars. I didn't love it, I enjoyed it. If I knew anyone who read these types of stories I would recommend it, because it was interesting.
I didn't give it three stars because it was bad in any stretch. There was definitely a couple of short stories in the collection that I didn't enjoy, but there was always that possibility. I enjoyed this collection of short stories and that is why I gave it three stars. I didn't love it, I enjoyed it. If I knew anyone who read these types of stories I would recommend it, because it was interesting.
January 1, 2018
A beautifully wrought collection of short stories all based in the same place so adding up to more than individual tales. Some have a really queasy feeling of something dangerous under the surface, while others give a reminder of what it was like to be young.
October 24, 2021
Gift copy kindly provided by author and GR friend, Rebecca Gransden.
These stories, set in the town of Hilligoss, all have the tinge of the surreal about them. Sometimes extraordinary events occur, and sometimes the paranormal pokes through. Often people just carry on with their normal existence.
But Rebecca Gransden has a way of bestowing on normal events a sudden intensity. This can happen as her characters grope toward clarity as they try to find meaning in events. Thus in "Delapidated Flamingo," a young boy wondering at the absence of the title bird thinks that he may influence the outcome of events by not forcing fate, thus cunningly trying to use reverse psychology on the powers that be. In "Dried Peas on a Wall," a girl steeling herself to knock at the door of an eccentric old woman analyzes her own actions to find out why she is playing this prank.
It also happens when people are just hanging back in the sidelines wishing they could act but reluctant to do so. In "Dreams of His Skin," a woman fantasizes about a man but struggles to keep her infatuation hidden. And in "Downstairs," a nervous observer of events at The Bowl can do little except watch, wait and worry as things spiral out of control.
Oh, before I go, in case you're wondering what a rusticle is, there are various passages in different stories which may or may not provide the answer.
These stories, set in the town of Hilligoss, all have the tinge of the surreal about them. Sometimes extraordinary events occur, and sometimes the paranormal pokes through. Often people just carry on with their normal existence.
But Rebecca Gransden has a way of bestowing on normal events a sudden intensity. This can happen as her characters grope toward clarity as they try to find meaning in events. Thus in "Delapidated Flamingo," a young boy wondering at the absence of the title bird thinks that he may influence the outcome of events by not forcing fate, thus cunningly trying to use reverse psychology on the powers that be. In "Dried Peas on a Wall," a girl steeling herself to knock at the door of an eccentric old woman analyzes her own actions to find out why she is playing this prank.
It also happens when people are just hanging back in the sidelines wishing they could act but reluctant to do so. In "Dreams of His Skin," a woman fantasizes about a man but struggles to keep her infatuation hidden. And in "Downstairs," a nervous observer of events at The Bowl can do little except watch, wait and worry as things spiral out of control.
Oh, before I go, in case you're wondering what a rusticle is, there are various passages in different stories which may or may not provide the answer.
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