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Paradise Block
WINNER OF EDGE HILL READERS CHOICE PRIZE 2021
'Taps into a deep and compelling strangeness with vigour and humour and heart... A disturbing and moving collection' Chris Power, author of Mothers
In Paradise Block, mould grows as thick as fur along the walls, alarms ring out at unexpected hours and none of the neighbours are quite what they seem. A little girl boils endless eggs in her family's burnt-out flat, an isolated old woman entices a new friend with gifts of cutlery and cufflinks, and a young bride grows frustrated with her unappreciative husband, the caretaker of creaking, dilapidated Paradise Block.
With a haunting sense of place and a keen eye for the absurd, these thirteen surreal stories lure us into a topsy-turvy world where fleatraps are more important than babies and sales calls for luxury coffins provide a welcome distraction. Lonely residents live in close proximity while longing for connection.
'Taps into a deep and compelling strangeness with vigour and humour and heart... A disturbing and moving collection' Chris Power, author of Mothers
In Paradise Block, mould grows as thick as fur along the walls, alarms ring out at unexpected hours and none of the neighbours are quite what they seem. A little girl boils endless eggs in her family's burnt-out flat, an isolated old woman entices a new friend with gifts of cutlery and cufflinks, and a young bride grows frustrated with her unappreciative husband, the caretaker of creaking, dilapidated Paradise Block.
With a haunting sense of place and a keen eye for the absurd, these thirteen surreal stories lure us into a topsy-turvy world where fleatraps are more important than babies and sales calls for luxury coffins provide a welcome distraction. Lonely residents live in close proximity while longing for connection.
232 pages, Paperback
First published February 4, 2021
12 people are currently reading
574 people want to read
About the author
Alice Ash
4 books47 followersAlice Ash is a new writer from Brighton, UK. Alice's debut collection, Paradise Block, is out now, and her first novel will follow in 2026.
Paradise Block won the Edge Hill Readers Prize 2021.
@aliceash_
Paradise Block won the Edge Hill Readers Prize 2021.
@aliceash_
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
October 11, 2021
Paradise Block is the debut collection of connected short stories by author Alice Ash.
When her two-book deal with Serpent Tail was announced (the second book a novel planned for 2023), Ash said, regarding this collection, “I wanted to play with the boundaries of reality, with the uneven nature of perspective and place, as well as with the form of the short story itself.”
The stories certainly provide an uneven and unsettling perspective. They are, in one sense, rooted in a very down-to-earth place, a tower block called Paradise Block in the fictitious town of Clutter, itself near to the more upmarket coastal town of Plum Regis, where the residents of Paradise Block can only aspire to live.
[Paradise Block] was built very cheaply, with windows that will fall out, and damp and mould as thick as fur, a cat ghost creature that would slink into each and every flat.
Yet in another sense many of the stories are surreal, people living on the margins and somehow dislocated from everyday life, looking at experience with a bizarre slant.
Is this (from the opening story Eggs which ws longlisted for the 2019 Galley Beggar Prize: https://www.galleybeggar.co.uk/2019-s...) some form of supernatural phenomenon or just unrecognised varicose veins?
But that evening, I find something strange. It is just a cluster of lines behind the knee. At first, I think that Little David has used a felt tip to draw on me while I was sleeping, but the lines are very fine and faint, and they won’t disappear when I rub them with spit. They are light green, like the threads in the wrist, and when it has been a few days, I realise that this is something from inside, something coming to the surface. I tell the lines to go away, go back inside, but soon they get darker, and then they come undone; they begin to spool around to the front of the calf. Now the threads appear like a ball of wool, a huge cloud underneath the knee. The cloud is a dark purple scribble with floating green threads, swirling up and into the thigh.
It’s a word where pupils for show-and-tell don’t bring pictures of their puppy but rather:
‘Now, Jake, do you have your Show and Tell?’ she says, looking around again, but Jake is already shuffling to the front of the class, holding the lump under his jacket. Benny sees white fur with pointed little claws on the end of some twisted yellowish toes, ears that are half formed and show the way into the dog’s head. Some of the class scream when Jake drops the lump of dog carelessly on Miss Mitchelmore’s desk, in the spot where Benny’s fleet of planes had been moments before.
‘This one came out dead,’ he says.
Part of the book’s pleasure results from how images (eggs, varicose veins etc) and also characters repeat between the stories - I’m not convinced it’s really a particularly different slant on the short-story form, but it is done effectively. And despite the bizarre, and often darkly funny, nature of some of the stories, the reader ends up emotionally invested in the characters, who are often lonely and simply seeking connection.
A favourite story of mine was Doctor Sharpe about a woman convinced her doctor was infatuated with her, and desperate for an excuse for an appointment:
I needed to make myself sick, and fast. I wondered if it was possible to infect yourself with life-threatening diseases and found lots of places on the internet that said you could and gave lists of foods and drinks and products that would do just that. So I did an online shop for almost all of the things on the list (apart from green olives and dark chocolate because these are foods that I absolutely hate and will only resort to after all other options have closed to me). I also ordered five packets of cigarettes. When the order arrived the young delivery boy looked very concerned. He was red in the face.
‘Don’t worry,’ i said, ‘i’m trying to get cancer.’ He walked away quite slowly.
And the author’s website - http://www.aliceash.com/ showcases an accompanying shortfilm, written by the directed by Laura Brown. (https://vimeo.com/121004531)
Overall, a fascinating collection and an author to watch.
Thanks to the publishers via Netgalley for the ARC.
When her two-book deal with Serpent Tail was announced (the second book a novel planned for 2023), Ash said, regarding this collection, “I wanted to play with the boundaries of reality, with the uneven nature of perspective and place, as well as with the form of the short story itself.”
The stories certainly provide an uneven and unsettling perspective. They are, in one sense, rooted in a very down-to-earth place, a tower block called Paradise Block in the fictitious town of Clutter, itself near to the more upmarket coastal town of Plum Regis, where the residents of Paradise Block can only aspire to live.
[Paradise Block] was built very cheaply, with windows that will fall out, and damp and mould as thick as fur, a cat ghost creature that would slink into each and every flat.
Yet in another sense many of the stories are surreal, people living on the margins and somehow dislocated from everyday life, looking at experience with a bizarre slant.
Is this (from the opening story Eggs which ws longlisted for the 2019 Galley Beggar Prize: https://www.galleybeggar.co.uk/2019-s...) some form of supernatural phenomenon or just unrecognised varicose veins?
But that evening, I find something strange. It is just a cluster of lines behind the knee. At first, I think that Little David has used a felt tip to draw on me while I was sleeping, but the lines are very fine and faint, and they won’t disappear when I rub them with spit. They are light green, like the threads in the wrist, and when it has been a few days, I realise that this is something from inside, something coming to the surface. I tell the lines to go away, go back inside, but soon they get darker, and then they come undone; they begin to spool around to the front of the calf. Now the threads appear like a ball of wool, a huge cloud underneath the knee. The cloud is a dark purple scribble with floating green threads, swirling up and into the thigh.
It’s a word where pupils for show-and-tell don’t bring pictures of their puppy but rather:
‘Now, Jake, do you have your Show and Tell?’ she says, looking around again, but Jake is already shuffling to the front of the class, holding the lump under his jacket. Benny sees white fur with pointed little claws on the end of some twisted yellowish toes, ears that are half formed and show the way into the dog’s head. Some of the class scream when Jake drops the lump of dog carelessly on Miss Mitchelmore’s desk, in the spot where Benny’s fleet of planes had been moments before.
‘This one came out dead,’ he says.
Part of the book’s pleasure results from how images (eggs, varicose veins etc) and also characters repeat between the stories - I’m not convinced it’s really a particularly different slant on the short-story form, but it is done effectively. And despite the bizarre, and often darkly funny, nature of some of the stories, the reader ends up emotionally invested in the characters, who are often lonely and simply seeking connection.
A favourite story of mine was Doctor Sharpe about a woman convinced her doctor was infatuated with her, and desperate for an excuse for an appointment:
I needed to make myself sick, and fast. I wondered if it was possible to infect yourself with life-threatening diseases and found lots of places on the internet that said you could and gave lists of foods and drinks and products that would do just that. So I did an online shop for almost all of the things on the list (apart from green olives and dark chocolate because these are foods that I absolutely hate and will only resort to after all other options have closed to me). I also ordered five packets of cigarettes. When the order arrived the young delivery boy looked very concerned. He was red in the face.
‘Don’t worry,’ i said, ‘i’m trying to get cancer.’ He walked away quite slowly.
And the author’s website - http://www.aliceash.com/ showcases an accompanying shortfilm, written by the directed by Laura Brown. (https://vimeo.com/121004531)
Overall, a fascinating collection and an author to watch.
Thanks to the publishers via Netgalley for the ARC.
February 22, 2021
This extraordinary collection of inter-linked short stories explores a range of themes of contemporary urban malaise, focusing on an eccentric cast of socially disadvantaged characters living in Paradise Block and in similarly dilapidated properties in the environs of Clutter and Plum Regis. In one sense, the book is more like a novel than a collection of shorts, due to the way in which the stories overlap and characters reappear throughout. The stories are cleverly seeded with seemingly minor details whose significance becomes apparent as the narrative develops. So while the thirteen stories can be read and enjoyed individually, they are best appreciated as parts of a greater whole.
The strange and uncanny tone of Ash’s writing has unsurprisingly led some reviewers to remark on its surreal quality. However, the combination of the unreal/strange with the all-too-real and mundane in Paradise Block is arguably more typical of magical realism than surrealism. In this narrative style, ‘impossible’ occurrences are woven into otherwise realistic storytelling in such a way that they are accepted as normal and unremarkable. Examples include the double metamorphosis (in ‘Eggs’), in which the daughter and mother exchange not only roles but also age and physical characteristics; the underwater shadow (in ‘Black, Dark Hill’) which takes on a life of its own and controls events; and the weight of a human body on the floor of one of the flats (in ‘John’s Bride’), thrashing so violently that it makes cracks appear on the walls and all over the ceiling. To the extent that such occurrences are part of the narrators’ reality and not simply dreams or hallucinations (and there is nothing to suggest they are), the writing bears at least some of the hallmarks of magical realism. The writing style is deceptively simple, with relatively little explicit description of the flats themselves or the other key locations (The Brass Cross pub, the department stores in Clutter and Plum Regis, and the seaside launderette). While the stories are easy to read and highly accessible, the sense of strangeness and mystery is enhanced by what is left to the reader’s imagination.
As well as being casualties of urban decay, many of the characters in the book suffer the effects of unemployment and physical and mental ill-health. We also witness misogyny and relationship breakdown, domestic abuse and coercive control, sexual harassment in the workplace (in the department stores which are the main employer in the region), and predatory commercial exploitation by unscrupulous big business (the insurance and funeral industries in ‘Timespeak’). Some of the stories are quite grim and disturbing, and do not end well for the protagonists (although the latter usually get what they deserve). Other stories offer a more positive and optimistic vision of human survival against all the odds, despite cruel social and personal misfortune. The writing here is surprisingly tender and compassionate. So Benny (in ‘Planes’) is ultimately reconciled with his mother, having previously blamed her for the difficult family circumstances involving his parents’ separation. In ‘Bad Elastic’, love of a sort triumphs between the two flatmates, despite Marie’s resentment at what she perceives as Shell’s controlling behaviour. In ‘Sea God’, a lonely resident of Paradise Block strikes an unlikely but moving friendship with a metal detectorist in regular visits to the seaside. And in ‘Ball’, we feel at least some sympathy for John Dodd who spends the morning obsessively planning to visit his son Benny on his birthday, but fails to catch the bus having drunk too many ‘special whiskies.’
A distinctive feature of the collection is the way in which the stories are voiced through the personalities and idiosyncratic perspectives of the narrators. Indeed it is these voices that convey, in different ways, the magical and mysterious nature of seemingly ordinary reality: ‘My body is inconvenient because I have stripy scars and a few large blemishes: some moles that have faces inside them, and hairs that twist away from my skin and stand there, bristling chattily’ (Rose in ‘Doctor Sharpe,’ 141); ‘I am Annie, a good wife and woman with skills in cooking and cleaning, and in sensuality … This is my story of the broken heart’ (in ‘John’s Bride’, 203). Humour is deployed throughout the book to lighten the otherwise rather claustrophobic atmosphere. There are numerous funny scenes, for example (in ‘The Flea-Trap’) involving the archaic faux-aristocratic mannerisms of the couple in their ‘folie-a-deux’ (‘The baby shall take his tea at four-o-clock’). Presented with the choice between attending their howling baby and playing with the kittens who have come in through the window, they opt for the latter (‘We have to pick the kittens; we just have to’). Their irresponsibility is comically portrayed (‘We are not children’), as is their refusal to take life seriously (‘We just can’t be solemn for long!’, 45). And Annie (in ‘John’s Bride’) tries hard to give John (‘my sweet babylove’) the benefit of the doubt, magnanimously excusing his cruelty towards her (their life together might have been so much better ‘if he had not had to go to The Brass Cross every day’,
225).
A further distinctive quality is the striking use of figurative language, which reinforces the idiosyncratic nature of the visions of the world seen through the eyes of the protagonists. Some of Ash’s similes are brilliant and evocative in a quite conventional sense. White kittens tumble through an upper window (in ‘The Flea Trap’), ‘dropping through space like little furry asteroids’ (42). Benny (in ‘Planes’) accidentally drops one of his models into his mother’s laundry, imagining the passengers screaming as the plane dissolves into a pile of plum-coloured knickers, blouses and jumpers ‘that look like a volcanic landscape’ (19); at the end of this story Benny is given a baby kitten for Christmas, ‘pale pink beans in the bottom of her paws’ (37). Other similes are much more ambitious, and should not work in strict terms, but somehow do. So (again in ‘The Flea Trap’) the couple’s bedroom in the basement of Paradise Block is in an underground corridor where no other people live, ‘only machines that chug and groan, like monsters or strange friends’ (41). Rose (in ‘Doctor Sharpe’), who is surreptitiously viewing pornographic images on the doctor’s computer while he is out of the room, is taken by surprise by his sudden return: ‘I leapt backwards and the chair skittered across the floor like an octopus’ (142). In ‘Eggs’, pans on the hob ‘are chattering and bouncing as they boil over and spill their contents … I hear the pans banging, like intruders running up and down the stairs’ (11). And in ‘John’s Bride’, Annie’s account of her relationship with John begins: ‘We were married on a Tuesday, when John was in full health and the sky was murky, white and pink, like the soft belly of a speckled rodent.’ (203) The reason this figurative language succeeds is that in each case we accept it as part of the character’s perspective – an accurate albeit distorted reflection of their view of the world (Rose is suffering from a debilitating delusion, and Annie is attempting to express her feelings in an alien culture and in a language that is not her own).
Imagery and symbolism also feature strongly in the narrative. The colours pink (dresses, laundry, an apron, chewing gum) and white (white kittens, White Fingerbiscuits) recur throughout the book. Annie’s ‘broken heart’ (in ‘John’s Bride’) is compared to John’s diseased heart, which is itself related to the remains of the exotic meat and squid dish which Annie has cooked specially for him, but had to throw in the bin because he came home drunk and had already eaten (‘I slammed the red mixture, and the little white bodies all together and into a ball, the legs spurting out at some strange angles, red still inside. I looked at this shape, red and white, fatty and like it would be living, surrounded by old rubbish in the pedal bin, and I realised … this mess looks so very much alike to my John’s human heart’, 218). Mystery surrounds the ‘dark fox’ (in ‘The Flea Trap’), which could be a figment of the couple’s collective imagination, or a reflection of one of them in the mirror: ‘You look very dark and handsome, standing in the shadow of the curtain … I see your eyes and teeth sparkling, my dark fox’) (51)
Paradise Block is a gripping read and a major achievement for a book debut. Somewhere between a novel and a collection of short stories, Ash’s writing succeeds magnificently in its magical real yet compassionate portrayal of the seedier side of contemporary urban living. The thirteen stories can be read individually or as parts of a greater whole. Either way, this is an outstanding book that merits reading and re-reading.
Peter Vincent-Jones founded the Facebook Magical Realism Group in March 2020. The group provides a platform for discussion and debate on all aspects of magic(al) realism (literary and artistic), focusing on the intersection of art, film and fiction. https://www.facebook.com/groups/35814...
The strange and uncanny tone of Ash’s writing has unsurprisingly led some reviewers to remark on its surreal quality. However, the combination of the unreal/strange with the all-too-real and mundane in Paradise Block is arguably more typical of magical realism than surrealism. In this narrative style, ‘impossible’ occurrences are woven into otherwise realistic storytelling in such a way that they are accepted as normal and unremarkable. Examples include the double metamorphosis (in ‘Eggs’), in which the daughter and mother exchange not only roles but also age and physical characteristics; the underwater shadow (in ‘Black, Dark Hill’) which takes on a life of its own and controls events; and the weight of a human body on the floor of one of the flats (in ‘John’s Bride’), thrashing so violently that it makes cracks appear on the walls and all over the ceiling. To the extent that such occurrences are part of the narrators’ reality and not simply dreams or hallucinations (and there is nothing to suggest they are), the writing bears at least some of the hallmarks of magical realism. The writing style is deceptively simple, with relatively little explicit description of the flats themselves or the other key locations (The Brass Cross pub, the department stores in Clutter and Plum Regis, and the seaside launderette). While the stories are easy to read and highly accessible, the sense of strangeness and mystery is enhanced by what is left to the reader’s imagination.
As well as being casualties of urban decay, many of the characters in the book suffer the effects of unemployment and physical and mental ill-health. We also witness misogyny and relationship breakdown, domestic abuse and coercive control, sexual harassment in the workplace (in the department stores which are the main employer in the region), and predatory commercial exploitation by unscrupulous big business (the insurance and funeral industries in ‘Timespeak’). Some of the stories are quite grim and disturbing, and do not end well for the protagonists (although the latter usually get what they deserve). Other stories offer a more positive and optimistic vision of human survival against all the odds, despite cruel social and personal misfortune. The writing here is surprisingly tender and compassionate. So Benny (in ‘Planes’) is ultimately reconciled with his mother, having previously blamed her for the difficult family circumstances involving his parents’ separation. In ‘Bad Elastic’, love of a sort triumphs between the two flatmates, despite Marie’s resentment at what she perceives as Shell’s controlling behaviour. In ‘Sea God’, a lonely resident of Paradise Block strikes an unlikely but moving friendship with a metal detectorist in regular visits to the seaside. And in ‘Ball’, we feel at least some sympathy for John Dodd who spends the morning obsessively planning to visit his son Benny on his birthday, but fails to catch the bus having drunk too many ‘special whiskies.’
A distinctive feature of the collection is the way in which the stories are voiced through the personalities and idiosyncratic perspectives of the narrators. Indeed it is these voices that convey, in different ways, the magical and mysterious nature of seemingly ordinary reality: ‘My body is inconvenient because I have stripy scars and a few large blemishes: some moles that have faces inside them, and hairs that twist away from my skin and stand there, bristling chattily’ (Rose in ‘Doctor Sharpe,’ 141); ‘I am Annie, a good wife and woman with skills in cooking and cleaning, and in sensuality … This is my story of the broken heart’ (in ‘John’s Bride’, 203). Humour is deployed throughout the book to lighten the otherwise rather claustrophobic atmosphere. There are numerous funny scenes, for example (in ‘The Flea-Trap’) involving the archaic faux-aristocratic mannerisms of the couple in their ‘folie-a-deux’ (‘The baby shall take his tea at four-o-clock’). Presented with the choice between attending their howling baby and playing with the kittens who have come in through the window, they opt for the latter (‘We have to pick the kittens; we just have to’). Their irresponsibility is comically portrayed (‘We are not children’), as is their refusal to take life seriously (‘We just can’t be solemn for long!’, 45). And Annie (in ‘John’s Bride’) tries hard to give John (‘my sweet babylove’) the benefit of the doubt, magnanimously excusing his cruelty towards her (their life together might have been so much better ‘if he had not had to go to The Brass Cross every day’,
225).
A further distinctive quality is the striking use of figurative language, which reinforces the idiosyncratic nature of the visions of the world seen through the eyes of the protagonists. Some of Ash’s similes are brilliant and evocative in a quite conventional sense. White kittens tumble through an upper window (in ‘The Flea Trap’), ‘dropping through space like little furry asteroids’ (42). Benny (in ‘Planes’) accidentally drops one of his models into his mother’s laundry, imagining the passengers screaming as the plane dissolves into a pile of plum-coloured knickers, blouses and jumpers ‘that look like a volcanic landscape’ (19); at the end of this story Benny is given a baby kitten for Christmas, ‘pale pink beans in the bottom of her paws’ (37). Other similes are much more ambitious, and should not work in strict terms, but somehow do. So (again in ‘The Flea Trap’) the couple’s bedroom in the basement of Paradise Block is in an underground corridor where no other people live, ‘only machines that chug and groan, like monsters or strange friends’ (41). Rose (in ‘Doctor Sharpe’), who is surreptitiously viewing pornographic images on the doctor’s computer while he is out of the room, is taken by surprise by his sudden return: ‘I leapt backwards and the chair skittered across the floor like an octopus’ (142). In ‘Eggs’, pans on the hob ‘are chattering and bouncing as they boil over and spill their contents … I hear the pans banging, like intruders running up and down the stairs’ (11). And in ‘John’s Bride’, Annie’s account of her relationship with John begins: ‘We were married on a Tuesday, when John was in full health and the sky was murky, white and pink, like the soft belly of a speckled rodent.’ (203) The reason this figurative language succeeds is that in each case we accept it as part of the character’s perspective – an accurate albeit distorted reflection of their view of the world (Rose is suffering from a debilitating delusion, and Annie is attempting to express her feelings in an alien culture and in a language that is not her own).
Imagery and symbolism also feature strongly in the narrative. The colours pink (dresses, laundry, an apron, chewing gum) and white (white kittens, White Fingerbiscuits) recur throughout the book. Annie’s ‘broken heart’ (in ‘John’s Bride’) is compared to John’s diseased heart, which is itself related to the remains of the exotic meat and squid dish which Annie has cooked specially for him, but had to throw in the bin because he came home drunk and had already eaten (‘I slammed the red mixture, and the little white bodies all together and into a ball, the legs spurting out at some strange angles, red still inside. I looked at this shape, red and white, fatty and like it would be living, surrounded by old rubbish in the pedal bin, and I realised … this mess looks so very much alike to my John’s human heart’, 218). Mystery surrounds the ‘dark fox’ (in ‘The Flea Trap’), which could be a figment of the couple’s collective imagination, or a reflection of one of them in the mirror: ‘You look very dark and handsome, standing in the shadow of the curtain … I see your eyes and teeth sparkling, my dark fox’) (51)
Paradise Block is a gripping read and a major achievement for a book debut. Somewhere between a novel and a collection of short stories, Ash’s writing succeeds magnificently in its magical real yet compassionate portrayal of the seedier side of contemporary urban living. The thirteen stories can be read individually or as parts of a greater whole. Either way, this is an outstanding book that merits reading and re-reading.
Peter Vincent-Jones founded the Facebook Magical Realism Group in March 2020. The group provides a platform for discussion and debate on all aspects of magic(al) realism (literary and artistic), focusing on the intersection of art, film and fiction. https://www.facebook.com/groups/35814...
March 11, 2021
The short story collection is often a less than immersive reading experience. You settle into the world of one story only to have to do the work all over again in a few pages. This is not so with this collection, where thematic threads, the physical location of Paradise Block, and the overall tone of the writing provide a satisfying but subtly integrated sense of interwoven lives, shared despair, collective unease. Together, the stories offer a fully rounded but startling reading experience. There is great darkness here, but all done with extraordinary lightness and skill. It is often a disturbing read. At the level of each sentence, language is used with great precision, but delivers one jolt after another - horror, pathos, humour - but all without cliche or sentiment, all like you've never quite read it before.
Paradise Block is genre stretching fiction- out of the ordinary but also recognisable; time and place tilt and shift with each story. Unreal things happen alongside the grinding everyday in a seamless but unnerving way. Characters recur so that you see their lives from different and refracted angles. Like all great writing, it appears to be effortless, but is in reality so finely tuned, that you have to absorb each story before you can move on the next. I cannot pick a favourite because each story earns its place.
This is a unique collection that will linger in the mind from a very good writer and one we'll hear more about.
Paradise Block is genre stretching fiction- out of the ordinary but also recognisable; time and place tilt and shift with each story. Unreal things happen alongside the grinding everyday in a seamless but unnerving way. Characters recur so that you see their lives from different and refracted angles. Like all great writing, it appears to be effortless, but is in reality so finely tuned, that you have to absorb each story before you can move on the next. I cannot pick a favourite because each story earns its place.
This is a unique collection that will linger in the mind from a very good writer and one we'll hear more about.
September 27, 2021
In Paradise Block there is a slow deadening of things. The building itself moulds and decays in a perpetual state of needing repair, and the inhabitants incur many small deaths —the death of childhood, of dreams, of certain parts of themselves, some even succumbing to death in the literal sense of the word. In spite of all this there is a playfulness, and a light that weaves itself under the surface and shows up in the form of a Sea God, a kind restaurant owner, and personalities full of spark and fighting spirit. This collection of interwoven stories from Alice Ash explores a precarious emotional space in a world that many may prefer to look away from. Though she explores heavy subjects, this is far from a depressing read; it is darkly funny with characters so real I feel as if I know them or may, at any moment, see them pass by in the street. I continued to think about them after I had put the book down and I think about them still, wondering how they are.
The residents of Paradise Block weave in and out of each other’s lives. They sometimes offer each other help or odd distractions (a cat-like shadow, notes slipped under the door), as they face poverty and sickness in a rotting world. In this way they are a community, but they never quite seem to feel like one. Instead there is a wall up around each of them reminding me of how, as humans, we tend to conceal our own struggles — only ever wanting to broadcast our success. In the book this cumulates in a sense of the residents in Paradise Block feeling overwhelmingly alone, shut off and othered. In the end each is an individual struggling against a world that hasn’t been kind to them. There is the daughter who is parentified and left alone in a burnt down house while her mother goes to school. Benny, whose mother talks to men on the phone for a place called ‘S*x for you’. Runaways who live underground in the shadows. Abandoned elders. A father again and again choosing drink over his son. It is a building where the inhabitants must use any trick to survive, they have no time or means which they can use to reach across to others.
Hints of magical realism are used by Ash to explore heavy subject matter. The result is an exploration of a world that is our world but heightened. Danger, darkness and yearning become real, tangible beings. I feel it lurking in:
“The dark fox is sleeping, you say, and I nod wisely, glancing up at the shadowy shape that flashes in the mirror when you leave the room and disappear.”
(‘The Flea-Trap’)
and in:
“It is on the beach, on this day, that Min sees the sea god.”
(‘Sea God’)
Fears and hopes are exaggerated in a way that feels fantastic, and unattainable in the real world —and perhaps that is the point. For many of the characters what they want and need is not attainable unless through this kind of imagining and escapism. Unless through an impossible magic.
The characters do of course want, though their circumstances cut them off from all but the most basic of necessities. They are disarming in their honesty about it, and almost childlike in the way they admit to things unabashed. “Today Dr Omar Sharpe said my name. This marks a direct change in my life.” Writes Ms Durrell in her diary.
“I would have written more, but the box for July 22 was too small, so I just drew a small black heart in the top right corner, and then I drew another one in the left corner. One is mine and one is his.”
Ms Durrell cuts herself many times in order to see Dr Sharpe again. “It was difficult to drive, that is all I am saying.” she indicates while on her way back to the doctor’s office. She is factual about this self-mutilation, she is doing what she believe she has to do to get what she wants, she knows she will not stand a chance otherwise. She is not alone in portraying this strange sort of innocence, this emotionless acceptance of fact and a stop-at-nothing attitude. It is the attitude of people in survival mode. It is Annie, the incredible anti-hero in ‘John’s Bride’, researching on the computer so she can be prepared: ‘What does heartbreak feel like?’ The glimpses through the magic layer on top show the real, which can be something more frightening, and much more human, than a shadowy creature.
Paradise Block is our world but pushed to the limits. It is our world which is ugly but beautiful. A sentiment reflected expertly in Ash’s gorgeous, slightly gruesome prose;
“There are candles all over the floor, white and milky, like bones.”
(‘Eggs’)
It is forcing us to see the abandonment in a world that refuses to stop and care;
“I imagined them turning around and looking up at me, the impossibility of them seeing my pain.”
(Ms Durrell, ‘Dr Sharpe’)
It is hope and a fighting spirit hidden in their language;
“It doesn’t do for the water to be simmering,’ Min says. ‘Make the water lively; make it really boil.’
(‘Eggs’)
It is a book that, despite all hardship, screams at us to take life and fight to make it our own. The people of Paradise Block do just this. They make everything lively. They boil.
The residents of Paradise Block weave in and out of each other’s lives. They sometimes offer each other help or odd distractions (a cat-like shadow, notes slipped under the door), as they face poverty and sickness in a rotting world. In this way they are a community, but they never quite seem to feel like one. Instead there is a wall up around each of them reminding me of how, as humans, we tend to conceal our own struggles — only ever wanting to broadcast our success. In the book this cumulates in a sense of the residents in Paradise Block feeling overwhelmingly alone, shut off and othered. In the end each is an individual struggling against a world that hasn’t been kind to them. There is the daughter who is parentified and left alone in a burnt down house while her mother goes to school. Benny, whose mother talks to men on the phone for a place called ‘S*x for you’. Runaways who live underground in the shadows. Abandoned elders. A father again and again choosing drink over his son. It is a building where the inhabitants must use any trick to survive, they have no time or means which they can use to reach across to others.
Hints of magical realism are used by Ash to explore heavy subject matter. The result is an exploration of a world that is our world but heightened. Danger, darkness and yearning become real, tangible beings. I feel it lurking in:
“The dark fox is sleeping, you say, and I nod wisely, glancing up at the shadowy shape that flashes in the mirror when you leave the room and disappear.”
(‘The Flea-Trap’)
and in:
“It is on the beach, on this day, that Min sees the sea god.”
(‘Sea God’)
Fears and hopes are exaggerated in a way that feels fantastic, and unattainable in the real world —and perhaps that is the point. For many of the characters what they want and need is not attainable unless through this kind of imagining and escapism. Unless through an impossible magic.
The characters do of course want, though their circumstances cut them off from all but the most basic of necessities. They are disarming in their honesty about it, and almost childlike in the way they admit to things unabashed. “Today Dr Omar Sharpe said my name. This marks a direct change in my life.” Writes Ms Durrell in her diary.
“I would have written more, but the box for July 22 was too small, so I just drew a small black heart in the top right corner, and then I drew another one in the left corner. One is mine and one is his.”
Ms Durrell cuts herself many times in order to see Dr Sharpe again. “It was difficult to drive, that is all I am saying.” she indicates while on her way back to the doctor’s office. She is factual about this self-mutilation, she is doing what she believe she has to do to get what she wants, she knows she will not stand a chance otherwise. She is not alone in portraying this strange sort of innocence, this emotionless acceptance of fact and a stop-at-nothing attitude. It is the attitude of people in survival mode. It is Annie, the incredible anti-hero in ‘John’s Bride’, researching on the computer so she can be prepared: ‘What does heartbreak feel like?’ The glimpses through the magic layer on top show the real, which can be something more frightening, and much more human, than a shadowy creature.
Paradise Block is our world but pushed to the limits. It is our world which is ugly but beautiful. A sentiment reflected expertly in Ash’s gorgeous, slightly gruesome prose;
“There are candles all over the floor, white and milky, like bones.”
(‘Eggs’)
It is forcing us to see the abandonment in a world that refuses to stop and care;
“I imagined them turning around and looking up at me, the impossibility of them seeing my pain.”
(Ms Durrell, ‘Dr Sharpe’)
It is hope and a fighting spirit hidden in their language;
“It doesn’t do for the water to be simmering,’ Min says. ‘Make the water lively; make it really boil.’
(‘Eggs’)
It is a book that, despite all hardship, screams at us to take life and fight to make it our own. The people of Paradise Block do just this. They make everything lively. They boil.
January 15, 2021
Alice Ash is a Brighton-based writer and maker of short films (see aliceash.com). The opening story in this collection (“Eggs”) was long listed for the Galley Beggar Short Story Prize in 2019. Her writing has featured in several magazines and she has signed a two book deal with Serpents Tail, the first book being this collection of interlinked short stories. She has said:
”When writing my collection, I wanted to play with the boundaries of reality, with the uneven nature of perspective and place, as well as with the form of the short story itself. “
The stories here definitely play with the boundaries of reality and the author’s filmmaking background shows clearly in some of the takes on “perspective and place”. I am not sure that much has been done that plays with the form of the short story.
Paradise Block is a block of flats and the stories centre on people who either live in one of the flats or who have connections to people there. The opening story, already mentioned, gives us a young girls boiling eggs to feed her family in a flat that has been burned out. It is an immediate clue that the lives described are going to be largely difficult lives lived in difficult financial circumstances. As well as spending time in Paradise Block, we visit nearby CLutter and Plum Regis, especially the department store there, Upper Skein and the Lilybank River.
There is something unsettling about the stories. I think this is caused by the way the author is “playing with the uneven nature of perspective and place”. It is “our world” but it is being examined from a slightly different direction to normal.
The stories are linked by a number of recurring characters. It pays to note people’s distinguishing characteristics because several people make reappearances not by name but by reference (their shoes or their freckles, for example). As the book progresses, the reader starts to make links and recognise people as they turn up in other people’s stories.
I wasn’t sure about the first few stories, but I did find that the further into the book I got, the more I became interested in the stories. I am not sure whether that is because I got to know several of the people or because the stories themselves are more interesting. “Black, Dark Hill” for example is quite surreal and is immediately followed by Sea God which is sad (as are several of the stories, if truth be told).
I found this an interesting book to read, something a bit different in terms of style and perspective.
3.5 stars rounded up.
My thanks to the publisher for an ARC via NetGalley.
”When writing my collection, I wanted to play with the boundaries of reality, with the uneven nature of perspective and place, as well as with the form of the short story itself. “
The stories here definitely play with the boundaries of reality and the author’s filmmaking background shows clearly in some of the takes on “perspective and place”. I am not sure that much has been done that plays with the form of the short story.
Paradise Block is a block of flats and the stories centre on people who either live in one of the flats or who have connections to people there. The opening story, already mentioned, gives us a young girls boiling eggs to feed her family in a flat that has been burned out. It is an immediate clue that the lives described are going to be largely difficult lives lived in difficult financial circumstances. As well as spending time in Paradise Block, we visit nearby CLutter and Plum Regis, especially the department store there, Upper Skein and the Lilybank River.
There is something unsettling about the stories. I think this is caused by the way the author is “playing with the uneven nature of perspective and place”. It is “our world” but it is being examined from a slightly different direction to normal.
The stories are linked by a number of recurring characters. It pays to note people’s distinguishing characteristics because several people make reappearances not by name but by reference (their shoes or their freckles, for example). As the book progresses, the reader starts to make links and recognise people as they turn up in other people’s stories.
I wasn’t sure about the first few stories, but I did find that the further into the book I got, the more I became interested in the stories. I am not sure whether that is because I got to know several of the people or because the stories themselves are more interesting. “Black, Dark Hill” for example is quite surreal and is immediately followed by Sea God which is sad (as are several of the stories, if truth be told).
I found this an interesting book to read, something a bit different in terms of style and perspective.
3.5 stars rounded up.
My thanks to the publisher for an ARC via NetGalley.
February 6, 2021
I actually can't remember the last time I sat with a book and utterly consumed the entire thing in one go.
With Paradise Block, every spin of the roulette wheel takes you on a haunting and addictive journey into the sticky inner world of whichever resident you land upon, whisking you into a mysterious yet eerily familiar tale that winds, weaves and intersects with itself like the creeping ivy you imagine adorns the exterior of the crumbling concrete tower block.
Each tale is tinged with an aching sense of ordinary that never becomes tiresome, rather acts as an anchor which binds these very different characters and their very different lives, all played out between the same four walls endlessly replicated atop one another.
Not simply just a collection of stories, Paradise Block is a jarring and visceral snapshot of life in working class Britain, relatable to the point it could almost be discomforting if it wasn't for strange comfort that comes from being seen.
Certainly one you want to immediately re-read the moment it comes to an end.
With Paradise Block, every spin of the roulette wheel takes you on a haunting and addictive journey into the sticky inner world of whichever resident you land upon, whisking you into a mysterious yet eerily familiar tale that winds, weaves and intersects with itself like the creeping ivy you imagine adorns the exterior of the crumbling concrete tower block.
Each tale is tinged with an aching sense of ordinary that never becomes tiresome, rather acts as an anchor which binds these very different characters and their very different lives, all played out between the same four walls endlessly replicated atop one another.
Not simply just a collection of stories, Paradise Block is a jarring and visceral snapshot of life in working class Britain, relatable to the point it could almost be discomforting if it wasn't for strange comfort that comes from being seen.
Certainly one you want to immediately re-read the moment it comes to an end.
December 30, 2020
A collection of eclectic, dark, moving and at times funny cohesive short stories that visit the individual lives within a tower block, Paradise Block.
Each story is told with a distinctive voice, the prose itself exhibiting the essence of the character. The plot of each one varies, from the small mundanities to life changing moments that the characters may or may not be aware of.
It is not surprising that the author, Alice Ash, is a film-maker, the description and the way atmosphere is so tangible in the prose builds a clear picture of the surroundings of the characters. This is not a green and pleasant land, but something that is much more prevalent and over-looked and deeply English. These stories depict difficult lives, cash poor lives, but they are respectfully written with such texture and poetry that it gives voice to the thousand of lives that they echo.
I really enjoyed all of the short stories but Eggs, Planes, You and John's Bride were real stand-outs for me. Looking forward to more of Alice's work in future.
Each story is told with a distinctive voice, the prose itself exhibiting the essence of the character. The plot of each one varies, from the small mundanities to life changing moments that the characters may or may not be aware of.
It is not surprising that the author, Alice Ash, is a film-maker, the description and the way atmosphere is so tangible in the prose builds a clear picture of the surroundings of the characters. This is not a green and pleasant land, but something that is much more prevalent and over-looked and deeply English. These stories depict difficult lives, cash poor lives, but they are respectfully written with such texture and poetry that it gives voice to the thousand of lives that they echo.
I really enjoyed all of the short stories but Eggs, Planes, You and John's Bride were real stand-outs for me. Looking forward to more of Alice's work in future.
January 10, 2021
Loved this short story collection by debut author Alice Ash! It’s creepy and weird and I loved how all of the stories are interlinked. Really different to anything I’ve read before- I absolutely loved it!
February 25, 2021
enjoyed having a morning coffee with the short story narratives from Alice Ash's characters.
Paradise Block is an old tower block on an estate. Each tale a glimpse at the lives that are touched by it's shadow.
I was particularly touched by the narrators in Planes and Timespeak.
These first hand views give a sight from a young boys life & the other, an old man's. Both are lonely in their own way, it is the way that glimpses of other lives you have gotten attached to that you find in other stories that make it so special. In between the mould & crumbling bricks, there is a wonderful melting pot of humanity that I will be returning to.
The last story, Note, left me with tears in my eyes. Those were good words. It made me happy.
A class act from Alice Ash, I'll be keeping my eyes out for future gems.
Paradise Block is an old tower block on an estate. Each tale a glimpse at the lives that are touched by it's shadow.
I was particularly touched by the narrators in Planes and Timespeak.
These first hand views give a sight from a young boys life & the other, an old man's. Both are lonely in their own way, it is the way that glimpses of other lives you have gotten attached to that you find in other stories that make it so special. In between the mould & crumbling bricks, there is a wonderful melting pot of humanity that I will be returning to.
The last story, Note, left me with tears in my eyes. Those were good words. It made me happy.
A class act from Alice Ash, I'll be keeping my eyes out for future gems.
December 31, 2022
A dark, unsettling yet gripping read. I loved this collection of short stories and how they explored the lives and social circumstances of people who have connections to Paradise Block. Each story stands alone, but you learn more about the characters and their lives as the stories become intertwined as the book progresses. Recommended!
August 21, 2021
Fantastically strong characters that will stay with me forever. Occasionally the little dark tales keep flickering in my mind too. Eagerly awaiting her next.
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December 1, 2021Read Kate Tyte's review at The Short Story: https://theshortstory.co.uk/short-sto...
April 14, 2021
Paradise Block Review
An alluring and haunting collection
The paradoxical nature of these stories is hinted at in the title of the collection. The eponymous block and its inhabitants provides the location and most of the characters for the collection, and seems a very long way from paradise. The block, despite, or perhaps because of the failings of the live-in caretaker, is poorly built and maintained. Cracks open up; clutter, dirt, incipient decay, hunger (hunger in particular) are recurring motifs. The residents live from hand to mouth, insecurely employed, struggling with uncertainty, isolation and loss. Here, paths to a better future, let alone paradise, are blocked.
And yet, and yet, somehow, somewhere, sometimes the cracks are what lets the light in.
The collection is difficult to categorise by genre. They do have a fairy tale, dreamlike quality, but are rooted in very vivid, sensory description. Characters re-appear in various stories from different viewpoints, contributing to a sense of shifting perspectives, like those fairground mirrors that both reflect and distort. There is a deceptive naivety of tone that is then undercut by shrewd, observant humour. They are fairy tales that engage, as good fairy tales do, with pressing human issues. Occasionally, as in Planes and Ball, the narrative voice and balance between the dream like and the naturalistic is for me not quite so tightly controlled or convincing, but at their best there is an absolute control, originality and lightness of touch that allows for the fabulous, surreal weirdness of Black, Dark Hill or the wonderful, disconcerting play with narrative voice in John’s Bride. Black Dark Hill’s plot could so easily could be the stuff of formulaic horror but is given a curious, empowering detachment by the narrative device of identifying the protagonist as ‘our girl’ throughout. This suggests both a warm familiarity, even cosiness, how we might identify a family member, and something stranger. Whose girl, actually, is she? Is she actually all girls’ girls, nemesis or dispassionate avenger, as she, or her shadow, calmly witnesses and allows the series of unfortunate events that befall her boyfriend? The narrative voice in John’s Bride is more familiar, at first, until we begin to realise that the apparently adoring and self-sacrificing mail order bride may be orchestrating other types of sacrifice, entirely.
Paradise may be out of reach for the residents of Paradise Block, but can be glimpsed and dreamt of, and the dreams and hopes of the characters illuminate and irradiate these stories strangely, making the experience of reading the collection oddly uplifting, despite the prevailing decay. The beautifully designed cover of the collection is entirely appropriate: through the cracks and mould, gorgeous colours gleam. What is it that shines through the cracks? Tenderness? Desire? Steely determination? Read for yourself and prepare to be bewitched…
An alluring and haunting collection
The paradoxical nature of these stories is hinted at in the title of the collection. The eponymous block and its inhabitants provides the location and most of the characters for the collection, and seems a very long way from paradise. The block, despite, or perhaps because of the failings of the live-in caretaker, is poorly built and maintained. Cracks open up; clutter, dirt, incipient decay, hunger (hunger in particular) are recurring motifs. The residents live from hand to mouth, insecurely employed, struggling with uncertainty, isolation and loss. Here, paths to a better future, let alone paradise, are blocked.
And yet, and yet, somehow, somewhere, sometimes the cracks are what lets the light in.
The collection is difficult to categorise by genre. They do have a fairy tale, dreamlike quality, but are rooted in very vivid, sensory description. Characters re-appear in various stories from different viewpoints, contributing to a sense of shifting perspectives, like those fairground mirrors that both reflect and distort. There is a deceptive naivety of tone that is then undercut by shrewd, observant humour. They are fairy tales that engage, as good fairy tales do, with pressing human issues. Occasionally, as in Planes and Ball, the narrative voice and balance between the dream like and the naturalistic is for me not quite so tightly controlled or convincing, but at their best there is an absolute control, originality and lightness of touch that allows for the fabulous, surreal weirdness of Black, Dark Hill or the wonderful, disconcerting play with narrative voice in John’s Bride. Black Dark Hill’s plot could so easily could be the stuff of formulaic horror but is given a curious, empowering detachment by the narrative device of identifying the protagonist as ‘our girl’ throughout. This suggests both a warm familiarity, even cosiness, how we might identify a family member, and something stranger. Whose girl, actually, is she? Is she actually all girls’ girls, nemesis or dispassionate avenger, as she, or her shadow, calmly witnesses and allows the series of unfortunate events that befall her boyfriend? The narrative voice in John’s Bride is more familiar, at first, until we begin to realise that the apparently adoring and self-sacrificing mail order bride may be orchestrating other types of sacrifice, entirely.
Paradise may be out of reach for the residents of Paradise Block, but can be glimpsed and dreamt of, and the dreams and hopes of the characters illuminate and irradiate these stories strangely, making the experience of reading the collection oddly uplifting, despite the prevailing decay. The beautifully designed cover of the collection is entirely appropriate: through the cracks and mould, gorgeous colours gleam. What is it that shines through the cracks? Tenderness? Desire? Steely determination? Read for yourself and prepare to be bewitched…
February 17, 2021
This book was not what I was expecting, but in a good way. Ash creates some stunning characters and stories. I'm going to add this book into our queue for my bookclub. I think they'll all like it just as much. The writing is really beautiful. It lagged in a few spots but not too badly. The only reason I gave it 4 stars instead of 5
October 16, 2021
Containing titles like ‘Flea-Trap’, ‘Hungry’, ‘Complaint’ and ‘Black, Dark Hill’ you could be fairly sure this collection of short stories leans towards anything but paradise.
It will come as no surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed this little gathering of grungey tales. Set in and around a dilapidated tower block in Brighton, I really enjoyed the twisting threads that bound the characters together. Sometimes with short story collections I find I’m just getting into the time and space of a particular character only for it to end and I’m thrust into another world entirely. The connections between these stories really helped me flow from one to the next, as though I was winding my way up the crumbling staircases from floor to floor.
The collection explores the limitations of human beings, both the physical rooms and buildings that keep them trapped, but also those less tangible, the class system and gender inequality. To the outsider these characters are all “normal” people living “normal” lives, but scratch the surface, pull back the peeling wallpaper, and you find physical pain, mental illness and secrets inside everyone.
I particularly loved ‘Flea Trap’, with its equal parts of depression, mania and sadism, and ‘Doctor Sharpe’, with its exploration of sexuality and obsession.
I’m a reader who loves to FEEL things when I’m reading, and feel things I did… uncomfortable, uncertain and a little bit sick at times, in a good way! I even learned a new word when trying to write this review, ‘ideophone’ - a word that invokes a vivid impression of certain sensations. This book is full of ideophones, great words…Fusty, sticky, mangled. This book was a seedy, sensual, sensory trip and I bloody loved it!
It will come as no surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed this little gathering of grungey tales. Set in and around a dilapidated tower block in Brighton, I really enjoyed the twisting threads that bound the characters together. Sometimes with short story collections I find I’m just getting into the time and space of a particular character only for it to end and I’m thrust into another world entirely. The connections between these stories really helped me flow from one to the next, as though I was winding my way up the crumbling staircases from floor to floor.
The collection explores the limitations of human beings, both the physical rooms and buildings that keep them trapped, but also those less tangible, the class system and gender inequality. To the outsider these characters are all “normal” people living “normal” lives, but scratch the surface, pull back the peeling wallpaper, and you find physical pain, mental illness and secrets inside everyone.
I particularly loved ‘Flea Trap’, with its equal parts of depression, mania and sadism, and ‘Doctor Sharpe’, with its exploration of sexuality and obsession.
I’m a reader who loves to FEEL things when I’m reading, and feel things I did… uncomfortable, uncertain and a little bit sick at times, in a good way! I even learned a new word when trying to write this review, ‘ideophone’ - a word that invokes a vivid impression of certain sensations. This book is full of ideophones, great words…Fusty, sticky, mangled. This book was a seedy, sensual, sensory trip and I bloody loved it!
January 31, 2021
Unsettling, weird, absorbing short stories that are surreal and intertwined. I found it a bit hard to get into at first but found it more inviting as I went on. Timespeak, Ball and Doctor Sharpe hit me the most. And Sea God actually. Excited to read what she writes next!
March 22, 2021
Surreal, yet deeply familiar. Dark and peculiar with sparkles of humour.
I absolutely savoured each and every interconnected story. I didn't know what to expect next with every turn of a page. I let out more than one audible gasp as I read late into the night!
Ash uses language so cleverly throughout this book that you linger on the sentence and appreciate it. You know exactly what she's describing - and I got a real hankering for white finger biscuits for some reason!
If you're looking for some easy-to-pick-up surrealism rooted in reality, and you like a bit of an eerie, slightly off kilter setting and vibe - then this is the book for you!
I absolutely savoured each and every interconnected story. I didn't know what to expect next with every turn of a page. I let out more than one audible gasp as I read late into the night!
Ash uses language so cleverly throughout this book that you linger on the sentence and appreciate it. You know exactly what she's describing - and I got a real hankering for white finger biscuits for some reason!
If you're looking for some easy-to-pick-up surrealism rooted in reality, and you like a bit of an eerie, slightly off kilter setting and vibe - then this is the book for you!
January 7, 2022
While I could point out favorites (Ball, Complaint, Sea God, John's Bride) and not-so-favorites (Eggs, Planes) in this collection, the thing that really works for it overall is the prevasive vibe. Ash has a real knack for an amped-up sensory kind of writing. The book is an ultravivid smear of color, sound and smell. And a lot of it is... vaguely unpleasant? But it's so finely wrought, these stories are their own kind of invigorating, even though they're universally about rot and stasis. Really interesting. Looking forward to seeing what she does next.
December 22, 2022
I am startled by this book. Maybe it’s because I’m not in a ‘great headspace’ at the moment that I found parts of this quite difficult to read. The D-words swirling around: dark, disturbing, depressing. Then the V-words: violent, visceral. And then all the other words: alive, powerful, tender, fragile, layered.
Co-existence, unease, strangeness, disjointedness, everyday life, childhood. Interconnected lives, intergenerational stories, seperation and togetherness, sex, survival, female voices. I haven’t read something this clever and crafted in ages.
Co-existence, unease, strangeness, disjointedness, everyday life, childhood. Interconnected lives, intergenerational stories, seperation and togetherness, sex, survival, female voices. I haven’t read something this clever and crafted in ages.
February 6, 2022
Insight into a community
I loved that this collection of short stories were all about different people from a particular block of flats, it really gave an insight into what the community would be like. Some of the tales really tugged at your heart strings, the amount of vulnerable people living in Paradise Block was so sad.
I loved that this collection of short stories were all about different people from a particular block of flats, it really gave an insight into what the community would be like. Some of the tales really tugged at your heart strings, the amount of vulnerable people living in Paradise Block was so sad.
May 14, 2023
I thought this was an interesting collection. I liked the fact that the characters tied in - challenged me to remember what story they’d popped up in before and also really highlighted the close knit vibe you get in a block like Paradise Block.
First half was a lot stronger for me, I actually think Eggs was one of my favourites out of the collection.
First half was a lot stronger for me, I actually think Eggs was one of my favourites out of the collection.
March 18, 2021
I have been taking my time with this book, doling out these delicious little morsels of darkness as treats here and there, and now I'm pretty sure Paradise Block is permanently constructed in my mind. Such an exciting debut!
February 4, 2021
3.5*
a collection of surrealist short stories that follow a cast of unusual characters who inhabit a decrepit block of flats in a run-down area of town where local shops are being
abandoned as gentrification and industrialised living starts to settle in. half dystopian, half social commentary on life in the twenty-first century, ash’s debut collection is a disturbingly prescient piece of writing that speaks to how the typically overlooked and admonished in society are treated by others and themselves.
there are clearly established themes that run concurrently throughout each story; the impact of substance abuse and alcoholism on familial relationships; parentification and casual misogyny as a result of the patriarchal social structure on young girls and women; the mysteries of ageing and how loneliness can isolate some of the most vulnerable in society.
Each story introduces another character into the threads of the omnipresent paradise block, who is almost the creepiest and most well-written character of all. What I really loved is how each character developed and blossomed from the perspective of another. I was particularly taken the bizarre and eccentric Min, who is recently widowed and deals with her loneliness by over-compensating her affections towards others no matter how much they try to distance themselves.
The stories are easy to follow and the directly establish who each character is even if their role in the wider sphere of the stories isn’t quite clear. I didn’t find it confusing at all to follow and in fact rejoiced when another character showed up in a different story. Ash has found a niche and way of writing that works for her, you can see her abilities flourish with each tale. My favourites were Eggs, Sea God, You (which made me cry) and Doctor Sharpe (which disturbed me so much I had to put the book down for the rest of the night)
This wonderful debut comes out tomorrow - if short but impactful stories are your favourite type of read, I would urge you to get your hands on a copy. A huge big thank you to serpents tail and Alice ash for my ARC! ✨
a collection of surrealist short stories that follow a cast of unusual characters who inhabit a decrepit block of flats in a run-down area of town where local shops are being
abandoned as gentrification and industrialised living starts to settle in. half dystopian, half social commentary on life in the twenty-first century, ash’s debut collection is a disturbingly prescient piece of writing that speaks to how the typically overlooked and admonished in society are treated by others and themselves.
there are clearly established themes that run concurrently throughout each story; the impact of substance abuse and alcoholism on familial relationships; parentification and casual misogyny as a result of the patriarchal social structure on young girls and women; the mysteries of ageing and how loneliness can isolate some of the most vulnerable in society.
Each story introduces another character into the threads of the omnipresent paradise block, who is almost the creepiest and most well-written character of all. What I really loved is how each character developed and blossomed from the perspective of another. I was particularly taken the bizarre and eccentric Min, who is recently widowed and deals with her loneliness by over-compensating her affections towards others no matter how much they try to distance themselves.
The stories are easy to follow and the directly establish who each character is even if their role in the wider sphere of the stories isn’t quite clear. I didn’t find it confusing at all to follow and in fact rejoiced when another character showed up in a different story. Ash has found a niche and way of writing that works for her, you can see her abilities flourish with each tale. My favourites were Eggs, Sea God, You (which made me cry) and Doctor Sharpe (which disturbed me so much I had to put the book down for the rest of the night)
This wonderful debut comes out tomorrow - if short but impactful stories are your favourite type of read, I would urge you to get your hands on a copy. A huge big thank you to serpents tail and Alice ash for my ARC! ✨
March 1, 2021
Book review 4.5/5
“In Paradise Block, mould grows as thick as fur along the walls, alarms ring out at unexpected hours and none of the neighbours are quite what they seem.”
Brief summary: Ash’s debut short story collection features 13 surreal stories depicting the lives of the strange inhabitants of a grotty block of flats called Paradise Block. Each story seems to sit on the threshold between grim reality and bizarre and even sinister fantasy.
If anyone has read my previous reviews of short story collections they’ll know that I am not usually a big fan of them. I find that very little interconnects the stories within many collections I’ve read besides recurring motifs and themes. I hate how with a lot of short story collections you finish reading a story and then have to almost start all over again adjusting to a new setting and characters. It creates quite a fragmented reading experience which I don’t really enjoy.
What I love so much about Paradise Block is the fact that each story in the collection interacts with another. You get to know the characters who inhabit Paradise Block really well as Ash explores different facets of their quirky personalities in each story. It makes the reading experience feel much more personal in some ways as you find yourself waiting for a character to pop up again.
My favourite story out of the whole collection has to be ‘The Sea God’ which recounts the lonely life of Min, an old lady, who attempts to forge a connection with a stranger on the beach by offering up her old jewellery and cutlery. This story contrasts hugely with the image of Min we see in ‘Eggs’. In ‘Eggs’, Min is seen as capable and resourceful whereas in ‘The Sea God’, the reader gets to see a much more sentimental, sensitive and emotional side to her. In addition, the ending of this story feels hopeful and suggests the promise of friendship, contrasting with the ambiguous, disturbing and sometimes unsatisfying endings of some of the other stories.
Overall, I really recommend this short story collection even if short stories are not your thing. The fact that characters reappear in stories throughout the collection and the recurring location of the block of flats/the town of Clutter creates a sense of continuity which I think most collections lack. I love how a lot of Ash’s stories are written with such an ambiguous quality that it leaves the reader to either decide the stories’ outcomes or ponder over them for hours since they put the book down!
“In Paradise Block, mould grows as thick as fur along the walls, alarms ring out at unexpected hours and none of the neighbours are quite what they seem.”
Brief summary: Ash’s debut short story collection features 13 surreal stories depicting the lives of the strange inhabitants of a grotty block of flats called Paradise Block. Each story seems to sit on the threshold between grim reality and bizarre and even sinister fantasy.
If anyone has read my previous reviews of short story collections they’ll know that I am not usually a big fan of them. I find that very little interconnects the stories within many collections I’ve read besides recurring motifs and themes. I hate how with a lot of short story collections you finish reading a story and then have to almost start all over again adjusting to a new setting and characters. It creates quite a fragmented reading experience which I don’t really enjoy.
What I love so much about Paradise Block is the fact that each story in the collection interacts with another. You get to know the characters who inhabit Paradise Block really well as Ash explores different facets of their quirky personalities in each story. It makes the reading experience feel much more personal in some ways as you find yourself waiting for a character to pop up again.
My favourite story out of the whole collection has to be ‘The Sea God’ which recounts the lonely life of Min, an old lady, who attempts to forge a connection with a stranger on the beach by offering up her old jewellery and cutlery. This story contrasts hugely with the image of Min we see in ‘Eggs’. In ‘Eggs’, Min is seen as capable and resourceful whereas in ‘The Sea God’, the reader gets to see a much more sentimental, sensitive and emotional side to her. In addition, the ending of this story feels hopeful and suggests the promise of friendship, contrasting with the ambiguous, disturbing and sometimes unsatisfying endings of some of the other stories.
Overall, I really recommend this short story collection even if short stories are not your thing. The fact that characters reappear in stories throughout the collection and the recurring location of the block of flats/the town of Clutter creates a sense of continuity which I think most collections lack. I love how a lot of Ash’s stories are written with such an ambiguous quality that it leaves the reader to either decide the stories’ outcomes or ponder over them for hours since they put the book down!
May 22, 2021
Alice Ash's enthralling new short story collection centres on the residents of dilapidated Paradise Block whose mental and physical health is similarly deteriorating.
Ash creates a world that seems just adjacent to ours and out of time, in a way that reminded me of Camilla Grudova's collection The Doll's Alphabet. We explore the hopes, disappointments and grievances of the block's residents in a beautifully affecting way that often has a touch of the weird, and the author does a fantastic job of exploring how poverty, addiction, ill health and loneliness affect family dynamics.
I particularly loved Eggs in which a daughter starts to become the parent to her mother, Doctor Sharpe about a woman who goes to extreme lengths for her beloved doctor's attention, and John's Bride in which a new bride faces the reality of the husband she met on the internet. But there isn't a single story in this collection that didn't work for me, and it had a great sense of cohesion, looping back to the same characters over time and showing new perspectives on them.
Ash creates a world that seems just adjacent to ours and out of time, in a way that reminded me of Camilla Grudova's collection The Doll's Alphabet. We explore the hopes, disappointments and grievances of the block's residents in a beautifully affecting way that often has a touch of the weird, and the author does a fantastic job of exploring how poverty, addiction, ill health and loneliness affect family dynamics.
I particularly loved Eggs in which a daughter starts to become the parent to her mother, Doctor Sharpe about a woman who goes to extreme lengths for her beloved doctor's attention, and John's Bride in which a new bride faces the reality of the husband she met on the internet. But there isn't a single story in this collection that didn't work for me, and it had a great sense of cohesion, looping back to the same characters over time and showing new perspectives on them.
June 19, 2025
Solid short story collection, linked by the location, with recurring characters and themes (well, if white finger biscuits are a theme, anyway). They varied a bit in how intelligible they were. I couldn't get the first one at all, for example. I suspect a second reading might help the whole collection gel a bit better.
March 4, 2022
I will be forever grateful to The Book Hive in Norwich for strategically putting this book on display, thus allowing me to fall in love with the beautiful cover and the cryptic blurb. I loved the fact that this is a collection of short stories that are loosely connected with each other. I loved the magical realism, the rough settings that made me thing of yellow grass, littered pavements, a hot summer in an ugly suburban landscape where people's lives unfold in all their sweetness and tragedy. Definitely one I will be picking up again.
February 11, 2024
This book really fascinates me. I borrowed it from the library and have now purchased my own copy so that I can read it again. I think this would definitely benefit from a re-read. Closer analysis is a must.
A book of short stories that are linked together, this is a deeply fascinating read. This book is uncomfortable. It is written in a deliciously wicked way, and I, for one, will be reading it again.
A book of short stories that are linked together, this is a deeply fascinating read. This book is uncomfortable. It is written in a deliciously wicked way, and I, for one, will be reading it again.
December 29, 2024
Interconnected! Short! Stories! Each chapter follows a different character and they all live/have lived in paradise block. Which is a pretty dilapidated block of flats.
As with most collections this has ups & downs. Some stories were forgettable, some characters I would’ve loved a few more chapters from.
Everyone is lonely. And honestly a little gross? I loved how people popped in & out of each other’s stories. Pretty solid as far as debuts go!
As with most collections this has ups & downs. Some stories were forgettable, some characters I would’ve loved a few more chapters from.
Everyone is lonely. And honestly a little gross? I loved how people popped in & out of each other’s stories. Pretty solid as far as debuts go!
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