Think Magnus Mills mashed with the League of Gentlemen with a jolt of Mark E. Smithery for grit, and you’re nearly there.
Though many of his stories are shorter than a Napalm Death snarl, these precision-engineered slivers of fiction leave you with the dying chords of a symphony. They are about the small people, the tiny TARDIS folk with cathedrals inside them, creeping by unnoticed. These tales will have you laughing like at a Tommy Cooper video though there’s something hideous gnawing at the door to get in. Be careful, a spoonful weighs a ton.
"Structured sublimely into three parts, 45 Revolutions per Minute, Twelve-inch Singles and Long-Players, with dozens of references to the time-emaciating music of our northern souls, the book gains momentum, like an old L.P does. With hiccups and stutters, moments of abject confusion or unusual clarity or remote, unreal sadness. When we reach the Long Players we’re ready for crescendos, the pace and mood heightens, and the pieces take off. ........."
Read the rest of this review by Melissa Lee on The Short Review.