not a terribly glamourous world. lots of use of the phrase 'on the cobbles'. snooker halls, shit pubs, scrap yards, pigeons, parking fines,
They bought off bent cops and councillors, then. Par for the course with any sizeable criminal gang, I think.ties with the police (of course) and local govt
good set up ehKnew it.
Glamour's in the eye of the beholder. To some the 'high life' of flash cars, clothes etc is glamourous, but Judas Pig certainly undermines the idea and, as you suggest, makes it all sound soiled and grotty. That's one of its strong points though.not a terribly glamourous world. lots of use of the phrase 'on the cobbles'. snooker halls, shit pubs, scrap yards, pigeons, parking fines,
Claret all over the shopsliced him up proper the cunt have that
This couple of sentences make me think of a few books I've read by Jonathon Meades. One in particular, from the 80s I think, is a collection of short stories called Filthy English, and the one that springs to mind here is told from the POV of a dog who used to be a porn star.Glamour's in the eye of the beholder. To some the 'high life' of flash cars, clothes etc is glamourous, but Judas Pig certainly undermines the idea and, as you suggest, makes it all sound soiled and grotty. That's one of its strong points though.
Argentina. Fire, flame, urban decay, curses and echoes of trauma. Shirley Jackson meets Joel Lane in Buenos Aries.
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“...Grandma’s going on a journey. Everything progresses slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Zami smiles at Grandma. Lights a cigarette. Don’t be afraid. Yes, look it’s raining. Water from the sky. Who would have thought it? And Janoch? What’s he doing? Zami moves closer to the trough. Chitchats with Grandma in Swedish. Look. Now Janoch has gathered all the Akasi together. He points and points. Now they’re going to roll you into the van. That’s right. That white thing is called a van. Vroom. Vroom. With that van we’re going to Gesunden. In Sweden. It’s going to be really nice. And here comes Janoch. Now they’re going to push you into the van. Are you ready?
It all goes smoothly until Janoch opens the doors. Until the Akasi see the girls. And the girls see Grandma. And Grandma starts screaming just because everyone else is screaming. His head really hurts. Zami screams too. And raises the plank like a club.
An hour later things are quieter. Zami parks on a gravel road about twenty kilometers from the monastery. Checks everything. He’s alive. His head is throbbing. He’s bloody everywhere, but it’s not his blood so it doesn’t matter. Janoch sits doubled up. They stabbed him with something. He killed half of them. And Zami two more. With his plank. Then they got Grandma into the car. And realized she’d start on the girls as soon as the boys weren’t standing in her way. She heaved herself at the girls. Tried to reach further than her body would go. Hissed and growled. Wheeled around with her claws. And the girls screamed and tried to get out of the van. In spite of the chains and in spite of the Akasi and Janoch outside. Zami gave Grandma a little taste of plank. The girls got some too. He shouted at them all. Turned around and smashed one of the Akasi clawing at the girls. Shouted some more. Hit Grandma on the head. Shouted at the girls. Around. Around. Around.”
Yeah Mouthful of Birds contains some very unsettling stories. I read her novel as well about a kind of possessed kids toy/teddy bear kind of thing - it didn’t quite have the same heft but still very good.I've read that Enriquez, the danger of smoking in bed is good too, a bit daft in places but still worth a read. Samanta Schweblin is worth cbecking out if you like Enriquez, less pulpy horror, (more like Cortázar really) and a better writer overall but kind of in the same ball park.
I read Tender is the Flesh a couple of years ago and had the same emotional response to it as Under the Skin. I wonder how many other people have linked the two together.Yeah, Ive been meaning to read that other collection. I got tipped to Argentinian horror after reading Agustina Bazterrica's 'Tender is the Flesh', which is a kind of horrifyingly banal version of Under the skin.
Grandma's journey is my favourite of all of these stories I think, from Swedish Cults.