Books Spotlight: The Routledge Companion to Folk Horror and Folk Horror On Film: The Return of the British Repressed.

The following article is not a review as such to avoid accusation of bias as I (Andy Paciorek) have essays in the books (‘Yesterday’s Memories of Tomorrow: Nostalgia, Hauntology and Folk Horror’ in The Routledge Companion to Folk Horror, and ‘Albion Unearthed: social, political and cultural influences on British Folk Horror, Urban Wyrd and Backwoods Cinema’ in Folk Horror on Film’) – but instead is a spotlight of some tomes that may be of interest and/or use to students, lecturers and aficionados of folk horror and its associated fields.

The Routledge Companion to Folk Horror

Edited By Robert Edgar, Wayne Johnson (Routledge. 2023)

The Routledge Companion to Folk Horror offers a comprehensive guide to this popular genre. It explores its origins, canonical texts and thinkers, the crucial underlying themes of nostalgia and hauntology, and identifies new trends in the field.

Divided into five parts, the first focuses on the history of Folk Horror from medieval texts to the present day. It considers the first wave of contemporary Folk Horror through the films of the ‘unholy trinity’, as well as discussing the influence of ancient gods and early Folk Horror. Part 2 looks at the spaces, landscapes, and cultural relics, which form a central focus for Folk Horror. In Part 3, the contributors examine the rich history of the use of folklore in children’s fiction. The next part discusses recent examples of Folk Horror-infused music and image. Chapters consider the relationship between different genres of music to Folk Horror (such as folk music, black metal, and new wave), sound and performance, comic books, and the Dark Web. Often regarded as British in origin, the final part analyses texts which break this link, as the contributors reveal the larger realms of regional, national, international, and transnational Folk Horror.

Featuring 40 contributions, this authoritative collection brings together leading voices in the field. It is an invaluable resource for students and scholars interested in this vibrant genre and its enduring influence on literature, film, music, and culture.”


Table of Contents –

General Introduction – Robert Edgar and Wayne Johnson

Part I: Origins and Histories

  1. Christopher Flavin Fear of the World: Folk Horror in Early British Literature
  2. Brendan Walsh The Early Modern Popular Demonic and the Foundations of Twentieth Century British Folk Horror
  3. Katy Soar “Banished to woods and a sickly moon”: The Old Gods in Folk Horror
  4. Craig Thomson “I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the classroom”: The Changing Conception of the ‘Folk’ in the Western Folk Horror Tradition
  5. Darryl Jones M. R. James and Folk Horror
  6. Miranda Corcoran “Leave Something Witchy”: Evolving Representations of Cults and New Religious Movements in Folk Horror
  7. Alan Smith The spectacle of the uncanny revel: Thomas Hardy’s Mephistophelian Visitants and ‘Folk Provenance’.
  8. Charlotte Runcie ‘We’re not in the Middle Ages’: Alan Garner’s Folk Horror Medievalism
  9. Peter Bell Terror in the Landscape: Folk Horror in the Stories of M.R. James
  10. John Miller Folk Horror, HS2 and the Disenchanted Woods
  11. David Evans-Powell Mind the Doors! Characterising the London Underground on Screen as a Folk Horror Space
  12. Beth Kattelman Queer Folk: The Danger of Being Different
  13. David Sweeney “Out of the dust”: Folk Horror and the Urban Wyrd in Too Old to Die Young and Other Works by Nicolas Winding Refn
  14. Catherine Spooner Meeting the Gorse Mother: Feminist Approaches to Folk Horror in Contemporary British Fiction
  15. Ruth Heholt Handicrafts of Evil: Nostalgia and the Make-Culture of Folk Horror
  16. Lauren Stephenson Restoring Relics – (Re)-releasing Antrum (2018) and film as Folk Horror
  17. Andy Paciorek Yesterday’s Memories of Tomorrow: Nostalgia, Hauntology & Folk Horror
  18. Diane A. Rodgers Ghosts in the Machine: Folklore and technology onscreen in Ghostwatch (1992) and Host (2020)
  19. Douglas McNaughton The Pattern Under the Plough: Folk Horror in 1970s British Children’s Television
  20. Jez Conolly ‘This calm, serene orb’: a personal recollection of the comforting strangeness found in the worlds of Smallfilms
  21. Jon Towlson ‘To Traumatise Kids for Life’: The Influence of Folk Horror on 1970s Children’s Television
  22. Bob Fischer That Haunted Feeling: Analogue Memories
  23. Stephen Brotherstone “Don’t Be Frightened. I Told You We Were Privileged”: The British Class System in the Televised Folk Horror of the 1970s
  24. Dave Lawrence The 4:45 Club: Folk Horror Before Teatime in the 1970s and 1980s
  25. Julianne Regan The Idyllic Horrific– Field, Farm, Garden, Forest and Machine
  26. Richard D. Craig “And the devil he came to the farmer at plough” – November, Folk Horror and folk music
  27. Julian Holloway Sounding Folk Horror and the Strange Rural
  28. Jason D. Brawn Sounds of Our Past: The electronic music that links Folk Horror and Hauntology
  29. Joseph S. Norman Even in death: The ‘Folk Horror Chain’ in Black Metal
  30. Ben Halligan Towards ‘Squire Horror’: Genesis 1972-3
  31. Barbara Chamberlin Patterns beneath the grid: the haunted spaces of Folk Horror comics
  32. Max Jokschus From the Fibers, from the Forums, from the Fringe – Folk Horror from the Deep, Dark Web
  33. Dawn Keetley ‘The dark is here’: The Third Day and Folk Horror’s Anxiety about Birth-rates, Immigration, and Race
  34. Robert Edgar Hinterlands and SPAs: Folk Horror and Neoliberal Desolation
  35. Andrew M. Butler “Why Don’t You Go Home?”: The Folk Horror Revival in Contemporary Cornish Gothic Films
  36. Adam Smith Satire and the British Folk Horror Revival
  37. Matthew Cheeseman English Nationalism, Folklore and Pagans
  38. Keith McDonald Bound by Elusiveness: Transnational Cinema and Folk Horror
  39. James Thurgill Strange Permutations, Eerie Dis/locations: On the cultural and geographic specificity of Japanese Folk Horror
  40. Adam Spellicy “All the little devils are proud of Hell”: The First Wave of Australian Folk Horror

https://www.routledge.com/The-Routledge-Companion-to-Folk-Horror/Edgar-Johnson/p/book/9781032042831

Folk Horror On Film: Return of the British Repressed.

Edited by Kevin J. Donnelly and Louis Bayman (Manchester University Press. 2023)

“What is folk horror and how culturally significant is it? This collection is the first study to address these questions while considering the special importance of British cinema to the genre’s development.

The book presents political and aesthetic analyses of folk horror’s uncanny landscapes and frightful folk. It places canonical films like Witchfinder General (1968), The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) and The Wicker Man (1973) in a new light and expands the canon to include films like the sci-fi horror Doomwatch (1970-72) and the horror documentary Requiem for a Village (1975) alongside filmmakers Ken Russell and Ben Wheatley.

A series of engrossing chapters by established scholars and new writers argue for the uniqueness of folk horror from perspectives that include the fragmented national history of pagan heresies and Celtic cultures, of peasant lifestyles, folkloric rediscoveries and postcolonial decline.”

Foreword by John Das
Introduction: what makes the folk horrific? – Louis Bayman and K.J. Donnelly
Part I: Debating The Wicker Man (1973)

1 The context of The Wicker Man – Ronald Hutton
2 A deeply religious people: The Wicker Man, contemporary paganism, and Dracula reversed- Laurel Zwissler
3 Folk horror: a discursive approach, with application to Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973) and Neil Jordan’s The Company of Wolves (1984) – Mikel J. Koven
Part II: Return of the British repressed
4 The folk of folk horror – Derek Johnston
5 Doomwatch: sacrifice zones and folk horror – Dawn Keetley
6 My ancestors died here: Requiem for a Village and the rural English horror of modernity and socio-cultural change – Paul Newland
7 Outsider history, or outside of history – K. J. Donnelly
8 Anglo creep and Celtic resistance in Apostle – Beth Carroll
9 Women’s folk horror in Britain: history, industry, style – Amy Harris
Part III: Folk horror’s cultural landscapes
10 Ritualistic rhythms: exploring the sensory effect of drums in British folk horror cinema – Lyndsay Townsend
11 ‘Nature came before man’: human as subject and object within the folk horror anti-landscape – David Evans-Powell
12 Hieroglyphics: Arthur Machen on screen – Mark Goodall
13 Albion unearthed: social, political and cultural influences on British folk horror, urban wyrd and backwoods cinema – Andy Paciorek
14 ‘Isn’t folk horror all horror?’: a wyrd genre – Diane A. Rodgers
https://manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk/9781526164926/

Book Review ~The Book of Beasts: Folklore, Popular Culture and Nigel Kneale’s ATV Horror Series by Andrew Screen

Interest in speculative fiction screenwriter Nigel Kneale has seen a 21st Century cult renaissance, mostly regarding his creation the rocket scientist Quatermass, but here Andrew Screen puts the focus on Kneale’s ATV series Beasts. Broadcast in 1976 during the golden age of British television plays and supernatural/thriller anthology shows, even amidst this bizarre telly miscellany, Beasts is something of a strange … well … beast. Each episode tangentially is related to animals or sometimes the animalistic within human nature – diverse beastly menace from an invasion of super-rats to a possessed kaiju film costume ensues. Screen dives deep into this strangeness seeking possible inspirations for Kneale’s manifestations. The folklore, history, Forteana and comparative media covered is wide and intriguing – resulting at one point in possibly the oddest and most amusing note disclaimer I’ve ever witnessed, stating that the author was in no way suggesting that Kneale was a viewer of equine erotica! – all the more bizarre by the fact that this is mentioned in relation to Buddy Boy, an episode about a dead dolphin haunting a potential porn theatre!


That extra special talking mongoose Gef gets coverage in the chapter covering Special Offer, an episode whereby teenager Pauline Quirke telekinetically terrorises a mini-mart. Discussion of therianthropy arises in relation to What Big Eyes, an episode where Patrick Magee, at his bombastic best, conducts weird experiments at a pet shop. Many aspects of weird history and preternatural phenomena are covered in this book making every chapter an enthralling read. Regarding the episode During Barty’s Party, I started to feel unsettled by the discussion of actual cases of rat attacks and infestation. I am pleased to see Screen feature Kneale’s TV play Murrain in this book. Although part of a TV play series called Against the Crowd, Murrain played a part in the commissioning of the Beasts show but also it feels akin, tonally, aesthetically and subject wise with Beasts, particularly to the episode Baby.

Both Murrain and Baby are set in bleak rural settings and deal with the fear of witchcraft and curses. Murrain, as the name indicates, concerns a rustic community that fears that a swine disease outbreak and other local misfortunes are due to the malfeasance of a suspected witch; whilst Baby concerns the discovery of an anomalous mummified creature found interred in an old rustic house – confined there not perhaps for apotropaic reason but for malediction.  As well as rigorously covering production tech-specs and post-production reaction, Screen’s book is the most interesting, inviting and entertaining commentary on the work of Nigel Kneale I’ve encountered. A great tribute to possibly Nigel Kneale’s most peculiar body of work.

The Book of Beasts: Folklore, Popular Culture and Nigel Kneale’s ATV Horror Series
Andrew Screen
Headpress. 2023
pb. Illus. index. 434 pages. £22.99
ISBN. 191531609X

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek

Book Review: Ghosts, Monsters and Demons of India by Rakesh Khanna & J. Furcifer Bharaiv

Having written and/or illustrated several myself it is fair to say that I have a soft spot for encyclopedias / guides to folkloric entities and beasts, especially the darker beings. Folklore is such a vast and diverse field and unless you are multilingual so much of it still remains hidden from many readers. Therefore it is a welcome treasure for me when English language tomes covering creatures from the lore of different cultures becomes widely available. Khanna and Bhairav’s book is such a treasure – especially as it caters to my other book bias in being illustrated throughout. And though the mysterious ‘they’ say never judge a book by its cover, the sleeve design of this book is beautiful making it a pleasure to hold and behold even before it is opened.

Airi. Illustration by Appupen (George Mathen)

Many examples the world over display that folklore and its entities can be pretty darn weird and Asian lore certainly excels in those stakes. Japanese lore of Yurei (ghosts), Yokai (demonic spirits), Tanuki (racoon-dogs with huge testicles) and many other denizens of night parades and kaidan (ghost stories) are relatively well known in the west but India’s otherworldly beings, despite being as rich and weird and despite the familiarity of the pantheon of Hindu gods and goddesses, are a lesser known gathering. Khanna and Bhairav have worked hard and done extremely well to bring a multitude of spectres and monstrous creatures to a wider audience. They have scoured the subcontinent and surrounds including not only India but Afghanistan, Tibet, Nepal, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, the Maldives and Iran, and the various religions, folktales and superstitions of these areas and across the ages in their bid to assemble an A to Z of bizarre beasts and malign entities.

Baak. Illustration by Shyam Sankar.

Though I was previously familiar with Naga, Kali, Dev, Blemmyae, Gog & Magog, Rakshasa, Chudail, Yeti, Jinn, Manticore and Bhuta the vast majority of this chunky book was a revelation to me.
Between Aavi (a mist-like, mournful ghost) and Zunhindawt (an entity that possesses people compelling them to drink from puddles of urine!) writhe hundreds of pages devoted to incredibly strange and frequently sinister specimens.
Contained between the covers are such strange individuals as the Moila Deo (a spirit of jealousy manifest as an ash-coloured dwarf with long dirty hair), the Than-Thin Daini (a disembodied head of a witch that eats the entrails of sleeping people), the Ghorapaak ( a shapeshifting devourer of fish and murderer of fishermen), the Rav ( a creature that comes into existence should seven tigers die at the same moment and which causes its victims to vomit blood), the Gomua Bhoot (the ghost of a cow that died whilst calving, which can climb trees and turn into a pumpkin), the Penchapechi (a ghost in the form of an owl that can consume people whole) and many, many more besides.

Bram Bram Chok. Illustration by Vidyun Sabhaney.

Ghosts, Monsters and Demons of India is a great book for folklore collectors, aficionados of India, artists and writers seeking phantasmic inspiration, kids with ghoulish tastes (of which I was one and would have loved this book), and anybody who fancies flipping a page open on a long, dark witch-season night to see what nightmares unfold.
The book is replete with peculiar, scratchy, quirky black and white illustrations by Appupen, Rashmi Ruth Devadasan, Shyam Sankar, Samita Chatterjee, Vidyun Sabhaney, Misha Michael, Priya Kuriyan, Pankaj Thapa and Osheen Siva making it an ideal, unusual gift book for Halloween or any occasion.

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek



The Astral Geographic and Weird Walk: Wanderings and Wonderings Through The British Ritual Year – Book Reviews

Watkins publishing have added to the world of Fortean travel-guides with 2 titles aimed to whet the wanderlust of wyrd voyagers. From the pen of Andy Sharp – musician, wordsmith and designator of the English Heretic black plaques (awarded to the strange denizens and dwellings that English Heritage overlooked) comes The Astral Geographic. On my first encounter with reference books, I often flip through the index to get a taste of what’s to come. Here we find an itinerary that takes us from “Anal Intercourse” to the “Zong Massacre”. Better buckle up then as it sounds like a wild ride is in store. Many eclectic ports are found along the way – myriad souls encountered include JK Huysmans, Sun Ra, Felicien Rops, Madame Blavatsky, Moloch, Manson, the Son of Sam, Saint Mary and that dweller in many an abyss – the almost ubiquitous Aleister Crowley. Although a chapter is devoted to Crowley and Neuberg’s summoning of the demon Choronzon in the Algerian desert, for readers who may feel somewhat overwhelmed by the seemingly universal presence of Magick Uncle Fester in much of occulture literature, there are also many other interesting characters and scenarios encountered within the pages of this book. Other subjects include Atlantis, the alchemy of Fulcanelli, Hekate, folk curses, Viking witchcraft and much more besides.



Sharp’s prose melds the informative and the poetic; although different in subject matter, in spirit it sometimes puts me in mind of the works of the naturalist J.A. Baker. Perhaps more accessible than his previous ‘The English Heretic Collection’ – ‘The Astral Geographic’ retains a targeted market as I suspect that mainstream TV producers may not send out Joanna Lumley or Bradley Walsh on a Saharan sodomy and ‘Satanism’ safari. Both this book and Weird Walk could however prove good ground for offbeat travel shows.

Weird Walk perambulates in a hinterland between Julian Cope’s ‘The Modern Antiquarian’ and Sara Hannant’s ‘Mummers, Maypoles & Milkmaids’ concentrating as it does on the British ritual year and megalithic monuments. It is more about rolling cheese than raising the dead. There is a little crossover with a chapter in The Astral Geographic in covering British standing stone’s relationship with short horror fiction and some Haunted Generation television shows, but Weird Walk focuses more attention on a variety of British sites – both ancient and follies of a more recent era. I particularly enjoyed Weird Walk’s commentary on EF Benson and Blakeney Point. Best remembered for his 1920’s socialite characters Mapp & Lucia, Benson’s supernatural stories have not quite enjoyed the renaissance bestowed upon M.R. James, Machen or Blackwood but are worth some attention. In its accessible psychogeographical approach to combining history, folklore, pop culture and artistic and literary inspiration, Weird Walk would also be of interest to fans of Edward Parnell’s Ghostland.

Weird Walk takes a seasonal approach and accompanies us from the Beltane fires of spring through summer’s Burryman Parade, from autumn’s Stag Dance of Abbot’s Bromley to the winter Wassailing in the company of the strange bone-horse the Mari Lwyd. Taking in many other ritual customs and enigmatic sites it illustrates that for the folk traveller Britain offers a lot of visiting opportunities the world round.

Both The Astral Geographic and Weird Walk bear an Occult Revival-revival aesthetic coupling Art Nouveauesque psychedelic title fonts, loose drawings, sun-bleached photography (Weird Walk particularly has some lovely, evocative shots) and a colour palette recalling the Gay Way primary school books, but both are equally substance as style. As someone once said “Man cannot live on bread alone” … or prana, manna or foyson… so quirkily both books occasionally include stopping off spots where the weary wanderer may partake of sustenance … though perhaps of the liquid victual variety. Whilst The Astral Geographic may point you in the direction of Absinthe, Weird Walk pours you a pint of real ale. They’re quite different books in some ways but are complimentary and provide interesting nuggets of diverse information to both the active and armchair travellers.

The Astral Geographic: The Watkins Guide to the Occult World
Andy Sharp
Watkins 2023
pb. Illus. index. 294pgs £20.00
ISBN 9781786786739


Weird Walk: Wanderings and Wonderings Through The British Ritual Year
Alex Hornsby, James Nicholls, Owen Tromans

Watkins 2023
hb. Illus. refs. Index. 288pgs. £19.99 ISBN 9781786786821

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek

Folk Horror: New Global Pathways – Various Authors Book Review

Perhaps of all the literary, cinematic and stylistic manifestations of the ‘dark arts’, only Film/Roman Noir may rival folk horror in the quantity of deliberation, discussion, debate and disagreement. Indeed in converse of the latter subject on social media oft asked is the question “But is it Folk Horror?” in regards to a particular movie, book or image.  Sometimes this elicits the response of the ‘Folk Horror Police’ – fans who over-rigorously express their opinion. ‘Opinion’ is the key word however for there is no manifesto for folk horror– it is a mode named after the initial event. Adam Scovell’s ‘Folk Horror Chain’ acts as an excellent reference point for recognising commonly recurring elements (Landscape. Isolation. Skewed Belief System. Summoning or Happening) but it’s a guide not a mandatory tick box – there is still scope for deviation and room for differing opinions. Therefore multi-contributor books such as ‘Folk Horror New Global Pathways’ are extremely useful in this sometimes hazy field as they present a variety of opinions stemming from various different viewpoints, specific subject-matter and importantly from different cultures.

Whilst the 1960s/70s British cinematic triumvirate of Witchfinder General, Blood On Satan’s Claw and The Wicker Man have been written about extensively previously as they are important fixtures in the subject, folk horror is a form of narrative and aesthetic apparent in probably all cultures so it is good that this book does veer off the old beaten track. It wanders into diverse terrain ranging from Scooby Doo cartoons, typography, the short stories of E.F. Benson, occulture, video games, and dark tourism in Lancashire to the representations and relationships of folk horror in the cinema and culture of Mexico, Italy, Ukraine, Thailand and Appalachia. Inevitably politics do arise in the discussion. Horror fiction analysis can often be examined under a sociopolitical lens as a lot can be told about a people by looking at what scares them – be it post-war trauma in the early 20th Century Europe, atomic/ alien fears of 1950s America, generational counterculture/mainstream conflicts in the 1960s and 70s to the uncertain polarised times we currently live in. Folk horror is particularly laden with such considerations and this book does explore issues such as colonialism, sexuality and agrarian/industrial conflict.  

Actually, regarding traditional vs technological conflict, I was disappointed to see however that AI generated imagery was used for the cover – especially as the book itself notes the connection between handicraft and folk horror. It would have been far more appropriate to have used imagery by an actual artist – be it centuries old chapbook illustration, a still from a relevant film or a piece by one of the many creatives currently working in the subject field, rather than using generative text. 

Back to the actual text: Along its course many examples of folk horror fiction are addressed, some familiar and others more obscure. I was particularly pleased to see the writing of actor-turned-author Thomas Tryon get good coverage as his work in the field is too often overlooked. Some less familiar works such as the films Jug Face and The House With the Laughing Windows are also given more attention than they usually get. I was surprised to see Robert Eggar’s The VVitch get such scant attention however, particularly in discussions of the folkloresque as it’s a good example of new folk horror using authentic old folklore in its narrative, considering that there is numerous referencing of Ari Aster’s Midsommar, (a film that I seem to be in the minority of personally finding both overrated and underwhelming).

© Gerry24

Of Fortean interest the book discusses the Pendle Witches, the folkloric entities La Llorona and Phi Pop, ritual sacrifice, and the occult revival in relation to the influence, inspiration and development of Folk Horror. As a multi-contributor book, some chapters will be of differing interest to individual readers and the style of writing can vary, but it holds together very well. It is an academic book (as evidenced by its hefty University Press price tag) but much of it is written with an apparent enthusiasm for the subject that enables it to flow fluently, making it readable to a wider audience with an interest in this particular field.

Folk Horror New Global Pathways
Various Authors. Ed: Dawn Keetley & Ruth Heholt.

University of Wales Press. 2023.

Pb. 280 pgs. £50.00 ISBN: 9781786839794

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek. This review first appeared in Fortean Times magazine

Blood On Satan’s Claw by Robert Wynne-Simmons. Book Review

Over a half-century of waiting but finally that brooding member of the classic Folk Horror unhallowed triumvirate of British films, The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) has its own tie-in novel accompanying on the shelves the book partners of Witchfinder General (1968) and The Wicker Man (1973).
Only in the case of Witchfinder General did the book precede the film (written by Ronald Bassett and published in 1966). The novelisations of The Wicker Man (which was initially inspired by David Pirner’s 1967 novel Ritual) and The Blood on Satan’s Claw followed the films after some years and were both penned by the screenwriters of said films – Anthony Shaffer (alongside the director of the film, Robin Hardy) in The Wicker Man’s case and Robert Wynne-Simmons with regard to The Blood on Satan’s Claw. With time passed this allowed the writers to return to their creations with a fresher mind and to alter or elaborate upon the stories – with greater success in the case of The Blood on Satan’s Claw, (The Wicker Man novel is a decent enough read and works well to flesh out Sergeant Howie’s character but the addition of the characters Beech and Sorrel and their narratives I find somewhat superfluous and distracting).
Wynne-Simmons is more successful in fleshing out the bones of the characters (or rather furring up their flesh) without veering too far from the soul of the film.

Blood On Satan’s Claw or The Devil’s Skin as the book is titled, follows events that unfurled in the early 18th Century in a pastoral British village named Chapel Folding following the discovery of grisly remains by farmhand Ralph Gower when turning the soil of Tarrant’s Field – a patch of land that generally was left un-ploughed. Remnants of the unearthed mysterious body parts fall into the hands of some local children and things in the sleepy village begin to turn decidedly fiendish. It was not simply bodily relics brought to the surface by Ralph’s toils but a malign presence that endeavored to make itself felt through the bidding and worship of many of the locals – particularly the children.

It is this utter corruption of innocence that I feel is the heart of Blood on Satan’s Claw and which gives both the film and book power. It is also however the source of controversy that casts a shadow upon the movie. Without giving away Spoilers to either film or book, there is one scene in particular that regards the fate of one of the village girls. In hindsight the director Piers Haggard says that if he were to have done it now, he would have filmed the scene differently. I personally feel that the events of this scene are pivotal in showing the savage possession that the children have fallen under but do understand the criticisms of its cinematic depiction. Perhaps this was of consideration to Wynne-Simmons in his novelisation as on paper the events unfold thematically the same but stylistically different.
I am categorically a fan of the film, though utterly conscious of any issues levelled against it; but there is something I find eerily spell-binding in it. The book also captivated me. I wonder though if this would differ much had I not watched the film so many times. Dialogue I heard spoken in the specific actors’ voices and I pictured them likewise, which I think speaks well of the casting in the film. The book is a page-turner, though, written in a flowing, inviting manner so I think that for readers with no prior exposure to the film, it would still prove an engaging and interesting read.

The film though also to an extent does seem to have influenced the artist Richard Wells whose chapbook-reminiscent prints illustrate the book. Depicted characters such as the beguiling Angel Blake (one of my all-time favourite movie villains) look very much like their onscreen counterparts (Linda Hayden in Angel’s case).
I am a huge devotee to illustrated books so the imagery contained within is appreciated and a nice-touch. Wells being a prominent figure in the revival of Folk Horror being an apt choice for the job.
One bugbear I have with the film is the visual reveal of the Fiend – I do not think the effects do the malignant entity justice (same bone of contention I have with the otherwise great 1957 film Night of the Demon). I would have preferred both to have been more unseen and would have found that more ominous and disturbing. However within the book the depiction of the devil of the fields in all his glory is reminiscent of the medieval texts and does suit the purpose better.
The red bookmark ribbon is another small but pleasing touch – these visual attentions make the book more of a pleasure to behold and make for a nice ghoulish gift for someone.

It’s been a long time in coming but well worth the wait I feel, as I thoroughly enjoyed the book both for its narrative and writing and for its visual appeal.

Linda Hayden as Angel Blake in The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971)

Blood on Satan’s Claw or The Devil’s Skin
Written by Robert-Wynne Simmons, illustrated by Richard Wells

Available now HERE and at other book stores

Review by Andy Paciorek

The Art of Wandering: the writer as walker by Merlin Coverley

Published by Oldcastle Books

Review by John Pilgrim

In this engaging and timely update to The Art of Wandering we are in the convivial company of Merlin Coverley, an author who has written on a variety of topics which will naturally intrigue many Folk Horror Revivalists, including hauntology, psychogeography and occult London.

Merlin Coverley

In the preface to the new edition Coverley reflects on the increasing popularity of walking, not least as an antidote to the stresses of modern life. Many of us will have experienced the positive impact which walking can have in relation to our general sense of wellbeing and in helping us to make sense of our lives. In this book Coverley guides us through the historical legacy of the ‘writer-as-walker’ and surveys the work of contemporary authors, all of whom illustrate how walking, sensemaking and writing are intimately connected.

We learn how from the ancient world to the modern day, the role of the walker has continued to evolve, ‘from philosopher and pilgrim, vagrant and visionary, to experimentalist and radical’. The deceptively simple act of placing one foot in front of another is explored in the context of a rich literary tradition which encompasses writers such as Rousseau, De Quincy, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Clare, Thoreau, Edgar Allan Poe, Machen and Virginia Woolf.  We learn too of the work and lives of those involved in twentieth century movements such as Dada, Surrealism and Situationism. Other perspectives are shared such as that of the anthropologist Tim Ingold who reflects on how walking and writing are closely coupled in movement, for ‘to walk is to journey in the mind as much as on the land: it is a deeply meditative practice’.

As well as the philosophical reflections on the relationship between walking and writing, I very much enjoyed the colourful anecdotes which are peppered throughout the book. Coverley explains how Charles Dickens had an extraordinary capacity for walking, on one occasion choosing to get out of bed at two in the morning and walk for thirty miles into the country for breakfast. Another account relays how Dickens often expected his dinner guests to join him for a walk of many miles across the city at night before eating.

As might be expected given the author’s related work, some time is taken to explore the foundations and contrasting traditions of psychogeography, the space where psychology and geography intersect.  Throughout the book an illuminating approach is taken to the use of literary extracts. One such example is that taken from ‘Introduction to a Critique of Urban Geography’ by Guy Debord for whom the psychogeographer, ‘like the skilled chemist, is able both to identify and distil the varied ambiences of his environment’, not least through walking in the form the aimless drift or dérive which enables the practitioner to determine the emotional characteristics of particular zones in the city in a way which would not otherwise be possible.

Several writers highlighted in The Art of Wandering will be of particular interest to those with an interest in horror.  One such writer is Arthur Machen, author of The Great God Pan, who Coverley considers to be of equal significance as a literary walker to William Blake, De Quincey (Confessions of an English Opium-Eater) and Dickens.

Portrait of Arthur Machen by John Coulthart

Machen spent many years walking through the streets of London, frequently around Gray’s Inn Road but also further afield and often without direction, overwhelmed by a sense of awe bordering on sheer terror at the city’s dark undercurrents and occult associations. Coverley explains how much of Machen’s work can be seen as a strategy to combat this sense of dread and gain mastery over London’s streets by walking them, and through this knowledge overcoming their menace. Here Coverley draws a vivid picture of Machen as ‘the solitary walker seeking an escape from the labyrinth, yet fated to spend a lifetime in doing so’. 

One contemporary author who appears to have been similarly fated, though not necessarily in such a solitary way, is Iain Sinclair. For more than fifty years Sinclair has pursued what he refers to has his ‘London Project’, a series of poems, novels, diaries and other non-fiction accounts of London’s neglected spaces. 

Iain Sinclair in conversation with John Pilgrim at FHR’s ‘Otherworldly’ event

Early works such as Lud Heat took inspiration from work of Alfred Watkins’ thesis that much of the country’s landscape is connected by hidden ‘lines of force’:

A triangle is formed between Christ Church, St George-in-the-East and St Anne, Limehouse. These are centres of power for those territories; sentinel, sphinx-form, slack dynamos abandoned as the culture supported goes into retreat. The power remains latent, the frustration mounts on a current of animal magnetism, and victims are still claimed.

For Sinclair the city is to be re-discovered through a process of walking and imagination which has the potential to reveal the hidden relationship between the capital’s financial, political and religious institutions.

In more recent years Sinclair has extended the scope of his London project, one journey of note being his extraordinary walk around the M25 in the company of his wife Anna, the artist Brian Catling and the fantasy writer and magician Alan Moore. Participants in the Folk Horror Revival ‘Otherworldly’ event held at the British Museum may also recall Sinclair’s account of the pilgrimage which he and others undertook in memory of Edith Swan Neck, who may have been the first wife of King Harold II. This involved walking over one hundred miles from Waltham Abbey in Essex to St Leonards via Battle Abbey. In instances such as this walking and the act of writing are complementary tools by which hidden narratives and forgotten lives may be resurrected.

Lengthy and arduous walks such as those of Sinclair and Will Self (who once walked across London to New York in a day) are by no means the sole focus of Coverley’s exploration of writer-as-walker.  One literary example which Coverley highlights is ‘Street-Haunting’ by Virginia Woolf.  Subtitled ‘A London Adventure’, Woolf’s essay is essentially a light-hearted account of one woman’s walk across London in search of a pencil.

Virginia Woolf

The deliciously named practice of ‘street-haunting’ was a lifelong habit which Woolf first began when she moved to Gordon Square in 1904 and enabled much of the author’s creative thinking, planning and ‘scene-making’ to flourish. In this essay, Woolf leaves the solitude of her room to explore her fleeting impressions of London’s inherent strangeness and ‘that vast anonymous army of anonymous trampers’.  The transitory nature of Woolf’s walking experience is reflected in her writing which reveals a sense of self which is fragile and free floating.

Importantly, Coverley notes the historical importance of Street-Haunting in relation to the female experience of writer-as-walker, a critical dimension which has traditionally been overlooked.  In the preface to this new edition of the book Coverley rightly acknowledges the dominance of this ‘somewhat dispiriting demographic of ageing masculinity’ and welcomes the counter-narrative that has emerged in recent years, with Lauren Elkin’s Flâneuse providing a critical turning point in bringing the female writer-as-walker to the fore. I would have welcomed a deeper exploration of this aspect, for example, through a more detailed appraisal of Rebecca Solnit’s work (Wanderlust: A History of Walking, and A Field Guide to Getting Lost).

The updated edition of The Art of Wandering is an invigorating read, impressive both in its scholarly breadth and in the vivid way in which the relationship between walking and writing is communicated. It also offers the reader something more: a welcome stimulus to re-connect with our cities and landscapes in deeper, more meaningful ways. It is a tonic for our times.

What the Folk!: A Write-up of the London Film Festival Panel

Written by Kern Robinson

Off the back of Mark Jenkin’s new film Enys Men (2022) being premiered in official competition at the London Film Festival (LFF), the Southbank Centre hosted a panel discussion entitled What the Folk! on Saturday 15th of October. The event was advertised as an introduction to the Folk Horror subgenre; a discussion of “the dark innovative projects that test the boundaries of art and media, and [a] journey through the forests, fields and furrows to explore all the seamy, dreadful and macabre elements of the folk phenomenon” (bfi.org.uk). It was hosted by Michael Blyth (LFF programmer) and was in conversation with Mike Muncer (the creator and host of the Evolution of Horror podcast) and Adam Scovell (author of Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange (2017)). Anna Bogustskaya (host of The Final Girls podcast) was advertised to attend but couldn’t make it due to illness.

            From the jumping-off question of ‘What’s your favourite folk horror property?’ the panel praised 70s British television like Children of the Stones (1976) and Sapphire and Steel (1979) – citing the creative and economic freedom of ITV and the BBC in this period as being an irreplicable space to introduce avant-garde film to a wide audience; “imagine something like Penda’s Fen being aired today, right after the Ten O’clock News”.

Scovell and Muncer also praised contemporary novels like Francine Toon’s Pine (2020), Andrew Michael Hurley’s The Loney (2014), and writers like Benjamin Myers, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Daisy Johnson.

These examples were then drawn together to create something towards a taxonomy of folk horror – what is it that connects these disparate works across time, form, and aesthetics? Is there then an example that neatly contains everything that the subgenre has to offer – a starting point for potential folk horror fans? Scovell repeatedly praised the quality of Czech folk horror but suggested James Mactaggart’s Robin Redbreast (1970), as a good starting point for British folk horror viewing.

Muncer moved a little further afield, speaking on the overlooked influence of Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal (1957) and The Virgin Spring (1960) on the themes and aesthetics of folk horror. He then discussed examples of films that he felt played with the typical folk horror formula in interesting ways. Films like Pumpkinhead (1988), Onibaba (1964), and Straw Dogs (1971) – those titles that have something folk horror about them but seem too difficult to define as ‘purely’ folk horror in the way that The Wicker Man (1973) or The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) are.

This diverse range of examples provided by both panellists drove the conversation down the difficult path of defining folk horror. After some back and forth, the conclusion ultimately ended up being that they couldn’t really define the subgenre in any concrete way. Scovell admitted that, upon rereading his seminal text Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange, he hadn’t managed to define the subgenre very well in that book either.

This was one major highpoint of the discussion, the panellists’ aversion to gatekeeping the discourse around folk horror. When Blyth asked if there were any films that either panellist would say definitively isn’t folk horror (despite the wider world suggesting that it is), they were reluctant to suggest anything – pointing to the ambiguity of the subgenre, a lack of concrete definition, and the importance of keeping the discussion open. To this quality, Muncer described how discussion and interaction with fans and their theories are some of the most productive parts of the Evolution of Horror podcast. In fact, the closest thing to negativity that either panellist said was that some modern folk horror chooses to reproduce the aesthetics of the 70s films but does so without any of their innovation or excitement; becoming, as Scovell said, ‘content’.

The panellists’ reluctance towards providing a solid definition of folk horror and the awareness that a firm definition will run the risk of diluting the ineffable folk horror-ness of the subgenre, is a breath of fresh air within folk horror discourse. It is a fantastic answer to the parade of ‘What is Folk Horror’ articles marching across the internet. Scovell and Muncer argued that there are a hundred different ways to define folk horror depending on form, country of origin, or time that the piece was created in. We must keep these definitions in discussion with one another, while at the same time knowing that they are all equally correct and incorrect.

As Scovell, Muncer, and Blyth agreed – now is an incredible time to be a folk horror fan. Films and television programmes that would have been expensive or impossible to track down only a few decades ago are being lovingly restored by institutions like the BFI and Arrow Films and released to a wide audience. Artists like Mark Jenkin are endeavouring to recapture the ‘English Eerie’ on screen while simultaneously creating something entirely new. And, perhaps most importantly, it has never been easier to find other fans and open these dialogues with them, attempting and failing to define or taxonomize a shared interest.

High John The Conqueror by Tariq Goddard: Book Review

High John the Conqueror, the latest novel by Tariq Goddard – author, founder of Zero Books and Publisher at Repeater Books, is a strange brew – in large part a gritty British police procedural, partfolk horror / urban wyrd, political commentary and psychedelic trip-literature.

Set in Wessex in 2016, the book follows a team of detectives as they investigate a series of teenagers going missing from council estates in a provincial city and pursue a rumour that wealthy individuals are kidnapping the youths as sex-slaves and perhaps even sacrifices for orgiastic rituals. This premise is fed by Goddard’s political reflections as is a factor of numerous Zero and Repeater books. The debate of class divide and exploitation of the poor by the privileged is pertinent to the book’s plot and for the most part, the political message is delivered without preachiness, but I do question whether the prolonged discussion between a police investigator and a wealthy, powerful suspect is a realistic conversation but it does serve a purpose of exposition. Otherwise the book, which is led by a lot of dialogue paints believable characters. One issue I had with it, which may not bother most readers is the names of the police officers. Though I think it’s fine to pay tribute to inspirations in naming characters, for me the nomenclature of the individual coppers was too much. I visualise books strongly, and once a worm has burrowed into my brain I find it difficult to dislodge and as the officers were named after cult musicians – in one scene featuring a number of cops I pictured members of Coil, Psychic TV and the Banshees all dressed up as police officers. It does add to the surreal aspect of the book I guess, but alas for me was difficult to dislodge the image from my mind which distanced me a little from the story.

The combination of neo-noir police procedural and folk horror evokes thoughts of The Wicker Man and David Pinner’s Ritual, and other elements of the book reminded me of the Ben Wheatley films Kill List and IN THE EⱯRTH, but High John the Conqueror is also its own beast. The High John of the title referring to a natural psychoactive substance that only grows at lengthy intervals and when it does demands attention. This powerful drug is deeply entwined with the disappearance of the teens, but is far more strange and sinister than any recreational drug being peddled on the streets and across county lines.

Hallucinatory yet gritty, Goddard’s novel is a genuine portrait of Britain’s shadowy underworld but intensified to a psychogenic peak. Scattered throughout are scratchy, flowing line drawings which have a feel of automatic art to them. As a big appreciator of books featuring illustrations, I approve of this – actually I’d have liked it to feature more drawings, but kudos to the inclusion of book art.



High John The Conqueror by Tariq Goddard
Repeater
ISBN 9781914420306
https://repeaterbooks.com/product/high-john-the-conqueror-a-novel/

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek

Forests Damned and Furrows Cursed: Book Review

Forests Damned and Furrows Cursed is a new anthology of classic Folk Horror novellas harvested by the author William P. Simmons of Shadow House Publishing.
We say ‘Folk Horror’ but all of the contained novellas were written in the late 19th/early 20th Century before the term Folk Horror was widely applied as a sub-genre or mode, therefore all are written with a purity of independence, free from the worry of whether their work conforms to a set idea or ticks all the expected boxes – a problem contemporary writers of Folk Horror may feel they face. So within these covers we are presented with 5 comparatively diverse tales, which still nonetheless should content both the casual and the more rigid readers of folk inspired horror.

The stories featured are ~
Watcher by the Threshold by John Buchan (1902)
The Novel of the Black Seal by Arthur Machen (1895)
Dionea by Vernon Lee (1890)
The Man Whom the Trees Loved by Algernon Blackwood (1912)
The Garden at 19 by Edgar Jepson (1910)

Differing from a number of Folk Horror anthologies that have collected short – short stories, Forests Damned gathers those creatures that dwell in the borderlands between short prose and novels – the land of the Novella. Outside of publisher demands (which may be of pragmatic /financial intent rather than creative) which may dictate a set word or page count, my personal belief with writing is that the story should be as long or as short as it takes to tell in the most rewarding manner. The precise amount of detail is required to describe the characters, setting and significant events. – applied to set the pace, to build suspense and either satisfy completely or to non-frustratingly leave the reader wanting more. Just enough detail for the reader to view the scene and unfolding events in their mind’s eye and to immerse in the story and be less conscious of reading a book, if that makes sense? So ideally, not so short as to appear rushed and unsatisfactory, not too long as to bloat and drag with superfluous padding. The stories in this book don’t always completely meet those aims but it is important still that they have been collected and presented again in our time as they are strong interesting stories in their own right and a vital link in the chain for any reader / collector that wishes to build a library and /or knowledge of literary fiction that falls under the umbrella of what is now rather widely referred to as Folk Horror.

Likewise these novellas are of their time which is relevant regarding their pace, style and also with reference to some social-political issues. They come from a time when there was little competition for attention in leisure time – no films, internet, games etc. So they can take their time getting where they are going and can stop to smell the roses in their descriptive manner. So as with all books and tales from different eras, may not be to the taste of all contemporary readers. In his introduction to the collection, Simmons does a good job of putting the works in context and explaining the feral nature of Folk Horror, so no previous experience of reading Folk Horror stories is necessary to enter into the wild lands contained, but it may be useful for those new to the form to read some shorter stories of both Folk Horror and of the era before tackling these long -short stories / short novels. Regarding the social-political issues within some of the tales, attitudes may raise some eyebrows and with fair enough cause; however whether they reflect the opinions specifically of the fictional characters portrayed, the author or the majority of their particular society at that time is not instantly identifiable. The reader can make their own judgement call when reading. Any issues do not overwhelm the tales, mostly they are concerned with traditional gender roles and the occasional opinion regarding foreign nations, but are mentioned purely for context of these tales being creatures of their own time. Such matters may also be of interest to Folk Horror fiction historians in their contemplation not only of tales being told but how they are told.

That overview out of the way, to look now at the individual tales contained and their creators.

John Buchan

The first story featured is The Watcher by the Threshold by John Buchan (first published in 1902). Buchan (1875 – 1940) was a Scottish polymath. In addition to being a fiction writer (his most famous work quite probably being The Thirty Nine Steps – an adventure tale of political intrigue (known more widely for Alfred Hitchcock’s 1935 cinematic adaptation); Buchan was an editor, non-fiction author, Unionist Politician and Governor General of Canada.
The Watcher by The Threshold tells of a man living on the Scottish moors whose studies of Justinian and classical philosophy go beyond obsession and finds himself feeling haunted by a devil. The importance of landscape in Folk Horror is well represented in this tale. I have a love of moors yet find them somewhat unsettling and Buchan’s writing sets the scene very well here.

Arthur Machen: Illustration by Andy Paciorek

Next we have The Novel of the Black Seal by Arthur Machen (1863 -1947) (which was first published as part of his 1895 collection The Three Imposters). Machen was a Welsh journalist, author, proto-psychogeographer and mystic – being a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn for a while, his personal spirituality though leaned towards Celtic Christianity.
The Novel of the Black Seal shares an element of Buchan’s tale which is also evident in a lot of M.R. James’ work that of academic study becoming embroiled in real situations of archeological, anthropological or folkloric horror. In this case case we find explorations of a subterranean site in the Grey Hills of Wales turning up more than expected. The existence and nature of the denizens of a Faerie Otherworld coexisting with our own goes against any Disneyfied Tinkerbell ‘airy-fairy’ conceptions of the ‘Little People’ of folklore and presents us with a forgotten, hidden swarthy, troglodyte race. In being of its time, perhaps the most horrific scene is implied rather than graphically explained. This works to its advantage, for in contemplation of the origins of the conception of the strange servant boy in the tale, I found myself genuinely unsettled. This tale went on to inspire both HP Lovecraft and Robert Howard in their weird fiction writing.
It was in connection to the Machen story incidentally, that I thought of the comparatively low incidence of classic tales fitting a Folk Horror vein being adapted to film during this current current Folk Horror revival. Rather than ‘karaoke’ versions of The Wicker Man, it would be good to see more of the old stories brought to the silver screen. This train of thought commuted my mind to the (criminally little-known) film adaption of a collection of Machen tales, Holy Terrors (2018) by Mark Goodall and Julian Butler (see https://folkhorrorrevival.com/2018/01/19/holy-terrors-film-review/ ) and I think that they would be perfect to adapt Forests Damned and Furrows Cursed to film as a portmanteau – an Amicus-anthology style Folk Horror film if you will.
Anyway I digress, so on with the book …

Vernon Lee aka Violet Paget

Next up we have Dionea by Vernon Lee. Originally published in 1890, Vernon Lee was actually the pseudonym of Violet Paget (1856 – 1935). Paget was a strong proponent of feminism but was published under a masculine pen-name. The author’s own contemplation and experience of gender matters can offer a further context to the story of Dionea, a foundling child raised in an Italian convent. Dionea does not care for the studies, chores and sewing that the nuns put her too and instead is drawn more to nature. As she gets older, her independence of thought – her perhaps even feral nature puts her at odds with the convent and later beyond those cloistered walls. Dionea’s strength of character and wild free-spirit is even seen to affect the fate of others and she is viewed with both suspicion and superstition. The return of buried paganism is a recurring element through different examples of Folk Horror, which marks Dionea’s place in this book and the Folk Horror canon, and the voice behind it is a refreshing interlude to the male, quite conservative – despite the themes, uttering of the other featured tale-tellers.

Algernon Blackwood: Illustration by Andy Paciorek

Perhaps one of the most evocatively titled of all horror stories follows next, The Man Whom The Trees Loved (1912) by Algernon Blackwood (1869 – 1951). A member of both The Ghost Club and like Machen, The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn; Blackwood is perhaps the biggest name in the book among horror circles. Extremely prodigious and successful in his horror writing career, alas I find issue with The Man Whom the Trees Loved – it’s not that it’s a bad story – it’s a decent enough tale. The problem is that in my opinion, it should be a short story not a novella. There for me is an issue of repetition in the tale – if handled skillfully then a little repeating can build up suspense but I just find too much of it and dallying here. It is surprising as Blackwood knows his craft, so it would’ve been hoped that he did not opt for a ‘less is more’ approach here. As for the tale itself, it is quite poetically beautiful as well as unsettling. A woman becomes extremely concerned with her husband’s obsession for the trees that surround their country abode. It has an underlying mystical and philosophical debate about the sentience of life, (indeed all of the stories featured in this book pose a studious contemplation of the ‘nature’ of both nature and the supernatural) and it is a valuable addition to the Folk Horror bookshelves but I unfortunately cannot help but feel that it would have been a more powerful narrative had Blackwood decided to have it edited down.

Edgar Jepson

Closing the book is The Garden at 19 (1910) by Edgar Jepson (1863 -1948). Jepson, an English writer, is more widely associated to crime and adventure novels ( as well as translating Maurice Leblanc’s French tales of the aristocratic brigand Arsene Lupin into English). One of his wanderings into fantastic territory The Garden at 19 is a mixed bag. Like The Man Whom the Trees Loved, 19 could’ve probably done with being a bit shorter. It also has its eyebrow raising moments in its oddly repeated opinions of German professors and also in its portrayal of girls/women and their societal roles. Otherwise it’s a fair enough tale, reminiscent of Denis Wheatley’s Satanism in suburbia romps. The presence of that old horny deity Pan explains the book cover (featuring a painting by the, alas not familiar enough, Belgian Symbolist painter of the uncanny, Leon Spilliaert) and relates how a young lawyer becomes intrigued both by the strange goings-on in his neighbour’s garden and then by the presence of his neighbour’s niece. The character of the neighbour, Woodfell, is very clearly inspired by the notorious occultist and tabloid scandal-fodder of the time, Aleister Crowley.

The afterword of the book comes in the form of questions, an interesting addition that would perhaps prove useful for book groups, genre-study classes, and academic or personal-interest students of Folk Horror / horror literature. This and the novel approach of presenting novellas rather than shorter fiction makes this book an interesting and valuable addition to folk’s Folk Horror book collection.

Faun by Moonlight: Leon Spillaert (1900)

Forests Damned And Furrows Cursed: A Haunted Heritage of Folk Horror Novellas
Edited by William P. Simmons
Paperback, 236 pages
Published April 26th 2022
by Shadow House Publishing
ISBN13 – 798806998614

Reviewed by Andy Paciorek