Nigel Hems's Blog, page 2
November 24, 2013
Mike's thoughts
Mike began to light a cigarette. He had been silent for a while, but for exactly how long I couldn't be sure. He looked ready to say something again, something final, to close down his task...
'Look!' he said, only to pause again, as if something had finally made itself known to him. Why had he stopped at this point? Perhaps his preparations were mingling with something crucial at this moment; perhaps something was busy mingling with a stale kind of air that was un-recognised and untouched terrain, where migrations were kept to a bare minimum; but perhaps some dangerous ventures from this place could reap rewards, only they had to be kept simple, and concise, and ready to evacuate their intended vicinity if necessary ... Mike looked to be on the brink of pushing out these words, with a look in his eye that suggested he hadn't really contributed anything towards their appearance, as they went unmonitored, breaking their way through a sea of flesh-and-bone, recklessly, shooting their way through this internal maze and into life... These words would cautiously seek life, let themselves show up for me, move disconcertingly closer, as they shrugged off their still life status, almost ready ... having turned up, from somewhere ... especially for me.
'Look!' he said, only to pause again, as if something had finally made itself known to him. Why had he stopped at this point? Perhaps his preparations were mingling with something crucial at this moment; perhaps something was busy mingling with a stale kind of air that was un-recognised and untouched terrain, where migrations were kept to a bare minimum; but perhaps some dangerous ventures from this place could reap rewards, only they had to be kept simple, and concise, and ready to evacuate their intended vicinity if necessary ... Mike looked to be on the brink of pushing out these words, with a look in his eye that suggested he hadn't really contributed anything towards their appearance, as they went unmonitored, breaking their way through a sea of flesh-and-bone, recklessly, shooting their way through this internal maze and into life... These words would cautiously seek life, let themselves show up for me, move disconcertingly closer, as they shrugged off their still life status, almost ready ... having turned up, from somewhere ... especially for me.
November 16, 2013
New Outline of forthcoming book 'The Place'
The Place
By Nigel Hems
Chapter 1. The Landlord
Chapter 2. The Arrow
Chapter 3. Over the Stile
Chapter 4. The Feasters
The Strange Case of the Stoves
The Selected Ones
Chapter 5. The Maze
The First Hedge-Cutter
The Second Hedge-Cutter
Chapter 6. The Conversationalists
Chapter 7. The Amazing Beehive
Chapter 8. The Man with the Frozen Beard
Chapter 9. Return to the Landlord
By Nigel Hems
Chapter 1. The Landlord
Chapter 2. The Arrow
Chapter 3. Over the Stile
Chapter 4. The Feasters
The Strange Case of the Stoves
The Selected Ones
Chapter 5. The Maze
The First Hedge-Cutter
The Second Hedge-Cutter
Chapter 6. The Conversationalists
Chapter 7. The Amazing Beehive
Chapter 8. The Man with the Frozen Beard
Chapter 9. Return to the Landlord
November 11, 2013
Review of 'The Visitor'
Review by: Sammy Liston on Oct. 23, 2013 :
Nigel Hems' short story, 'The Visitor' describes a scene in which the main character, Mr Burly is waiting for a visit of some kind to take place, although from whom and for what purpose is never made entirely clear. The story is punchy, precise, and smooth flowing from start to end, and leaves the reader not only engaged, but in some sense living through the sense of apprehensions of Burly, both before, during, and significantly, after the visit has taken place. There is a degree of menace surrounding the pending visit, and this is intertwined with a smattering of absurdity that overtakes events once the visitor arrives. The story seems to work on many different levels, with the notion of the visitor only having a provisional, less than perfect status, signifying something more deeply metaphysical regarding questions of human society and human functions. Hems seems to be putting forward the visitor as a kind of stool pigeon, to prise apart within the structure of the narrative. It seems to me, also that the author may be parodying the austere world of professionalisms, the precise, almost mechanical processes that dominate all of our lives, and at the same time is passed off as being ‘progress’ or ‘improvement’ in a broad sense; but Hems manages to see the severe pitfalls of this assessment of things, and the first person form of narrative is used to great effect here. All in all this is a very good story. A style and form of writing that I have not come across before.
The Visitor
Nigel Hems' short story, 'The Visitor' describes a scene in which the main character, Mr Burly is waiting for a visit of some kind to take place, although from whom and for what purpose is never made entirely clear. The story is punchy, precise, and smooth flowing from start to end, and leaves the reader not only engaged, but in some sense living through the sense of apprehensions of Burly, both before, during, and significantly, after the visit has taken place. There is a degree of menace surrounding the pending visit, and this is intertwined with a smattering of absurdity that overtakes events once the visitor arrives. The story seems to work on many different levels, with the notion of the visitor only having a provisional, less than perfect status, signifying something more deeply metaphysical regarding questions of human society and human functions. Hems seems to be putting forward the visitor as a kind of stool pigeon, to prise apart within the structure of the narrative. It seems to me, also that the author may be parodying the austere world of professionalisms, the precise, almost mechanical processes that dominate all of our lives, and at the same time is passed off as being ‘progress’ or ‘improvement’ in a broad sense; but Hems manages to see the severe pitfalls of this assessment of things, and the first person form of narrative is used to great effect here. All in all this is a very good story. A style and form of writing that I have not come across before.
The Visitor
September 26, 2013
The Visitor
A strange visitor arrives rather unexpectedly at Mr Burly’s residence. Who could this visitor be, and what is his real purpose? Although Burly was anticipating a visit of some kind, the appearance of the visitor does nothing to assuage his apprehensions and doubts. Something about the visitor always seems to be lacking, or missing – something concerning his identity or authority. Burly’s intense examination of the visitor only seems to increase his own sense of failure to know anything for certain, and also seems to throw his own inner intentions and identity into increasing doubt, as the conversation unfolds. Was Burly really expecting a visitor? What might the visitor reveal to Burly, and for what reason? Perhaps the arrival of the next visitor may be able to answer Burly’s questions more clearly, or maybe even the next …The Visitor
September 20, 2013
The Hedge-Cutter's Game
As Klein listened to the proposition offered to him by the enigmatic hedge-cutter, a new set of feelings started to take hold of him. He yearned to move on and leave the hedge-cutter, but, strangely, he thought that something was left untouched, as if there were some vital pieces of information that the hedge-cutter owned which he needed to know before he made his ultimate decision. In these moments, an air of pure vexation had descended upon the maze, as Klein pondered the ineluctably fated truth that severed him from the world of the hedge-cutter. This world seemed alien to him – totally lost on him; it felt as though he was playing a rogue game of cards with an opponent who nevertheless continued to look him in the eye with steely nerve, while gleefully planning his next move – oblivious to the fact that his game was subject to a completely different set of rules to his adversary’s. Nevertheless, there was still something left deep within Klein’s wellsprings of resolve, a lingering desire to obtain something, whatever it was, that was the dominant drive inexistence that fuelled his need to stay where he was … for the time being. The feeling of vexation and doubt, which had filled him with a sense of dread up until these last few moments, had died down, as he prepared to address the hedge-cutter’s final words.
September 12, 2013
Inside the Maze: The Hedge-Cutter
Klein listened to what he thought sounded liked cutting sounds emanating from two or three hedgerows inside the maze. Unconsciously drawn towards the sounds, which were becoming stronger and stronger, he moved, tentatively at first, towards the envisaged activity forming in his mind. The strange sounds were rising to a sharper, biting pitch as Klein approached them inquiringly. Without hesitating, Klein took a final turn to the left, and saw a man, two or three paces further on, with his back to him, frantically cutting at a portion of hedge that stood in front of him. The man was virtually motionless, apart from his arms, which were working as hard as they could to prune a highly skilful shape in the hedge down to the most intricate and fine-grained detail.
August 21, 2013
The Place
The Place
Chapter 1. The Landlord
Chapter 2. The Arrow
Chapter 3. Over the Stile
Chapter 4. The Feasters
The Strange Case of the Stoves
The Selected Ones
Chapter 5. The Maze
Chapter 6. The Conversationalists
Chapter 7. The Amazing Beehive
Chapter 8. The Man with the Frozen Beard
Chapter 9. Return to the Landlord
Chapter 1. The Landlord
Chapter 2. The Arrow
Chapter 3. Over the Stile
Chapter 4. The Feasters
The Strange Case of the Stoves
The Selected Ones
Chapter 5. The Maze
Chapter 6. The Conversationalists
Chapter 7. The Amazing Beehive
Chapter 8. The Man with the Frozen Beard
Chapter 9. Return to the Landlord
August 12, 2013
The Feasters
Through his straining eyes, Klein could just about see the simple camaraderie that existed amongst the emerging feasters. He stood for some time just observing the way that those who had just joined the table reacted to their companions, before slipping into a momentary daze, as a quandary of thoughts entered his mind. He did not care for anything else at this moment as an elegiac feel took over him. He noticed how each feaster was always able to offer a portion of food to those sitting close by: each individual would offer something to those nearest, and in return, an exchanging offering always made its way into the giver’s bowl as a returning gift. There was a sense of purity on show concerning these offerings that captivated Klein, a transparency of action that was taking place under a simple light buzz of sound that suggested something untainted and simple, permeating the nature of the exchanges that were taking place.
August 7, 2013
The Arrow of Destiny
As soon as Klein joined the man on the stile, both of them began to twist the arrow together. The two men looked as if they were welded to one another in a joint task – without any prior knowledge of one another – with just a blind resolve to move the arrow conspiring to make them stand as one on the stile at this precise moment. The arrow swayed first one way then the next under the intense pressure of the two men’s combined weight. To an onlooker it would have looked very much like the men were working together for a second or two … but not for long. Anyone watching this strange unfolding would have gleaned something else entirely after only a few moments more. In a drastic turnaround of events, it now looked as if the men were involved in a frantic tussle of some kind, one man ostensibly pulling against the other. It was difficult to tell from merely watching the scene unfold which one of the men was actually exerting the most force against the other in this new exchange of bodily movement. What was clear though was that both of them were taking different sides in this act of moving the arrow antagonistically away from the intended direction of the other.
July 27, 2013
The Amazing Beehive
The Amazing Beehive (slightly revised and updated)
Klein gathered himself, and then looked straight ahead, to see for the first time what the copse had been concealing: his whole vision had suddenly been transformed: what became visible over and above a thick veil of mist was a huge beehive-shaped structure. Around the periphery of the beehive were situated a multitude of dark-coloured smaller buildings, rendered insignificant due to the imposing nature of the main construction. The beehive fulminated with energy, each layer a coagulation of distinctly coloured segments, starting from darker glowing hot reds at the bottom, ascending towards lighter blues and then pellucid shades towards the top. The giant beehive overwhelmed Klein, as its sheer size made it virtually impossible for him to absorb all of its features at a glance. Each level of the beehive was highly co-ordinated with the rest, and, as Klein looked through an assortment of windows that had made themselves visible, he saw that there were tight clusters of individuals packed into certain segments, each cluster betraying a certain type of activity very different to the next. The individuals Klein beheld at each level of the beehive formed an organized collective, rather like carefully packaged bundles of particles fused together by some unknown bond; the ferocity of the behaviour of those placed at the bottommost layers was in stark contrast to the almost stationary locations of those placed at the highest regions. Klein looked at the lower regions again, and as he concentrated his stare to the degree required to observe the details of the events unfolding, he could just about make out the grimaces and scowls etched on the faces of those nearest the windows. The lower placed individuals were very industrious, busily handling lots of heavy loads of coal-like objects and other fuel-stuff, presumably in order to maintain the necessary power that kept the beehive functioning. Slightly higher up, the grimaces were less apparent, the tasks less demanding, and the activity less charged with the passionate forces of those from lower down in the beehive. Every individual that Klein could see at the apex of the beehive was less haphazard in his demeanour than those lower down. What was clear was the virtual lack of movement of those at the apex; the movements of those Klein could see here were slow, purposeful, mechanical, and almost ghost-like. Strangely, no peace was evident at this level – it was efficient, clear, precise, and always orderly, but it was bereft of peace … but not in any sense familiar to Klein.
Klein gathered himself, and then looked straight ahead, to see for the first time what the copse had been concealing: his whole vision had suddenly been transformed: what became visible over and above a thick veil of mist was a huge beehive-shaped structure. Around the periphery of the beehive were situated a multitude of dark-coloured smaller buildings, rendered insignificant due to the imposing nature of the main construction. The beehive fulminated with energy, each layer a coagulation of distinctly coloured segments, starting from darker glowing hot reds at the bottom, ascending towards lighter blues and then pellucid shades towards the top. The giant beehive overwhelmed Klein, as its sheer size made it virtually impossible for him to absorb all of its features at a glance. Each level of the beehive was highly co-ordinated with the rest, and, as Klein looked through an assortment of windows that had made themselves visible, he saw that there were tight clusters of individuals packed into certain segments, each cluster betraying a certain type of activity very different to the next. The individuals Klein beheld at each level of the beehive formed an organized collective, rather like carefully packaged bundles of particles fused together by some unknown bond; the ferocity of the behaviour of those placed at the bottommost layers was in stark contrast to the almost stationary locations of those placed at the highest regions. Klein looked at the lower regions again, and as he concentrated his stare to the degree required to observe the details of the events unfolding, he could just about make out the grimaces and scowls etched on the faces of those nearest the windows. The lower placed individuals were very industrious, busily handling lots of heavy loads of coal-like objects and other fuel-stuff, presumably in order to maintain the necessary power that kept the beehive functioning. Slightly higher up, the grimaces were less apparent, the tasks less demanding, and the activity less charged with the passionate forces of those from lower down in the beehive. Every individual that Klein could see at the apex of the beehive was less haphazard in his demeanour than those lower down. What was clear was the virtual lack of movement of those at the apex; the movements of those Klein could see here were slow, purposeful, mechanical, and almost ghost-like. Strangely, no peace was evident at this level – it was efficient, clear, precise, and always orderly, but it was bereft of peace … but not in any sense familiar to Klein.
