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Blood waters
Book by Brenchley, Chaz
168 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 1996
About the author
Chaz Brenchley
119 books81 followersChaz Brenchley has been making a living as a writer since he was eighteen. He is the author of nine thrillers, most recently Shelter, and two major fantasy series: The Books of Outremer, based on the world of the Crusades, and Selling Water by the River, set in an alternate Ottoman Istanbul. A winner of the British Fantasy Award, he has also published three books for children and more than 500 short stories in various genres. His time as Crimewriter-in-Residence at the St Peter's Riverside Sculpture Project in Sunderland resulted in the collection Blood Waters. He is a prizewinning ex-poet, and has been writer in residence at the University of Northumbria, as well as tutoring their MA in Creative Writing. His novel Dead of Light is currently in development with an independent film company; Shelter has been optioned by Granada TV. He was Northern Writer of the Year 2000, and lives in Newcastle upon Tyne with a quantum cat and a famous teddy bear.
Also known as author Daniel Fox.
Also known as author Daniel Fox.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
October 28, 2010
I learned of Blood Waters from Bryan Talbot's fascinating graphic novel Alice in Sunderland. I was hopelessly intrigued by the book's genesis: Brenchley produced it in the role of "crimewriter-in-residence on the St Peter's Riverside Sculpture Project in Sunderland, 1993-94."
The 10 stories in Blood Waters nominally seem like they ought to fit among the genres of crime/suspense/mystery -- they contain murders, consequences, unreliable narrators and last-page twists. Some are grimly redemptive, some are just grim. But unlike most genre fiction, plot takes a backseat to character, and in some instances perhaps even setting. In fact, most of these stories aren't particularly successful as suspense -- Brenchley hews too close to archetypal plots for these stories to offer much in the way of surprise or puzzles for the reader to work out.
In many ways, I thought the best of these stories were successful almost despite superficial genre trappings. Brenchley's not one for long, flowery descriptions -- his prose is lean, with careful attention to word selection evident throughout. His dialogue, and the internal monologues of his first-person characters, feel solid and credible.
While reading this book, I kept thinking of one my own brief brushes with England under Thatcher's heel, in Newcastle Upon Tyne, not far from Sunderland.
I was taking a late-night train alone to London. I'd left the hotel too early and had to kill a couple of hours in the station, and spent much of it being mildly harassed by a guy whose distance to me varied inversely with the proximity of bobbies at the far end of the platform and the presence of more likely prospects. I was wearing a knockoff Scorpions T-shirt in the hope it would make me seem tough (although it probably made me look like even more of a candy-ass).
I can't really remember what the man looked like. It was one of my first experiences with what I now think of as a classic junkie's face: the closer he drew, the older he looked. I guessed him at slightly north of thirty, but his eyes and skin said forties, easily. Most vividly I recall that his mouth was a black stumpy ruin. When he propositioned me, my disgust at his breath actually trumped the homophobia I was years away from growing out of.
That guy could easily have played a bit role in several of the stories in Blood Waters. Brenchley would have humanized him, not left him faceless as my memory does. In Brenchley's hands he might still be somewhere between menacing and pathetic, but also sympathetic, in a bad way because of bad choices, but also because of bad luck.
The 10 stories in Blood Waters nominally seem like they ought to fit among the genres of crime/suspense/mystery -- they contain murders, consequences, unreliable narrators and last-page twists. Some are grimly redemptive, some are just grim. But unlike most genre fiction, plot takes a backseat to character, and in some instances perhaps even setting. In fact, most of these stories aren't particularly successful as suspense -- Brenchley hews too close to archetypal plots for these stories to offer much in the way of surprise or puzzles for the reader to work out.
In many ways, I thought the best of these stories were successful almost despite superficial genre trappings. Brenchley's not one for long, flowery descriptions -- his prose is lean, with careful attention to word selection evident throughout. His dialogue, and the internal monologues of his first-person characters, feel solid and credible.
While reading this book, I kept thinking of one my own brief brushes with England under Thatcher's heel, in Newcastle Upon Tyne, not far from Sunderland.
I was taking a late-night train alone to London. I'd left the hotel too early and had to kill a couple of hours in the station, and spent much of it being mildly harassed by a guy whose distance to me varied inversely with the proximity of bobbies at the far end of the platform and the presence of more likely prospects. I was wearing a knockoff Scorpions T-shirt in the hope it would make me seem tough (although it probably made me look like even more of a candy-ass).
I can't really remember what the man looked like. It was one of my first experiences with what I now think of as a classic junkie's face: the closer he drew, the older he looked. I guessed him at slightly north of thirty, but his eyes and skin said forties, easily. Most vividly I recall that his mouth was a black stumpy ruin. When he propositioned me, my disgust at his breath actually trumped the homophobia I was years away from growing out of.
That guy could easily have played a bit role in several of the stories in Blood Waters. Brenchley would have humanized him, not left him faceless as my memory does. In Brenchley's hands he might still be somewhere between menacing and pathetic, but also sympathetic, in a bad way because of bad choices, but also because of bad luck.
Displaying 1 of 1 review