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Kindle Notes & Highlights
On the lawn, he looked at the sea that heaved and glittered to the horizon. A million silver scales on black water, sparkling all the way to the rocky shore where the surf foamed and withdrew. There was no sound save a breeze in the surrounding grasses and the susurration of surf on pebbles. A soothing tumult.
Such beautiful writing.
‘Will you shut the anus in the middle of your face. The puckered ring-piece from which a lifetime of shit has poured. You’re not leaving here.’
FINALLY HE HAS SOME RAGE!!!
One of the reasons I write horror is to conduct a dialogue with myself about life and death, the suffering that living entails but also the wonder and mystery that life offers. Horror, to my eye, is granted a special licence in these matters. Imaginatively exploring the true precariousness of life and society, and the miracle of consciousness and existence, can also be a path to terrifying visions. But if you are gifted with an imagination it must be used.
It must be used.
I also wanted the invasion to create a rapturous sense of biblical judgement, as well as to suggest the visionary and nightmarish landscapes of the Belgian and Flemish painters, Bosch and Brueghel, whose great works depicted damnation and the infernal.
Forcing yourself to be better, against all the odds, to confront overwhelming evil and not contribute to it, is always worth writing about.
