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Gwyneth Jones' guest of honour talk from Beneluxcon, March 2012:

I was asked for a short piece of writing, to feature in your first Progress Report. By chance, the short pieces that came to hand seemed to define an area of interest, a misty place where dreams, science fiction and classic horror meet. Since nobody threw them back, I decided to make that shadowy place my theme for this talk. So, this item has been governed by chance: but that's okay. Some people complain about the huge role random coincidence plays in weird tales, as if the writers were just lazy, but to the initiated, the fact that there's no reason on earth why fearful uncanny events should happen to the characters in the story is part of their awful charm... Anyway, I'm going to talk about ghosts, how I first met them, where they led me; and what I think about all that spooky stuff.

Some related reading on Jones' blog. Elsewhere, Martin Lewis has read Jones' most recent novel, Spirit, and is excited by it: "Spirit contains more in a single book than most modern science fiction trilogies manage and is easily one of the half dozen best SF novels published this century."



Niall Harrison is an independent critic based in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK. He is a former editor of Strange Horizons, and his writing has also appeared in The New York Review of Science FictionFoundation: The International Review of Science Fiction, The Los Angeles Review of Books and others. He has been a judge for the Arthur C. Clarke Award, and a Guest of Honor at the 2023 British National Science Fiction Convention. His collection All These Worlds: Reviews and Essays is available from Briardene Books.
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22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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