The latest Wilkinson collection is The Harmony of the Stares, pictured above. 'These are tales in which music often plays a role: music as ritual, music as language, impossible music, lethal music. But here also are the silences, the stop-gaps between notes, the attempted retreats from the audible world.'
'On the face of it, these are often recognisable realities populated by ordinary people; conspicuously so perhaps! Yet they are realities whose gossamer veneers are liable to tear, prone to reveal the insidious agencies, mad philosophers, fake-philanthropic organisations and amorphous forces that are really running things!'
I note that two earlier collections of Charles Wilkinson's works are sold out. These will soon be gone, secreted no doubt on the more readily accessible shelves of discerning readers. These are the sort of books you take down to peruse when the rain lashes the window of your garret or (if you're lucky) turret. Modern fiction, but very much in the Gothic tradition. Fantastical, certainly, yet all too realistic in their portrayal of the grim farce that is life in England now.
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