Three new titles from Mantle Lane Press.
These pocket-sized volumes feature original cover images by a range of visual artists, making them unique, collectable and ideal gifts. Buy your copy
States of Independence March 11, Leicester
Mantle Lane Press will be launching 3 new books at States of Independence: ‘Night Swimming‘ by Garrie Fletcher; ‘Kaleidoscope‘ by Sarah Leavesley, and ‘A Far Cry‘ by Mary Williams
Part of the Tindal Street Fiction Group and Room 204, Garrie writes short stories, scripts and novels about the gaps between lives, the pauses between stations, the static hiss of the city and the thick knuckles of the earth.
Sarah is an award-winning poet, fiction writer, reviewer, journalist and photographer, as well as an occasional playwright and editor at V. Press, poetry and flash fiction imprint. Kaleidoscope is the fragmented tale of a young mum, Claire, who is struggling to come to terms with the loss of her baby. The writing style is poetic and fragmented, from an unreliable narrator. Each section/fragment is introduced with an item listed in the Perfect Mothers’ Accessories catalogue.
Prize winning poet Valentine has published a number of dark fiction novels. In this work she gives space to people who’s voices are often not heard. When change happens in far-away communities, the consequences may be unexpected and far reaching, as well as heartening and thought provoking. The unknown, distant and foreign elements have to be taken on trust; we all rely on one another in the end.
Night Swimming Garrie Fletcher
Twenty Miles South (excerpt)
Danny was surprised that more people didn’t steal pensioners; it was easy; if a kid like him could do it anyone could.
“Where shall we go then,” he leaned over and fastened the seat belt around the old man sat in the passenger seat, “anywhere you want.”
“South? Where’s that?”
“What do they teach you kids? South. Out of Birmingham.”
Danny did his best trout impression.
“Go down the Alcester Road,” the man scratched the white stubble on his chin,“away from the city.”
It had been easy. All the staff knew Danny, he visited whenever he could, nobody questioned him; the softer staff even let him walk the old man up and down the street. So when he’d turned up that morning and escorted him from the day room, he was virtually invisible.
“This car’s a bit big for you isn’t it?”
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Kaleidoscope Sarah Leavesley
The crying WILL stop – it has to. The baby in Claire’s arms is still and silent, but she can still hear it crying. She rocks backwards and forwards against the wall, sings to herself:
“Baa, baa, black sheep…the wheels on the bus go round and round…like a diamond in the sky…have you any wool…round and round…how I wonder what you are…”
Splinters of plastic gleam on the floor. The jagged edge of the cracked kaleidoscope smiles up at her with sharp teeth. The tiny shapes that bled from it – flowers, triangles, rectangles – have clotted into a sparkling pool of tacky gems: red and yellow and pink and green, purple and orange and blue… More colour than she can cope with. But still no diamonds; only shaped beads, the kind of mess created by a girl rummaging through her jewellery box. But there is no girl, no child, only Claire and the baby: the motionless, silent baby that still keeps on crying, while pink sheep dance on clouds and flying fish swing round and round on the mobile above her head.
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A Far Cry Mary Wiliams
A Gift from Tohora (excerpt)
Grandma was sitting by the window and light bounced off the cars as they came down the coast road. She watched them go past. The moko on her face really stood out in the light. She turned her head when I came in. I meant to ask her about her moko, but something always stopped me. If she told me I’d probably forget it and get into trouble. Anyway, people my age don’t have moko. It’s old fashioned. Grandma says it’s the history of the tribe, so we don’t forget how we came here from Hawaii.
I’ve seen the waka; been to Cape Reinga too. Dad took me. Grandma was looking at me:
“Grandma, Dad says you have something for me.” I went closer to her. Her brown hand which had once been so strong, reached out and hooked my shirt.
“You’re a good girl, Chance. I want you to have something. You see that box up on the shelf?” I saw it. It was a metal cash box, and it was locked. “Don’t get it down. But when I die, it’s yours. Remember.” I wanted to see inside it of course, but Grandma didn’t want to show me. She changed the subject: “What’s your father having for supper?”
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Over the last 18mths Rob Gee has been bringing his own brand of sparky creativity to schools and villages in NW Leicestershire, as part of our Red Lighthouse programme of literature- based events. We are absolutely delighted to hear that Rob’s show ‘Forget Me Not’ has been confirmed for New Zealand, Canada and the US. Go Rob Go! If you didn’t get to see the show in Leicester last night, you can buy the book, published by Mantle Lane Press, here and find out what all the fuss is about.