IN THE global village, the rest of the world is ever with us, but so too is
the past. Previous generations may have had a greater sense of history, but new
technology has brought the lessons of the past more easily within our reach So
it鈥檚 hardly surprising that fiction has reflected this syndrome in the creation
of a new subgenre: the protagonist adrift in time. This isn鈥檛 just science
fiction: several compelling new books from traditional fiction writers fall into
this category. They include Iain Sinclair鈥檚 Slow Chocolate Autopsy
(Orion, 拢9.99, ISBN 1861590881), a collaboration with the highly acclaimed
creator of graphic novels, Dave McKean. Sinclair virtually invented the
phantasmagorical London-set narrative in which physical and temporal boundaries
are dissolved.
Here we have the central character, Norton, confined within the city limits
of London, but on a disturbing trajectory through history. From the playwright
Marlowe鈥檚 death via the shades of Dickens and Jack the Ripper to the bloody
dispatching of Jack the Hat, Norton traces a fantasy of London鈥檚 hidden
geography that has a visionary power between Blake and Coleridge鈥檚 opium-soaked
dreams. McKean provides the perfect visual corollary to Sinclair鈥檚 often
impenetrable but always mesmerising narrative.
Similarly, the 鈥渨ormholes of memory鈥� in Ciaran Carson鈥檚 The Star
Factory (Granta, 拢13.99, ISBN 1862070725) are a conduit for a journey
through the author鈥檚 native Belfast, in which the divided city is often as
bizarre and unsettling as Sinclair鈥檚 London. Through autobiography, reportage
and a feast of other elements, Carson presents the divided city as a metaphor
for human uncertainty and hope, with the decaying landscape frequently a source
of poetic beauty. The prose is often rapturously inventive.
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A heady traversing of space and time also defines Erica Wagner鈥檚 stories in
Gravity (Granta, 拢9.99, ISBN 1860270822), a debut collection that
may vary in achievement, but often grips with an intensity rarely found these
days. The title story, in particular, is a gem. In an observatory, an astronomer
comes to terms with the terrors of a modular universe, and the colliding of
sexuality and horror is given a cosmic dimension in Wagner鈥檚 lucid prose. If
some stories have less intensity, that could be said to be part of the book鈥檚
game plan. There鈥檚 a prodigious talent at work here.
If uncertainty about our place in the scheme of history is one of the main
concerns in modern fiction, the other is unquestionably an uneasy attitude to
identity. And Charles de Lint, an expert chronicler of the strange underpinnings
of contemporary society, manages to explore the latter idea in Trader
(Macmillan, 拢16.99, ISBN 0333672127) without ever losing the format of a
bizarre and compelling thriller. The lifeshift between the respected craftsman
Max Trader and the drunken, unemployed Johnny Devlin is handled with de Lint鈥檚
customary skill.
With Siberian Light by Robin White (Michael Joseph,
拢9.99/$16.77, ISBN 071814287X), we鈥檙e in the fashionable thriller
territory of Miss Smilla and her snow, the temperature lowered even further by a
soup莽on of Martin Cruz Smith鈥檚 Gorky Park. But the
reader鈥檚 temperature is kept satisfyingly warm with the investigation of a
brutal triple murder. Here we have an ecologist using (plausibly) scientific
extrapolation to expose old horrors of Siberia鈥檚 past. OK, we鈥檝e been here
before, but White is adroit at ringing the changes, and there鈥檚 a canny
manipulation of tension leading to a very well-turned climax.
The controversy over The Speed Queen by Stewart O鈥橬an (Viking,
拢9.99/$21.95, ISBN 067087549X) revolves around the author鈥檚 use of
a celebrated horror writer to chronicle the death-row thoughts of a woman in an
Oklahoma prison after a drug-fuelled killing spree. The fact that O鈥橬an
identifies his horror writer as Stephen King has attracted the attention of
King鈥檚 lawyers. O鈥橬an draws less on his own aerospace background than on Oliver
Stone-style observations about the synergy between mass technology and a
fastfood culture of casual violence. But he鈥檚 a skilled writer, and the
hand-me-down elements are blended into a cocktail that has a not inconsiderable
kick.