Terrible Stories from Kelly McClure

A5, 28 pages (cream and navy).

$6

What qualifies as terrible? Quite a lot of things, I should imagine. The lack of politics taught in Britain’s schools? The internalised gender divide? My colleagues’ insistence on discussing nothing but Love Island for the past two weeks? All are different flavours of terrible.

Kelly McClure’s stories certainly aren’t terrible, which led me to the conclusion that she must be the sort of person whose modesty is so extreme that she would actually take the naming of her anthology as a weird opportunity for self-deprecation. Slightly bemused, I began to read, and then I got it – perhaps it wasn’t the stories that were terrible, but the characters.

A sadistic rancher, an imperfect mother, an extreme introvert. In truth the characters’ personalities are scattered all over the morality spectrum, and it’s difficult to judge whether each of them are good, bad or other.

One of the interesting qualities to McClure’s writing is that her stories feel more like scenes, the reader is placed into the characters’ lives and just as they begin to feel like they know them, they’re whisked into the next story. This anthology seems to be less about providing the reader with entertaining stories, and more about creating a feeling of kinship with the characters (whether that be positive or negative). It’s an interesting read and skilfully written – these six stories will play on your mind for a long, long time.

You can get a copy of Terrible Stories from Kelly McClure via Budget Press here.

Review by J.L. Corbett

Ellipsis Zine: One, A flash fiction anthology

A5, 62 black and white pages.

Print: £5 (+p&p), digital download: £3

On the back cover of this zine lies a strong statement. “Ellipsis Zine: One, a flash fiction anthology,” it explains, “[contains] 1000 words or fewer from 57 of the best contemporary flash fiction writers”.

Hmmm, we’ll see, I thought to myself, flipping back to the first page. It’s fairly common for zine makers to be enthusiastic about the work they produce, sometimes so enthusiastic that it becomes difficult for the material itself to measure up to expectations. So, when I see creators using words like “best”, I become cynical.

As it turns out, the editor of Ellipsis Zine (Steve Campbell) wasn’t far off when he used that bold little word. I spent a week reading this zine; a handful of stories at a time whenever I had a spare moment, and I can say with confidence that there isn’t a weak link in the collection. These stories are literary fiction in its tightest form. Each word has a purpose; scenes are written so cleverly that only a few brief paragraphs are necessary to project an entire story into the mind of the reader.

Late one night I read My, She was Yar, by Zoë Meager, only to lie awake in bed wondering about how young families cope when a child dies. Several days after reading Bird Girl, by Janelle Hardacre, I was still daydreaming about how technology could progress in the next few years, and the impact that would have upon our identities.

Each story is unique, and yet they are drawn together. The number one appears in this collection again and again, as a young girl’s new home, as a lost love sitting one carriage away, as the sole meeting between father and child, as a missed opportunity with a one true love*. A flock of sheep trample across the cover, all moving forward save for one, who looks back at the reader. Whether the recurring number is a conscious choice by the editor is ambiguous, but I prefer to believe that all these number ones are kismet, unexpectedly brought together for the first print issue of Ellipsis Zine, for its number one.

I had two warring emotions as I read this zine. As a reader, I was delighted. As a writer, I was filled with envy.

Issue one of Ellipsis Zine can be bought from their online store, here, and for news and updates follow them on twitter.

*House Number One by Eleanor Jones, One Carriage Away by Amanda Quinn, What Happens When Hot Air and Cold Air Meet? by Danny Beusch and Daisy Chain by Debbi Voisey, respectively.

Review by JL Corbett