EMPTY SPACE: A HAUNTING - M. John Harrison (2012)
EMPTY SPACE: A HAUNTING – M. John Harrison (2012)
I liked everything I’ve read by Harrison so far: Light, Nova Swing, the 2017 short story collection You Should Come With Me Now, and his latest 2020 novel The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again. I liked it a lot. And I plan to read a whole lot more of Harrison too.
But I stopped reading Empty Space at 60% in. Not that it doesn’t have merit. The novel got glowing reviews on Speculiction and A Sky of…
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( . . . ) this is the story of 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍, a loner with a heavy australian accent who suffers from sleep paralysis every single night after reading evil spirits out of a horror novel so he prefers to stay awake as long as possible, living his life out of a coffee mug in the middle of nowhere brisbane.
❝ In books I meet the DEAD as if they were alive, in books I see what is yet to come . . . All things decay and pass with time . . . All fame would fall victim to oblivion if god had not given mortal men the book to aid them. ❞
A librarian more used to reading stories than living in them, Nathan would be an unlikely candidate for hero in any book. But even discounting the power of his voice, Nathan is a formidable foe. Though he might not have many combat skills, Nate is more than willing to learn, and he refuses to be cowed by the dangers he's fallen into. Also called “ Silvertongue ” because of his ability to make characters come alive by reading them out of books - to "paint pictures in the air with his voice" - although he has been wary of this gift.
𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 : night terrors, regretting every decision he ever made, being able to read people and objects out of books, the fear of being forgotten, realising that the church lied, paranormal events, staying awake for several days and isolation.⠀⠀ ⸻
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃
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Separate
CW // identity loss, purposeful forgetting. imprisonment, forced back to a past.
A doll sits on a bed in a small room, it's legs pulled to its chest as it reads a book.
The sound of cold winds brush at the windowsill, locked and covered with iron bars. The yellow-white haze of the overhead light buzzes faintly as it reaches over the room, and the book the doll holds is left with dust smatterings and marks of fingers.
The words on the pages grow blurry as the doll holds back tears and exhaustion. If its witch were here, she would tell it to lie down as it hummed a melody to sleep. But its witch is not here. an unknown home and unfamiliar room far from its witches embrace.
"It will be safe here," the girl had said, "we'll be far from that evil witches clutches." Did she not know? Her witch was kind, there was no reason to leave its witch.
The girl had said she was her friend named Samantha. An old friend, from before being a doll. She said she wanted to save the doll, help her remember the past. That was not what It had wanted though.
It did not know Samantha. It did not know the person this woman kept speaking of. It did remember some of its past, before being a doll, but it had not wanted to.
Its witch removed most of those memories for it when it asked. and had kept it safe ever since. It did not remember much, but it did remember when it became a doll.
It had met the witch some time before, and had gotten to know her. It had been very sad for a long time, and one day, it had asked.
It asked to be a doll, and the witch said no. It then begged, and the witch still said no. On the third time though, the doll had prostrated itself upon the ground, tears in its eyes and agony in its heart, and staring in its witches eyes, the doll pleaded to be her doll.
Only then, did the witch say yes.
Time had passed. The doll cared for its witch, and the witch cared for her doll, and the doll was happy to be in its witches care. It was happy to be a doll.
And eventually it asked to forget its past. To forget of its pain, forget the sadness, forget being Human, or a friend, or a person. To be freed of its old name, and to exist as a doll and only a doll. And eventually, the witch complied.
And yet, the past has come back.
stuck in an old room, The girl, Samantha said it was the dolls room, but it knew it was wrong. Samantha was wrong.
Perhaps she simply wanted her friend back, or whoever it was before. but it had never wanted that, it wanted to be with its witch.
But a doll is just property isn't it?
Standing up from the bed and placing the book on worn and dusty blankets, the doll knock on the door of it's confinement, seeking to get the crying girls attention.
"Miss, shall this doll clean the house?"
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