VanderMeer, Jeff and Ann (ed.) - The New Weird / Вандермеер, Джефф и Энн (ред.) - Новая "странная" литература [2008, EPUB, ENG]

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Jeff and Ann VanderMeer (ed.) - The New Weird

Название: The New Weird / Новая "странная" литература
Год выпуска: 2008
Под редакцией: VanderMeer, Jeff and Ann / Вандермеер, Джефф и Энн
Издательство: Tachyon Publications
ISBN: 978-1-892391-55-1
Формат: EPUB
Качество: eBook
Язык: английский

Вышедшая в январе 2008 г. антология «The New Weird» — плод совместной редакторской работы четы Вандермееров. Это своеобразный манифест писателей литературного движения «new weird», комбинирующего элементы сюрреалистического и трансгрессивного хоррора на базе реалистично выстроенных, комплексных моделей мира, с примесью влияния прозы предтечей движения «new wave» (таких как Мервин Пик) и франко-английского декаданса.
В издание вошли вводная статья Дж.Вандермеера «The New Weird: 'It's Alive?'», рассказы 15 писателей (в числе которых Ч. Мьевиль, Дж. Томас, К. Дж. Бишоп, Дж. Форд, С. Свэйнстон, К. Коджа, К. Баркер, М. Муркок, М. Дж. Харрисон и др.), а также дополнительные статьи и обзорные материалы.
The New Weird: "It's Alive?" essay by Jeff VanderMeer
The Luck in the Head / Счастливая голова novelette by M. John Harrison
In the Hills, the Cities / Холмы, города novelette by Clive Barker
Crossing into Cambodia: A Story of the Third World War short story by Michael Moorcock
The Braining of Mother Lamprey novelette by Simon Ings
The Neglected Garden short story by Kathe Koja
A Soft Voice Whispers Nothing short story by Thomas Ligotti
Jack / Джек short story by China Mieville
Immolation / Жертва short story by Jeffrey Thomas
The Lizard of Ooze short story by Jay Lake
Watson's Boy novelette by Brian Evenson
The Art of Dying short story by K. J. Bishop
At Reparata novelette by Jeffrey Ford
Letters from Tainaron (An Excerpt from the Short Novel Tainaron) short story by Leena Krohn
The Ride of the Gabbleratchet short story by Steph Swainston
The Gutter Sees the Light That Never Shines short story by Alistair Rennie
New Weird Discussions: The Creation of a Term essay by Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer
"New Weird": I Think We're the Scene essay by Michael Cisco
Tracking Phantoms essay by Darja Malcolm-Clarke
Whose Words You Wear essay by K. J. Bishop
European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird: "Creating the New Weird to Work for Us" essay by Martin Sust
European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird: "The New Weird Treachery" essay by Michael Haulica
European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird: "There is No New Weird" essay by Hannes Riffel
European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird: "Blurring the Lines" essay by Jukka Halme
European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird: "The Uncleaned Kettle" essay by Konrad Walewski
Festival Lives: The New Weird Round Robin essay by Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer
Festival Lives, View 1: Death in a Dirty Dhoti short fiction by Paul Di Filippo
Festival Lives, View 2: Cornflowers Beside the Unuttered short fiction by Cat Rambo
Festival Lives, View 3: All God's Chillun Got Wings short fiction by Sarah Monette
Festival Lives, View 4: Locust-Mind short fiction by Daniel Abraham
Festival Lives, View 5: Constable Chalch and the Ten Thousand Heroes short fiction by Felix Gilman
Festival Lives, View 6: Golden Lads All Must... short fiction by Hal Duncan
Festival Lives, View 7: Forfend the Heavens' Rending short fiction by Conrad Williams
The Luck in the Head


UROCONIUM, Ardwick Crome said, was for all its beauty an indifferent city. Its people loved the arena; they were burning or quartering somebody every night for political or religious crimes. They hadn't much time for anything else. From where he lived, at the top of a tenement on the outskirts of Montrouge, you could often see the fireworks in the dark, or hear the shouts on the wind.
He had two rooms. In one of them was an iron-framed bed with a few blankets on it, pushed up against a washstand he rarely used. Generally he ate his meals cold, though he had once tried to cook an egg by lighting a newspaper under it. He had a chair, and a tall white ewer with a picture of the courtyard of an inn on it. The other room, a small north-light studio once occupied - so tradition in the Artists' Quarter had it - by Kristodulos Fleece the painter, he kept shut. It had some of his books in it, also the clothes in which he had first come to Uroconium and which he had thought then were fashionable.
He was not a well-known poet, although he had his following.
Every morning he would write for perhaps two hours, first restricting himself to the bed by means of three broad leather straps which his father had given him and to which he fastened himself, at the ankles, the hips, and finally across his chest. The sense of unfair confinement or punishment induced by this, he found, helped him to think.
. . .
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