John Muckle - Böcker
Visar alla böcker från författaren John Muckle. Handla med fri frakt och snabb leverans.
8 produkter
8 produkter
181 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
This is John Muckle's first poetry collection. The book's main feature is the long title poem, in which the author imagines that the German-Jewish critic Walter Benjamin escaped death by his own hand on the French-Spanish border in 1940 - his revolver misfired - and has survived as a kind of wanderer and witness. After the war he returned to Paris, but later moved to London where, in the 'now' of the poem at the age of 120, he is recalling some of his ideas - and confessing - to a nurse, whom he imagines might also be a student of his work. The poem is a personal view of Benjamin, and the author hopes that any reader unfamiliar with his writings might begin with 'Illuminations' and embark on a long journey with one of the great radical thinkers of any century. The remainder of the book features many of Muckle's trademark narrative poems.
219 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
Tony Guest is welcome wherever he goes - a motorcycle courier on a big bike, picking up and dropping all manner of urgent parcels, letters, and duly getting his dockets signed. In July he rides in a sweat bath, in February the rain is freezing needles, the roads of the West End are greasy with spilt diesel, glistening tracks of motorcyclists weaving through them like slug trails. But where is Tony going? What is contained in his ultimate mystery packet? What becomes of lost friendships? He chases his shadow-man through an illusory maze of skid pans, trick exits - the answer to every question he can frame seems to lie behind every locked door in London town. Set in the 1980s, "London Brakes" shows us an England of conflicting loyalties and low impostures - a city divided by inequality and opportunism: a place where forgetting is compulsory and paranoia is the outcome. Tony is determined to cut through it all to the truths of his life.
250 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
There wasn't much to do in the battered, half-forgotten seaside resort of Jaywick Sands, Essex - nothing really, except to listen to the North Sea pound against the sea-defences and wait for the next run-down holiday shack to go up like a barbeque torch. Lee and Will were an odd pair, deeply eccentric kids, living alone with their mothers and struggling through resit classes in college. But all that was to change on the day they kidnapped Charley Price in an old motor they'd just stolen, and made a heroic run with her for the ferry to the far land where the tulips grow. My Pale Tulip takes a scenic route across low countries to the beautiful cities of Delft and Utrecht - where darkness lies in ambush. It is a classic tale of flight and crash-landing: poignant, sharp-witted, with a voice all its own.
232 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
Little White Bull takes a fresh look at the times before the day before yesterday, not the end times but the new beginnings, and tries to show how British fiction grappled with subjects as thorny and diverse as the impact of mass immigration and a new kind of rootless working-class character uncontained by previous conceptions of him or herself, and apparently ready to go to war over them. This exciting and readable book presents the fifties and sixties as a crucible of new departures, asking what remains and continues from those decades into the cultural present. It takes the form of a series of thematic essays each of which discusses the work of an individual or group of novelists. Writers examined in this book are Paul Ableman, Brian Aldiss, Kingsley Amis, J.G. Ballard, Lynn Reid Banks, John Berger, John Braine, Angela Carter, Nell Dunn, Gillian Freeman, Barry Hines, B.S. Johnson, Doris Lessing, Colin Macinnes, Michael Moorcock, Iris Murdoch, V.S. Naipaul, Bill Naughton, Edna O'Brien, Harold Pinter, Samuel Selvon, Alan Sillitoe, David Storey, Jack Trevor Story, Leslie Thomas, Alexander Trocchi, John Wain, Keith Waterhouse, Raymond Williams and Colin Wilson.
219 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
Who is that man peering through an iron telescope outside Alexandra Palace? Ray Davies? Matthew Arnold? Graham Greene? Graham Bartlett travels to his mystery assignations with teenagers, and for a few quid improves their GCSE homework. What led him to this lonely, peripatetic existence? Years earlier he had lived in various other guises, half-remembered as he criss-crosses swathes of suburban north London. Murders are committed. Riots explode. Model gliders are launched. Lovers part. Graham continues doggedly on his rounds, finding sustenance in his glancing encounters with real and imagined others. Turks. Africans. West Indians. Kosovans. Falling Through is a haunted, darkly funny portrayal of a side of London that hasn't often found its way into fiction.
181 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
What are those distorted smears of colour in the mirror ball? Are they people? Look closer. Yes. They are people. They are us. And there am I, a small pink smudge, an arched eyebrow ... or perhaps not: retinal overload, a trick of the light. How do people make sense of themselves, and what do those splintered shafts of vari-coloured liquidity have to tell us about the skins they are bouncing off? Who knows. The speaker of these lines is himself caught up in the glare, garrulous in spite of the din. Mirrorball collects poems from 2004 to 2018."There's a naked honesty that never becomes self-absorbed 'confessional' poetry. I can't think of any other poet now who has pulled this off with such force and immediacy, and also, not forgetting, a nice wit and self-mockery for all our foolishnesses. The poems put the reader on the spot, ask the questions, but in no direct clunky way ... All the poems near conversations but more than that." --Lee Harwood, from a letter
250 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
Pauline is at the end of her life, wool-gathering in a chair, but simultaneously in her prime, driving between dress shops in her blue Opel Kadett; Eileen Platt, an American nurse, is stationed on a remote airfield - known as Mudville - in the Blackdown Hills, Devon, her duties to patch up returning aircrew of Liberator bombers. She doesn't want to go home to Des Moines after the war. She wants to stay in England. Near the old airfield a family play out their last moves in a place superficially unchanged, in a country whose old order is breaking up, slipping past proper recall. Richie's rotting Jags and Daimlers no longer run; women still care for men, sometimes may be cared for in turn - but sometimes the cars may change without warning, and wasps swarm madly out of the jar.In stories varying in size and manner from a funeral eulogy to a compelling wartime romance, Late Driver tells of a number of surprising lives imagined in out of the way places; the mood is restless, probing, suffused with memories and loss - although some rivet-hole stars still let in the light of the young women who first punched them into an empty sky.
250 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
Rob Goddard knew he shouldn't be travelling during a national lockdown, but it was Xmas and he headed West to see his family anyway. At Waterloo, the train seemed completely empty; perhaps it was, but an exploratory walk revealed at least four other passengers. All dead. They were ghosts. People he'd known; people who had died far too young.At first a convivial reunion, the journey's mood changed when four more travellers embarked, mutating further when two of them hatched into enormous dragonflies, meganeura, extinct for hundreds of millions of years. Rob, a poet, was reminded of the dragonflies that 'draw flame' in Gerard Manley Hopkins' famous sonnet. But these angelic giants possessed many different powers. Also, ominously, it had begun to snow heavily.'Snow Bees' is an apocalyptic novel with a difference, a roller coaster to the end of the night, a story in which hilarity rubs shoulders with death, and poetry rescues memory: a world apparently charging headlong towards oblivion in the plot of heaven. "In 'Snow Bees', John Muckle has given us an afterlife that feels both inevitable and surprising, one that is a strange awakening to what was already there: old memories, old friends, the nightmare of history from which even death can't wake us, the self with its indelible grudges and regrets and loves. Muckle's prose is linguistically wide-awake even as it traverses the white landscape of dream, and he creates a world so complex and various there seems to be more time and space inside the novel than outside. A stunning achievement." -Sandra Newman