First of all
When I first received the email about The Pale ones by Bartholomew Bennett all I could think was – A horror about books! Yes please.
The pale ones by Bartholomew Bennett was one rather creepy wee read.
I enjoyed it – can you ever say that about horror fiction without coming off as a tiny bit strange?
But, I do like to read something that leaves me glad the lights are still on. This wasn’t the gore and shock type of horror. But, more the subtle, disturbing and uncomfortable journey of a man into madness…
I felt like every word, sentence, paragraph and the images those words formed had been thought about, toiled over. When I was reading The pale ones it very much felt like precise writing to me – not a word to spare.
I liked the shorter length and the slow almost meandering feel of the plot as the story unfolded. I read the whole thing in one sitting, I didn’t want to put it down.
I do think I need to read it again at some point soon because I am sure I missed some of the subtle hints and imagery along the way. I imagine it is the type of book that you get far more out of on a subsequent read. I will keep you updated! I just need to find the time.
I would love to read what Bartholomew Bennett does next.
Pulped fiction just got a whole lot scarier…
Few books ever become loved. Most linger on undead, their sallow pages labyrinths of old, brittle stories and screeds of forgotten knowledge. And other things besides…
Paper-pale forms that rustle softly through their leaves. Ink-dark shapes swarming in shadow beneath faded type. And an invitation…
Harris delights in collecting the unloved. He wonders if you’d care to to donate. A small something for the odd, pale children no-one has seen. An old book, perchance? Neat is sweet; battered is better.
Broken spine or torn binding, stained or scarred – ugly doesn’t matter. Not a jot. And if you’ve left a little of yourself between the pages – a receipt or ticket, a mislaid letter, a scrawled note or number — that’s just perfect. He might call on you again.
I received a copy of The Pale Ones by Bartholomew Bennett from the publisher, via the blog tour organiser – The review is my own opinion.
Bartholomew Bennett was born in Leicester to an American father and English mother. Since childhood he has been a dedicated reader of all manner of books, but especially tales of the “horror”. He has a First Class Honours degree in Literature from the University of East Anglia and is a longstanding member of Leather Lane Writers Group. He has had various jobs: primarily software developer, but also tutor, nanny, data-entry clerk, call-centre rep, decorator and handy-man. He has also been known to dabble in online bookselling. Currently he lives in southeast London with his wife and two children. And in fact, some of the paper-packed rooms that feature in The Pale Ones bear a remarkable resemblance to locales in his own abode…