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OK, here goes:
HINTERLAND
by DAVID BARNETT
B*b K**ry writes: (I can take out the name, assuming it's not a pseudonym, if you like)
In this first novel, a thoroughly modern young man comes face-to-face with the dangerous half-realities lurking between the corners (sic) of contemporary urban Britain. In fine tradition it starts with a taxi-ride to somewhere somehow different - an oddly unmemorable nightclub down a street the years left stranded. The next morning, what should be a walk in the park turns wild, and the town reveals an unsettling side of itself. A brooding sense of long-buried mystery and personal significance, suspended on strands of paranoia and coincidence, (sic sic sic sic) follows David to the office next day, where he works as a reporter on the local daily paper. A rash of resurgent local legends and an art viewing later, he's not quite back to normal. Far outside his conscious awareness, the comforting drone of daily life becomes a feverish buzz, heard in every echo of a place that's becoming distinctly non-ordinary.
(Is it just the time or is the above actually quite hard to understand? What do you mean, B*b?)
That's just the first para, folks! More when my fingies are less tired and stupid. |
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