Today’s team review is from Judith, she blogs at http://judithbarrowblog.com/
Judith has been reading Rusticles by Rebecca Gransden
I am unfamiliar with this author’s work so the first time I read each story two thoughts struck me: they are unique in that they are written in an oblique style difficult to grasp initially; much is implied within phrases and partial , seemingly unfinished dialogue. And secondly, that these tales are almost poetic prose. I say almost, because for me, they stopped just short of creating flowing images; the pictures they create are elusive. And this, I think, is what Rebecca Gransden is aiming for in Rusticles; that tenuousness grasp of understanding. So that the readers is forced to interpret each story in their own way. This place, Hilligoss, is filled with characters that tell a tale, a moment in their time, of their lives, through an individualistic, idiosyncratic point of view. I suppose there is no right or wrong way for the reader to decode what they are reading.
I liked the cover; the blending of the colours, the vague images. The way the eye is led to the light. The rust shades that reflect the title. Said aloud the title rolls of the tongue. I had to look up the meaning of the word. The interpretation is as follows:
A rusticle is a formation of rust similar to an icicle or stalactite in appearance that occurs underwater when wrought iron oxidizes. They may be familiar from underwater photographs of shipwrecks, such as the RMS Titanic and the German battleship Bismarck. Rusticles are created by microbes that consume iron.
So it’s a clever title. I just wasn’t sure of the stories. They weren’t really to my taste as a reader. But I may be missing the whole point of this book. I’d be interested to see what other readers think.
In Hilligoss, a tired man searches for a son, a flamingo enthrals the night, and fireworks light up the lost. In these stories and more, Rusticles offers a meandering tour through backroads bathed in half light, where shadows play along the verges and whispers of the past assault daydreams of the present. Walk the worn pathways of Hilligoss.
About the author
This author has always lived by the sea.
She tends to write about the edges of things so if you inhabit the fringes you may find something to like.