The Ingoldsby Legends, Second Series by Richard Barham (1843)

 Unlike the first series, all these are in verse. Like the first series, they are roistering, ghosty, mock-heroic, mock-antiquarian pieces that give off an unmistakable Cruikshankish air, the humour grotesque and very broadly moral, with just deserts and come-uppances vying with devilish exertions for the highest entertainment. Not a lot else to say, other than that there is in this one an occasional racist (mainly against Jewishness) stereotype and associated assumptions, which mar it. Still prefer his prose fictions, Baldwin and Some Account of My Cousin Nicholas.

My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent (2017)

 This is the first novel of a new young writer. Those, at least of our current period, are not my usual fare, but it's always good to explore outside one's regular boundaries. It is expressed in the terms of the early 21st century, at least those I've come across - very immediate prose, present tense. Rightly or wrongly attributed, it has, seemingly, the air of the creative writing school about it, which all such works do. But just because the tone is fairly recognizable and overfamiliar doesn't mean the quality has to be suspect, ultimately. And in this instance there's a lot to be said for it. This harrowing story of a fourteen-year-old California girl trapped in a tight world in which she's grown up since her mother's early death when she was a young child is riddled through with tension. Her father is a controlling monster. He's also retreated into even more isolation since the two of them were left alone - aside from the presence of his despised father, the grandfather the girl has as a safety valve, who lives in a dilapidated trailer on a different part of their property. The house is unfinished, and has a decade or more's worth of invasive plants, fungus growth in the damp spots, bare wood and gaps where finishing tasks were abandoned, and so forth. The house is also laced through with firearm hardware. They are what would be seen as typical Trump types, though at one end of the spectrum; very much interested, in the expectable west coast way, in alternative forms of energy, and living surrounded by the wild, understanding animals and survival skills closely. (He also has a penchant for reading classic philosophy, which is almost believable, though he's not seemingly benefited from it that much.) But also madly obsessed, under the same survival banner, with 'personal protection', ranging from guns of all descriptions (including their dismantling and reassembly as a regular activity) to a strong interest in strategies for taking on attackers and outwitting them through superior readiness, and very bedded-in isolationist suspicions of all outside or governmental agencies and programs. Very early on, though, we are introduced to another salient fact: the father and daughter are sleeping together, and yes, that's a euphemism. The treatment of this is a little jarring - some of the language is a bit 'porny', and I almost put the book down. But I gave Tallent the benefit of the doubt, thinking it was fair enough that it would be expressed in these terms if seen from the point of view of someone in her position, and of her generation. I'm glad I kept with it. Throughout the whole first half the picture is brilliantly embellished and made finepoint. It's a hard and dark life she lives, and her mind is consistently changing and growing within the remit of the harshness; Tallent achieves moments, when he's depicting the conflict and desires in her psyche, of real insight and poetry. He also, to be strictly fair, has a slightly compulsive tic for blow-by-blow descriptions, almost as writing exercises, punctuating the flow - we consistently get action-by-action accountings of the disassembly of a gun, or the making of a particular meal, or a set of habits of theirs, which really slow the tempo unnecessarily. As the second half is breached though, I'm not sure what's happened, but the overall flow becomes a lot more episodic. There are scenes of great power, like she and a friend surviving being pulled out to sea on a much larger than usual wave while in the shallows of the nearby ocean, which feel as though they ought to have had more impact. There's been such concentrated effort put into the minutiae of her situation and development, that these experiences should have rippling, concatenating effects to which we are also party, going onward and outward in her life. But they remain islands of event, the ripples truncated. This friend also, after a couple of dangerous visits while her father is around, tells her that he loves her, as though this had been building and had finally come to the surface, but the journey isn't there, remains unpresented. And would have been huge in terms of mind-effect for her, but we are not illuminated in any way as to those impacts. So we 'lose' her, to a significant extent, and also resultingly our belief in the piece. What is there is affecting, but doesn't hang together nearly as well. I wonder why. Did an inexperienced editor get hold of this, was told by a superior that it was too long, and cut a little too much? Or see Tallent's exegesis by this stage as too minute? Or did Tallent self-edit, and strip it out over-enthusiastically? Was the pacing the culprit - "needs to be leaner and go at a swifter lick"? Whichever way it was, this piece suffers from the non-fulfilment of its early promise. But is still a powerful thing. Will be interesting to see what he does next, if he does.