Description

Pulp 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 besidesPaperpale forms rustle softly through their leaves Inkdark shapes swarming in shadow beneath faded type And an invitationHarris delights in collecting the unloved He wonders if youd care to donate A small something for the odd pale children noone has seen An old book perchance Neat is sweet battered is better Broken spine or torn binding stained or scarred ugly doesnt matter Not a jot And if youve left a little of yourself between the pages a receipt or ticket a mislaid letter a scrawled note or number thats just perfect He might call on you againHangover Square meets Naked Lunch through the lens of a classic M R James ghost story To hell and back again and again through Whitby Scarborough and the Yorkshire Moors Enjoy your Mobiustrip