Best British Short Stories 2017 Read online

  BEST BRITISH SHORT STORIES 2017

  The nation’s favourite annual guide to the short story, now in its seventh year.

  Best British Short Stories invites you to judge a book by its cover – or more accurately, by its title. This critically acclaimed series aims to reprint the best short stories published in the previous calendar year by British writers, whether based in the UK or elsewhere. The editor’s brief is wide ranging, covering anthologies, collections, magazines, newspapers and web sites, looking for the best of the bunch to reprint all in one volume.

  Featuring stories by Jay Barnett, Peter Bradshaw, Rosalind Brown, Krishan Coupland, Claire Dean, Niven Govinden, Françoise Harvey, Andrew Michael Hurley, Daisy Johnson, James Kelman, Giselle Leeb, Courttia Newland, Vesna Main, Eliot North, Irenosen Okojie, Laura Pocock, David Rose, Deirdre Shanahan, Sophie Wellstood and Lara Williams.

  PRAISE FOR BEST BRITISH SHORT STORIES

  ‘This annual feast satisfies again. Time and again, in Royle’s crafty editorial hands, closely observed normality yields (as Nikesh Shukla’s spear-fisher grasps) to the things we ‘cannot control’.’ —Boyd Tonkin, The Independent

  ‘Nicholas Lezard’s paperback choice: Hilary Mantel’s fantasia about the assassination of Margaret Thatcher leads this year’s collection of familiar and lesser known writers.’ —Nicholas Lezard, The Guardian

  ‘Another effective and well-rounded short story anthology from Salt – keep up the good work, we say!’ —Sarah-Clare Conlon, Bookmunch

  ‘It’s so good that it’s hard to believe that there was no equivalent during the 17 years since Giles Gordon and David Hughes’s Best English Short Stories ceased publication in 1994. The first selection makes a very good beginning … Highly Recommended.’ —Kate Saunders, The Times

  ‘When an anthology limits itself to a particular vintage, you hope it’s a good year. The Best British Short Stories 2014 from Salt Publishing presupposes a fierce selection process. Nicholas Royle is the author of more than 100 short stories himself, the editor of sixteen anthologies and the head judge of the Manchester Fiction Prize, which inspires a sense of confidence in his choices. He has whittled down this year’s crop to 20 pieces, which should enable everyone to find a favourite. Furthermore, his introduction points us towards magazines and small publishers producing the collections from which these pieces are chosen. If you like short stories but don’t know where to find them, this book is a gateway to wider reading.’ —Lucy Jeynes, Bare Fiction

  Best British Short Stories 2017

  NICHOLAS ROYLE is the author of more than 150 short stories, two novellas and seven novels, most recently First Novel (Vintage). His first short story collection, Mortality (Serpent’s Tail), was shortlisted for the inaugural Edge Hill Prize; his second, Ornithology (Confingo Publishing), was published in spring 2017. He has edited twenty anthologies of short stories, including six earlier volumes of Best British Short Stories. A senior lecturer in creative writing at the Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University and head judge of the Manchester Fiction Prize, he also runs Nightjar Press, publishing original short stories as signed, limited-edition chapbooks.

  Also by Nicholas Royle:

  novels

  Counterparts

  Saxophone Dreams

  The Matter of the Heart

  The Director’s Cut

  Antwerp

  Regicide

  First Novel

  novellas

  The Appetite

  The Enigma of Departure

  short stories

  Mortality

  In Camera (with David Gledhill)

  Ornithology

  anthologies (as editor)

  Darklands

  Darklands 2

  A Book of Two Halves

  The Tiger Garden: A Book of Writers’ Dreams

  The Time Out Book of New York Short Stories

  The Ex Files: New Stories About Old Flames

  The Agony & the Ecstasy: New Writing for the World Cup

  Neonlit: Time Out Book of New Writing

  The Time Out Book of Paris Short Stories

  Neonlit: Time Out Book of New Writing Volume 2

  The Time Out Book of London Short Stories Volume 2

  Dreams Never End

  ’68: New Stories From Children of the Revolution

  The Best British Short Stories 2011

  Murmurations: An Anthology of Uncanny Stories About Birds

  The Best British Short Stories 2012

  The Best British Short Stories 2013

  The Best British Short Stories 2014

  Best British Short Stories 2015

  Best British Short Stories 2016

  Published by Salt Publishing Ltd

  International House, 24 Holborn Viaduct, London EC1A 2BN United Kingdom

  All rights reserved

  Introduction and selection copyright © Nicholas Royle, 2017 Individual contributions copyright © the contributors, 2017

  The right of Nicholas Royle to be identified as the editor of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Salt Publishing.

  Salt Publishing 2017

  Created by Salt Publishing Ltd

  This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN 978-1-78463-113-0 electronic

  To the memory of Alex Hamilton 1930–2016

  Introduction

  Nicholas Royle

  One of my online students, meeting me recently for the first time, told me I am much less cantankerous in person than I am online. Or in print, she could perhaps have added. Since the appearance of the 2016 volume in this series I have been publicly ridiculed by the target of a poison-tipped arrow I launched in last year’s introduction. Steven O’Brien, editor of the London Magazine, attacked me where it hurts, i.e. online – where everyone can read it – having reacted to my criticising him for publishing his own work in the publication he edits. He didn’t mention this fact in his witty takedown, which made me wonder if he did feel a little embarrassed, after all. But why should he, I’m now thinking? He’s only showing that he’s imbibed the zeitgeist, that he’s part of the selfie generation.

  He’s certainly far from alone. Of the fourteen anthologies published last year that are still sitting on my desk as I write this introduction, five feature stories by their editors. Those five range from the smallest, most modest publication, put together to benefit a refugee charity, to probably the biggest, most prestigious anthology of 2016, whose editors, strangely, are not credited until we get to the title page. But then, it should perhaps be noted, there is a tendency for stories by editors, in the small sample under review, to be among the longer stories in the book in each case.

  There’s no getting away from the fact that 2016 was a terrible year, not only for Britain and Europe, but also America and the entire world. If we can forget Brexit and Trump for a moment, however, 2016 was a good year for the short story. Even as I make such a claim, in the light of the enormity of contextu
al events, it seems ridiculous to do so. In 2017, perhaps, short story writers will respond to the electoral upheavals of the previous year. Maybe they will be invited to respond, if anyone is putting together a Brexit anthology (horrible thought) or a Trump book (ugh). The themed anthologies of 2016 required contributors to seek inspiration from undelivered or missing post (Dead Letters edited by Conrad Williams for Titan Books), to commune with the spirit of either Cervantes or Shakespeare (Lunatics, Lovers and Poets edited by Daniel Hahn and Margarita Valencia for And Other Stories), to ponder the nature of finality (The End: Fifteen Endings to Fifteen Paintings edited by Ashley Stokes for Unthank Books), to imagine oneself an untrustworthy reporter on the capital (An Unreliable Guide to London edited by Kit Caless, assisted by Gary Budden, for Influx Press) or to get to grips with the big subjects of any and every year (Sex & Death edited by Sarah Hall and Peter Hobbs for Faber & Faber). In addition to the stories from these anthologies that are included in the present volume, I particularly enjoyed Deborah Levy’s ‘The Glass Woman’ and Rhidian Brook’s ‘The Anthology Massacre’ in Lunatics, Lovers and Poets and ‘Staples Corner (and How We Can Know It)’ by Gary Budden and M John Harrison’s ‘Babies From Sand’ in An Unreliable Guide to London.

  Unthemed anthologies kept coming, from both within genre literature (Ghost Highways edited by Trevor Denyer) and without (The Mechanics’ Institute Review 13, Bristol Short Story Prize Anthology 9, The Open Pen Anthology). There were some particularly good stories in Dark in the Day edited by Storm Constantine and Paul Houghton (Siân Davies’s ‘Post Partum’ nicely echoing ‘Postpartum’ by Louise Ihringer in Ambit 226), Separations: New Short Stories From the Fiction Desk edited by Rob Redman (David Frankel’s ‘Stay’, especially) and Unthology 8 edited by Ashley Stokes and Robin Jones (I loved Amanda Mason’s ‘The Best Part of the Day’). In an unusual project, Something Remains (The Alchemy Press) edited by Peter Coleborn and Pauline E Dungate, writer friends, acquaintances and admirers of the late Joel Lane were invited to take an idea or opening from Joel’s notebooks and write their own story based thereupon. A lot of love, affection and homage – and good writing – is packed into the book’s 400 pages; it was published in aid of Diabetes UK.

  Good stories by David Gaffney (‘The Man Who Didn’t Know What to Do With His Hands’) and Jason Gould (‘Not the ’60s Anymore’) were the highlights of two chapbook-sized anthologies publishing competition winners from the PowWow Festival of Writing (Stories edited by Charlie Hill) and the Dead Pretty City short story competition (Bloody Hull, stories selected and with a foreword by David Mark). Charlie Hill also popped up with Stuff (Liquorice Fish Books), an engrossing piece that was either a long short story or a short novella and that, were the author French and his readers all French, might well have been regarded as a worthy late addition to the school of existentialist literature. Jack Robinson’s beautifully written By the Same Author (CB editions) was in a seimilar vein, Robinson being a pseudonym used by Charles Boyle, who runs CB editions, but you never hear anyone giving him a hard time for publishing his own work.

  There were fine stories in new collections from, among others, Penelope Lively (The Purple Swamp Hen & Other Stories), Lara Williams (Treats), Jo Mazelis (Ritual, 1969), Daisy Johnson (Fen), DP Watt (Almost Insentient, Almost Divine) and Michael Stewart (Mr Jolly). Charles Wilkinson’s A Twist in the Eye (Egaeus Press) was beautifully packaged with cover art and end papers reproducing infernal visions by a follower of Hieronymous Bosch. Claire Dean’s long-awaited debut collection, The Museum of Shadows and Reflections (Unsettling Wonder), came with hard covers and lovely illustrations by Laura Rae. The title story was one of many stories I read last year, in addition to the twenty selected, that I wish there was room for in the present volume. Anna Metcalfe’s debut, Blind Water Pass and Other Stories (JM Originals), demonstrated her publisher Mark Richards’ ongoing commitment to supporting excellent new short story writers.

  Talking of which, the taste and editorial eye of Gorse editor Susan Tomaselli is one of the reasons why we could conceivably double the size of Best British Short Stories without any drop in quality. I wish I had room for stories by Will Ashon, Maria Fusco, David Rose and Bridget Penney from last year’s two issues of the oustanding Irish journal. I don’t know why I’m only just catching on to John Lavin’s The Lonely Crowd ‘magazine’ (it’s the size, format and heft of an anthology). I imagine the title character from Charlie Hill’s ‘Janet Norbury’, a librarian, in the Spring issue, would have made sure to stock books by the title character of Bridget Penney’s ‘Hugh Lomax’, a forgotten novelist, from Gorse 6. Neil Campbell’s ‘The Sparkle of the River Through the Trees’ was another stand-out among The Lonely Crowd.

  It remains to be seen how the surprise departure of Adrian Searle from Freight Books will affect Gutter, the magazine of new Scottish writing, of which he was co-editor. No sign of any further personnel changes at Ambit, which published notable stories by David Hartley (‘Shooting an Elephant’ shared some common ground with Jenny Booth’s ‘I Know Who I Was When I Got Up This Morning’ in Brittle Star 39), Daniel Jeffreys, Adam Phillipson, Chris Vaughan and Fred Johnston. I always like Emma Cleary’s stories; her ‘Whaletown’ in Shooter 3, the ‘Surreal’ issue, was a highlight with its tumbling rocks, paper cranes and toner fade on ‘Missing’ posters. Gary Budden, Stephen Hargadon, Simon Avery and Lisa Tuttle contributed fine stores to horror magazine Black Static. I saw Prole for the first time even though it’s published more than twenty issues (I must catch up). I enjoyed Becky Tipper’s ‘The Rabbit’ in issue 20 and in 21 Richard Hillesley’s ‘Seacoal’ was wonderfully evocative and affecting. With Structo, Lighthouse and Confingo all continuing to surpass the high standards they have set themselves – Sarah Brooks’ ‘Aviary’ in Lighthouse 11 and David Rose’s ‘Impasto’ in Confingo 6 being among the highlights – our best short story writers are not short of outlets for their work. My favourite John Saul story of last year, ‘And’, appeared in Irish magazine Crannóg, but Confingo’s ‘Thirsty’ was also very good.

  James Wall’s ‘Wish You Were Here’, which appeared online at Fictive Dream, was tight and masterful, its author completely in control of his material. Fictive Dream is more than worth a look for online short stories, likewise The Literateur. Jaki McCarrick’s story ‘The Jailbird’ was still available on the Irish Times website at the time of writing and Stuart Evers’ ‘Somnoproxy’, online at the White Review, is as beautifully written as his best work. On the airwaves last year, in addition to the two stories selected in these pages, Jenn Ashworth’s ‘The Authorities: A Modern Elegy’, for BBC Radio 4, was a powerful listen.

  Two things I’ve learned during 2016:

  Almost no one, anywhere, knows how to use the semi­colon; I think I do, but I’m probably wrong.

  Even though I have tried to keep an open mind on the issue, I can’t: ‘funny’ author biographical notes are never a good idea.1

  The last word, last year, went to Dennis Hayward, who works on the tills at Sainsbury’s Fallowfield store in south Manchester. Dennis’s 2016 Christmas story was entitled ‘Christmas Cottage’ and raised £2500 for Foodbank, the charity having been chosen by customers of the store.

  Nicholas Royle

  Manchester

  May 2017

  There is, in fact, one exception to this rule: the author biog on the jacket flap of the first edition of Robert Irwin’s second novel, The Limits of Vision (1986), but it only really works with the author photo. You need to see it really.

  Reversible

  COURTTIA NEWLAND

  London, early evening, any day. The warm black body lies on the cold black street. The cold black street fills with warm black bodies, an open-mouthed collective, eyes eclipse dark. Raised voices flay the ear. Arms extend, fingers point. Retail workers in bookie-red T-shirts, shapeless Primark trousers. Beer-bellied men wear tracing paper hats, the faint smell of fried chicken. There are hood
s, peaked caps, muscular puffed jackets. There are slim black coats, scarred and pointed shoes, red ties, midnight blazers. A few in the crowd lift children, five or six years old at best, held close, faces shielded, tiny heads pushed deep into adult necks. New arrivals dart like raindrops, join the mass. Staccato blue lights, the hum of chatter. They pool, overflow, surge forwards, almost filling the circular stage in which the body rests, leaking.

  A bluebottle swarm of police officers keeps the circle intact, trying to resist the flood. Visor-clad officers orbit the body, gripped by dull gravity; others without headgear stand shoulder to shoulder, facing the crowd, seeing no one. Blue-and-white tape, the repeated order not to cross. A half-raised semi-automatic held by the blank policeman who stands beside a Honda Civic, doors open, engine running. His colleague speaks into his ear. He is nodding, not listening. He looks into the crowd, nodding, not hearing. Blue lights align with the mechanical stutter of the helicopter, fretting like a mosquito. Its engine surges and recedes, like the crowd.

  The blood beneath the body slows to a trickle and stops. It makes a slow return inwards. There’s an infinitesimal shift of air pressure, causing fibres on the fallen baseball cap to sway like seaweed; no one sees this motion. There’s a hush in the air. Sound evaporates. The body begins to stir.

  One by one, the people leave. They do not hurry. They simply step into the dusk from which they came. The eyes of adults widen, jaws drop, mouths gape and snap closed. Children’s faces rise from shoulders, hands are removed from their eyes and they see it all. They crane their necks, tiny hands splayed starlike on adult shoulders.