Adam Nevill’s short stories

This post is about Adam L.G. Nevill’s collections of short stories Some Will Not Sleep and Hasty for the Dark. If you aren’t already familiar with his work, he wrote the novel that The Ritual is based on.

Some Will Not Sleep is comprised of previously published work that he wrote between 1995-2011. Hasty For the Dark contains stories from 2009-2015. These dates represent years of creation, not publication years. I read them in hardbacks that I bought from his publishing company, Ritual Limited. He gave me one of them for free only because there was an ordering glitch. They are beautiful books, and I really liked being able to buy a book written, designed, and published by the author himself. I’m not sure I’ve ever done that before.

I love Nevill’s writing and am slowly working my way through his entire body of work.


In a reflective section at the end of Hasty for the Dark, as he discusses his story, ‘The Days of Our Lives,’ Nevill writes,

The tale was also informed by the research that I had undertaken for my novel No One Gets Out Alive. In that story I explored the domestic horrors of Great Britain, the ordinary horrors that arise from ordinary items and ordinary people. Eschewing the traditional spectres, tropes, the Gothic and the haunted historical settings, I wanted to try and refine and distil what I found to be grotesque, depressingly mundane and unintentionally macabre about my own country, but domestically. The story would involve regular people in unremarkable settings who experienced extraordinary things. This short story was a continuation of that aesthetic intention. (223)

Later, he remarks more broadly on this aesthetic intention:

With Brady and Hindley, the Wests and others, we have a society that occasionally seems to produce a particular form of grotesque and loathsome human behaviour, which is committed in domestic situations and orchestrated by couples or even entire families. So the juxtaposition of the ordinary and depravity was the descriptive motif and theme of that novel, as well as this short story. A theme and idea that I find strangely affecting but horrifying. If there were fewer vampires, werewolves and their ilk in British horror, and more of these domestic horrors, I don’t think the field would suffer. A writer doesn’t have to look far to find material either. (224)

One of the defining traits of Nevill’s work, for me at this point, is exactly this concept of the domestic macabre.* But he’s not talking about something like the horror version of “cozy mysteries.” There’s no Jessica Fletcher here. (Actually…now I’d kind of like to see what he would do with a Jessica Fletcher in one of his stories.) Back to the point: there’s no charm here, or attempt to make gentle the terrible things that happen. Nevill takes a tiny strand of experience from Real Life and then spins it into a full-blown tapestry that includes all of the overlooked or forgotten fears, dread, and terror that surround it.

In this context, the problem with “vampires, werewolves and their ilk” is that we are already familiar with them and that familiarity is comforting. No matter how scary the vampire is, we already know how to kill it. And that’s reassuring, isn’t it? We already know about garlic and wooden stakes and silver bullets. And while new twists on old favorites are fun and scary and great, there’s more and weirder to be had out there, and Nevill knows where to find it. Big heads with doll hands, white envelopes, neighbors with ponds for living rooms. Milk.

If you can resist forcing a premature understanding of what’s going on, then this reading experience will open up doors to all kinds of new horror for you. Part of the joy of these stories is precisely the fact that you’ll have to spend some time feeling around in the dark by yourself. And sometimes you’ll put your hand in something wet and sticky.

Below, I’ll put jpegs of the inside jacket covers of both books so you’ll have a more specific idea of the story topics. I don’t want to tell you more than he does because it really would spoil the fun.

If you decide to give these collections a go, go slowly. Nevill likes thick description (huge thumbs up for that), so if you try to zip along and finish up before you brush your teeth and go to bed, you won’t be happy. Don’t forget that they were written years apart and for different publications, so there is no continuity between them. Finishing one does not prepare you for the next.  Take your time and look up any words you don’t know. (Yes, there will be some.) Don’t gloss over the Story Notes sections. Writers especially, perhaps, will be interested in them, but because he talks about the stories themselves and how he conceived of them, anyone can find something of interest there.

And as you’re wandering in the darkness, trying to make sense out of the strange and unusual signposts, when you set your hand in something wet and sticky…leave it there.


Inside front cover: Some Will Not Sleep


Inside front cover: Hasty for the Dark (I took this picture so many times, but it keeps coming out blurry. Sorry for that!)



*I emphasize this aspect in this post, but not all of these pieces are of this type. He does, however, articulate a specific affection for and interest in it.


Throwing Sparks

From the book jacket:

When an opulent palace is built on the Jeddah waterfront near his poverty-stricken neighbourhood, ambitious Tariq sees a way out of his life of petty crime. He stares longingly at the huge gates, dreaming of the luxuries beyond.

But dream quickly turns into nightmare. The Palace is ruled by an enigmatic Master whose influence in the city is as wide as it is wicked. When Tariq succeeds in being appointed to serve the Master it becomes clear that he has been chosen for a single, terrible task.

Thirty years later, Tariq feels trapped. In between punishing the Master’s enemies through unspeakable acts, falling for Maram, the Master’s beautiful mistress, and resisting his brother’s plea to return home, he realises that he has become no more than a slave–and that there is only one way out.

This novel is by Saudi Arabian writer Abdo Khal. It won the International Prize in Arabic Fiction in 2010 and I’ve been waiting for it to be translated into English ever since I first heard of it.

I can’t say for certain that this is a horror novel. The way it is described by many convinced me in the beginning that it was, but now that I’ve read it, I’m not so sure. Yes, horrific things happen in it, but I’d have to go much more in-depth about the parameters of horror as a genre, first, and how those parameters apply to Arabic fiction, second, to define it with confidence. But horrific things do happen here and people suffer greatly. Sometimes they are victims of others. Often, they are victims of themselves.

If you start looking into this story online, you’ll quickly be told that it is a metaphor for the power of wealth. It is satire. It is that, yes. Tariq is poor, and from a poor neighborhood, and when a friend of his gets him a job at the Palace, he’s happy to go. But the job he’s given is as a Punisher. It’s his job to torture and sodomize (often on video) the enemies of the Master. The Master snaps his fingers and Tariq jumps. He jumps for his entire life. But now, as the autumn of his life approaches, he begins to reflect on the decisions he’s made and the impact they’ve had on those he both does and does not love.

Before you start feeling sympathetic for him, though, I’ll tell you that Tariq is not a good man. This is one of the aspects of the novel I like the most, actually. He’s not one of your cliché “devil-turned-angel” types. He’s a bad man who does bad things. As a youth, he spent time in an alley of his neighborhood known to harbor pedophiles. A young woman he cares about begs him at one point, “Spare me, because I love you.” He does not.

Throwing Sparks offers a lot to think about. The narrator tells us his sins with a clear eye, and lets us witness the prices he pays and his ultimate bid for freedom.

If you’d like to read more about the novel and don’t care about spoilers, here are a couple places to go:

Review of Throwing Sparks in Banipal: A Magazine of Modern Arab Literature

Abdo Khal’s Throwing Sparks Stirs a Paradise of Horrors in Jeddah–from The National, UAE Edition

If you’d like to learn more about Arab fiction in general, visit the site of the International Prize in Arabic Fiction. It’s a great site and there are terrific resources there.







No One Gets Out Alive

From the book jacket:

When Stephanie moves to a deprived neighborhood of North Birmingham, she’s just happy to find an affordable room for rent that’s large enough not to deserve her previous room’s nickname, “the cell.” The eccentric–albeit slightly overly friendly–landlord seems nice and welcoming enough, the ceilings are high, and all of the other tenants are also girls. Things aren’t great, but they’re stable. Or at least that’s what Stephanie tells herself when she impulsively hands over enough money to cover the first month’s rent and decides to give it a go.

     But soon after, she becomes uneasy about her rash decision. She hears things in the night. Feels them. Things…or people…who aren’t there in the light. Who couldn’t be there, because after all, her door is locked every night, and the key is still in place in the morning. Concern soon turns to terror when the voices she hears and presence she feels each night become hostile. It’s clear that something very bad has happened in this house. And something even worse is happening now. Stephanie has to find a way out, before whatever’s going on in the house finds her first.

     No One Gets Out Alive will chill you straight through to the core–a cold, merciless, fear-inducing nightmare to the last page. A word of caution, don’t read this one in the dark.

My Read:

No One Gets Out Alive is Adam Nevill’s sixth novel, but only my first to read of his, and I loved it. I finished all 628 pages in one week and looked forward to it every single evening. Now that I’m finished, I’m floundering a bit and wishing I’d ordered some of his other books earlier so there wouldn’t have been a reading gap.

What makes it so good, Melissa?

I’m glad you asked.


It’s scary. It’s really and truly scary, and the thrills it gives the reader don’t rely on gore. Now, don’t get me wrong, I can handle gore. But I don’t find it very scary. Paragraphs about blood and rolling heads and the like just leave me wondering if it really does do that and how does the writer know that anyway? Is the author a good researcher? And why am I now pulled out of the story and wondering about the writer’s research skills?

Part of what is horrific in this story is only tangentially related to ghosts and haunting issues. Real live humans can make a hell for you if you’re unlucky. Or gentle. Or too trusting. Or poor. I could go on. There are characters here who do just this, and provide just as much fright as anything that might come drifting out from under your bed.


It’s descriptive and the descriptions are excellent. At no time did I come across a poorly used word or an awkward metaphor that jarred my involvement in the story.


The characters felt real. The protagonist, Stephanie, is both weak and strong, smart and gullible. Because Nevill takes his time in laying the groundwork for who she is and what will happen to her, you eventually realize that there was no need for her to do anything differently at any early point. You won’t find yourself thinking something like, “Oh, don’t run in high heels. You’ll fall and then…oh there you go.” Stephanie won’t be running in high heels.

I’ve ordered two of his other novels: Lost Girl (dystopian/apocalyptic) and The Ritual (demons! or the devil! Dunno, haven’t read it yet!). The Ritual is a movie now, which will be released this fall.

Couple of links:

Adam Neville’s website

Trailer for The Ritual


In this beautifully made short film, a father and daughter have survived an unnamed apocalyptic event and live together in a secret location safely hidden away from a nearby city. When the daughter develops an infection and is in need of antibiotics, they are forced to venture out in search of medicine for her.

They discover both what they do and do not want to find, and in the end, the film delivers a powerful message about fear and love.

The acting is genuine and the characters endearing. The setting is beautiful. The story will stick with you.

The next time you have a half hour to spare, click below:



A post-apocalyptic story.

An Ethiopian post-apocalyptic story.

An Ethiopian post-apocalyptic romance story.

An Ethiopian post-apocalyptic romance and scifi story.

A Surrealist Ethiopian post-apocalyptic romantic scifi story that is award-winning and directed by Spanish director Miguel Llansó.

Given all of these various ways to describe Crumbs, one might expect that it could be too different from genre standards, too convoluted, or, frankly, too unusual to enjoy.

But it isn’t. It’s a little unusual, yes, but for all of its variations on the typical post-apocalyptic genre, the film is a pleasure to watch and think about.

Trailer on Vimeo: Crumbs.

Candy and Birdy live together in the back of a now-defunct bowling alley centuries after the end of traditional life. An alien ship hangs above the earth, quiet and perhaps dead.


Candy goes out to scavenge and trade while Birdy stays at home, building art pieces from scrap metal and glass.

One day, while sitting in the bowling alley, the ball return suddenly and unexpectedly starts up and one lone ball returns along the track. It’s deposited next to her. When Candy returns and she tells him about the incident, the two of them consider possible meanings. Has the alien ship awoken? If so, what does it mean? Candy sets out on a quest to discover why things have begun to change. This is his odyssey and, while he’s gone, Birdy has her own.




That life is somehow changing, they know, but why and what it will mean for them in the end, they do not.

They each have personal concerns that go far deeper than their worries about the space ship. Candy worries that he is not brave enough to protect Birdy should he need to. Birdy is devoted to her art and to the pop culture relics they both revere. She prays to an enshrined photograph of Michael Jordan, hoping and believing that he will protect Candy. She gives Candy a plastic toy sword from Carrefour to protect himself with during his travels, and for those who might smirk at the idea, it does, in fact, do just that.

Crumbs tells us–rather, reminds us–that the true ending of the world as we know it can be a very personal thing. And it doesn’t have to involve bombs or wars or disease. It can be as simple and as profound as the end of a belief.

Hungry for more? Here’s an interview Nicholas Vroman did for Filmmaker Magazine with the writer/director Miguel Llansó:

“Something Stupid, Like Ninja Turtles, Could Be Something Magical in the Future”: Miguel Llansó on Crumbs