Information concerning a new project I am involved with – the Eden Book Society. I have been helping research information and edit the papers of one of these mysterious authors, the proto-landscape-punk writer D.A. Northwood who lived in north London from the late sixties to the early eighties.Read More
It’s been a while since I’ve done a New Lexicons update, mainly for the reason that Hollow Shores is now out in the world! Thanks to everyone who pledged for a copy on Kickstarter, bought a copy at the recent events, came said hello and got your book signed, and generally helped make this book happen. And thanks of course to Dead Ink for making it happen.Read More
The Malachite Press was formed back in 1960. They started out doing reprints with lurid covers of some of the greats: Blackwood, Machen, Nolan, Shrike, before moving into publishing the dark imaginings of contemporary writers who crawled out of the counter-cultural explosion that would come, perhaps erroneously, to define that decade. Malachite Press moved into a form of hard-edged Albionic literature, dealing with myths both ancient and contemporary, rural, urban, and suburban.Read More
I had a nice write up in The Contemporary Small Press, reviewing the launch night of the Diisonance anthology in Bethnal Green. I read my story (from the forthcoming Hollow Shores) 'The Wrecking Days' at the night:
Gary Budden read from his new story collection The Wrecking Days [NOTE: it's called Hollow Shores] which explores themes of nature and narcotics, writing from the margins of society ‘where reality thinned a little.’ His piece suggested that the artificial and the natural are not opposing at all, instead they are transcendent. Budden writes about youthful and reckless days spent on the London marshes. In such places of in-between, on the fringes of London, Budden writes about notions of being and belonging: the idea that ‘memory is a marsh’ as the world diffuses in mist and nostalgia. The marshes act as a psychogeographical jettison between two places, between city and country, between artifice and nature. Such spaces, as Budden presents in his collection, allowed them to explore their minds, without ‘shutting parts of yourself down.’ It was ‘a way of seeing the world for what it really is,’ to find their own version of what it means to be free: to be and belong on their own terms. But Budden acknowledged, through his tales of the wrecking days, that being able to see the world as it is can also pull you apart.
Read the whole review here
You can now watch 'Greenteeth', a short wyrd fiction super-8 film by Adam Scovell, based on my British Fantasy Award-nominated short story of the same name. It follows the gradual disintegration of a woman living on a canal boat in Kensal Green as the folklore of Jenny Greenteeth begins to manifest in a city of rapid redevelopment, rising rents and gentrification. It's an attempt to use folklore and the weird in the service of addressing a real modern problem. Enjoy.
I was interviewed recently by Jim McLeod for Ginger Nuts of Horror, talking about Hollow Shores, landscape punk, psychogeography, horror, weird fiction and my story in the upcoming anthology, The Shadow Booth
Read the full interview here: http://gingernutsofhorror.com/interviews/enter-the-shadow-booth-an-interview-with-gary-buddenRead More
Andy’s returned to the salt and shingle of the Hollow Shore. There are whispering reeds that grow from from boggy earth, and honking v-shapes of Canada geese overhead. It’s winter; or, a new ice age. In the distance, out to sea, are icebergs. Glaucous gulls and arctic terns in the air, the water's surface breached by leopard seals.Read More
So Hollow Shores is very nearly reaching completion. Last few tweaks and edits are being made – cover reveal and general announcements coming soon!
In the meantime here's a very short extract from a brand new story in the collection called 'The Wrecking Days'. Enjoy.
The vampire hunter lived in our town, pedaling its small streets on an antiquated bicycle. He’s famous, I remember my mum whispering to me as a kid. I saw him once during the Oyster Festival, standing on the beach just staring at the little ones as they constructed the oyster cairns, shell grottoes lit from within by flickering candlelight. On the Hollow Shore we had our own way of fending off the darkness, a darkness I could always sense. I saw my friends, my family, the relationships I entered into, as bursts of brief pyrotechnics or slow flickering flame that lit up the endless night. All to be ultimately extinguished, but that was not the point. The fight against the void, that’s what life was about. That’s what the wrecking days were to me. Our doomed resistance.