I read 2001 and 2010 last year and despite enjoying both books, I didn’t get around to the third and fourth in the series until just recently, due to a slew of library books cascading off the shelves and into my home.

Unfortunately, both 2061 and 3001 turned out to be hugely disappointing. They were still both interesting enough to warrant at least one read, and they did (kind of) conclude the overarching story lines, but I don’t think I’d ever return to them. 

This is only the second John Wyndham book I’ve ever read, the first being The Seeds of Time, which I read earlier this year. I enjoyed The Day of the Triffids a lot more than The Seeds of Time, and I was surprised at how subtly creepy I found certain sections of the text. One section, near the start of the novel, seemingly affected me so much that I had nightmares for three nights in a row about the same section (the first time Bill meets Josella).

a river of bile has flowed for years, surging downwards for decades before my birth. coursing through pilots, miners and engineers, mechanics and musicians, and lapping against burned, empty homes, or reclaimed council houses, now devoid of any recessed face. there is a river in me: the collected forces of broken becks and upset creeks […]

I found this over at The Terror of Knowing. It looks like an interesting set of questions. Hope you enjoy reading my answers!

A short piece on a recent visit to Pembrokeshire earlier this year.

A colleague left this book on my desk a few weeks ago. At the time I was just finishing off a couple of other books so I thought I’d give it a try. This was my first time reading any John Wyndham and I thought a selection of his short stories might be a good introduction, but now that I’ve finished it I think I’d hesitate to recommend this as a starting point. I think I will eventually get round to reading some of his more famous novels but I’ll probably steer clear of any more of his short fiction for the time being.

Marlin James lived alone in a modest home, which was really no more than a small, rough grey stone cottage. It sat perched on top of a heavy mound of browned gorse and rock at the summit of Y Drws, a dreary hillock situated between two townships, at the edge of a frozen mountain range. […]