Autumn books

IMG_2253The nights are drawing in, the clocks go back this weekend, it’s Halloween next week, the cat has just about found a comfy space as close to the fire as she can get… all of which can only mean one thing: what books to read during autumn?

Autumn always seems a very reading sort of a season, particularly for old favourites and new things-I’m-fairly-sure-I’ll-love.



At the minute, I’ve just finished Philip Pullman’s new book, La Belle Sauvage, the “equel” (his term) to His Dark Materials trilogy and the first in the new trilogy: The Book of Dust. Pullman is a fabulous author to spend time with, and the new book was as enjoyable as the two later books in the previous series, even if for me it doesn’t quite reach the heights of the original Northern Lights.

On the day of the dead, when the year too dies, the youngest shall open the oldest hills.

Autumn is also a great time to read the last two book of Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising sequence: The Grey King and Silver on the Tree. If you’re re-reading, remember to stop just before the end of Silver on the Tree to avoid the massively irritating final ending. Kate Macdonald has a great post about The Dark is Rising over on her blog.

The Lord of the Rings is great at any time of year, but its elegaic quality fits particularly well with autumn.

Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the harp on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the deadwood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

Dean Street Press continue to republish excellent vintage crime, if what you want on a dark evening is a juicy detective mystery. (‘A murder you can really hum,’ to quote Terry Pratchett.) I’d particularly recommend Arrest the Bishopby Winifred Peck.

And finally, here at Erewash Press we have a few great reads for Autumn: Tales from the Unexpected, our anthology of spooky stories from unlikely authors; George Macdonald’s Princess books; and of course Witchcraft, Charles Williams strange and compelling history of Christianity and Witchcraft.

What do you find yourself reading in autumn?


Shakespeare and the Psalms Mystery: Did Shakespeare Help Write the King James Bible?

Shakes46th cover (kindle)

The answer, of course, is ‘no’. The author, Jem Bloomfield, explains over on his blog, Quite Irregular why he decided to write a book whose title is a QTWAIN, but it boils down to ‘because it’s really interesting‘.

If you’re also fascinated by the King James Bible, literary conspiracy theories, Hebrew poetry, translation, Trollope or even Kipling, this might be the book for you.

The story involves the story of Laurence Chaderton, a clergyman who played the role of Queen Hippolyta in a play as a teenager, but who later wrote polemics about how the theatre corrupted society and encouraged unnatural lust.  It involves examining the poetic metres into which the Psalms were translated, and which eventually produced the hymn “All People That On Earth Do Dwell”.  And it involves seeing how Mary Sidney and Edmund Spenser wove the same psalm into their own poetry, and the bravado, piety, and smut they made of it.

Available from Amazon in kindle or paperback.

Worship, Evelyn Underhill


Worship, in all its grades and kinds, is the response of the creature to the Eternal: nor need we limit this definition to the human sphere. There is a sense in which we may think of the whole life of the Universe, seen and unseen, conscious and unconscious, as an act of worship, glorifying its Origin, Sustainer, and End.

Worship is an Anglican classic, written by Evelyn Underhill, a mystic and spiritual writer of the early twentieth century, whose reputation as a Christian intellectual stands alongside figures such as Dorothy L. Sayers, C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams. Her writings show a profound interest in the spiritual reality she perceived pressing in on human life from all directions, and a powerful sense of the importance of beauty. In Worship she explores the nature of Christian worship, and the way the different Christian traditions express their beliefs through their worship life. She examines, analyses and sometimes critiques the ways in which Christians worship, producing a powerful and moving account of worship as a central aspect of religious life, and of reality itself.

Liturgical worship shares with all ritual action the character of a work of art. Entering upon it, we leave the lower realism of daily life for the higher realism of a successive action which expresses and interprets eternal truth by the deliberate use of poetic and symbolic material. A liturgical service should therefore possess a structural unity; its general form and movement, and each of its parts, being determined by the significance of the whole. By its successive presentation of all the phases of the soul’s response to the Holy, its alternative use of history and oratory, drama and rhythm, its appeals to feeling, thought, and will, the individual is educated and gathered into the great movement of the Church.

Read more about Underhill and Worship at Quite Irregular, where Jem has included lots of the most quotable passages.

The Parson’s Handbook


Cover of The Parson's Handbook

The object of this Handbook is to help, in however limited a way, towards remedying the lamentable confusion, lawlessness, and vulgarity which are conspicuous in the Church at this time.

The Parson’s Handbook is one of the classics of Anglican writing. It combines a manual for church services, vestments, and ornaments with a lively polemic against the late Victorian Church of England. Laced with wit and animated by a furious insistence on beauty, authenticity, and social justice, Dearmer’s book presents a compelling vision of Christian liturgical worship. The Parson’s Handbook speaks caustically and challengingly from the era of William Morris and the Tractarians into the controversies of modern Christianity.

Find out more: Jem’s written a whole post about The Parson’s Handbook at Quite Irregular

Tales from the Unexpected


What’s a nice author like you doing in a collection like this?

Tales from the Unexpected provides a truly eerie reading experience, by collecting together uncanny and supernatural stories … by authors famous for writing very different genres. Fans of Cranford will find a gothic tale by Mrs Gaskell inside, whilst anyone who knows and loves the Mapp and Lucia novels might be surprised by E.F. Benson’s contribution to the ghost story tradition. We’ve found Jerome K. Jerome taking a break from the Three Men in a Boat to yarn about grudges from beyond the grave, whilst Edith Nesbit and Louisa May Alcott are vying with each other to tell tales of which Professor Bhaer would definitely disapprove.

Taliessin through Logres

We’ve recently published the second of Charles William’s collections of Arthurian poetry.

In them, Charles Williams, a friend and comrade of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, weaves his own version of the legends of King Arthur with his imaginative accounts of Byzantium and Christendom.

Dense, subtle and full of astonishing turns of phrase, the poems bring together history, theology, myth and literature in a prodigious work of intellect and imagination. Their style varies from ringing rhymes and cunningly wrought stanzas, to alliterative lines recalling Anglo-Saxon poetry, as Williams retells the stories that have inspired writers from Malory to Tennyson to Zimmer Bradley.

Over at Quite Irregular, Jem Bloomfield has written a post about Taliessin through Logres.

Region of the Summer Stars begins: the theme is what was anciently called the Matter of Britain; that is, the reign of King Arthur in Logres and the Achievement of the Grail … The time historically is after the conversion of the Empire to Christianity but during the expectation of the Return of Our Lord (the Parousia).

It’s the beginning of a gripping, readable set of poems about the Matter of Britain.

The stars vanished; they gone, the illumined dusk
under the spell darkened to the colour of porphyry,
the colour of the stair of Empire and the womb of woman,
and the rich largesse of the Emperor; within was a point,
deep beyond or deep within Logres,
as if it had swallowed all the summer stars

The Three Clerks, Anthony Trollope

the clerks

As a press, you could say we’re very keen on Trollope, which is why we’re able to select some of the more page-turning of his oeuvre to put out in Erewash editions.

Our latest, The Three Clerks, is no exception. It is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a tale of three clerks. Yet as Trollope’s most autobiographical novel, there’s much more going on. Like any good Trollope novel, there are love interests and intrigues as well as debts and fortunes to be won or written off.

Jem has written more on clerks and clerking over at Quite Irregular and in the introduction to this edition.

Living Alone

Amazingly, given the Benson clan’s reach, Stella Benson is not a relation of Erewash Press favourite EF Benson (of Mapp and Lucia fame).

Living Alone.jpg

In wartime London, bombs rain down on a churchyard whilst two witches duel in the sky. A charity committee is disrupted by a magical visitor. A mysterious woman offers to rent rooms in her boarding house only to people who never receive visitors or take taxis. Stella Benson’s fantastical novel Living Alone was published just after the First World War, but presents a startling vision of that era.

Scenes of women do-gooding in committees and hunkering down during air raids will be familiar to readers of mid-century women’s fiction, but those usually don’t also include Harold the sentient broomstick, a witch bringing Spring at her fingertips, or a dragon overseeing a fairy farm.

Clergymen of the Church of England

Clergymen of the church of england What could be better than Trollope skewering the Church of England?

One hundred and fifty years ago Anthony Trollope published a series of articles about the clergy of the Church of England in the Pall Mall Gazette. They caused an uproar, and were denounced in some quarters as ignorant, ill-informed, and demonstrating a ‘hair-dresser’s opinion of religion’. The articles dealt with the state of the Anglican Church and the changes it was facing, via a series of imaginative and witty portraits of typical clergymen. From the urbane deans of cathedral closes, to the would-be celebrity preachers, Trollope’s pen sketched an array of clerical characters which caught the likeness of the Church of England at a crucial moment in its history.

Jem has written a bit more about it on his own blog, and you can buy the book from Amazon by clicking on the image, or following this link.

If you don’t want to read the book, you can still join the thousands (yes, literally thousands) of people who have taken our accompanying quiz: which type of clergyman are you?

The Descent of the Dove


The Descent of the Dove is Charles Williams’ audacious and passionate history of the Holy Spirit in the Church. Written at the beginning of the Second World War, by a close colleague of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, it is an invaluable glimpse into the mind of a major Christian thinker at a turning point in history. Williams’ vivid style and deep erudition are brought to bear on an almost impossible task: a history of the Spirit which blows wherever it wills, and confounds logic or expectation. The result is a radical and fascinating vision of Christianity’s history, which has a lot to suggest about its potential futures.

When St. Paul preached in Athens, the world was thronged with crosses, rooted outside cities, bearing all of them the bodies of slowly dying men. When Augustine preached in Carthage, the world was also thronged with crosses, but now in the very centre of cities, lifted in processions and above altars, decorated and jewelled, and bearing all of them the image of the Identity of dying Man. There can hardly ever have been—it is a platitude— a more astonishing reversion in the history of the world. It is not surprising that Christianity should sometimes be regarded as the darkest of superstitions, when it is considered that a thing of the lowest and most indecent horror should have been lifted, lit, and monstrously adored, and that not merely sensationally but by the vivid and philosophic assent of the great intellects of the Roman world.