Showing results by narrator "Richard Mitchley" in All Categories

At some point in our lives we believe that creak, that low moan, that whisper is something unnatural, beyond our comprehension. And in these stories our instincts are right. We are afraid. And we should be. Perhaps even terrified. In this volume our classic authors take different approaches, but the result is inevitably the same. We are hooked by these unknowable forces, our emotions heightened and rattled by the expectation - or shock - of the next few words.

We are captivated by colour. It seeps into our emotions, our vistas. It’s part of everyday life. Sometimes its part of something much darker. Our eminent authors in this volume bring you colours of every shade. From the terror of HP Lovecraft and the shadowed world of Edith Nesbit to the wordplay of Virginia Woolf - as well as many others. Color in all its light and shades, hues and tints is brought to the fore by these exceptional writers.

We sit. We lie. We wait. We are examined. We are left alone. Emotions fritter. The door reopens. The face. Is it tinged with sadness or reassuring and open? The words. Are they easy to comprehend? Is it good news or bad? We can answer that. It’s bad. Undeniably bad. None of our authors have good news for you. The diagnosis? You already know that. Death.

Our greatest fears are of the unknown. Usually we think those fears are in front of us...or behind us. But perhaps the human body itself holds the greatest horror. What happens after death? Do our bodies have a new existence either in whole...or part? Will others seek to claim them and do unspeakable things? We don’t know. But our authors do. And they have the talents and wits to make these diabolical stories vehicles for horror, for terror, for the unimaginable....

The United States has July 4th, Ireland St Patrick’s Day and France Bastille Day. Most Nations celebrate a particular day as ‘theirs’. That day is when they turn to themselves; to reflect on the past, to revel in the present and to look forward to the future. For England 23rd April is St George’s Day. St George, a hero from bygone days, who slays dragons and pursues other mythic deeds, is part of childhood. But for modern times, for modern nations, a greater purpose is needed. For England St George is best now described as a principle.

On a summer’s day we have perhaps all wished to take flight and view life and the world from the vantage point of a clear blue sky. Our feathered friends do it as a matter of course, and in this volume some of our finest wordsmiths speak with imagination, longing and desire on their behalf.

With classics such as ‘My Last Duchess’ and ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ Robert Browning’s status as one of the great Victorian poets will always be secure in popular culture, while for the more literary he is considered a master of dramatic verse and dramatic monologues. It is interesting to note that his career bloomed late. Indeed, it was only after the death of his wife Elizabeth in 1861 and his return to England from their life in Italy that his work came into wider acceptance and critical acclaim.

The office of Poet Laureate is a high honour amongst poets. The ancient Greeks had the first idea, and their heroes and poets wore wreaths of laurel in honour of the god Apollo. Many countries now have a laureate, as do many societies and organisations. But perhaps ranked first among them all is that of our own Poet Laureate. Unfortunately no single authentic definitive record exists of the office of Poet Laureate of England. In some form it can be traced back to 1189 and Richard Canonicus, who was employed by Richard I with the title 'versificator Regis'.

It is often said that two things are unavoidable: death and taxes.Certainly the latter is a common thorn in adult life, but as to the former it seems that for many people it is merely a hiccup in life’s eternal journey. A journey they wish, if being of good deed and character, to share at the eternity of heaven’s largesse, a reward for faith and the obligations of religion. Of course for those not so fortunate an altogether different experience was prepared for them: hell.

Victoria’s reign was long and presided over the restless expansion of the British Empire and reams of creative genius. Within these volumes we can bring only a glimpse of the richness, beauty and words of the poets and their musings on this remarkable age. Many are world-renowned - Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Kipling, Austin, Hopkins, Hardy and Swinburne. Some are almost forgotten - Patmore, Newbolt, Synge. And some are barely noted - Lyall, Meynell and Merdeith. But together they encompass a great poetical age.

Victoria’s reign was long and presided over the restless expansion of the British Empire and reams of creative genius. Within these volumes we can bring only a glimpse of the richness, beauty and words of their poets and their musings on this remarkable age. Many are world renowned - Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Kipling, Austin, Hopkins, Hardy and Swinburne. Some almost forgotten - Patmore, Newbolt, Synge. And some are barely noted - Lyall, Meynell and Merdeith. But together they encompass a great poetical age.

With almost a million words at its command, it is not surprising that these Isles have produced some of the most beautiful, moving and descriptive verse through the centuries. In this series we look at individual poets who have shaped and influenced their craft and cement their place in our heritage. In this volume we look at the works of the Victorian Poet Laureate Alfred Austin.

It is human nature to create and compete. Both of these are brought together in sport. Many games began in distant eons and gradually adapted and became codified to those we know today. In this volume we celebrate, through the verse of so many well-known poets, sports of all kinds. Sports for the rich, sports for the poor and all manner in between. As Henry Newbolt would say, ‘Play up, play up, and play the game'.

Born in 1797, her mother died when she was only 11 days old. Mary was then raised by her father, who remarried when she was four, with a liberal but informal upbringing. At 17 she began a relationship with the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, which was the bedrock of her life, although society viewed the unmarrieds somewhat differently. It was in this relationship that she nurtured and edited Shelley’s verse and wrote, at 21, her signature work, Frankenstein, for which she is so well known.

The short story is often viewed as an inferior relation to the novel. But it is an art in itself. To take a story and distil its essence into fewer pages while keeping character and plot rounded and driven is not an easy task. Many try, and many fail. In this series we look at short stories from many of our most accomplished writers. Miniature masterpieces with a lot to say. In this volume we examine some of the short stories of Jules Verne.

The British, it is often said, have a stiff upper lip and a dry sense of humour. It's true, we usually do, and in the case of this perfect compendium of short stories we absolutely do. Listen to our Scottish raconteur J. M. Barrie and English wits Jerome K. Jerome and Edward Lear for perfect proof of that. But humour is many things and from many places, so we also feature Mark Twain, our very talented American friend, to complete this rather witty and clever volume of short stories.

Women, so often referred to as the gentler sex - in this volume at least, this is an unfounded and unlikely description. From their minds and pens comes a series of macabre, twisted tales that are anything but gentle. But as they weave their magic, usually black, and mesh you into their narrative you just know 'sugar and spice and all things nice' are not likely to be what little girls really are made of and certainly not these femme fatales....

Daniel Defoe is most well-known for his classic novels Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders. Born circa 1659, he was also a journalist, a pamphleteer, a businessman, a spy … and a writer of short stories. His life was long and colourful, and the breadth of his work, still highly regarded, is infused with similar vigor. In these short stories, Defoe succinctly emblazons his style upon subjects as diverse as apparitions, pirates, and politics.

George Meredith, OM, was born in Portsmouth, England on February 12th, 1828. His mother died when he was five. As a 14-year-old he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, staying there for two years. After reading law he was articled as a solicitor but quickly abandoned that career path for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock, in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer.

Rupert Chawner Brooke was born at 5 Hillmorton Road, Rugby, Warwickshire, on 3rd August 1887, the third of four children. Brooke attended preparatory school nearby at Hillbrow and then went on to Rugby School. In 1905, he became friends with St. John Lucas, who thereafter became something of a mentor to him. While travelling in Europe he worked on a thesis, 'John Webster and the Elizabethan Drama', which won him a scholarship to King's College, Cambridge.