Pinakini Naik's first ever review is of my book Scream and Other Urbane Legends

Sharing my review on the awesome book Scream and other Urbane Legends ! 😃

Scream and other Urbane Legends by the creative powerhouse, poet, critic, academicianDr. AV Koshy is an eclectic collection of 28 short stories and a novella. It features some hard hitting, surreal stories that invite the reader to drop linear thinking, stay alert and dive into exploring twist and turn dreamscapes of fiction and fantasy where unique plots shape shift, quicksilver-like on the story teller’s perceptive canvas.

Once I picked up the book, I couldn’t put it down and finished it in a single sitting, a thoroughly enjoyable read indeed. The stories bump and flow into each other creating an eccentric rhythm not unlike the onset of vivid rapid eye movement (REM), lucid dreams, etched and borne in the cradle of paradoxical sleep, impacting the reader’s subconscious mind in a such a way that it tends to revisit certain plot twists in the mind’s eye to gain deeper insight into the stories and comprehend what might have been missed in the first read.

Death is a recurring theme used as a common thread to interweave the stories with an existential ambience. The minimalist and non attached style of narration reveals what’s absolutely necessary and leaves the rest to imagination, open to interpretation, which works in the favor of the book. This deliberate space allows the reader to absorb, contemplate, savor what has been left unsaid.

Some stand out moments in the short stories were in ‘Aouda: The Confluence’ where the character, Asur, transitions effortlessly from driving a car on a hot desert highway to swimming underwater in the ocean to have a casual conversation with a brown seahorse; Mystical and intriguing viewpoints presented in ‘The Creation Myths on Poetry: A Trialogue’ require a reread to be fully absorbed; The understated melancholic beauty of the short but eloquent piece ‘The Last Scarecrow’ is brilliant in its craftsmanship; The sci-fi story ‘Written on the Body’ reminded me a bit of the movie ‘Cloud Atlas’ directed by the Wachowski brothers, in how beautifully the futuristic scenes flow, then culminate into the ultimate sacrifice of love and life offered by Bride Rose and Kay who save the world with a complete reboot.

The book saves the best for the last and ends with a beautifully woven, intense, self exploratory novella, Anamika. The evocative prose has an autobiographical tone,layered with subtle sensuality, erotic at times, embellished with inlaid poetic gems throughout, keeping the reader deeply involved to its poignant, unforgettable end. A beautiful one liner that stood out and is self-evident in the story, “ Poetry communicates before its understood. “

To conclude, Scream and other Urbane Legends is an introspective book with a whimsical flavor, best recommended for readers with a poetic bent of mind or an eclectic mindset or anyone who is willing to step out of the box.

Easter 2019

Glopowrimo 20 -  Easter 2019 or The Surrealism of the Apocalypse

When he told them
tears in his eyes
they did not believe in it
that he wanted to gather them under his wings
like a mother hen does its chickens
that: in those days woe unto women
especially those who give suck
The falcon can no longer hear the falconer
We met them today, early in the day
It was Easter 2019
Terrible with no beauty born
There had been a great sign in the sky
The fire with its smoke that rose to the skies
and was watched by many observant eyes
while the spire fell down
The bats flew out
The belfries and the towers hung upside down
London and France fell down along with the other burning cities
The angels were finally released
and started to swing their censers
the smoke of which drove them all out of the temple
so they could no longer stand and serve
even the ministers
till it was fulfilled, of the curses and the punishments
The seven lightnings flashed
The seven thunders roared
The seven unclean frogs came hopping out of the mouth of the beast
The sky rolled back
The stars fell down with the figs
The moon turned black
The sea became blood
The flying scorpions came out to sting
Plagues fell upon the earth
like dead meteorites and comet showers
The ice caps melted
The end times had begun
The blood rose in the streets to the windshields of the vehicles
The thick viscous blood of the red-dimmed tides
And God withdrew
In a cloak of austerity
Pale as the horse ridden by death that came last
But before that came the other four
and the one that was red
had fire, fell, in its eyes
and the sound of thunder and hail in its tread
These are the days when the dragon rears its head
for it knows that its time is short
But men bit their tongues
and would not repent
So the curses will be full-fledged
For none turn to God
or what is evident
of God made to them in the things of nature
and their own conscience
and in Jesus risen from the dead
so that even if they hear they can no more comprehend
The light is gone
for a little while
It is the time of the darkness now
But the woman with the moon
under her feet
who wears the sun in her hair
whose face shines like
the midday sun
and walks on rainbows and pauses at the turning of the stairs and gives birth to the little child
who will lead all the nations with the lion and the lamb
is waiting in the wings
to upstage
after this carnival and frenzy of death
to be unleashed upon the world for a time
to bring back the balance again
Lady of the flowers
not desert born, but brought up there
who is this that you bred?
Are these not the children of the one
who is risen from the dead
Is this not the bride he will wed?
Will time not become a scroll he rolls up
on the day he judges the quick and the dead?
Do not surprised then at how many are going to be found undead
Or if the streets run rife with blood
and children be found headless
women grieved, and torn apart
and every other horror witnessed
For it all must be
before it can be
that human-kind again is saved.
So bear with me
and my ill-tidings
and patience may gain you a berth
in the new heaven
and the new earth
when the darkness passes, and there is again no dearth.

Till then. I am loath to tell you
it's only the beginning of sorrows.