The press was originally launched at Ledbury Poetry Festival in July 2013 with a one-off poetry chapbook anthology before moving on to solo-authored poetry pamphlets in 2015.
Our first solo-authored poetry collection and our first flash fiction pamphlet came out in 2016. There have been illustrated poetry pamphlets, a dual-authored poetry pamphlet and a full-length flash fiction title along the way.
Today, we highlight our 2016 titles!
Hometown -- Carrie Etter -- 4 April 2016
"Etter's stories climb into your head and reboot it from the inside, from the squealingly joyous to the darkly sad, some with gear changes that fling you backwards in your seat, some told in voices so strong you could lean against them, and then some fragile, as if the page held nothing but the faint impression of a delicate and long-dead insect. I can't wait for more."
David Gaffney
More details and ordering for Hometown can be found here.
Eddie’s First Seven Visits to Nick in Prison as Questionnaire
Question 1: What do you miss most?
Week 1: Pot. Sex. But then I wasn’t getting much sex anyway with me and Lisa separated, was I?
Week 3: Beer. I really need a beer. I really need ten beers.
Week 5: You’re trying to get me to say Micheleo’s pizza, aren’t you? How many times do you think we met there for lunch? It has to be in the hundreds. We get pizza here — not very good pizza, of course, but it passes. My mom’s chuck roast, now that I could kill for. I’m joking, come on!
Week 7: Crystal. The way she smells after a bath. How cute she looks when she rubs her nose in her sleep.
Week 9: Have you found a way to sneak beer in here? ‘Cause if you have, I could be real popular. At least for a day.
Week 11: The sky. The prairie. Big open space. Could you blow up a photograph of the view from my folks’ house out the back, that overgrown field? I swear some of the cars we used to play with are still in there somewhere. You could do it, right? I could put it on my wall.
Week 13: What do you want me to say? I miss everything, fucking everything. Waking up with Lisa. Hearing Crystal in the next room. Mom, Dad — even you.
Question 2: How are things with Lisa?
Week 1: Okay, I guess. She showed up for everything, but we haven’t really talked. We’re good. I hope we’re good.
Week 3: She didn’t come this week. She said she had to work last minute, somebody got sick. I believe her, but I still think I ain’t lookin’ so hot to her these days, you know what I mean? Three years with good behavior. When was I ever good for three months, let alone three years? But then it’s easier to be good in here, a little bit.
Week 5: I have no idea.
Week 7: I gotta get her back. I mean, she’s not gone, but she’s not with me, either. I want her to be with me like I’m with her.
Week 9: We talked, but just about what other people are doing — my folks, Crystal, even Mary. I ask about herself and she clamps up. I’m afraid to say anything about us. I say anything about us, that’s her opening — she’s gone.
Week 11: This time when she came I combed my hair. Don’t laugh. You know it’s not me. Or wasn’t me. I was just trying to clean up, look good for her, and what can I do in bright orange clothes? I can shave, and I can comb my hair. I can brush my teeth. I did all that. I don’t know if she noticed.
Week 13: Will you tell me what to do? Is there anything I can do?
Question 3: What are you going to do when you get out?
Week 1: Get drunk, I guess. Get high. Sleep it off and start over again.
Week 3: Drive! Music up, window down. You’re in the passenger seat.
Week 5: It depends on what’s up with Lisa.
Week 7: What do you want me to say? Start over? What do I know how to do besides drive a cab? You’re the smart one.
Week 9: Join the library? Hell if I know.
Week 11: Stop asking me, man. It’s too far off. I’ve got to keep my head here.
Book of Bones -- Kathy Gee -- 30 April 2016
“Every contact leaves a trace,” said Edmund Locard. Book of Bones examines who we are, our impact and what we leave behind. Rich with imagery, thoughtfulness and levity, Kathy Gee’s poetry is vibrant with people, places and lives connecting across time. From skeletons, scandal and hidden narratives to fathers, friendship and photographs, these are poems of identity, warmth and melancholy. Book of Bones is very observant, very vivid.
“Kathy Gee's debut is a cabinet of curiosities, exploring the personal and monumental past. Small artefacts and once-silenced voices are brought to life. Her observing eye takes in figures from King Henry to Goering and all points in between, seeking historical answers to very modern concerns." Jo Bell
“In this entertaining first collection Kathy Gee curates a rich display of historical artefacts, landscapes and personalities that bring the past up close – and personal. The poems, deftly fashioned and imbued with a feisty tenderness, leave traces of wonder, joy, compassion and a wry humour all of which linger pleasurably in the mind.” Stephen Boyce
A sample poem from the full-length collection can be found below. More about Book of Bones can be found here.
Provenance
Somewhere in the swirl of paint
lies moisture captured from his breath,
some slight impression of his gaze,
the weight of hours in a draughty loft.
Collectors breathe the painter’s dust,
observe as women stitch their silks
and sunlight falls on a chequered floor.
They want to own the artist’s essence,
touching atoms, brushing fingers,
seeking to be part of him,
his fame illuminating theirs.
Goering, finding his Vermeer
was fake, was shocked, as if he’d just
discovered there is evil in the world.
The Old Man in the House of Bone -- David Calcutt -- 15 June 2016
Dramatic language and absorbing images blend together seamlessly into this very dark and very surreal account of ageing and loss.
"'Who’s there? Who is it? Who is it?
Who’s there? The house of bone puts its finger to its lips.
Says nothing. It’s keeping its secret to itself.’
David Calcutt’s The Old Man in the House of Bone is an invitation inside a shadowy and mysterious dwelling, one that is also full of curious magic and charismatic strangeness. Questions and secrets abound – does the occupier occupy the house, or does the house occupy its resident? Readers will find themselves irresistibly drawn in, and pondering these enigmas, too. This precise and striking series of poems is both consequential and sequential; each one building on the previous and the following like sediment, creating a brooding and disquieting atmosphere. Calcutt’s poetry is alert and surefooted – written with a humane touch, and always compelling.” Jane Commane
“The Old Man in the House of Bone is a fable, a fairytale, is a humane and tender account of an old man’s mental and physical decline into the final silence. David Calcutt’s imagery grows from the page and fixes itself inside the skull. He is a master magician, a seeker of darkness.” Helen Ivory
A sample poem from the pamphlet can be enjoyed below. More about The Old Man in the House of Bone, a sample illustration and ordering can be found here.
No one comes calling at the house of bone
there are no foot-shuffles on the front step
no yoo-hoos through the letterbox
or if they do come calling they come as shades
escaped from hell through the trapdoor in the cellar
wrinklings of light and smoky silences
that twist their way in under the door
to float like mote-dust, like flies around the fruit-bowl
and the old man thinks he might just recognise a face
or the echo of a gesture, or the shape of a voice
but even as he reaches out to touch it, it vanishes
and he has only his own feet to look at
his glasses case, his empty cup, his own hands
lying crumpled anyhow on the table, like unopened letters
each one labelled with the wrong address.
Let the house of bone be a needle
slowly threading its way through to the heart
A Career in Accompaniment -- Alex Reed -- 11 July 2016
A Career in Accompaniment is a pamphlet of love, loss and surprising lightness. Based on Alex Reed’s personal experiences, these poems witness what it is like to care for a lover with severe illness and to live with a future where there is no “escape without damage”. Spare and accessible language of the everyday reinforces the emotional power and resonance of “all the falling” but also recalls moments of great tenderness, when “the world lit in her eye”. This poetry of “fragile places” is very intimate yet very universal.
“Reading these poems, you are struck by their striving for truthfulness – as if that might be the key to making sense of a seemingly senseless situation, a life no one could prepare for. And yes, truthfulness seems to work – opening into absolute presence, careful observation of detail and moment-by-moment tenderness and courage. Here you are listening to a generous, unassuming voice, drawing our human vulnerability and capacity for endurance closely together, with space to breathe and gather what threatens to scatter. Restraint and discretion characterise the poems as well as openness – a hard-won but lightly-worn congruence. ‘A Career in Accompaniment’ reminds us what poetry makes possible.” Linda France
This title is now sold out. But more about A Career in Accompaniment can be found here.
Fragile Houses -- Nina Lewis -- 30 October 2016
“In this engaging debut pamphlet, Nina Lewis deftly examines the human condition through the lens of family relationships. There is more than memoir here; issues of connection and disconnection, presence and absence, are gently explored while always acknowledging ‘These years can’t be backtracked or re-spent’ (from ‘Fusion’).” Angela France
“Nina Lewis’ debut pamphlet from V. Press explores memory and family. These are exact, concisely-conceived poems which find their power in restraint and understatement – ‘In our family, minds go missing’. She writes observantly about memory, and its trickeries, caught ‘somewhere in the space/ between those two lost letters, / as vivid as gold-dust,/ falling to the earth.’ Throughout the pamphlet Lewis maintains a voice which is sometimes sad, but truthful and grown wise, with some really memorable images which successfully convey the strong emotions she deals in – ‘He stayed away. Radio silence. / An opaque circle was drawn around our house/ filled with white noise.’” Jean Atkin
A sample poem may be found below, along with a sample image from the pamphlet's photographic sequence by S. A. Leavesley. More about Fragile Houses and ordering can be found here.
Ambiguous Answers
Teaching us ‘antonyms’, she asked:
‘What is the opposite of sweet?’
I remember stretching my arm up so high
I had to balance it against my left hand
to stop the aching.
I had to balance it against my left hand
to stop the aching.
I stared right at her.
I knew this; I knew it.
I was picked third;
‘Chocolate!’ I announced proudly,
being sure of applause.
She didn’t smile.
Looked at me as if she was trying
to work something out.
Some children sniggered;
she reprimanded them.
This made me think I was right after all.
She asked why I thought it was chocolate
and I explained how, with weekly pocket money,
Dad would take us up to the post office
and we could either afford sweets
and we could either afford sweets
or chocolate,
but not both.
I didn’t really know ‘sour’,
but the look she gave
demonstrated it perfectly. |
'Fragile: Spilling' by S.A. Leavesley |
