Railway Anthology

Stations Are How Towns DreamThe sharp-eyed might have noticed that I have a policy on this blog of not posting about magazines and anthologies my work is appearing in until after the work in question has actually appeared. Probably the legacy of years of experience of how deadlines can go awry in the world of Small Presses and Indy publishing. Nonetheless, it’s certainly worth mentioning now that I will be in London on 4th July (US independence day, an easy one to remember) to sign (and possibly read from) my contribution to a new anthology of railway-themed short stories published by Eibonvale Press. The venue on 4th July will be The Review Bookshop, and proceedings will probably commence around 7pm, hope to see you there.

As a prelude to that, David Rix of Eibonvale has posted to the Eibonvale blog a short prose piece of mine called “Stations Are How Towns Dream”, which you can read here. I also reproduce here one of David Rix’s photographs, of a station in London which capturers the same mundane wistfulness as the text aspires to evoke.

The anthology will be called “Rustblind and Silverbright”, a title I donated to David from my personal knowledge of the works of my favourite German writer Wolfgang Borchert (1921-1947). Here is the full quote from the Borchert story in question (“Railways by Day and by Night”), translated by David Porter, which says it all really:

“…You are yourself a railway track, rusty, stained, silver, shiny, beautiful and uncertain. And you are divided into sections and bound between stations. And they have sign-boards whereon is written women, or murder, or moon. And then that is the world.

You are a railway -rumbled over, cried over -you are the track -on you everything happens and makes you rustblind and silverbright.

You are human, your brain giraffe-lonely somewhere above on your endless neck. And no one quite knows your heart.”

This entry was posted in Architecture, News, Photography, Poetry, Psychology, Short Stories, Under-read Writers. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s