Christopher Woodforde (1907–1962)

Blimey, this is an odd one. There's a handful of excellent weird stories in this - especially "Ex Libris" (which apart from one jarring moment of silliness is wonderfully eerie) and the much anthologised "Cushi" - and then there's a handful of promising stories. By promising I mean that the central idea is very, very good or the storytelling is particularly excellent... but that there's also something horribly lacking or a bit... odd about it. Betjeman's quote on the back - "different... but diverting" - seems to say it all really. The key problem is that Woodforde is sort of writing children's ghost stories or ghost stories for young people and rather than going the Joan Aiken route, he goes for the... well, interesting idea ruined by the presence of a couple of bright, iquiring escapees from a Blyton book. It's by no means a waste of time reading or tracking this one down, but be prepared for a lot of exasperation en route. And also for one of the most clunking stories ever written - about a ptereodactyl no less. You'll know it when you get to it... Odd.… (més)