Wednesday 6 October 2021

31 Days of Halloween: Day 5


Continuing with my Halloween month, and I did a few seasonal things today that I definitely think I can count as Halloween celebrations.

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix



My tram reading this week is Grady Hendrix's The Final Girl Support Group. I didn't have a massive distance to travel today, so I only read the first three chapters (I love the chapter numbering so far, by the way). Let's see how this one works out...

Dead of Night



This week, we're doing horror cinema with the second year students. Today's film was one of my all-time favourites - the 1945 anthology horror film, Dead of Night. I had a really lively and fun seminar with my students this afternoon. I don't have any Hugo Fitch earrings so I accessorized my teaching with my new Billy the Puppet earrings from idlehandsx on Etsy.


Pumpkin Spice Latte



This seems to be the go-to drink for Halloween month, so I thought I should give it a try. I had my first ever pumpkin spice latte today! Not gonna lie, I'm pretty sure it'll be my last pumpkin spice latte as well. That is not a nice drink at all.

Today's Story



Today's story was 'An Episode of the Terror' by Honoré de Balzac. Earnest, but suspenseful, but more political commentary than straightforward horror.

Today's Tea





Today's tea was Spiced Winter Red Tea from teapigs. Technically, I think it's one of their Christmas teas... but I just thought the snowman was kinda creepy.

Tuesday 5 October 2021

31 Days of Halloween: Day 4


And it's another day of Halloween for me! Not a lot of spooky stuff going on today (as I was mostly teaching and in meetings), but I still have my horror story-a-day and Halloween tea to celebrate the season!

Today's Story



Today's story was 'The Torture of Hope' by Villiers de l'Isle Adam. A grim little tale that makes the Poe stories that preceded it seem rather jolly (vanilla even, lol).

Today's Tea





Today's tea was Gingerbread Chai by Bird and Blend Tea Co. Wow - that's a gingerbread-tastic tea. Bit of a kick to it as well.

Sunday 3 October 2021

31 Days of Halloween: Day 3



Carrying on with my daily Halloween stories and teas. Today was another full-on work day so I didn't get chance to do any other Halloween stuff. I did do a litter-pick in Crumpsall Park this morning, and so I saw some pretty cool autumnal stuff. I think one of the things I spotted has a bit of a Halloween vibe to it, so I'm counting it!

Fairy-Tale Mushroom



The litter-pick might not have been a Halloween event, but I think this awesome mushroom has a Samhain feel to it.

Today's Story



Today's story was 'The Premature Burial' by Edgar Allan Poe, concluding the Poe triptych that kicks off this collection.

Today's Tea







Given the first three stories in the collection, it seems fitting that today's tea was Edgar Allan Poe from The Literary Tea Company. Quaff this vanilla Ceylon tea and forget your lost Lenore! A little lighter and more delicate than I was expecting, but rather nice. And who knew Poe would taste of vanilla?

Saturday 2 October 2021

31 Days of Halloween: Day 2


It's the second day of my Halloween month celebrations. I did have quite a lot of work to do today so I haven't done any actual Halloween activities yet, but I've still enjoyed a horror story and a Halloween-themed tea.

Today's Story



Today's story was 'The Tell-Tale Heart' by Edgar Allan Poe. The collection is a bit Poe-heavy to begin with, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Today's Tea





Today's tea was Woodcutter's House from The Tea Crew (based in Littleborough so near enough local). I know I had an apple tea yesterday, but this one is a baked apple herbal tea so a bit different. And okay, a woodcutter's house isn't Halloween-y in itself, but I'm obviously imagining a forest and a big bad wolf with this one.

Stories to be Read with the Lights On 8: No Loose Ends by Miriam Allen deFord


The next story is 'No Loose Ends' by Miriam Allen deFord. And it's a bit of a different experience to the previous story... I remembered this one straightaway. It actually feels like I read this story more recently than the others, but I don't know where or when I might have done so.


deFord's story is about a gang of criminals who are hired of 'get rid' of a woman's husband. They're not a particularly close-knit gang, so you have a feeling from the start that the title might be ironic. When the woman's husband makes his appearance, there's a little hint as to how the story will transpire. As soon as I reread it, I remembered the ending quite clearly.

With the best will in the world, this isn't the most mind-blowing story ever (although it's perfectly enjoyable). So I'm wondering why it's stuck in my head more clearly than some of the others. Either I've read this story more recently in another anthology or 'No Loose Ends' is just way more memorable than it appears.

🠄Previous Story

Stories to be Read with the Lights On 7: Three Ways to Rob a Bank by Harold R. Daniels


I am a bit behind with this, as I haven't really been keeping on top of the 'story-a-day' thing. I'm going to try and read a couple more stories today though. After the giddy nostalgia of 'The Landlady', I have to admit I'm back to 'this isn't ringing any bells' with the opening of Daniels's story.


Ah... partway through this one started coming back to me. I had a glimpse of a memory, and I realized I might be remembering where this one's going... And then I definitely remembered the second half of this one, and the big reveal at the end was familiar. Of course, that might be because the ending is kinda predictable so it's easy to see it coming even if you haven't read the story before! Nevertheless, it's a decent enough little tale. It's sad to think that it's dated because of its depiction of the publishing world. $300 payment for a debut short story by an unknown author? Wow!

🠄Previous Story

Friday 1 October 2021

31 Days of Halloween: Day 1


After last year, I've decided to do Halloween properly this year and celebrate a little bit every day in October. I've got quite a few bigger things lined up (and a couple of costumes sorted already), but mostly I'm going to be celebrating at home in the best possible way... with horror stories and tea! I wanted to do a horror story-a-day, so imagine my delight when I found this collection from the 90s of 31 classic horror stories. Perfect!


The problem is... despite what it says on the cover, turns out there's only actually 30 stories in the book. Looks like I'll be doing a story-a-day until the 30th October then. At least I've got an incredible selection of teas to see me through the whole month!

Today's Story



Today's story was 'The Black Cat' by Edgar Allan Poe. Definitely a classic, and definitely a good way to kick off a month of Halloween.

Today's Tea





Today's tea was Monster Mash by Monster Mash Teas, a spiced apple tea I assume they came up with while they were working in the lab late one night.

My Year in Books 2021: September

Time for my monthly round-up of the books I've read for pleasure. It's not a huge post this month, but it's not the shortest one either. I've read three novels in September (aside from the ones I've read for work or review).

In case you're interested, here are my posts from earlier in the year: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August

And here are my reviews for September...

One by One by Ruth Ware (2020)


In April I read One by One by Freida McFadden, and I made a passing joke about it not being One by One by Ruth Ware (the better-known book with that title). So I decided it was time this month to catch up with the other One by One! Ware’s One by One has enjoyed a bit of comparison with Agatha Christie’s mysteries (specifically And Then There Were None – and we all know how much I enjoy reading books like And Then There Were None!). It’s very much a classic murder mystery novel with a contemporary flavour. A group of stakeholders for a tech start-up company arrive at a ski lodge in the Alps for a corporate getaway, but disaster strikes when the group are cut off by an avalanche. Worse still, one of the group is missing, presumed dead, and it’s not long before other deaths follow. Someone is picking the guests off… well… one by one. One by One is a page-turning read, and it is very enjoyable. There is a nod to Christie (one of the guests grimly intones ‘And then we were…’ after each of the deaths), but also some well-judged contemporary details relating to the start-up, its app, and social media use. The problem for me was that the killer is screamingly obvious from their first appearance (if you’re familiar with the conventions of murder mysteries) and the clues are signalled with a very heavy hand. An undeniably fun read, but a very easy mystery.

The Many by Wyl Menmuir (2016)


During lockdown, Salt had a marketing campaign to help them ride out the financial uncertainties of the pandemic. I took that opportunity to buy a small selection of their books, choosing (as I usually do) based on how intriguing the blurb looked, rather than any previous knowledge of the book or the writer. The Many is the second I’ve read from my selection. It’s a slim, but deeply atmospheric, novel set in an unnamed village somewhere on the Cornish coast. Timothy Buchannan has bought a dilapidated house, but as he attempts to renovate it and prepare for his wife’s arrival, he faces hostility, silence and confusion from the villagers. The Many is utterly absorbing, as the way Menmuir conjures a place shrouded by secrets and silence is both captivating and skilful. But there’s obviously something more to the silence and secrecy than a straightforward hostility to incomers. Something is off here, in a deeper way than it initially appears. I will admit I got an inkling early on where the book was going to go but that didn’t reduce my enjoyment of it. The Many is a beautifully written book, haunting and meditative in some places, unsettling and borderline disturbing in others. Menmuir’s pitch-perfect writing creates a sense of place that is uncanny in the true sense of the word: it defamiliarizes the familiar. I felt like I could picture the village so clearly, but at the same time it was utterly alien. This one is a recommendation from me.

The Poison Tree by Erin Kelly (2010)


I picked up this next book at a charity shop in Bakewell. I’ve read one of Kelly’s other novels, but I have to admit what really drew me to this one was its 90s setting. The story begins in the present, with narrator Karen preparing for the father of her child to move back into the family home. Although it’s initially unclear why Karen and Rex have been living separately, it’s not long before it’s revealed that Rex has been in prison. As the present day section describe how the two deal with Rex’s release, Karen reflects back on the incidents of the 1990s that led to his incarceration. It’s certainly an intriguing idea, but I’m not sure the book quite lives up to its promise. Firstly, it’s not the most original story, and it is quite predictable. Karen remembers her time at university, when she is a fish-out-of-water type, stumbling into the world of a larger-than-life brother and sister who live in a strange house that’s sort of posh and sort of shabby bohemian. As the book keeps reminding us, someone is going to die at the end of their heady summer together. It’s very Fatal Inversion, and I couldn’t shake the comparison with Vine’s novel. Secondly, it’s not really a 90s setting. Aside from a couple of references to the Spice Girls and Princess Diana, plus a chunky mobile phone or two, The Poison Tree didn’t really make much of its setting. A bit disappointing to be honest.

Review: Sandy (Peripeteia Theatre Company, GM Fringe)

Wednesday 29th September 2021
Salford Arts Theatre

The Greater Manchester Fringe ran throughout September. I’ve been reviewing shows from this year’s festival programme for this blog and for North Manchester FM. The final show I saw at this year’s Fringe was Sandy by Peripeteia Theatre Company at Salford Arts Theatre. The radio version of my review will be broadcast on this Saturday’s Hannah’s Bookshelf, but here’s the blog version…


The marketing information for Sandy was a bit circumspect, and so I went into this show with very few expectations. I knew it would be a ‘two-hander’, and I knew it would touch on the themes of femininity and womanhood. I also knew that the play would involve an inanimate object having thoughts and feelings, though I didn’t know how this would be presented on stage. Given the image of a lipstick on the play’s poster, I put all this together and came to… completely the wrong conclusion!

Written by Anna Pellegrini and directed by Adam Cachia, Sandy is a one-act play that packs a real punch. It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the hardest-hitting of the shows I saw at this year’s festival, and some scenes were pretty uncomfortable to watch. This is most definitely not a criticism – the play confounded what expectations I did have, and it’s a piece of theatre that will certainly stick with me for a while.

The play begins with a single figure, sitting with her (it does appear to be a female figure) back to the audience. She is motionless as the audience arrive, and we can see only the back of her long curly hair and a body shrouded in what looks like a hairdresser’s cape or something similar. The lights go down, and the figure on stage begins to speak, attempting to make sense of the things around her – for instance, a face is described in terms of a series of abstract shapes – and the space in which she finds herself.

The play’s opening is slow and unsettling. We have only small clues to help us parse the details that we see and hear. The figure on stage – who will eventually become known as Sandy – is played by Juliet Daalder, and her opening monologue is performed static on a chair with her body covered. There is something uncomfortable about Daalder’s performance, taking us tentatively into the uncanny valley, a place we’ll explore more as the play develops.

Now, I have seen another review of Sandy that resolutely refuses to give any spoilers about what is revealed on stage. I’ve taken the decision to be more direct in my review, partly because I’m not giving away any details that aren’t easy to find on the company’s social media, and also because I don’t think these details spoil the play. Nevertheless, I will remind you that I went into the play with uncertain expectations – if you want to have the same experience, then don’t read the rest of this review! Just take my word for it that this is an excellent piece of Fringe theatre that you should check out if you can!

So, for those of you who have stayed…

When the other performer, Hannah MacDonald, enters, the audience is able to start making sense of what they’re seeing – though this is a truly discomforting revelation. Daalder’s ‘character’ (if that’s the right term) is a sex doll. MacDonald plays an unnamed woman who has purchased the doll for her partner in an attempt to appease him and rekindle their relationship.

What follows is the promised ‘two-hander’, in which a triangle of relationships is played out through suggestion, implication and reaction. Through MacDonald’s monologues (even though she is often speaking towards Daalder’s character, it’s hard to describe this as a dialogue, as the two characters don’t always hear or respond to one another) and through her physical performance and mannerisms, we learn of the relationship this nameless woman has with her partner. The picture that’s painted is not a pretty one, and the audience intuit abuse, manipulation and the constant undermining of the woman’s self-esteem. MacDonald performs this with a brittle, almost abrasive, quality, creating a character driven as much by anger as by self-pity and sadness.

We also see Daalder’s doll’s relationship to the woman’s partner. In many ways, this is more raw than the nameless woman’s story. Told mostly in the aftermath of – shall we say? – encounters, there is a brutality to this part of the triangle that is really quite hard to watch. Daalder performs this with a powerful sense of physicality – and more on that shortly. It is because of the brutality and discomfort in these scenes that I’m loath to call her by the name given in the title. ‘Sandy’ is a name bestowed on the doll by the man (who, by the way, we don’t ever see or hear on stage). Such is the power of the scene in which this is explained that I actually feel uncomfortable calling the doll Sandy.

The third relationship presented is, in many ways, the one the audience is most invested in, and yet it is also the hardest one to understand. Much of the play’s focus is on the relationship between the nameless woman and the doll. The doll is hopeful when she’s purchased by the woman, and she imagines that they might be friends. Initially, the woman sees the doll as just that, brushing her hair and remembering the dolls she played with as a child. Each sees the other as ‘perfect’, but while this is a source of love for the doll, it becomes the site of resentment and bitterness for the woman.

At turns heart-breaking, shocking and frustrating, the woman’s relationship to the doll is what sticks in the mind after watching Sandy. Pellegrini’s script offers a really original idea, and the way in which the two characters talk at each other, rather than to each other, only very occasionally seeming to hear and understand one another, is very well-done. Cachia’s direction really adds to this, with the physical interactions between the two characters veering from intimate to detached (violent, even) in a way that is convincing but disturbing.

I have to give praise to the performances here, though. Daalder is captivating as the doll. Through her physical movement, facial expressions and speech patterns, she is a doll. As I say, this really is a trip to the uncanny valley – we know the actor is a human, but she is so doll-like at times that it’s hard to keep hold of that. One scene in particular, where the placement of Daalder’s limbs signals the aftermath of something unspoken but still somehow explicit, is particularly unsettling.

MacDonald’s performance takes us in the opposite direction. She begins as the human to Daalder’s non-human, but this binary is soon unsettled through the performance. MacDonald captures the disintegration of a personality with subtlety and depth. Neither one of the characters we see on stage can truly be called human.

As should be clear from this review, this is a strong recommendation from me! Sandy was the final play I saw at this year’s festival, but what a place to end! It’s interesting to compare it to where I started at the beginning of the month. The first play I saw was Eleanor May Blackburn’s Subdural Hematoma, a one-woman show that deals, in part, with a process of rehumanization. As I said in my review of Blackburn’s show, Subdural Hematoma includes sequences in which Blackburn deindividualizes herself through the use of a blank face mask, which I referred to as ‘uncanny’ and an ‘in between state’. I was reminded of this when I saw Sandy (and, of course, I was back at the Salford Arts Theatre, where the festival began for me), as it felt like something of a reversal. Although ostensibly Sandy presents an inanimate object with human thoughts and feelings, it’s actually a sustained exploration of dehumanization. Daalder’s doll isn’t really a person, but then neither is MacDonald’s woman.

Overall, Sandy was an exciting, thought-provoking and truly disquieting way to end this year’s Fringe festival. I don’t know if Peripeteia Theatre Company have plans to perform Sandy again elsewhere, but if you do get the chance to see it, I recommend you do so.

Sandy was on at Salford Arts Theatre on 29th and 30th September, as part of this year’s Greater Manchester Fringe. For more information about the Greater Manchester Fringe, please visit the festival’s website.

Monday 27 September 2021

Review: The Formidable Lizzie Boone (Selina Helliwell, GM Fringe)

Friday 24th September 2021
International Anthony Burgess Foundation

The Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout September. I still have a couple of shows left to review on this year’s programme. I’ll be reviewing shows on this blog, and also for North Manchester FM. The next show I saw was The Formidable Lizzie Boone, by Selina Helliwell, which I saw at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation on Friday 24th September. The radio version of this review will be broadcast on my Hannah’s Bookshelf Greater Manchester Fringe Reviews Special on Tuesday 28th September, but here’s the blog version…


The Formidable Lizzie Boone is a one-woman (almost) show, written and performed by Selina Helliwell and directed by Hannah Heaton. It follows a format quite familiar to the Fringe, in which a slightly awkward, slightly confrontational, but always rather likeable young woman speaks directly to the audience about the things in her life that have made her… well… slightly awkward and confrontational. In this case, our titular protagonist is ostensibly speaking to her therapist, so her explanations have a clinical as well as confessional context.

Lizzie (played by Helliwell) is, in many ways, just an ordinary girl. And, given some of the details of her story, that’s actually quite a tragic thing to say. Picked on at primary school and bullied at secondary school, Lizzie enters early adulthood with no self-esteem and few real friends – it’s a story I imagine many people in the audience will sadly relate to. Although she worries that she’s a ‘psychopath’ (a bombshell dropped early in the performance), the catalogue of behaviours, relationships and mistakes we see unfold on stage are depressingly normal. For all Lizzie’s conviction that there is something horribly different and shocking about her personality, Helliwell’s character emerges as a kinds of millennial everywoman, and the reaction of the audience to some of her revelations certainly seemed to confirm this.

Helliwell presents Lizzie’s story mostly through monologue, with a bare set containing just a single chair. The pressure is on, then, to engage the audience directly for an entire hour, but fortunately Helliwell is well up to the challenge. Although we see her talking to her therapist Marie (played by Carla Kayani-Lawman – more on that shortly), Lizzie repeatedly breaks off from what she is saying to talk directly to the audience, explaining her feelings towards Marie, how she is not necessarily answering her questions fully, and explaining the background to the issues for which she is seeking therapy.

Helliwell is at ease with the audience – even when her verbal performance moves to the physical in a burlesque dance sequence midway through the play – and her conversational style is one of the reasons why Lizzie Boone is such a likable character for all her flaws. Though her interactions with Marie are hesitant and sometimes forced, her address to the audience is natural and unguarded. Helliwell does a good job of creating this balance, allowing the audience to warm to her character to pave the way for a jubilant and celebratory ending.

While I’ve said that Marie is played by Kayani-Lawman, it should be noted that this is an off-stage performance. Helliwell is the only performer that we see on stage. Other characters are performed through recorded voiceovers, to which Helliwell responds, often adding additional descriptive details that allow us to picture the individuals and better understand their relationship to the protagonist-narrator (whether all of the descriptions are flattering or neutral… well… no one said this wasn’t a highly subjective piece!). Through these voiceovers, we learn of Lizzie’s relationship to the various men in her life and her past, including Robin (voiced by Christopher Sutcliffe), a recent boyfriend with whom Lizzie has had a disagreement, Rick (voiced by Adrian Stretton), an unpleasant ex, Paul (voiced by Rodney Gooden), a platonic friend who responded badly to learning about the details of Lizzie’s sex life, and Mr Paxam (also voiced by Gooden), a P.E. teacher at Lizzie’s sixth form college.

It is this last character who provides some of the more unpleasant content in the show (though Rick comes a close second in many ways). As the content warnings for the show indicate, one of the issues Lizzie has been struggling with is the emotional aftermath of a sexual assault when she was at college. Helliwell takes the bold decision to enact some parts of this on stage, coupled with a voiceover of the aggressor. Bold as it may be, it’s a very astute decision, as it subtly embodies the reality of living with the aftereffects of a traumatic experience. What the audience sees is Lizzie enacting the abuse on herself (it is, after all, Helliwell’s own hands that are performing as Mr Paxam’s), while the voice of her assailant echoes around her. It was uncomfortable to watch, but very cleverly staged.

On a lighter – and much more hopeful note – there is another voiceover that plays a different role in Lizzie’s story. Mary Taylor voices Debz (with a ‘z’ not an ‘s’), Lizzie’s closest – only – friend. On her first audio appearance, Debz appears to be the polar opposite of Lizzie. She’s married with a child, plus brasher and more self-confident. The pair seem to have little in common, and we later learn that they met quite by chance when their respective workplaces held their Christmas parties at the same venue.

At times, it’s easy to get infuriated with Debz, who seems to be ignoring her friend’s anxieties and problems in favour of her own lascivious fantasies of adultery. However, there is more to Debz – and more to her friendship with Lizzie – than we first realize. I really enjoyed the way Lizzie and Debz’s friendship was evoked through suggestion and implication, which was often at odds with the way Lizzie bluntly described it. There is an unexpected warmth to this portrayal of a mismatched, but ultimately very strong, female friendship, and despite the fact that Debz initially appears to be introduced for comic relief, I found myself wanting to see more of this pair of friends. I would happily watch a Lizzie-and-Debz sequel to The Formidable Lizzie Boone!

(As an aside, Helliwell’s other production at this year’s Greater Manchester Fringe, Fruit Salad tells the story of a mismatched pair of friends, Cherry and Peaches (played by Taylor and Helliwell), who meet by chance but develop an ‘unlikely but beautiful friendship’. Clearly, this is a theme that Helliwell is drawn to in her writing, and it’s an interesting and thought-provoking one.)


To return to The Formidable Lizzie Boone, what Helliwell ultimately offers audiences here is a well-drawn character sketch of a troubled, but far from hopeless, young woman on the verge of discovering who she really is. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that Lizzie Boone isn’t a psychopath, but she is a character who is struggling to understand her own personality and identity. The audience comes to know Lizzie as she comes to know herself, allowing us to share her sense of hope and celebration at the ending.

Once again, the Fringe has offered a well-written and well-performed solo show – continuing my soft spot for this type of performance! Helliwell’s writing reveals a knack for capturing something about the mundane and ordinary business of human interactions (even interactions of an unpleasant nature) and elevating it to a poetic, imaginative and compelling stage performance. This is another writer who I think is one to watch in the future.

The Formidable Lizzie Boone was on at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation on 24th and 25th September, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. For more information about this year’s festival programme, please visit the Greater Manchester Fringe website.

Sunday 26 September 2021

Review: The Ballad of Maria Marten (Eastern Angles)

Thursday 23rd September 2021
The Lowry, Salford

Although September has been dominated by the Greater Manchester Fringe for me, I’ve also had the opportunity to see some non-Fringe theatre this month. On Thursday 23rd September, I was at The Lowry in Salford to see The Ballad of Maria Marten by Eastern Angles. I’ll be reviewing this production for Hannah’s Bookshelf, my weekly literature show on North Manchester FM, on Saturday 2nd October, but here’s the blog version…


Written by Beth Flintoff and first performed in 2018, The Ballad of Maria Marten is the story of a notorious and gruesome murder that took place in Suffolk in 1827. Except that it isn’t. And that’s what makes this play special.

The murder of Maria Marten by William Corder sparked a media frenzy at the time, and the case was almost instantly immortalized in ballads, broadsheets, popular theatre and – later – film dramatizations. The grisly nature of the victim’s injuries, the fact that her body lay undiscovered for a year after her death, and the infamous treatment of her killer’s body after his execution, was a gift for sensationalizers. Over the years, writers have devoted their attention to William Corder’s character, suggesting various possible motives for his crimes, and to suggesting alternative theories that might throw doubt on his guilt (despite his confession). There have also been some sustained efforts to imply some culpability on the part of the victim: Maria’s three illegitimate children have been used as evidence of her ‘loose’ character, and her lower class status has equally been a talking-point in some accounts of the case.

The Ballad of Maria Marten stands as a powerful – and timely – corrective to this tradition of presenting the case known as the Red Barn Murder. It is explicitly not the story of William Corder’s crime, but rather the story of Maria Marten’s life.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The play begins with the rather unsettling entrance of a spectral Maria Marten (played by Elizabeth Crarer) walking onto the stage in the tattered remnants of the clothes she was wearing when she was buried. She holds a ragged umbrella over one shoulder, and the injuries she sustained before her death are brutally visible on her face and neck. Maria addresses the audience – as she will do a number of times during the show – confronting our expectations and questioning how much we think we know about her. She talks about her own death and the nature of the injuries she sustained, but she refers to her killer only as ‘he’ and ‘him’. There is no direct evocation of William Corder at this point of the story.

What follows this entrance really sets the tone of the rest of the production. I’ll confess that I was expecting to get a lump in my throat at the end of the play, so the fact that I was welling up at the beginning was a bit of a surprise.

A group of women, singing softly, surround the spectral Maria and remove the tattered clothing. Bringing bowls and cloths, they wipe off the marks of her injuries, and then tidy her hair and redress her in fresh clothes. According to the programme, Flintoff’s original notes in the script state that these women ‘unmurder’ Maria, and this is exactly how I experienced the scene. It’s a dramatic and empowering sequence, but it is also one weighty with sadness due our knowledge that Maria was murdered. Whatever we see on stage from this moment, Maria’s ending is in part already written.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The play is about Maria’s life as a young working-class woman in Polstead, Suffolk in the 1820s, beginning when she is ten years old. In the first act, we meet Maria’s friends: Phoebe (played by Jessica Dives), Theresa (Bethan Nash), confident Sarah (Lydia Bakelmun) and awkward outsider Lucy (Susie Barrett), with whom she dreams of being as bold and adventurous as men are allowed to be. We also meet Maria’s new stepmother, Ann (played by Sarah Goddard), who is young and nervy, but determined to be a good friend to her newly acquired family. Ann’s arrival is told with humour and warmth, but it also serves as a stark reminder of social context. While we might giggle a little at Ann’s clumsy attempts to befriend Maria, she also articulates a very real fear of rejection. If Maria doesn’t accept Ann, then her father might decide not to marry after all. She has nowhere else to go if he ends their engagement, and she fears the workhouse might be her only option. For all their boldness and camaraderie, the women in this world are entirely reliant on the whims of men.

Nevertheless, Maria’s life plays out for us with verve, humour and hope. The performances are excellent. Crarer is captivating as Maria, capturing her youthful ambitions and aspirations, but tempering this with an edge of confrontation as she breaks the fourth wall and reminds us of what will happen to her when she’s just twenty-five years old. Goddard’s performance as Ann is also very striking. Her depiction of Ann matures before our eyes, from the nervous new stepmother to a solid and constant presence in Maria’s life. Goddard brings to life a good and kind woman who deals with life’s hardships as best she can, until bringing us to a heart-breaking first act finale with raw and visceral emotional depth.

While it’s easy to see the other characters as foils to Maria – images of alternative models of working-class womanhood in distinction to Maria’s own path – the actors bring depth and humanity to their performances that creates more of an ensemble feel. In addition to playing Maria’s friends, some of the actors double up on parts. Bakelmun plays the lusty and worldly-wise Sarah, but also appears as Lady Cooke, a member of the gentry who takes a shine to Maria and serves to remind us that sometimes it is hard to be a woman, even when your family owns most of the village’s land.

The play has an entirely female cast – a deliberate creative choice – but some male characters appear. The fathers of two of Maria’s children, Thomas Corder and Peter Matthews, are played by Barrett and Nash respectively. Barrett brings Thomas Corder to life as a young and arrogant man who enjoys lording his elevated status as a farmer’s son over the labouring classes. However, Barrett also gives him some humanity, and the emphasis on his youth means that we never truly hate him – we just don’t feel he deserves the respect of a woman like Maria. Nash has the unenviable task of performing the closest thing the play has to a ‘good man’, and her portrayal of Peter Matthews has a softness bordering on tragedy.

As noted, no one plays William Corder. This character ‘appears’ towards the end of the first act, and is central to the developments of the second, but he never appears on stage. We learn of his character from the reports of others, and we learn of his actions by seeing the devastating effects they have on Maria.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The actors offer us performances steeped in humanity and empathy, and the script gives us a solid balance between engaging humour and brutal truths. But the production’s energy and vitality is the result of a strong creative team. The single set (set construction by Dominic Eddington and scenic art by Caitriona Penny) – dominated throughout by the façade of the barn in which Maria’s body was hidden – works well, as it is seamlessly transformed into Maria’s cottage, a village fair, the drawing room of Lady Cooke, and various locations around Polstead. Costumes and wardrobe by Faby Pym are also well-designed and put to powerful use. In addition to the dressing and undressing scenes we see on-stage (following the initial ‘unmurdering’ sequence, there are a number of other moments in which Maria is recostumed by women in front of our eyes), the quick changes required by the actors doubling on parts is quite amazing. I swear there were times when I was convinced I’d seen Sarah and Lady Cooke, or Lucy and Thomas Corder, on stage at the same time, despite the fact that the characters’ costumes were distinctively and elaborately different! All credit to Hal Chambers’s direction for pulling off this effect.

It has to be said, however, that it is the play’s ending that will really stick with audiences. As I’ve said, this isn’t the story of the murder of Maria Marten or the trial and execution of William Corder in the usual sense. It ends, then, not with Corder at the gallows, but with the burning of the so-called ‘Red Barn’ (the building that has dominated the production’s backdrop, that Maria has constantly reminded us was the scene of her demise, that has become a byname for the case itself, and that the programme and marketing material has shown engulfed in flames). Following the execution of William Corder, this building became a dark tourist attraction in Polstead for a time, before it was burnt down, presumably by irritated locals. The Ballad of Maria Marten transforms this historical moment into a powerful summation of the play’s central message, ‘unmurdering’ Maria as surely as the re-dressing sequence at the beginning of the first act. I defy anyone not to shed a few tears as the smoke begins to rise.

The Ballad of Maria Marten is a stunning piece of theatre. It is timely in its message – the programme notes the murder of Sarah Everard as an example of why Maria’s story continues to be relevant, and I was chillingly aware of Sabina Nessa’s murder while watching, which occurred just six days before the show’s press night at The Lowry, but the production was also informed by creative workshops with survivors of domestic violence and abuse, and its depiction of gaslighting and coercive control is truly unsettling in the way it feels both startlingly modern and convincingly historic at the same time.

You may be wondering whether you should go and see The Ballad of Maria Marten if you are unfamiliar with the Red Barn Murder case. Or, conversely, you may be wondering if there’s any point in going to see it if you feel you already know everything there is to know about William Corder, his crime and his execution. In both cases – or even if, like I was, you’re somewhere between the two – this is a strong recommendation. This is a play that is more ‘true life’ than ‘true crime’, with compelling performances, a thought-provoking script, and excellent production and direction, and it’s definitely worth checking out.

The Ballad of Maria Marten was on at The Lowry, Salford as part of a national tour. For more information about upcoming performances, please visit the show’s website.

Tuesday 21 September 2021

Review of Feeling Haunted (Psycho Garbage, GM Fringe)

Sunday 19th September 2021
Chapeltown Picture House, Cheetham Hill

The Greater Manchester Fringe Festival is on at multiple venues across the region throughout September. I’m reviewing a selection of the shows for this blog and for North Manchester FM. The next show I saw was Feeling Haunted by emerging theatre company Psycho Garbage, which was on at the Chapeltown Picture House in Cheetham Hill on Sunday 19th September. My radio review of this production will be broadcast on Tuesday’s Hannah’s Bookshelf GM Fringe Reviews Special, but here’s the blog version…


Before I start on the review of the show, I’d just like to mention the venue. This was my first visit to the Chapeltown Picture House, and it certainly won’t be my last. Chapeltown Picture House is a cinema and performance space housed in Grub in the Redbank area of Cheetham Hill. Although I’ve passed Grub a few times, I’ve never been in. I had no idea it was such a big place, or that it was home to such an incredible cinema/theatre space. The venue has a great atmosphere, and it’s comfortable and spacious enough to let you relax and lose yourself in whatever you’re watching. I can’t wait to see a film there!

And so… onto Feeling Haunted

The play is a spoof episode of a fictional TV show of the same name. It’s set up as a ‘lost episode’ being shown on the Horror Channel, but don’t let that mislead you. This is a comedy, rather than a horror.

Feeling Haunted (i.e. the fictional TV show) is a ghost-hunting show, hosted by David G. Hostmann (played by Dylan Hopkins) with his sidekick cameraman Terry F.Y. (played by Jacob Lee Normansell). I probably don’t need to explain the influences here, as Feeling Haunted is closely modelled on the material it spoofs, even down to the studio-based talking head interviews that punctuate the action.

This ‘lost episode’ sees the Feeling Haunted team responding to a case of ghostly activity at Oak House, a rambling old property owned by the elderly Darlene Sweetly (played by Leah Mulchay) who has a supply of Capri-Suns and a soft spot for David Hostmann. As appears to be the format of the show, the hosts call for assistance from psychic Galina Pakulska (played by Dominika Rak), and then things get a little bit silly.

There is a lot to like about Feeling Haunted. While the material they use is probably not the most original – there have been countless other spoofs of the ghost-hunter TV format, and the fake adverts that are included in the show are well-trodden territory (for instance, a parody of the Cillit Bang advert that was, always, beyond parody anyway), the company present it with an enjoyable verve and energy. Hopkins revels in his performance as a borderline-OTT trenchcoated American presenter, though he gets to reveal a little more of his Welsh roots when he doubles-up as one of the previous residents of the house that we see via intercut VT. And Normansell is charming – and surprisingly convincing – as the cameraman Terry, particularly with his ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ catchphrase whenever paranormal activity is noted.

Mulchay carries much of the physical comedy in her performance of sometimes-sweet, sometimes worryingly lascivious elderly homeowner. Again, there’s an exuberance to the performance that is hard not to enjoy, but Mulchay will also give us an indication of her wider range later in show (and I’m not going to give any spoilers for that!).

I don’t know if this is a matter of personal taste, but I particularly enjoyed Rak’s turn as the flamboyant psychic Galina. She hams up the clichéd elements of the character to just the right extent, but also undercuts the stereotype with barbed asides, including a commentary on the running joke that Hostmann and Terry can’t pronounce her name correctly (in fact, they mangle it to the point of calling her ‘Garlic Bread’ and ‘Gar Gar Binks’ towards the end).

Although the set-up to the show is pretty straightforward, there’s also an ambition to the performance that is executed with style and flair. The use of pre-recorded video projected onto the Chapeltown Picture House’s cinema screen is well-done. The show’s opening credits are shown in this way, as are the spoof adverts I mentioned earlier. The interaction between the recorded segments and the live action on stage is smooth and assured, and it allows for more depth to both the comedy and the plot.

And there is a plot here – for all the silly shenanigans of spilt Capri-Sun and body-swapping séances – and it isn’t quite the plot you might be expecting. Those VT talking heads that I mentioned take on an additional resonance as the audience gradually realize that they are watching clues that will help them, alongside the Feeling Haunted team, solve the mystery of what is going on at Oak House.

That’s not to say that this a mystery in the Agatha Christie sense, but there is undoubtedly another, more animated, pop culture influence underlying the spooky daftness (or daft spookiness). I had a bit of a chuckle as it dawned on me where we were going, before a final line from one character (again, no spoilers) confirmed it all.

For a first play from a new company, Feeling Haunted has a confidence and ambition to it that is impressive. The use of the stage/screen space is both fun and compelling, and the gusto of the performances carries even the most groan-worthy of puns. It’s true that the material sometimes lacks originality, and some of the comedy takes the path well-travelled, but the format and story of Feeling Haunted allows this emerging company to show off what it can do, both in terms of comedic performance and also multi-media production. The pace and length of the piece is just right as well, giving us a taste – I hope – of what will come from Psycho Garbage as they develop and stretch their talents further.

(And, I should add… although some of the spoof adverts are pretty standard parody material, like a firm of personal injury lawyers or the aforementioned Cillit Bang, I really didn’t expect to see a take on the DFS adverts that was genuinely original and unlike any that I’ve seen before. So kudos to Psycho Garbage for managing to find something funny to say about DFS adverts that hasn’t been said before!)

Overall, this was an enjoyable and fun piece of theatre that plays it comedy with a heavy hand but evident skill. The Feeling Haunted programme describes itself as a ‘silly little show’, but I think the company are doing themselves down here. It might be silly, but it certainly doesn’t feel ‘little’. I look forward to seeing what Psycho Garbage do next.

Feeling Haunted was on at Chapeltown Picture House on Sunday 19th September, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. To see the full programme for this year’s Fringe, please visit the festival website.


Monday 20 September 2021

Review: The Comedy of Errors / La Commedia degli Errori (The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company, GM Fringe)

Wednesday 15th September 2021
GMF Digital Events

The Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout September, and I’m continuing to review shows from this year’s programme on this blog and on North Manchester FM. Although most of the shows at this year’s festival are live and in-person, there is a selection of digital events as well. On Wednesday 15th September, I watched one of these digital productions: a bilingual English-Italian production of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors (or La Commedia degli Errori) by The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company. The radio version of my review will be going out on the Hannah’s Bookshelf GM Fringe Reviews Special on Tuesday 21st September, but here’s the blog version…


The Comedy of Errors is not one of Shakespeare’s best-known plays, and it’s not produced as regularly as some of his other plays. It’s one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays, and it’s shorter and more farcical than his later works. I have to admit, I had reservations about how this was going to work as a digital production. The comedy in The Comedy of Errors comes from an increasingly frenetic double mistaken identity plot, involving two sets of identical twins and a large amount of slapstick. I wasn’t sure whether it would be possible to do justice to this on a Zoom-style digital performance.

I think I probably should have had more faith in The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company!

The performance begins with the cast and crew assembling on a video chat in preparation to travel to the US for a performance. However, last-minute Covid restrictions mean that they aren’t going to be able to travel after all – the show will have to go online.

It’s a nice little introduction, setting the scene for a production that will be entirely online with the performers acting their parts in separation. Admittedly – and this is a really strange thing to say! – but a couple of the Zoom jokes (someone forgetting to unmute, someone else accidentally putting up an embarrassing background) actually felt a little dated. I guess that type of humour is so 2020 now. However, the ‘comedy of errors’ (lower-case) of getting the show up-and-running, from the cancelled US trip to the awkwardness of group video conferencing, felt very fitting for Shakespeare’s play. It reminded me that The Comedy of Errors was first performed in 1594, just as London’s theatres were reopening after a series of plague-related closures. This is a very apt play to watch as we tentatively return to the world of live theatre.

The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company offer an excellent adaptation of Shakespeare’s play of twins (two sets) separated at birth and then accidentally reunited… with hilarious consequences. The play opens with an elderly merchant of Syracuse (Egeon, played here by Stephano Guerriero) arriving in the Greek city of Ephesus. Due to a prohibitive law, he is immediately arrested and sentenced to execution. In his own defence, he recounts a sad story (in Italian): Egeon and his wife had twin sons, and they also purchased the twin sons of a poor woman in the town to serve as their bondsmen. When disaster struck, and the family were in a shipwreck, Egeon was rescued with one son and one slave, and his wife Emilia was rescued with the other son and the other slave. Both sons are raised by their respective parents and are called Antipholus; both slaves stay with their respective owners and are called Dromio. (And if you think that sounds confusing, it’s only the beginning.)

Shakespeare’s comedy is notable for its unity of time and place. Unlike many of his other comedies, it takes place in a single location and over a period of just one day. The confusion ramps up a notch as we meet Antipholus of Syracuse (played by Gianluigi Calvani), arriving in Ephesus and charging Dromio of Syracuse (played by Alice Lussiana Parente) with taking some money to a local inn. Shortly afterwards, he runs into Dromio of Ephesus (played by Alice Lussiana Parente) and is confused when the slave denies any knowledge of the money, believing that the man is his master Antipholus of Ephesus (played by Gianluigi Calvani). Phew.

The company handles this manic confusion in an impressive way. The pseudo-Zoom set-up actually works in their favour, as it allows the actors to appear on screen together for the final reconciliation scenes. Similarly, the bilingual nature of the play, with the characters from Syracuse occasionally switching to Italian when conversing with one another, helps to keep some sense of distinction between the two Antipholuses and the two Dromios.

Praise has to be given to the actors, of course. Although the Antipholuses and the Dromios are each dressed differently, both Calvani and Parente also imbue their two characters with different personalities, styles and physical performances. It becomes relatively easy to distinguish between the confident, slightly swaggering Antipholus of Ephesus and his more excitable, romantic brother. Similarly, Dromio of Syracuse bounces and dances in each of his scenes, in contrast to his somewhat more browbeaten and hen-pecked brother.

I enjoyed all of the performances here. Gilda Mercado is arresting as Adriana, the baffled and furious wife of Antipholus of Ephesus, who believes her husband is either committing a cruel deception or, perhaps, is possessed by evil spirits. Elize Layton offers strong support as Adriana’s sister Luciana, who believes her brother-in-law has randomly started flirting with her (spoiler alert… it was his twin all along!). Ginerva Tortora convinces as an angry goldsmith who believes Antipholus is trying to obtain goods without paying, and Muge Karagulle makes a late appearance as the Lady Abbess who might be more significant than we first realize.

In true Shakespearean tradition, some actors double (or rather triple) up on parts (and not because they are playing twins). Frances Knight appears in a variety of roles, but perhaps most memorably as Nell, the kitchen-maid wife of Dromio of Ephesus, who is described in rather unflattering terms by her husband’s twin. And Joe Staton plays Duke Solinus and Balthazar, but also gives an unsettlingly scene-stealing turn as Dr Pinch, a conjuror-cum-doctor who offers to exorcise the supposedly possessed Antipholus.

It would be remiss of me to not also mention J.T. Stocks’s direction here as well. The whole thing comes together so well, collapsing the distance and separation between the performers to the extent that they even manage to get some of the slapstick (much of which revolves around people hitting the Dromios with varying brutality) on screen, no mean feat given the constrictions of the digital format. Strong direction brings this to our screens with confidence.

I did have reservations beforehand, but after watching The Comedy of Errors, I found myself reflecting on the ways in which the digital format enhanced rather than diminished the viewing experience. The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company take every opportunity offered by the format, but not at the expense of strong performances and solid direction. They use the video conferencing technology, but they don’t rely on it entirely.

Now, I won’t say that you’ll come away from this performance feeling that it was a plausible and logical piece of drama. But that’s all on Shakespeare! The Comedy of Errors is a short, frantic piece of silly comedy that requires a healthy suspension of disbelief. It’s easy to imagine that, in 1594, audiences were ready for a bit of silly escapism after the traumas and hardships of the plague and the various lockdowns and restrictions.

I wonder if Shakespeare could have imagined that the play would serve the same purpose over four centuries later.

I thoroughly recommend The Comedy of Errors (or La Commedia degli Errori). If you’d like to see Shakespeare at his most chaotic, handled by a competent company of performers with a strong director at the helm, then this one is definitely worth checking out. (And as an additional bonus, it turns out that Shakespearian dialogue sounds beautiful in Italian!).

The Comedy of Errors / La Commedia degli Errori is streaming throughout September, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. To see the full programme for this year’s Fringe, visit the festival website.