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BUY MY BOOKS | HOME | FICTION | ESSAYS | ON-LINE DIARY | MARGINALIA | GALLERY | INTERACTIVE FEATURES | FAQ | SEARCH ENGINE | LINKS | CONTACT ![]() the official website for the writings of www.ralphrobertmoore.com ![]() My second short story collection, I Smell Blood, is now available as a trade paperback and e-book download. Almost 100,000 words of fiction, including eight stories and my short horror novel, Kid. Please go here for details. Critical acclaim for I Smell Blood "Disturbing. Nightmarish. Terrifying. And above all original. Ralph Robert Moore's new collection is unlike anything else I've read all year. All decade. It's also bloody good. I Smell Blood, Ralph Robert Moore's second short fiction collection, reinforces his reputation, amongst those in the know, that here we have a genre-storytelling giant in our midst…this is a surefire cult hit which deserves wider recognition…Moore manages to distill the best qualities of horror writing and produce something which is unique…conventions go out the window, and through it, something far more beastly crawls…Moore lends you his eyes (or lets you hop into his head, a la Kid) and it is a very, very dark place indeed…Moore here tackles deep themes. Beyond the white picket fence themes. Sex games, gender relationships, obsessions…the deepest horror here are the things which human beings are capable of doing to other human beings." AJ Kirby "With eight stories and the short novel "Kid", the new collection…combin[es] horror and gonzo invention in a winning combination, with an unadorned prose style that…drives the narrative forward at a cracking pace and allows for moments of surprising tenderness. …Finally we have the short novel "Kid", weighing in at approximately a hundred and twenty pages, and the undoubted highlight of this collection…The novel's eponymous hero is a young man with the ability to head hop, to enter and insinuate himself into the mind of another and eventually seize control of his body…there's plenty of explicit sex and violence, with the scenes in which a man's face is removed particularly horrific…crime lord Knuggles is a master stroke of invention…the man oozes menace, and I cringed in anticipation of something terrible taking place every time he held centre stage…A particular highlight is the dazzling and vividly cinematic shoot out at a restaurant when the kid takes on another head hopper, each of them controlling a selection of stooges. ..."Kid" was a wonderful finale to one of the best collections I've read this year, delivering exactly the kind of uncompromising thrills and spills I've come to expect from this writer." Peter Tennant "Ralph Robert Moore's second collection confirms the excellent qualities displayed in his previous book "Remove the Eyes", namely a powerful imagination, an extraordinary degree of originality and a great storytelling ability… A highly recommended book." Mario Guslandi One thing that is very evident from the moment you start reading [I Smell Blood]: these stories are far from predictable…The characters here inhabit surreal worlds grounded in reality but full of outrageous surprises. "Visibility" [is] a tale so rich in character and atmosphere that it takes your breath away….["Afoot"] drills deep into what motivates people to want to break away from a society that confines our base instincts... The novel, "Kid", is a faultless mix of sure-fired observation…that hinges upon a plot that combines a dark and morbid supernatural ability with a crime mystery…Once more, the author has created a fascinating ensemble of characters… Moore's work is consistently fascinating, original and devastating. His characters speak to you from whatever hell they inhabit, with clear, unambiguous voices...[I Smell Blood] is a worthy successor to "Remove the Eyes." Trevor Denyer ![]() My first short story collection, Remove the Eyes, is available as a trade paperbook and e-book download. Please go here for details. Critical acclaim for Remove the Eyes "Tired of the usual suspects? Bored with the same old genre clichés? Then follow my advice and read Ralph Robert Moore, a hell of a writer whose work is provocative and refreshing, never ordinary, always imaginative and graced by a compelling narrative style…Moore has all the features of a great writer: he conceives original plots, creates credible characters and makes them speak plausible dialogues, and, most of all, is a terrific storyteller. Try him, you won't regret it." Mario Guslandi "…[Moore's] work is not quite like that of anybody else. He is a true original, someone who has taken on board the lessons of genre and mainstream, then harnessed both to his own ends, and if you are looking for something different, then I can't recommend this collection highly enough." Peter Tennant "Unusual, erotic, frightening and stunningly good…This collection showcases the wide and versatile range of [Moore's] work. From the horrors of the internal demons that infest the wonderful "The Machine of a Religious Man" to the powerful and erotic, yet despairing "Rocketship Apartment", these stories capture the extremes of human experience. The writing is tight and uncompromising. The dialogue provides depth to the narrative, drawing the reader into shocking and unusual scenarios that stun, remaining in the memory long afterwards." Trevor Denyer Please go here for more details and ordering information. ![]() My novel Father Figure, a bestseller for its publisher in trade paperback, is now available for free in PDF format. Click here to go to a page where you can download the complete text of the novel. "It is easy to see why Father Figure has become an underground classic over the years. It is a dark, extremely disturbing but completely gripping suspense thriller with a strongly erotic subtext...Moore is an extremely talented writer with a gift for pushing the reader's emotional buttons...certainly liable to become a cult classic, and deservedly so." From an editorial review Critics' Comments on Specific Stories "For me, the masterpiece of the collection is The Rape by Ralph Robert Moore, a multi-viewpoint – in every sense of the word – examination of an apparent rape (or is it) that sizzles with tension and inventiveness." Terry Grimwood, in Whispers of Wickedness, reviewing The Rape, published in Sein und Werden. "…once again the editors have confirmed their extraordinary literary taste and excellent editorial instinct by selecting twenty stories which, for the most part, are up to the high expectations of 'Darkness Rising' aficionados…In some instances, I suspect, the stories are so good as to surpass even the best from the previous volumes, much to the delight of everyone fond of solid, compelling short fiction...[four of the stories] are really outstanding..."The Woman in the Walls" by Ralph Robert Moore is quite amazing. Despite the tell-tale title (believe it or not, that's the core of the plot!) the story is so original and full of surprising twists it remains absolutely memorable." Mario Guslandi, in The Agony Column, reviewing The Woman in the Walls, published in the hardcover anthology, Darkness Rising 2005. "This is a very strong tale, which will take a hold of you at the beginning and grip until the end. It tells of a farmer and his family and the tragedies which fall upon them, and of the dedicated employee who does anything the farmer asks of him. I found this tale to be very emotional, yet creepy and violent. Moore puts us, the reader, right into the story as if we are driving it, and we are." Chris Cartwright, in Whispers of Wickedness, reviewing The Machine of a Religious Man, published in Midnight Street, Spring 2005 "…as it's always the case in any anthology, some stories in "Read By Dawn" are positively awful, some just ordinary, and only a bunch are worth mentioning. The latter group, in my opinion, amounts to a dozen, which is not bad at all in a volume assembling twenty-seven tales …The Little Girl Who Lives in the Woods by Ralph Robert Moore is a very dark, cruel tale about the hidden truths of human existence, blending the reality of spoiled innocence, loneliness, violence and hunger for love." Mario Guslandi, in Horror World Review, reviewing The Little Girl Who Lives in the Woods, published in the anthology, Read Before Dawn, 2006. "Another mind-blowing story is Truth Be Told by Ralph Robert Moore, and it is probably the story that most fits the ‘artifice’ remit. A couple – Franklin and Sarah – are talking. He questions her about her encounter at work with another woman, and his questions gradually lead her on to more and more pornographic descriptions of the encounter. It is obvious from her changing stories that much of what she is saying cannot be true. Is she taking her cues from Franklin’s (leading) questions? Is this some sort of a game that they play regularly? But there is a narrative outside of Sarah’s, and it is moving on and taking the reader somewhere disturbing. A quite remarkable story." Jim Steel, in Whispers of Wickedness, reviewing Truth Be Told, published in Sein und Werden, Volume 1, Issue 4, 2007 If you're here, it's probably night. You can see a window from where you sit, and the window is dark. Who really knows what's outside? I write. If you read, we've just made a connection. SENTENCE is the forest you fall asleep into. Like most authors, I'm more comfortable between covers, but the truth is that's getting harder and harder to achieve these days. Markets have become increasingly timid in this family values age. Plus the table of contents of most periodicals nowadays is decidedly tipped in favor of the falsehoods of nonfiction over the disturbing truths of fiction. Length is another alarm. Many small-circulation magazines, understandably, want to represent as many writers as possible in an issue, and therefore are less likely to accommodate the girth of a well-fed novella. Back in the thirties, when fiction magazines were as popular as television is today, young writers could move to the cement and grass of the city and be on newsstands two months later. We bemoan the loss of those days of opportunity, but the truth is we now have more magazines than ever before, only they're called websites. Thanks to cyberspace, anyone can put out their own magazine. No more backroom arguments with printers, no more getting down on your knees in front of advertisers, no more embarrassment trying to extract your right index fingertip from the white string knotted atop the bundle of the latest issue. Some people say, but if you put your fiction on the web, it'll be stolen. Let's examine that. What could be stolen is either the story itself, or its ideas. A story can be stolen printed or posted, but it should be fairly easy to establish, in either case, the author. If you want, include in your text an anagram that, when held up to light, identifies you like a watermark as the author. Ideas can be stolen-- a simile, a description, a joke-- but that will happen regardless of the medium in which your baggage is left alone on the airport floor. The truth is, fear of plagiarism is fear of readership. We have an enormous range of talent out beyond the electricity. Talent that can share on the Internet. There are dangers, but to be plagiarized is never fatal. What is more important is to be read. Because if it's in a box, and no one but you knows about the storms raging through the paragraphs, the footsteps plodding soggily down the sentences, water dripping off the rims of words, that's the biggest shame of all. A fizzle. Because the real achievement of writing is not the writing. The real achievement of writing is someone else reading the writing. I've been published in America, England, Ireland, India and Australia, and translated into Lithuanian. My fiction has been called "graphically morbid". My writings are not for everyone. Are they for you? Find out. You can either go to one of the links in the upper left of this page to read the complete texts of many of my short stories and other writings, published and unpublished, as well as lengthy excerpts from my novels, or you can go to Words Walking Nude, a collection of about fifty short excerpts from my work, to see if you like my style, and what I have to say. Art is an invitation to go inside someone else's mind. To see our world as they see it. SENTENCE is my mind. I'm glad you came. I just lit a cigarette. I just poured Merlot. I hope you enjoy your exploration. Webmaster Ralph Robert Moore at robmary@swbell.net. Entire contents Copyright © 1997-2012 by Ralph Robert Moore, All Rights Reserved. For a complete chronology of site updates, please see HISTORY. Established January 1, 1998. "All was chaos, that is, earth, air, water, and fire were mixed together; and out of that bulk a mass formed-- just as cheese is made out of milk-- and worms appeared in it, and these were the angels."
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conscious of the clock february 1, 2012
Q: So, did you finally get your dishwasher installed? A: We did! And it's wonderful. As I said last month, we went to an appliance store, picked out the one we wanted from the pretty dishwashers all in a row, arranged for installation and haul-off off the old, nonfunctioning washer. The day arrived, the two installers arrived, Abbot and Costello, the old washer was hauled out of its square cave under the kitchen counter, the beautiful stainless steel one connected and slid in, but then Abbot cheerfully announced the new washer was no good. It leaked. Wow. Disappointment. We had been taking turns hand-washing our dishes, pots, pans and silverware for a week, to where our hands were red, thought we were finally free of that, and it turns out we're not. (I know, some people will say, "Really? You were upset about that? Your hands got red from washing dishes? Wait until you meet someone who has no hands." Okay, so what should I do when I meet them? Shake feet?) The thing was, if they could have simply gotten a replacement dishwasher then and there, that would have been fine. But apparently the way the store works is, you have to wait 24 hours before you can order a replacement. And why would that be? Abbot and Costello explained the reason, a nice lady on the phone explained it, clearing her throat every half-minute, but their explanations made as little sense as the plot to the first Mission Impossible movie. The woman I spoke to on the phone said she'd have a store employee call me the next morning to tell us the new delivery date. Now, if you're anything like me, your first thought is going to be you sitting in your home tomorrow, conscious of the clock, it's 11:45 in the morning, no call yet, and you're wondering at what point you should call the store. Now? Noon? Twelve-thirty? One o'clock? And what's going to happen when you do call? "Well I'm sorry, but I don't see any note here about delivering a new dishwasher. Our records indicate your new dishwasher was installed yesterday. Have you checked your kitchen?" But actually, around ten that morning, a man who clearly had received excellent customer service training called, very polite and professional, and let me know our new dishwasher would be installed the following Tuesday. I was reassured. Later that evening, while I was working on a story, I got an 800 call. "Mr. Moore? This is so-and-so from such-and such. I want to start by expressing our apologies for the installation problem you experienced with your recent dishwasher purchase. I've contacted the warehouse, and we expect to have a replacement dishwasher installed for you this coming Wednesday." "But, the guy who called from the local store said it would be Tuesday." "Let me call that store. I was under the impression we were handling the replacement installation from our national call center." An hour later, I get a call from the polite and professional guy from the local store. "I guess evidently the national call center is going to handle this one." "So is the dishwasher being installed on Tuesday? Or Wednesday?" "Let me call them back and have them recontact you with a delivery date." I'm trying to get my attention back on the story I'm writing, no longer reassured, when Bringgg! "Mr. Moore, this is the call center again. I spoke to so-and-so at your local store, and want to confirm with you we do have you down for installation of a replacement dishwasher on this coming Wednesday. The installer will call you the day before to provide you with a four hour window during which he'll arrive." Somewhat reassured. We didn't hear anything from the installer by five o'clock that Tuesday, so I called him (I was clever enough to ask for his name and direct phone number from the national call center woman.) He answered promptly, background noise suggesting he was at a restaurant, surrounded by braggarts, waiting for a pick-up food order. "Moore, right? I have it down on my worksheet to check with the warehouse tomorrow to see if your replacement has arrived. Do you know which warehouse they sent it to?" Oh, I am so not reassured anymore! But it did get installed that Wednesday. By a short, slight guy who, working alone, had it hooked up, slid in, in half the time Abbot and Costello took. And now we have a beautiful new machine in our home. Q: Tell me something strange you witnessed recently. A: Can it be from a few months ago? Mary and I were watching a show we had recorded, I think it was an episode of Breaking Bad, it may have even been the season finale, and once it had finished, we deleted the file and the DirecTV system defaulted to the list of recorded shows we still had on the hard drive. In the upper right corner of the screen, in the picture-in-picture box, it showed what was currently playing on the channel we were tuned to, which happened to be a local channel. That time of late morning or early afternoon it would usually be a court show or live audience show, but instead it was a Breaking News report. Curious about what was going on, we maximized the picture-in-picture to fill the entire screen. A fire had started in a large factory, and was rapidly spreading. Most of the coverage was from a helicopter. It turned out the factory made flammable chemicals. The helicopter shot showed the lower edge of the factory (it really was a huge factory, like a small city), a parking lot, with large white upright storage cylinders, presumably filled with flammable chemicals, against the side of the structure, and dozens of other such cylinders, but on their round sides, across the parking lot (at the very bottom of the shot.) As we watched, the orange and red flames spread across the outer walls of the factory, leftwards, climbing up the curved side of the first cylinder, heating it, until it exploded in a fire ball. The flames reached their red fingers to the next cylinder, another fireball. And so on. A yellow firetruck pulled up, from the right side of the screen. Tiny men in firefighting regalia hopped off the truck, walking towards the bay doors of the factory. As we watched, a river of flame flowed out of the bay doors, cutting off the firefighters from their truck. Another orange stream of flames oozed across the parking lot pavement towards the firetruck itself. The firetruck backed up rapidly, ooze of flames chasing its retreat. The firefighters themselves had to run in their heavy outfits towards the very bottom of the screen, to escape the lava flow. It was one of those "It's happening right now" events which TV can be really good at showing, like OJ trying to flee in his white Bronco. We switched around through different local channels. All of them were carrying the same breaking news, with similar helicopter shots. At one point, the TV station we were on showed footage from earlier in the day, a much higher shot that revealed most of the sprawling factory, and you could see immense fireballs rolling upwards into the air, tall metal towers bending sideways, like looking down into Hell. And it looked absolutely beautiful. The colors, the destruction. The thing is, if we see orange flames blowing higher and higher up a building, there is a part of us that wants to see that building slide apart, fall down into a chaos of bricks. We don't turn away from seeing what a fire can do to a building, an earthquake to a city, or a tsunami to a coastline. There is something fascinating about being reminded we are not in control. As the report went on, it occurred to Mary and me the fire wasn't too far from us. Miles and miles, but still. We went out into the relaxing greenness of our backyard garden, and indeed, high above the top of our rear privacy fence, in the blue sky, from the south, we could see the enormous, slanted billows of smoke from the fire, black and gray and yellow, reaching up towards the white clouds. Q: How's shopping online at Alice.com for household products going for you? A: Fine. The only problem is you have to really stay on top of throwing away all the large, blue boxes in which the products are shipped. Our city switched recently from twice-weekly garbage pick-ups to once a week, plus it's been raining a lot the past few weeks, to where we don't want to leave cardboard boxes outside, they'd just dissolve in the downpour, and we know the garbagemen won't take the time to pick up the mess, so our downstairs rooms are piled high with all these blue boxes stacked on top of each other, like a maze we have to work our way through every day. It's beginning to look like an art installation. But the cats love it. Q: You mentioned writing. How's that going? A: Really well. My short story collection I Smell Blood tied with I Wonder What Human Flesh Tastes Like by Justin Isis for noted British critic Peter Tennant's choice of Best Short Story Collection of 2011. He wrote, "…If I were to do a 'Top Thirty Short Stories of 2011' list, they would dominate it… Each is a superb stylist and each has a unique voice…[I Smell Blood] is as strange and unsettling as anything else I read last year." My short story, "Our Island" will be appearing in the Eibonvale Press anthology Where Are We Going, edited by the great Allen Ashley. The anthology is tentatively scheduled to be launched in London Friday evening, March 2, 2012. My short story, "Elephants on the Moon" is in the first print edition of Contemporary Literary Review: India, which also marks my first publication in India. My short story "Daddy's Glad Hands" will be appearing soon in the anthology Writings on the Wall, published by Seven Archons. I just finished a new story in the latest story cycle I've been working on, coming in at a little over 11,000 words. That means I now have seven of the ten stories in the cycle written, for a total of 74,000 words. The full cycle, once completed, should be around 100,000 words. All ten stories deal with death and the afterlife.
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