conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Dunedin, Vanda, Write with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'The Faceless'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a description for a book titled The Faceless about Tide, Souls, Lancashire with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author lives in Lancashire and is the author of a previous novel, Tide Of Souls , two short story collections, A Hazy Shade Of Winter and Pictures Of The Dark , and a chapbook, Angels Of The Silences. Hes also written numerous scripts for radio. His short fiction has appeared most recently in the anthologies Where The Heart Is, Never Again and Solaris Books End Of The Line. the author writes with great imaginative flair and an excellent grasp of colour and narrative pace."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Narrows, British, Fantasy, shortlisted, reprinted, praised, writing.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author lives in Lancashire and is the author of a previous novel, Tide Of Souls , two short story collections, A Hazy Shade Of Winter and Pictures Of The Dark , and a chapbook, Angels Of The Silences. Hes also written numerous scripts for radio. His short fiction has appeared most recently in the anthologies Where The Heart Is, Never Again and Solaris Books End Of The Line. His novella The Narrows was shortlisted for the British Fantasy Award and reprinted in Ellen Datlows Best Horror Of The Year , while the Daily Telegraph praised Tide Of Souls for "the quality of the writing. the author writes with great imaginative flair and an excellent grasp of colour and narrative pace. "
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Faceless
  THE TESTAMENT OF SERGEANT EDWARD HOWIE CONTINUED the day a shell burst over our position an i alone like ishmael lived to tell the tale though aye an it was a close run thing to be sure for i lay it four hours or more while fighting raged trapped under a fallen earth bank that pinned my lower body afore help came and all around me torn an sundered into collops mince tripes an chops riven and shattered into lights kidneys brains an steaks were the men of my command an they lay all about me in that yellow reeking mud an helpless i could only watch as the rats crept into the trench an began to chew at my mens remains whilst others came to watch an stare beadily at me with cold cruel black little eyes deadlier than any germans for we knew the rats in the trenches even though we gave them our grudging respect one man i knew keeping one as a pet oh we knew them to be pitiless and deadly and these watched me steadily waiting to see when it might be safe to devour my flesh also their grey and brown fur the yellowish feculent mud of the trench an the red an the white of blood an bone only the blue was lackin to make a suitably patriotic spectacle of the carnage an the water in the trench was rising and i might drown but a patrol came by in time an dug me out i was evacuated to a casualty clearing station who found no major but i had other injuries not apparent on the field
  THE CAB DROPPED them on St Matthias' Road. Across the road, the church's lights glowed through the fog. Vera heard voices from inside: evensong.
  Allen stood looking at the church. Vera touched his arm. "Come on. We're after Shackleton Street, remember?"
  Someone came out of the front gate, stood gazing back at them. He wore black. White at his throat. A priest? But the service hadn't finished. But then she realised the singing had stopped. So had the traffic sounds nearby.
  The far end of St Matthias' Road led onto Scott Street. Vera clutched Allen's hand. This close to the Dunwich, it wasn't just the dead you had to fear.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Faceless
  THE TESTAMENT OF SERGEANT EDWARD HOWIE CONTINUED the day a shell burst over our position an i alone like ishmael lived to tell the tale though aye an it was a close run thing to be sure for i lay it four hours or more while fighting raged trapped under a fallen earth bank that pinned my lower body afore help came and all around me torn an sundered into collops mince tripes an chops riven and shattered into lights kidneys brains an steaks were the men of my command an they lay all about me in that yellow reeking mud an helpless i could only watch as the rats crept into the trench an began to chew at my mens remains whilst others came to watch an stare beadily at me with cold cruel black little eyes deadlier than any germans for we knew the rats in the trenches even though we gave them our grudging respect one man i knew keeping one as a pet oh we knew them to be pitiless and deadly and these watched me steadily waiting to see when it might be safe to devour my flesh also their grey and brown fur the yellowish feculent mud of the trench an the red an the white of blood an bone only the blue was lackin to make a suitably patriotic spectacle of the carnage an the water in the trench was rising and i might drown but a patrol came by in time an dug me out i was evacuated to a casualty clearing station who found no major but i had other injuries not apparent on the field
  THE CAB DROPPED them on St Matthias' Road. Across the road, the church's lights glowed through the fog. Vera heard voices from inside: evensong.
  Allen stood looking at the church. Vera touched his arm. "Come on. We're after Shackleton Street, remember?"
  Someone came out of the front gate, stood gazing back at them. He wore black. White at his throat. A priest? But the service hadn't finished. But then she realised the singing had stopped. So had the traffic sounds nearby.
  The far end of St Matthias' Road led onto Scott Street. Vera clutched Allen's hand.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know two more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It felt like they'd been following the same unending corridor for hours. For all she knew, they had. They could've circled the place twice already.
  There weren't so many of them at a glance, and they were spread out thinly. It was almost possible to believe you might avoid them if you ran fast enough. Except that Anna doubted they were as slow as they looked. Even if they were, by the time Martyn could force a way out through the window they'd have ample warning and would have closed in around it before the first of them could even try and wriggle free. And even then, beyond them were the woods, where the tall thin shapes of the bare trees seemed constantly poised to shift into something else.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last three paragraphs? End with the sentence ' These strands all come together in this dark and visceral fantasy.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Imagine a place where all your nightmares become real. Dark urban streets where crime, debt and violence are not the only things to fear. Picture a housing project that is a gateway to somewhere else; a realm where ghosts and monsters stir hungrily in the shadows. Welcome to the Concrete Grove.
  This deprived area is Hailey's new home, but when an ancient entity notices her, it becomes something much more threatening. She is the only one who can help her mother as she joins in a dangerous dance with loanshark Monty Bright. Only Hailey can see the truth of Tom's darkest desires as he tries to become part of their family. And only Hailey can lead them all to the heart of the estate where something older than this land stirs and begins to wake...
  Sean Redman is a failed policeman who cannot escape the job. Will Lacey is a husband who witnesses the birth of a monster. Cheke is a killing machine programmed to erase every trace of an experiment gone horribly wrong... These strands all come together in this dark and visceral fantasy.