That original novella was Allen Ashley’s ‘The Interlopers’, in which John Taylor’s life unravels completely after he discovers that someone has been occupying his flat while he’s out at work. On one level, the story is a fine portrait of alienation, as John feels increasingly sidelined in all areas of his life; and there are some wry observations on Ashley’s part (‘[John] ceased running, gave in to rationality and that awful English fear of being noticed and reported for being different’).But John’s predicament is not just metaphorical; something strange is genuinely happening to him, and it makes a gripping problem for readers to solve. Interwoven with John’s story is the first-person account of an ex-soldier apparently recruited for some mysterious psychological experiment; the two threads come together unexpectedly at the end, leaving one wondering just what has been going on. This is a risky strategy that can do nothing but irritate the reader if it backfires (which, indeed, has happened to me when I’ve read some of Ashley’s work in the past); but it works brilliantly here, opening up multiple possibilities that are fascinating to consider. In short, ‘The Interlopers’ succeeds on both emotional and intellectual levels, and gets ‘Triquorum One’ off to a great start.

Following on from this is ‘The Thirty-Million-Day Dance Card’ by John Grant, told in first-person by Simon McLafferty, a diplomat on his death-bed. It’s an account of his relationships with ‘the four women of significance in [his] life’, an account which appears to be straightforward – until, that is, the final revelation that throws an entirely different light on the tale. Unfortunately, I managed to guess that revelation after reading Paul Di Filippo’s introduction to the anthology, which rather spoilt my enjoyment of the story (of course, this was an accident and nobody’s fault, but do be careful when reading the introduction yourself).

And that wasn’t the only source of my frustration. Whilst Ashley leaves his situation ambiguous, Grant explains his fully; there’s nothing wrong with that in itself, but after he has done so, Grant throws in a second twist, which I hadn’t foreseen, but which left me puzzled as to how it squared with what had gone before (I can’t say more without giving the game away).

This may give an unfairly negative impression of ‘The Thirty-Million-Day Dance Card’, which is thoroughly enjoyable as a study of character, emotion, and affairs of the heart (readers familiar with Grant’s earlier work – which, like Ashley’s, I would encourage you to seek out – will recognize one character in particular). Grant also shares Ashley’s eye for observation: ‘A pleasure craft drifted into view from under the Old Bridge and brought with it the sounds of whatever MTV thought the world should be listening to this week. It sounded like the kind of music you might dance to if you wanted to remove your underwear without using your hands.’ This second story in the anthology pales slightly in comparison to ‘The Interlopers’ but is nevertheless a fine tale in its own right.

The final contributor to ‘Triquorum One’ is Lavie Tidhar, the only writer of the three whose work I hadn’t encountered before. So I wasn’t sure what to expect from ‘Leaves of Glass’, but it turned out to be quite different from the previous two pieces, in both setting and approach. Tidhar takes Walt Whitman to Paris, where the poet visits Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin and travels to an alternate reality with the aid of Houdin’s Chair of Dreams. I must confess to knowing very little about Whitman and his work; so there may be allusions in the story that I missed; but I found much to like about ‘Leaves of Glass’ regardless. A good deal of the effect comes from the bizarre imagery of Tidhar’s world (such as red tentacles bashing against the glass ground, and that’s just for starters); but the plot is also enjoyable, as Whitman encounters various other poets on his adventure. Tidhar also comes up with a satisfying answer to the age old ‘was it all a dream?’ question, bringing his tale to an effective close. I’ll be looking out for more of this author’s work in the future.

So, the three tales in ‘Triquorum One’ are all good reads, and the news that ‘Triquorum Two’ is on its way is welcome indeed. Paul Di Filippo ends his introduction by saying, ‘Let’s hope that Triquorum runs for many more such bountiful installments.’ I couldn’t agree more.

David Hebblethwaite lives out in the wilds of Yorkshire, where he attempts to make a dent in his collection of unread books. You can read more of David's reviews at his review blog.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.