http://www.untitledbooks.com/ Untitled Books en-uk Copyright 2008 Untitled Books Fri, 21 Nov 2008 02:48:03 GMT Walking down our street at eight o'clock in the morning with my son James - he is shuffling along, resignedly. It's summer, there are only three days left of school, and Friday is a half-day anyway. His hair is a mess, tangled (long) and unwashed; bits of flaky scalp. index.asp?FictionID=55 Thu, 6 Nov 2008 14:00:00 GMT It was round about Christmas when Troy knocked on my door and told me that he was going to lose his arm. 'The doctors told me they can't do nothing,' he said. Troy had his arm up in a sling and it did look pretty painful. I had broken my arm once and it hurt like hell. I didn't lose it though. index.asp?FictionID=54 Thu, 2 Oct 2008 12:50:00 GMT The essentials are these: when Tony was 16 and on a train between Johannesburg and Irene, where he then lived with his parents, he caught the eye of the man sitting opposite him and, before leaving the train, made an arrangement to meet the man in Pretoria under Paul Kruger's statue at one o'clock on the coming Saturday... index.asp?FictionID=53 Fri, 5 Sep 2008 08:00:00 GMT On the first day of the rest of his unemployment, Mr Simmons sat on the edge of his bed, the noose of his Monday tie limp in his hand, like an executioner who'd forgotten whom he was to hang... index.asp?FictionID=52 Fri, 1 Aug 2008 14:00:00 GMT That damn asshole who lived on the other side of the fence with his reindeer sweaters and the coffee mug finally met his maker the other day. index.asp?FictionID=51 Fri, 4 Jul 2008 09:00:00 GMT Septembers never used to be like this - and you'd think we might deserve a little relief after the string of heat waves we suffered this summer. Just when one week of feverish temperatures and choking humidity seemed too much, a run of three, four, then five weeks would prove that greater miseries were still possible, and in fact likely in Gideon Meadows ... index.asp?FictionID=49 Fri, 6 Jun 2008 09:00:00 GMT 'Love's whole or else it's nothing,' said Shilpa. She lay the book face down on the bedside table, fixed him with her huge spaceship eyes and sighed, 'It's true, Bubaloo, isn't it?' She curled the hairs on his chest until he was annoyed, but not too much. index.asp?FictionID=21 Mon, 13 Aug 2007 00:00:00 GMT