Exhibition Highlight from Paintings of Book Covers by Neil Shawcross

ArtisAnn Gallery, 70 Bloomfield Avenue, Belfast, BT5 5AE

Wed – Sat: 11am to 5.30pm

https://artisann.org/collections/eminent-authors

#art #book #novels #fiction #fineart #painting #belfast #fineart

Neil Shawcross is well known for his love of books, with a long running series of paintings based on the covers of the iconic penguin books. This exhibition features a selection of these works from across the years.

"Who’s in, who’s out, and how many have you read? The story behind our 100 best novels list"

https://www.theguardian.com/books/ng-interactive/2026/may/16/story-behind-100-best-novels-all-time

#books #reading #novels #fiction

Anakana Schofield’s new novel, Library of Brothel, is available at the VPL.
#novels #literature #vpl

https://thewalrus.ca/the-most-un-canadian-novel-of-the-year-has-arrived/

Exhibition Highlight from Paintings of Book Covers by Neil Shawcross

ArtisAnn Gallery, 70 Bloomfield Avenue, Belfast, BT5 5AE

Wed – Sat: 11am to 5.30pm

https://artisann.org/collections/eminent-authors

#art #book #novels #fiction #fineart #painting #belfast #fineart

Neil Shawcross is well known for his love of books, with a long running series of paintings based on the covers of the iconic penguin books. This exhibition features a selection of these works from across the years.

It is difficult to cut these sections into pieces when at such a pivotal moment. Hope you're enjoying your trip to the Cursed Island. Not a whole lot more left.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/12/beware-the-ills-part-47-2/

Beware the Ills: Part 47

She cuts her way through in a wild swing, cutting down her own troops along with Ills. The machines are firing on the melee, creating clouds of dark blue energy and arrows. The Ills are slaughtering the ground troops rather easily, but the machines still fire into the swarms, leaving the figures pulverized and mutilated. I’ve never really seen anything quite like this before.

I’m watching her cut through the Ills towards the prince at the end of their formation. He has bodyguards with red paint on their armor. I’m holding out hope that one of the Ills will step into her, evade the simple attack, and then stab her through the chest with one of their short spears.

None do though, she’s living thunder.

Besides her reckless slashing, the invaders are on their heels. I don’t think they expected these types of monsters to be living in the mountains or have this inherent furiousness. The Ills were built to brawl in tunnels and caves; a melee like this is practically second nature to them.

They cannot stop her. A new Ill, even multiple, step-in front of her, and are cleaved into portions with her ridiculous blade. They fall to the ground in green and bloody stumps. Her scream follows them as they topple, aching above the souring cold. She’s out of control, completely wild, a human animal. I feel sorry for her in a way. I don’t want to kill her. It’s something in my stomach, not quite sure what, but it’s there. I can feel it. I can disable the thick tube of metal running along her spin, which delivers power to the rest of her body. If I disable it, I should cease these berserker tendencies. She might’ve been a decent human being before this hideous alteration occurred.

It seems distasteful to engineer someone biologically to be a killer.

More Ills fall. I run. She’s becoming more savage the closer she gets to the prince. Her white body glows with the blue fire, and the bandages around her have been ripped and shredded by the battle. I cannot allow her to kill him. If the prince falls under her axe, there will be no peace, no armistice, only endless killing.

I must save him. There can be no more killing. If I fall to Haukter, who will protect the Ills? Who will protect the Diamond Town?

I run.

The Ills are clashing savagely with the encroachers as I run through. The steel mixes with crunching bones into a sinewy red cauldron. Shields fall upon shields, tendon and vein mixing in each strike. I dart so fast they can barely sense me, let alone see me. I count the number of Ills between the berserker woman, and the prince. I count ten. No tattooed bodyguards from earlier. They would be able to hold her strikes, those were scarred fighters. They must be out commanding the wings, taking down the machines. Some men scream and aim their crossbows in the direction of my dash. I cut their faces off in one vertical swipe. I hear quick and throaty gurgles. I’m running even faster than before. I can see the prince’s face through the bloody, twisting masses.

He cannot die.

She’s in front of him. The axe looks wild and gleaming in the sunlight. She’s drenched in blood, making her blond hair black and tangled. The prince has fallen down on his back but holds his curved sword in front of him. He doesn’t look scared. I’m impressed. He won’t be able to stop the massive axe head.

I leap. I pray. She’s swinging her axe down at him.

She takes her time in the middle of her vertical stroke. She must be relishing the moment. Her animal mind can still be sadistic. I get in-between her axe blade, and the prince in a black-metal blur. I’ve got both hands on my sword. I kick him back away from me. Some of his grizzled troops run to circle him.

The axe comes down, and I swing my sword to collide.

The shock of steel knocks everyone away from us, like the white sand upon the black waves. The berserker must be at peak strength. My hands tremble under the pressure of the grinding axe, it’s impressive. Her face shines pale and fades blue. The energy must be bleeding out of her. Her face glows with blue tears. You cannot see a single drop of blood, only the fiery indigo.

What have they made her into? She’s inhuman.

Her bloody hair billows angrily in the wind. She’s bitten her lip, and a blue glow runs down her pale narrow chin. She’s bent over me, pouring all her strength and pressure into the obscene axe.

I imagine only Haukter will be stronger than her.

We cannot stay locked like this much longer. Neither soldier nor Ill interferes. She’s panting over the edge of the axe. More inhumanity. I can’t maintain this strength any longer, the pressure pushes beyond comprehension. I swing my left shoulder with its steel black point. The spike knocks the axe off balance, and I slide my sword out from underneath. The axe smashes a small crater into the ground in a rocky flourish. I break away from her running full speed. I need to get away from the crowds, so I can maneuver my long sword more when countering that axe.

Up close, the axe has complete dominion.

She follows me faster and more wildly than before. She swings the axe at my shadow, just barely missing my legs. The sun hits us with heavy rays, and the valley glints stars with all its fallen steel. This sprint moves us quickly past the battlefield, soon we’ll be at the foot of the mountains and hidden paths.

She’s beyond fast, I can’t outrun her anymore.

She leaps in the air in a blue bound and slams her axe into me. My sword swings up to counter. I grip it with both hands. Sparks shower and rocks split. Each strike echoes towards the Ills and encroachers. They have completely stopped fighting to watch us.

I would prefer for them to kill one another.

I’ll be releasing my novel Beware the Ills in segments every Friday. You can find out more about the book right here, or check out Amazon’s info. I love this book. Happy to simply share it. 

A look around the New Show by Neil Shawcross at the ArtisAnn Gallery in Belfast

ArtisAnn Gallery, 70 Bloomfield Avenue, Belfast, BT5 5AE

Wed – Sat: 11am to 5.30pm

https://artisann.org/collections/eminent-authors

#art #book #novels #fiction #fineart #painting #belfast #fineart

Neil Shawcross is well known for his love of books, with a long running series of paintings based on the covers of the iconic penguin books. This exhibition features a selection of these works from across the years.