F**k the Millenium

I've read worse. At times, the writer evokes a sense of place and some empathy. The image of the mother hugging her knees, and appearing young to the child so used to seeing her as a grown-up, is fairly strong. Some of the turns of phrase work; some don't. The punctuation sometimes grates. As do some of the similes: "the fag ash like tiny stars on the carpet"?. When has fag ash EVER looked like stars?

At times it seems as if he's attempting to convey the Geordie vernacular; for students of north-east dialect, I'd recommend a copy of Viz over this.

There are, however, some nice touches. I like the scene where the author's father bangs on the door, and the tight-lipped reaction of the mother. The father bangs on the door while the rest of the family sit inside watching Eastenders, fully aware of the real drama occurring in their own hallway.

Eventually, the mother relents "with a great snort of air through her nostrils". How else do you "snort" air? Through your mouth? Ears?

This piece is not too bad; it manages to evoke the confusing condition of childhood. Many writers strive to attain the innocence of childhood; the, for want of a better word, 'childishness' so elusive to grown-up writers. This author achieves this childishness brilliantly and, for that, he must be commended.

I will look forward to reading his next effort.