Josh Winning ’s The Shadow Glass asks a gravid question on its cover , which io9 is let on today ( and you may see in full below ): “ What if it was all real ? ” The “ it ” in this case is a puppet fantasy earth make by the master character ’s father — reminiscent ofThe Dark Crystal , Labyrinth , The NeverEnding Story , and other darling eighties story .
But to protagonist Jack ’s surprise , the world of the film — a ill-famed box - office turkey also style The Shadow Glass — and its impulsive role , include the heroic fox at the middle of the story , are somehow … alive ? And quick for a second human activity that could help restore Jack ’s father ’s legacy . Here ’s a full description of the story , followed by the screening and an excerpt from the novel .
Jack Corman is failing at life .
Crop of the cover of The Shadow Glass. See the full image below.Image: Titan Books
Jobless , jaded and on the “ wrong ” side of thirty , he ’s facing the threat of dispossession from his London flat while reeling from the sudden death of his don , one - time motion-picture show director Bob Corman . Back in the eighties , Bob poured his heart and mortal into the creation of his 1986 puppet fancy The Shadow Glass , a flick Jack loved as a nipper , idolizing its slyboots - same hero Dune .
But The Shadow Glass flopped on release , hold too scarey for Kyd and too weird for adults , and Bob became a laughing lineage , misplace himself to booze and ego - pity . Now , the film represents everything Jack detest about his father , and he live with the fear that he ’ll end up a failure just like him .
In the backwash of Bob ’s decease , Jack deliver to his decompose domicile , a property creaking with movie memorabilia and sore store . Then , during a junkie electric storm , the creature in the attic start speak . tilt into a dire real - world quest to make unnecessary London from the more nefarious of his father ’s creations , Jack teams up with irritable fanboy Toby and spiky studio administrator Amelia to pilot the labyrinth of his founder ’s legacy while conjuring the wedge within — and igniting a Shadow Glass revitalisation that could , finally , do his father proud .
Image: Titan Books
Here ’s a look at the stunning book binding by Julia Lloyd , making its debut here on io9 , follow by the exclusive excerption .
The hall was even more littered than he remembered .
Knick - knack and keepsake crowded the passage , giving the mental picture of a poky antique store . A grandfather clock stood surrounded by os - dry potted plant , while Japanese Shadow Glass posters were mounted on the wall . A hold over unit groaned with VHS tapes , DVDs , a Walkman and a cassette tapeline library , and there were Scripture everywhere . Feathered with age and heaped amid swirling dust corpuscle .
Jack ’s neck creaked as he turned his psyche to take it all in .
The oddment were intimate but also unlike to how he remembered them , as if he were view them through mottled glass . They appear decayed . Relics from another meter . A life he had almost forgotten he know . And this was just the Marguerite Radclyffe Hall . From where he stood , he glimpsed the way and passages beyond , wend in a disordered muddle , combining to take shape a theater of riddles . A billet in which to get lose .
He stilled , frowning at the removed point where the back hall turn into the kitchen . He was indisputable he ’d seen effort there . He pictured his father still roaming Kettu House , tall and narrow as a telegraph pole , shuffle in slippers and a moth - eaten Cardigan Welsh corgi , fingers scratching his whiskers . He could still discover the whispers of a man who had long since relinquished his grip on realness .
‘ In a blank out time , in a forget world , late within a forgotten sleeping accommodation few have ever date , the Shadow Glass sees all . ’
Jack grit his teeth and rock off the simulacrum . That was year ago . Bob was dead and the house was empty — of anything living , at least . He could n’t get distract .
Aiming for the rickety staircase , he went further inside , his finger tap one of the bottles in a drink console . The wad budge memories of Bob cash in one’s chips out in the armchair in his study , the pall of stale breathing place hang over the room , and even though Jack was n’t a imbiber , his mouth felt parch . He uncapped the bottleful , taking a gulp as he started up the stairs . The whisky seared the back of his throat .
‘ Jesu — ’ he cough , then froze as a shadow get over the wall .
He did n’t move .
He ’d only caught it out of the corner of his optic , but he was certain it had erect up from the skirting card and flaunt across the wallpaper .
Stiffly , he listened , sensing eyes on him .
Ch - ch - ch - ch …
Jack ’s arm hair bristle and his gaze lose it to the ceiling . He had heard something above him . A skittering of hook on floorboards .
‘ Hello ? ’ he called .
The mansion swallowed his phonation . He was n’t sure he had even spoken .
Apprehension abstract Jack ’s chest . He ’d definitely heard it that time . A scratching above his head .
Somebody was up there .
More fanboys , possibly , come to plunk over the stiff of his founder ’s imperium .
Maybe they were already in the garret claim the matter he ’d pin his total hereafter on .
Adrenaline flooded his veins and Jack battled his room down a landing cluttered with Shadow Glass props ; framed film cells and fake , otherworldly works that tangled between his feet . Above his head , the scrape continued and Jack clambered up another , even narrow set of stairs that shrieked as he go up .
He came to a full stop outside the attic threshold .
Of course the sound was coming from there .
Above the wood file of his own wheezing , he heard it louder than before : a scraping like nails on the inside of a casket . His throat thickened with fear .
For a second , he was fifteen again , crouched in the stairwell while his father told him to go back to seam . Jack had woken in the night and followed voices up to the dome . He ’d listened through the door as they resound in the nighttime , and he could n’t tell if Bob was in there watching a movie , or if Bob was making the spokesperson himself . possibly the newspaper publisher and magazines had been right . ‘ Bonkers Bob ’ really had lose his mind .
Crouched outside the bonce now , twenty long time by and by , Jack felt iniquity grasping at his neck opening .
Was his Father-God still in there ?
He should run . Get out of there before it was too late .
No . He shook off the remembering . This was n’t some teenage phantasy . Somebody had broken in . They could be cause off with the very affair he was there to claim for himself .
He pick out the envelope from his pocket , remove the tonality and ground it into the lock chamber . contrive assailable the threshold , he charged inside and – –
Tripped .
His toe caught something in the dark and he lost his footing . He crashed forrard , striking the trading floor painfully as he crumpled onto his front . Somehow , he managed to prevent his head cracking against the floorboard , and found himself star at a duo of knobbly claws resting on the floor in front of him .
He seize the miraculously intact whisky bottle and craned his neck opening up at the thing looming over him .
An amphibian creature with boiling point - pocked green skin leer in the gloom . It was squat and slimy - look , its too - wide mouth hang clear to reveal glimmer row of acerate leaf - sharp teeth . Its bulbous eyes were heavy - lidded , vacant and staring , and while it await like something that had slithered out of a swamp , it wore mechanised armour , the kind of sci - fi technical school that seemed purpose - built for deep space .
Jack ’s heart slammed the floor board as he recognised the graphic symbol .
A skalion .
Excerpt from The Shadow Glass by Josh Winning reprint by permission . Copyright Titan Books .
Josh Winning ’s The Shadow Glass is out March 22 , 2022 , but you may pre - ordain a copyhere .
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