Oothangbart is a strange place. It is somewhat reminiscent of an ancient English village or market town, except that it lies in splendid isolation, surrounded by a river (“long may its waters encircle us!”), its frontiers further confirmed by a frightening forest and a gate at one end to stop the more intrepid amongst the villagers from exploring further. The only link with the outside world is the flotsam and debris occasionally washed up by the river, hinting at the existence of other settlements which the villagers have never seen and which might not even exist. The legendary Bristol, for example.

Within Oothangbart, life is regimented and regimental. Time, in particular, is considered precious and Oothangbart’s inhabitants are obliged to make use of it as the elders dictate. There is also a strict hierarchy, with the Mayor heading a select coterie of officials who make it clear that they rule the roost. Life is designed to be predictable, safe and reassuring – and in such a world, thought and imagination are dangerous.

Most of the citizens are happy to play by the rules, others less so. Take Hutchinson, for instance, who makes it a point to come across as an eccentric loner. Or the novel’s protagonist, one Donal Shaun Hercule Poseidon. Donal sincerely tries to fit in, diligently carrying out his unfulfilling chores at the Department of Found Objects. However, he cannot help dreaming of a different life, and wondering whether the citizens of the outside world (supposing that they exist) have it better. These are dangerous, treasonous thoughts which Donal expresses only in the presence of the closest of friends. Love might have something to do with Donal’s romantic trait. For a long time he has admired Pearl Offering, owner of the village bakery, but he has always been too shy to make the first step. A love letter baring his soul remains, day after day, unsent.

But things might soon change. Fish have been jumping out of the river and Oothangbart is in turmoil. Donal, who is one of the witnesses of this frightening phenomenon, is catapulted into officialdom and, during a state of emergency, persons who think differently might win the day.

Rebecca Lloyd is best known as an author of dark fiction, with two of her short story collections published by contemporary horror and weird fiction specialists, Tartarus Press. In Oothangbart, however, she opts for a gentler sort of fantasy, a “fable”, as the subtitle itself implies. Oothangbart reiterates what is quite a common literary (and movie) trope, the idea of a “dystopian utopia”, a seemingly perfect community where safety is achieved at the expense of freedom and imagination. What distinguishes this book from others of the sort is its delightful “oddness”. There is quirkiness in the world-building – little touches such as the “Escalator” which the dignitaries of the community ride just to show their importance, or the kite-flying competitions during which the villagers are, albeit briefly, allowed a measure of freedom. There is quirkiness in the characters and in the way they are portrayed, even physically – indeed, it might not be immediately obvious but the inhabitants fo Oothangbart are, in reality, antropomorphic bears. These fantastic elements emphasize the “fable-like” character of the title, which is further conveyed through the imaginative use of archaic-sounding language and expressions which, however, have nothing to do with old English. Thus, all males are “fellows”, females “sweetfellows”, the postman is the “Postal Fellow”. The different times of day have strange names such as “newtime”, “whittletime” or “fishthoughts”. The villagers greet each other with curious sayings – “long may our flags flutter in kindly winds! Long may sweet clouds drift!” Often the main characters indulge in philosophical discussions, hinting at the pressing social concerns underlying this seemingly innocuous fantastic tale.

Indeed, the author’s real aims are not far to seek. As Lloyd’s afterword confirms, “Oothangbart” is a satire poking fun at (and occasionally savagely attacking) contemporary society and, particularly, common workplace mores. We live indeed in a context where conformity and productivity are the order of the day and where original thought and imagination are therefore considered “dangerous”. As in Oothangbart’s absurdly inconclusive committee meetings, “group activities” are sometimes merely an excuse in fuelling the self-importance of supposed leaders. I’d like to believe that this is not as pervasive a problem as the author makes it out to be and that there is a place in our world for diverse “fellows” and “sweetfellows” like Donal. But as the characters in the novel ask at one point, what is belief? Is it merely a “hope” to help us get through life? A subversive fable it certainly is... ( )

Oothangbart is a strange place. It is somewhat reminiscent of an ancient English village or market town, except that it lies in splendid isolation, surrounded by a river (“long may its waters encircle us!”), its frontiers further confirmed by a frightening forest and a gate at one end to stop the more intrepid amongst the villagers from exploring further. The only link with the outside world is the flotsam and debris occasionally washed up by the river, hinting at the existence of other settlements which the villagers have never seen and which might not even exist. The legendary Bristol, for example.

Within Oothangbart, life is regimented and regimental. Time, in particular, is considered precious and Oothangbart’s inhabitants are obliged to make use of it as the elders dictate. There is also a strict hierarchy, with the Mayor heading a select coterie of officials who make it clear that they rule the roost. Life is designed to be predictable, safe and reassuring – and in such a world, thought and imagination are dangerous.

Most of the citizens are happy to play by the rules, others less so. Take Hutchinson, for instance, who makes it a point to come across as an eccentric loner. Or the novel’s protagonist, one Donal Shaun Hercule Poseidon. Donal sincerely tries to fit in, diligently carrying out his unfulfilling chores at the Department of Found Objects. However, he cannot help dreaming of a different life, and wondering whether the citizens of the outside world (supposing that they exist) have it better. These are dangerous, treasonous thoughts which Donal expresses only in the presence of the closest of friends. Love might have something to do with Donal’s romantic trait. For a long time he has admired Pearl Offering, owner of the village bakery, but he has always been too shy to make the first step. A love letter baring his soul remains, day after day, unsent.

But things might soon change. Fish have been jumping out of the river and Oothangbart is in turmoil. Donal, who is one of the witnesses of this frightening phenomenon, is catapulted into officialdom and, during a state of emergency, persons who think differently might win the day.

Rebecca Lloyd is best known as an author of dark fiction, with two of her short story collections published by contemporary horror and weird fiction specialists, Tartarus Press. In Oothangbart, however, she opts for a gentler sort of fantasy, a “fable”, as the subtitle itself implies. Oothangbart reiterates what is quite a common literary (and movie) trope, the idea of a “dystopian utopia”, a seemingly perfect community where safety is achieved at the expense of freedom and imagination. What distinguishes this book from others of the sort is its delightful “oddness”. There is quirkiness in the world-building – little touches such as the “Escalator” which the dignitaries of the community ride just to show their importance, or the kite-flying competitions during which the villagers are, albeit briefly, allowed a measure of freedom. There is quirkiness in the characters and in the way they are portrayed, even physically – indeed, it might not be immediately obvious but the inhabitants fo Oothangbart are, in reality, antropomorphic bears. These fantastic elements emphasize the “fable-like” character of the title, which is further conveyed through the imaginative use of archaic-sounding language and expressions which, however, have nothing to do with old English. Thus, all males are “fellows”, females “sweetfellows”, the postman is the “Postal Fellow”. The different times of day have strange names such as “newtime”, “whittletime” or “fishthoughts”. The villagers greet each other with curious sayings – “long may our flags flutter in kindly winds! Long may sweet clouds drift!” Often the main characters indulge in philosophical discussions, hinting at the pressing social concerns underlying this seemingly innocuous fantastic tale.

Indeed, the author’s real aims are not far to seek. As Lloyd’s afterword confirms, “Oothangbart” is a satire poking fun at (and occasionally savagely attacking) contemporary society and, particularly, common workplace mores. We live indeed in a context where conformity and productivity are the order of the day and where original thought and imagination are therefore considered “dangerous”. As in Oothangbart’s absurdly inconclusive committee meetings, “group activities” are sometimes merely an excuse in fuelling the self-importance of supposed leaders. I’d like to believe that this is not as pervasive a problem as the author makes it out to be and that there is a place in our world for diverse “fellows” and “sweetfellows” like Donal. But as the characters in the novel ask at one point, what is belief? Is it merely a “hope” to help us get through life? A subversive fable it certainly is... ( )