Out of the Window, Into the Dark by Marian Womack

Book Review

Ben Unsworth

‘Out of the Window, Into the Dark’ is Marian Womack’s denouement for 2024 at least, and already 3 of its stories have been nominated for the BSFA ‘Best Short Story’ Longlist and the collection as a whole for the BSFA ‘Best Collection’ Longlist. The collection exists in two halves, looking in one half into parallel futures and in the other into all-too plausible presents, but the thread which unites them is their feverish sentiments and their status as subtly beautiful cautionary tales. Suffice enough to say that – even speaking this far out – if any of those win their respective categories, it’s a well-earned win and majestic win for Womack. 

Every story brings its own deftness and sits on the page like a vintage claret of wine, not only complex and harmonious in flavour but also to simply behold you know you’re in the presence of something finessed and fragile. The versatility really comes into play less when you consider what the stories are narrative-wise, though each has an infinitely tangible thread to guide you through the labyrinth, and more how their themes create a spider web of ideas.

For instance, ‘Player/Creator/Emissary’ and ‘At the Museum’ provide a nice duology of stories set in the far-flung future, the former providing a commentary on AI and how our grasp on “knowledge” in all its forms changes (but under the plot of a narrator travelling to a great galactic house of knowledge), the latter providing a commentary on how we understand our world and the nature of “truth” (but under the plot of visiting museum exhibits, each ethereal or sci-fi in revisiting humanity’s downfalls). Both of these stories strike a chord, and the melody they produce isn’t exactly devastating, yet in a charismatic way, they leave their crushing themes with you long after you’ve stopped reading. 

Another example of themes marrying up in a way which surpasses their stories is the trilogy of ‘Voyage to the White Sea’, ‘Bluebeard Variations’, and ‘What Would Kate Bush Do?’. The latter two of these views the world through poetry, and so if you’re a reader who enjoys more eclectic collections this will appeal, but the first of these three brings an epic, perhaps Homeric, angle to proceedings. The narratives themselves across these three concerns – put simply the curveballs and obstacles of life, feminism and darkness arising out of the literacy sea as two powerful themes, for all a cynic might say they’re quotidian. ‘What Would Kate Bush Do?’ in particular sticks with you because, even though its main audience is women who are rallying against the patriarchy, there’s something beautiful about marrying this with the POV of many a Kate Bush song.

In that vein then, ‘M’s Awfully Big Adventure’ is probably one of the best candidates for “best story”, although each has a merit which could earn it that accolade. When Womack’s story opens with the phrase “Winona Ryder looks at me, sceptically”, you know you’re onto something brilliant. Embracing the idea of fandom in all its forms, it’s nice to see mortality given such a charming outlook, even its darker moments angled in the same way as the comedic ones until you’re left with something that if nothing else will leave a smile on your face.

If there’s a slight downfall to the collection, and this really depends on how grounded you like your fiction, it’s the lack of concrete stories with fixed boundaries. Most of the stories possess a kind of ethereal quality, or an atmosphere of narratives within narratives, and while that works in each individual case, combined they might seem off-putting to the uninitiated. Especially as another candidate for “best story” is ‘Pink-Footed’, where it’s grounded, Thomas Hardy-meets-Evelyn Waugh-is-assaulted-by-Arthur Machen tale of farcical vicars, baffled academics, and climate change really hits the spot and nails the tragicomic atmosphere that less ambiguous tales can offer. However, the genre-blending attitude of Womack’s fiction is the price to pay for that, and overall it’s something which makes her fiction stand out and this collection land brilliantly. 

The collection also tackles childhood, Lockdown ruminations, harrowing folklore, and the pressure cooker of someone’s mind in stories so far unmentioned, and so your one takeaway from ‘Out of the Window, Into the Dark’ ought to be that if you can’t find a theme explored here, you aren’t looking hard enough. Ultimately, with a number of nods to fandoms which will please the nerdier end of the spectrum (a repository of knowledge in the far future, knowingly akin to Doctor Who: ‘Silence in the Library’, for example), this collection spotlights an author to watch and hands you cautionary tales worthy of both Aesop and Philip K. Dick. And the feeling it leaves you with after finishing it is one to be savoured.