Wearside Jack

We're Jack

Voice and Temporality

spottys hole broken head little patterns mixed up in theh all these berrels and whirpools spinnin tugetha all these slicks driftin on thsufuss like petrol or diesel greeney-bluey sheen on top uv the brown churn all flowin out tu sea all getting washed down the wiah unspoolin in the watta all the guts uv it innards out all the fish guts on the harbar […]

Riddley Walker

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen [...]

Yours sincerely,   the Ripper

  Road Sunderland;   Road; this week in the    ; all the prisoners who read  ;   says I used to go around prowling at night; if pretending to be peter Sutcliffe is a crime then   ought to be locked up

New Names

“It’s like a planet, but a little planet,” Tyler said. “Actually it’s sort of broken. It went through a wormhole, so it’s hiding in deep space, but its systems were damaged, so on its surface? It’s almost all water.” He was warming to his subject.

“All water!” Arthur raised his head. It had been a mistake to let Tyler get so far away from him, but perhaps the mistake wasn’t unfixable. “So they live in the water, Dr. Eleven and his—his people?”
“They live on islands. They have a city that’s all made of islands. There’s like bridges and boats? But it’s dangerous, because of the seahorses.”