The Haunted Generation is also a regular column in Fortean Times magazine, rounding up new releases and forthcoming events. From Issue 472, dated July 2026…
THE HAUNTED GENERATION
Bob Fischer rounds up the latest news from the parallel worlds of popular hauntology
“There’s something about the early 1990s, with all its New Age, touchy-feely stuff, that’s particularly hauntological,” says writer Will Maclean. “A year after Solace House is set, it’s all Britpop and Loaded and lad culture – all the things that have become the popular image of the 1990s. But the truth, as always, is much more complex”.
Solace House is Will’s new novel, set in the pre-internet hinterland of 1993. When a disparate gaggle of students elect to spent their summer emptying a dilapidated mansion in the university grounds, they discover that the previous occupant – deceased hoarder Edwin Flayne – has devoted his life to reaching a parallel plane of existence named Bewise. “I originally intended to set the story right now,” continues Will. “But I realised this would shut down a lot of the weirder things you can do with nostalgia.”
Those “weirder things” include putting troubled narrator Alex Lane in the company of some splendidly archetypal 1990s students. We meet permanently-stoned Clive, sulky goth girl Ruth, “Pale Strange Boy” Adam and neo-hippy archeologist Leo, whose personal quest to reach Bewise involves mind-melding quantities of Fly Agaric mushrooms. Deftly combining horror and humour, it’s a tale that perfectly evokes the grotty indulgences of old-school student life. And, as an encore, it performs a genuinely jaw-dropping literary trick with Edwin Flayne’s convoluted poetry, snippets of which are dotted throughout the book.
“The minute I had the idea of doing something bizarre with the poetry, I knew I was in for a lot of work!” laughs Will. The effort has been worth it: Solace House is a terrific read, available now from Atlantic Books. Meanwhile, the second series of Broken Veil – the eerie podcast created by Will and fellow writer Joel Morris (see FT460:48-49) – has also recently slipped through a wobbly portal, settling disquietingly at patreon.com/brokenveil.
Looking for a soundtrack while you’re reading? You’re in luck – potentially the perfect accompaniment to Solace House comes in the form of A Ritual For Poisoned Land, a new collection from the mysterious Charles Vaughan. Exploring “dark forces in the depths of the English countryside”, Vaughan begins his opus with a 23-minute collage of electronic pulses, manipulated violin and what seem to be recordings from the kind of late-night ramble where your dog becomes worryingly interested in something half-buried beneath a hawthorn bush. Hover nervously around the entrance to waysideandwoodlandrecordings.bandcamp.com… and while you’re there, maybe check out Dream Is the Driver, a charming new album from The Golden Samphire Band. Singer Hannah Lewis and brothers Mik and Rich Hanscomb have combined to form a breezy trio that will delight any 1970s folk fans who secretly listened to Play Away albums when the house was empty.
On a similarly rustic front, I also recommend Evergreen In Your Mind, a new collection from Norwegian singer-songwriter Juni Habel. A delightful visit to what she calls “an imagined place”, it’s a beautiful evocation of a soothing dreamstate. Juni certainly boasts a voice that seems to transcend linear time – listening to songs like ‘Colours Close to Me’, it’s hard not to imagine Vashti Bunyan leading a Romany caravan through the mountains of Rondane. Pull on a particularly woolly jumper and follow these charming songs across the fjords to junihabel.bandcamp.com.
Similarly gracing my stereogram recently: Plague Dogs by The Heartwood Institute, a dark electronic homage to Watership Down’s even grittier sequel; Bosch the Conjurer by Famished For Blonds, a bleepy eye-roll at the commodification of space travel; Now Here by The Gidouille Collective, a suite of gloriously wonky sound collage that occasionally sounds like the school orchestra trying to soundtrack The Goon Show; and The Haunted Life of Architecture, the fourth album from eccentric Wearside outfit Amateur Ornithologist. This latter collection sees frontman Daniel Clifford exploring the links between his own neurodiversity and his love of classic oddness, from MR James to Ghostwatch, and the result is a fabulous compendium of psychedelic chamber-pop. It’s currently fluttering between the trees at amateurornithologist.bandcamp.com.
Final word, however, must to go the mighty Boards of Canada, founding fathers of the entire haunto movement. After thirteen years of maddening silence, reclusive brothers Michael Sandison and Marcus Eoin have returned unexpectedly with a bold new record, Inferno. When their debut album Music Has the Right to Children was released in 1998, it validated the nebulous memories of a whole (haunted) generation of 1970s kids: of half-term chickenpox and impenetrable 1970s BBC Schools programmes. I certainly don’t imagine this column would exist if the elusive siblings hadn’t spent their 1990s immersed in the woozy joys of analogue synths, and like many I greeted the news of their resurrection with a giddy combination of rapture and incredulity.
And the new stuff itself? Inferno is a beautifully-crafted album, its sense of righteous ire clearly fuelled by the ongoing global trainwreck that is 2026. Like the best records, it unfurls its secrets slowly, but repeated listens uncover insistent melodies and a maelstrom of sampled voices mercilessly satirising the deluge of online glop that now soundtracks our everyday existence. Including, I’m pretty sure, the occasional snippet of Aleister Crowley. Do what thou wilt, but also spare 70 minutes to immerse yourself in its myriad delights.
Why not take out a subscription to Fortean Times? “The World’s Weirdest News” is available here:
https://subscribe.forteantimes.com/
Support the Haunted Generation website with a Ko-fi donation… thanks!
https://ko-fi.com/hauntedgen
