It's Not a Cult

'I loved it straight away ... characters so vivid you feel like they might be living in your wardrobe right now' NATASHA PULLEY, author of THE WATCHMAKER OF FILIGREE STREET 'Gloriously over-the-top and under-the-skin [with] shades of early Angela Carter' OSKAR JENSEN, author of HELLE AND DEATH Callum, Melusine and Al play in a band with no name, baffling audiences in terrible pubs across the northeast of England with their ‘sound’. Their songs tell the stories of the Solkats: fictional northern gods of small things, of mishap and mayhem. Absolutely no one knows what they’re on about. But they believe in their music, and in each other. And they’re happy. That is, until an act of violence at a pub gig goes viral, they catch the eye of a disillusioned influencer and suddenly go from having a cult following to having a cult, following. All the Solkats want, Callum insists, is to have effect on the world. But as fans from LA to Australia flock to Northumberland, and each gig becomes larger and more lawless than the last, this effect starts to feel scarily... real. Which poses the question: if the Solkats really do exist, which is it more dangerous to anger: a wayward group of elder gods, or your biggest fans? Because gods and cults both demand sacrifices. And one way or another they’re going to get one ... 'An incredibly fun read ... Joey Batey has pulled another arrow out of his creative quiver and hit a bullseye' GRIMDARK ‘Vigorous, lurid, page-turning’ LOCUS

'I loved it straight away ... characters so vivid you feel like they might be living in your wardrobe right now' NATASHA PULLEY, author of THE WATCHMAKER OF FILIGREE STREET 'Gloriously over-the-top and under-the-skin [with] shades of early Angela Carter' OSKAR JENSEN, author of HELLE AND DEATH Callum, Melusine and Al play in a band with no name, baffling audiences in terrible pubs across the northeast of England with their ‘sound’. Their songs tell the stories of the Solkats: fictional northern gods of small things, of mishap and mayhem. Absolutely no one knows what they’re on about. But they believe in their music, and in each other. And they’re happy. That is, until an act of violence at a pub gig goes viral, they catch the eye of a disillusioned influencer and suddenly go from having a cult following to having a cult, following. All the Solkats want, Callum insists, is to have effect on the world. But as fans from LA to Australia flock to Northumberland, and each gig becomes larger and more lawless than the last, this effect starts to feel scarily... real. Which poses the question: if the Solkats really do exist, which is it more dangerous to anger: a wayward group of elder gods, or your biggest fans? Because gods and cults both demand sacrifices. And one way or another they’re going to get one ... 'An incredibly fun read ... Joey Batey has pulled another arrow out of his creative quiver and hit a bullseye' GRIMDARK ‘Vigorous, lurid, page-turning’ LOCUS