Recently finished two books that almost belong in the SFF genre but not quite
First was Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel, a novel about a rather pathetic spirit medium and her demanding assistant in their life of psychic fairs and stage performances around the M25. Interestingly for such a big subject as the afterlife, almost everything about the world of psychics is portrayed as being utterly trivial, even the spirits, mostly reduced to barely conscious entities who hang around looking for lost friends and muttering about not being able to get a decent saveloy. The non-trivial stuff is provided by the medium’s dreadful childhood, abused by the man who is now her spirit guide, and his lowlife mates.
Then The Magician by Somerset Maugham, a dark little tale set (initially) in Bohemian turn-of-the-century Paris, in which wonderfully realised villain Oliver Haddo (based on the author’s encounters with Aliester Crowley) seduces and corrupts a beautiful naïf from under the nose of her dull fiancé. Floridly written, but all the better for it. A real gem.